Chapter One: Beloved Above All, Part Three

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After lighting the lamp, Xiangbao was sitting in her room having dinner when she heard Ziru outside shouting, “Who’s there? Come out!”

At this hour, who could it be? Xiangbao thought for a moment, set down her bowl and chopsticks, and stood up. As she reached the doorway, she saw a small figure standing in the shadow of the corridor.

Sixiang? When had he followed them?

“Come out now!” Ziru stepped forward and shouted.

The small figure moved and came out. Upon seeing the child’s face clearly, Ziru was suddenly stunned; her expression shifted between pale and flushed, truly remarkable.

“What are you shouting for?” The voice was cool as Sixiang spoke slowly, his demeanor full of authority.

“Too…” Ziru was speechless, unable to finish her sentence.

“You impudent, treacherous servant—get out!” Sixiang glared coldly at Ziru, his gaze indifferent, far beyond his years.

Upon hearing this, Ziru hurriedly retreated.

Watching his icy demeanor, Xiangbao’s mind conjured another, wickedly handsome face. A child appearing in the deep palace, and Ziru was so frightened of him; looking at his features, he was clearly a miniature version of Fuchai.

He must be Lady Meizi’s child—so that would make him the Crown Prince of Wu.

Having dismissed Ziru, Sixiang turned to Xiangbao.

“Useless,” he scolded coldly, wrinkling his nose.

Xiangbao blinked, bewildered by the rebuke.

“You are Fuchai’s woman, aren’t you?” he blurted out.

Hearing this, Xiangbao nearly choked on her own saliva.

“If he favors you so much, why do you let a servant bully you? In a place like this, even with his affection, if you don’t know how to protect yourself, you’ll never know what killed you!” Sixiang spoke angrily, his voice rising, his little face flushed with agitation.

“Mm, I understand.” Xiangbao reached out and pinched his cheek, smiling as she nodded.

Sixiang was instantly petrified.

“You…” He trembled, pointing at Xiangbao.

“Mm?”

“You’re not…”

“Huh?”

“You’re not mute?” Sixiang shouted in outrage.

“Did I ever say I was mute?” Xiangbao tilted her head, feigning thought, her face full of innocence.

“But when Wu Feng pointed a sword at you, didn’t you…”

“I was pretending.” Xiangbao replied matter-of-factly, though she was secretly pondering—Wu Feng? That man was Wu Feng, son of Wu Zixu.

“You!”

“If I hadn’t pretended, wouldn’t he have silenced me for good?” Xiangbao answered naturally.

Sixiang was left speechless. He’d made a huge mistake… This woman was clearly a wolf in sheep’s clothing!

“Are you hungry? Want to eat together?” Xiangbao pointed at the food on the table with genuine kindness.

Sixiang stamped his foot and turned to leave, but before Xiangbao could say anything, he spun back. “You… you mustn’t tell Father about this afternoon!”

Xiangbao nodded with a smile. “Then as an exchange… have dinner with me.”

Sixiang ground his teeth and sat opposite Xiangbao. She smiled as she served him food. In the flickering candlelight, Sixiang watched Xiangbao’s gentle demeanor, momentarily lost in thought.

“Mother…”

“Mm?” Xiangbao turned to Sixiang. “What?”

Sixiang’s face turned red, and he tossed his head disdainfully. “It’s nothing.”

“Mm?…” Xiangbao leaned in, smiling mischievously.

Sixiang lowered his head and ate vigorously, ignoring Xiangbao’s teasing. From then on, Sixiang always avoided Xiangbao.

Avoiding, in his case, meant Xiangbao often found a little tail following her. When she turned around, she’d catch Sixiang, whose tracking skills weren’t very subtle, hiding awkwardly.

Sometimes he hid behind a corridor pillar, sometimes in the flowerbeds. This time, when Xiangbao turned, Sixiang was startled, desperately searching for a place to hide. A misstep, a loud splash—Sixiang fell into the pond.

When Xiangbao fished Sixiang out of the water, his face was ghostly pale, trembling, his expression unlike before.

“Mother, mother, mother…” He cried out, clinging tightly to Xiangbao.

Seeing him gasp for breath, Xiangbao recalled the day he said his mother was in the pond, and her heart ached. She hurriedly carried him, running back to Drunken Moon Pavilion.

“Ziru, go find the King, tell him the Crown Prince has fallen into the water!” Xiangbao urgently instructed, then rushed into the room with Sixiang in her arms.

She removed his wet clothes, wrapped him in a blanket, and was about to find someone to fetch hot water.

“Mother…” Sixiang held onto Xiangbao, refusing to let go, as if afraid she would disappear the moment he loosened his grip.

Although he usually acted mature for his age, he was still a child. Xiangbao couldn’t bear to push him away, and gently coaxed, “I’m just getting some hot water and checking if Ziru has gone for the King. I won’t go far.”

Sixiang kept his eyes closed, not listening at all. Xiangbao, helpless, simply held him, waiting for Ziru’s news. They waited until nightfall, but Ziru never returned with Fuchai.

“They all wish I were dead—how would they help you?” Sixiang suddenly spoke, his voice barely audible.

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Xiangbao quickly looked down; he had calmed.

“How are you? Are you feeling unwell?” Xiangbao held him, testing his forehead—thankfully, no fever.

Sixiang stared at Xiangbao without blinking, his small body rigid. After a long pause, he finally nestled against Xiangbao, closing his eyes. “Mother…” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Xiangbao loosened her hold, but he remained tightly wrapped around her, unwilling to let go.

“Mother… I will protect you. No one will bully you again. Never again…” Nestled in Xiangbao’s arms, he repeated his vow over and over.

The voice in her embrace grew softer, until it faded away. The hand that had gripped her sleeve finally relaxed. Xiangbao looked down and realized he had fallen asleep, occasionally smacking his lips—a child’s nature revealed. Xiangbao couldn’t help but smile. No matter how he tried to act grown up, he was still just a child.

After this incident, Sixiang’s little tail followed Xiangbao openly, no longer hiding. With Sixiang trailing after her everywhere, Xiangbao’s smile grew brighter each day. Especially in recent days, Fuchai had left her alone, and Sixiang often took her out to play—Xiangbao couldn’t help but laugh even in her dreams.

“Hey, what are you giggling about?” Sixiang’s voice called from beneath the tree.

Xiangbao sat on a branch, plucked a fruit, and tossed it to Sixiang below. She missed, and it hit someone else.

“Sorry, sorry…” Seeing the white robe stained with red fruit juice, Xiangbao hurriedly apologized.

When she saw who wore the white robe, Xiangbao realized a truth: joy always brings sorrow.

That person… was Fan Li.

Fan Li brushed the red juice from his robe. When he looked up, he froze.

“Xiangbao…” He gazed at the woman perched on the tree; for a moment, they stared at each other, as if separated by lifetimes.

That day, in the Fan residence’s backyard, she had also sat on a branch, eavesdropping on his conversation with Mo Li.

He had told Mo Li, “I promise, no matter what, I will never abandon Xiangbao.” He said, “If Fan Li ever abandons Xiangbao, I will spend my life alone, ending in solitude.”

Even Mo Li was moved by his vow.

Xiangbao had imagined countless times how she would face Fan Li upon their next meeting, but she never expected their reunion would be under such similar circumstances.

So she could only sit, frozen, on the tree.

The same scenery, the same sunset, a white-robed youth below making a lifelong promise.

Now, he was still beneath the tree, and she was still perched above.

But he had broken his word.

With a soft crack, the branch snapped.

Xiangbao fell from the tree—this time, she didn’t cry out, falling quietly.

“Xiangbao!” Fan Li leapt to catch her.

“Thank you.” Xiangbao politely thanked him, calmly stepping out of his arms.

“You… you can speak again?” Fan Li looked at her, his gentle eyes shining with indescribable joy. “I knew you would be fine. When Hua Mei mentioned seeing you in the Wu palace, I was thinking about how to meet you…”

Her hands trembled beneath her sleeves. Xiangbao struggled to maintain her composure.

“Mother.” Sixiang stepped forward, holding Xiangbao’s trembling hand.

Seeing the small hand grasp Xiangbao, Fan Li paused, finally noticing the boy beside her.

“Mother, it’s time to go home.” Sixiang looked up obediently.

Xiangbao forced a smile, squeezing the small hand as if it was all her strength. “Yes.”

“Xiangbao…” Fan Li grabbed her arm.

“I think… you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” Xiangbao replied, her voice steady.

Fan Li froze.

“You… don’t remember who I am?”

“Sorry, I was ill for a time. Most of my memories are lost.”

Gentle eyes filled with pain, slowly spreading, wrapping the white-robed man—one who could command armies with ease—in pale sorrow and darkness.

“Xiangbao…” he murmured, lips colorless. “Is this your punishment for me?”

Her heart clenched. Xiangbao bit her lip, looking down.

“Mother…” Sixiang shook Xiangbao’s hand, rescuing her.

Xiangbao bowed quickly, hurried away with Sixiang. She was so flustered she bumped into someone at the corner.

It was Shi Lian.

Shi Lian glanced at her, then walked on, leaving behind a quiet remark: “Idiot.”

“That person… is Fan Li, Senior Minister of Yue.” Sixiang suddenly spoke as they walked. “Mother, do you know him?”

Xiangbao snapped out of her thoughts, remembering Sixiang was no ordinary child—he was the Crown Prince of Wu. She bent down, pinching his nose. “You mustn’t tell the King about what just happened.”

“Why?” Sixiang blinked. “Oh… you met your lover in secret, afraid Father will find out and punish you.”

Xiangbao, helpless against his wild guesses, said, “If you keep my secret, I’ll keep yours—I won’t tell the King about that afternoon in the garden.”

Sixiang reluctantly nodded. “Then you must never see that man again.”

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Xiangbao smiled and pinched his nose. “Alright.”

She wore a smile, but a tear flashed through her heart. From now on, not seeing him would be better. Seeing him would only bring heartache, perhaps even trouble for him.

As soon as she entered Drunken Moon Pavilion, she found Fuchai sitting leisurely on the couch, his hand propping up his chin, watching her enter.

“Sixiang?” Fuchai raised an eyebrow.

“Father.” Sixiang hurriedly knelt in greeting.

“I was thinking of having you meet your mother, but mother and son are already connected—you’ve come to see her yourself.” Fuchai laughed.

Xiangbao’s mouth hung open in shock. What did he mean by that?

Sixiang was equally bewildered.

“Come here,” Fuchai beckoned to Sixiang, who obediently approached. “Your mother was ill and has forgotten many things; I worried she’d even forget you, her son.” Fuchai stroked Sixiang’s head, his gaze fixed on Xiangbao.

Xiangbao was mortified.

He… he… what was he playing at now? Did he want her to believe Sixiang was her own son?

Sixiang’s eyes darted. He obediently walked to Xiangbao’s side and sweetly called, “Mother.”

Xiangbao nearly fainted. She knew it—Fuchai would never let her have peace!

“The King will go hunting outside the palace tomorrow. Lady, will you join me?” As Xiangbao fumed silently, Fuchai smiled again.

Xiangbao discreetly retreated a step, forcing a smile through clenched teeth. He had come openly to Drunken Moon Pavilion, announcing the hunt—he was the King. If she defied him publicly, it would be her own undoing.

“Then Lady, rest well and gather your strength.” He rose, “I have matters to attend to. See you tomorrow.” He kissed Xiangbao’s brow affectionately, then smiled at Sixiang, who stood aside. “Stay and talk with your mother.”

“Yes.” Sixiang nodded quickly.

Xiangbao bowed, teeth clenched, and only when Fuchai’s figure disappeared did her shoulders slump in defeat. Tomorrow…

“Mother,” came a small voice behind her.

Xiangbao felt her headache begin. The big trouble was gone, but she still had the little trouble. Turning, she glared at Sixiang, who was grinning mischievously.

“You know I’m not your mother,” Xiangbao muttered.

Sixiang’s smile froze, and he turned away with a flick of his sleeve. Xiangbao was startled and quickly reached out to stop him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t care for you as my mother anyway!” Sixiang shouted back.

Xiangbao was stunned—his temper was really something. Seeing him struggle to leave, she crouched down and hugged him, soothing him. “Alright, don’t be angry.”

“Don’t treat me like a child!” Sixiang glared.

Xiangbao couldn’t help but laugh—wasn’t he just a child? “Come, be good, call me ‘mother’.”

She pinched his chubby cheek, smiling brightly.

Sixiang froze, his face flushed all the way down his neck.

“Come on, be good, call me ‘mother’.”

Sixiang turned away, ignoring her. After a while, he grunted and mumbled something.

“Hmm? What was that? I didn’t hear.”

“Mother…”

“So reluctant,” Xiangbao wrinkled her nose. “You’re going to give me a complex.”

Sixiang glared at her, furious. “You!”

“Mm?”

“Mother…”

“Oh, how sweet!” Xiangbao puckered her lips and kissed him, beaming.

Sixiang stared, his face red as a tomato.

This… wasn’t so bad. After all, a day spent happily or sadly was still a day. Since she had to stay here, she might as well live joyfully. Sixiang needed a mother, and she… needed a family.

This was good.

And so, Xiangbao inexplicably gained a son.

“Mother, do you know how to ride a horse? You do, right?” Sixiang looked at Xiangbao with hopeful eyes. In no time, the thick-skinned Xiangbao had rubbed off on him; now he called her “mother” without hesitation.

Xiangbao nodded. She could ride, but it was tiring.

“Ah, that’s great—you can ride!” Sixiang’s eyes shone, then dimmed. “Not like her, she only cried…” he murmured.

Her? Which her? Lady Meizi?

Xiangbao bent down, cupped his face, and looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Tomorrow, you must ride well,” he said suddenly, his face serious.

Xiangbao paused—did she have a choice? But seeing Sixiang’s hopeful expression, she brushed aside the fine hair on his forehead and nodded.