On the very first day after His Majesty the Emperor finished the grand sacrificial ceremony, he immediately showered favor upon Imperial Consort Mia Wise. To nearly every palace maid, eunuch, and concubine, this was just business as usual. The Emperor and Mia Wise seemed to have a fantastic time—rumors of laughter and merriment echoed well into the night. For a man pushing sixty, this was a surprise, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility.
She was granted the title of Imperial Consort before even setting foot in the palace—a rarity, even for Emperor Richard Song and his decades of notorious antics. In nearly thirty years on the throne, he’s only done this a handful of times, and every single one of those women ended up as his absolute favorites.
Sensing a major threat, the other consorts scrambled to team up and suppress Simone. Most of these ladies came from humble backgrounds—think small-town sweethearts, not high-born aristocrats. Political savvy? Not so much. Big family aura? Forget it. So, the current palace drama is more like a catfight than a chess match, lacking the deep scheming of true noblewomen.
The next day, when His Majesty sent the imperial carriage to escort Simone back to her quarters, the palace staff caught sight of her: Simone looked blissfully lazy, absolutely glowing from within. The reactions were...mixed.
Some muttered, "Shameless vixen!" Others grumbled, "Why couldn’t those curves have landed on me?" A few were tempted, "Should I go learn a trick or two?" And the truly bitter ones cursed, "All the past favorites like her died young—you’ll be next!"
But regardless of what everyone thought, it was clear: if Imperial Consort Mia Wise kept winning the Emperor’s favor like this, things in the palace were about to change—big time.
And sure enough, a change came—just not in the way anyone expected.
"Imperial edict—arrives!" came the long, drawn-out announcement as a eunuch marched in, holding the scroll high. The courtyard erupted into chaos: maids rushed to fetch water, and the head eunuch hustled over, slipping a little something into Eunuch Lord Warren’s hand with a smile: "Lord Warren, thank you for your trouble! Her Ladyship’s still sleeping—please, take a quick break, and once she’s presentable, we’ll accept the decree in style."
Lord Warren was a familiar face. His master was often favored by the Emperor, so the palace staff had plenty of dealings with him. Their mistress was a beloved consort, and Lord Warren was a top aide to Eunuch Chief Lewis, making him a big deal in palace politics. Both sides wanted to stay friendly, so the relationship was always cordial.
Receiving the imperial edict was a big deal—technically, it couldn’t be delayed. But silver and saving face mattered too, so the head eunuch figured a little bending of the rules was just fine.
But Lord Warren wasn’t his usual agreeable self. He weighed the silver in his palm, giving a sly, sarcastic look: "It’s this late and she’s still not up?"
The staff immediately felt a chill—something was off, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on it. All they could do was explain carefully: "Her Ladyship’s been feeling weak and sleepy lately, hard to wake up. We were just about to call the imperial physician—maybe she’s caught a cold."
"Physician? No need! I’ve got a method to rouse 'Her Ladyship' myself." Lord Warren sneered. Without waiting for the recipient, he loudly read the decree: "Consort Mary Ma, insubordination. Before the Empress, you spoke against the Imperial Consort. Conduct improper, virtue lacking. Demoted to Attendant, sent to the Cold Palace, never to return—by imperial command!"
"What?!" That was the staff’s collective gasp.
"What?!" came a familiar voice. The door flew open with a creak, and a panicked woman burst out. She tripped on the threshold and crashed to the ground, her hair in wild disarray. Her once-beautiful face was now ghostly pale, but she ignored the pain and screamed in disbelief, "No! How could this happen? This can’t be real!"
This woman was none other than Little Red Consort of the infamous Red-Yellow-Blue Trio.
"See? 'Her Ladyship' is up now." Lord Warren grinned wickedly, shoving the edict into Little Red Consort’s hands. "Take the decree, 'Her Ladyship'—and take her away!"
"No! I’m not leaving! This isn’t real! This isn’t real!" Little Red Consort screamed and struggled, but the eunuchs with Lord Warren weren’t having any of it. They grabbed her without ceremony, escorting her away like a common criminal.
Once a consort was sent to the Cold Palace, she was a nobody.
"Hurry up! Don’t waste time—there’s another edict to deliver!" Lord Warren barked, rushing his men toward the next palace.
In less than half a day, everyone in the palace heard the news.
"Hey, come here—did you hear? Consort Mary Ma, Lady Grace Li, and Beauty Susan Su all got tossed into the Cold Palace by a single imperial edict! Lady Grace Li was still bedridden after her recent scare, but the eunuchs just dragged her out and threw her straight into exile!"
"Yeah, I heard—but what’s the story? Why did the Emperor exile all three at once? Sure, His Majesty is fickle, and we’ve seen favorites fall from grace before, but dumping three beloved consorts in one go? That’s nuts!"
"‘Consorts’? Not anymore. Word is, those three embarrassed Imperial Consort Mia Wise in front of the Empress and everyone. One night with the Emperor, and poof—gone the next day."
"Wow, Imperial Consort Mia Wise really has the Emperor wrapped around her finger! He usually ignores harem drama, but this time he axed three consorts over something so petty. She must be his new favorite!"
The maids and eunuchs didn’t know it, but even before the news spread—even before Lord Warren arrived with the edict—the Emperor Charles Zhao was already grinning from ear to ear over in Dewmont Hall. He was so happy, the wrinkles on his face could’ve drawn a whole mask.
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Beaming with delight, the Emperor looked just as eager as the head eunuch from Little Red Consort’s quarters—only this time, his smile was aimed at the newly promoted chief eunuch, Lord Yang.
To keep the martial arts masters from sniffing out any clues, he made sure not to look injured—thanks to Simone’s careful control, he wasn’t actually hurt. But his expression was so respectful, he looked like a farmhand groveling before a landlord: "Is this okay with you?"
Lots of big shots, even after causing disasters across the land, won’t bat an eye. But that doesn’t mean they’re all stoic masterminds—most of the time, it’s just because none of the trouble landed on them, so they don’t care.
But if trouble ever landed on them, these folks would cry louder than anyone, surrender faster than anyone, and be so obedient they wouldn’t even dare fight back.
Sure, there are real tough guys out there—iron-willed heroes who wouldn’t flinch if you hit them with an axe. But Emperor Richard Song? Not a chance. Jill Young saw right through him and took him down without a second thought.
Gotta admit, it was risky—but Jill’s prediction was spot-on. After a whole night of ‘training’ from Simone, Brother Zhao was now more docile than a puppy.
"Mm..." Lord Yang sat in the chair, humming just like Eunuch Chief Lewis, even nailing that half-sour, half-smug expression.
That look gave Brother Zhao a panic attack. He bowed and nodded furiously: "If you’re not happy, I’ll issue another decree—change it right away!"
"Enough." Lord Yang waved him off, totally in character. After a night of interrogation, she’d already figured out Eunuch Chief Lewis’s routine and was confident she could pull off the act. Now was the perfect time to test her chief eunuch impression: "The emperor’s word is law—can’t just change things on a whim. Let’s leave it as is for now."
"Y-yes! Yes!" Brother Zhao grinned nervously, then asked, "Should I change the title of the revered deity now?"
Lord Yang thought for a moment and shook her head: "No need for now. Do it when the time comes. Just go about your business today, and don’t let anyone see anything weird. Otherwise..."
"Don’t worry! I swear, nothing will go wrong!" Brother Zhao was sweating buckets—he was definitely well-trained by now.
Lord Yang nodded in satisfaction. "It’s getting late—go get ready for court."
Lord Yang wanted to tag along with Emperor Charles Zhao to see what the top brass of the Late Southern Song Era were really like. In the not-so-distant future, these people might be enemies to defeat—so she had to get familiar with their faces.
She also wanted to investigate who was secretly hunting them down—passively reacting wasn’t her style. With the emperor in hand, it was like holding the wild card in a game of Fight the Landlord—a perfect chance to command the nobles and shake up the palace.
So Lord Yang stood tall, waved her hand with gusto—totally unlike a eunuch—and declared, "Let’s go! I want to see what kind of clowns fill the imperial court!"
"Uh..." But Brother Zhao looked embarrassed. He stammered, "Well... actually... there’s no morning court today..."
"No morning court?" Lord Yang was taken aback and dropped the act. "So when is court? Tomorrow?"
"Well... actually..."
"Spit it out! Just say it already!"
"Y-yes! Yes!" Brother Zhao wiped the sweat from his brow and blurted, "Actually, whether it’s today or tomorrow, there’s no court—I haven’t held court in ages."
"No court?!" Lord Yang was stunned. "Then how do you run the country?"
"Well... I just hang out with my consorts, drink, go boating, and, uh, have fun. As for state affairs, the Prime Minister handles everything. If something really big comes up, there’s a meeting, but I just show my face for show."
"Then issue a decree—summon all officials to court!" Lord Yang didn’t want to wait another minute.
But Brother Zhao looked troubled, his face flushing. "Even if I summon them, they probably won’t come—outside these palace walls, I don’t really run anything."
"What?!" Lord Yang’s eyes went wide. "You’re the emperor, aren’t you?!"