Chapter 336

Chapter 336

Jingren Palace

The Imperial Noble Consort, too ill to rise from bed, was diagnosed by the imperial physicians as being on her deathbed, with only a couple of days left. Even she herself had not expected her condition to deteriorate so severely. What had once been merely slightly reddened hands now showed flesh rotting from the inside out, mirroring the state of her body—beyond any remedy, worsening day by day instead of improving.

As if realizing something only after her body had completely failed, the Imperial Noble Consort refused her medicine, but to no avail. Her health continued to decline relentlessly. She attempted to send Noble Lady Qing away from her sickroom, but by then, she discovered she had seemingly lost all control over Jingren Palace. Noble Lady Qing, with her unchangingly calm demeanor, attended to her like a slow, cutting blade, quietly waiting for the Imperial Noble Consort’s demise.

The Imperial Noble Consort pleaded to see the Emperor, but her channels of information were sealed. She knew nothing of the outside world, and her severe illness often left her confused, unable to distinguish day from night.

When the Imperial Noble Consort, with her last strength, lashed out in hysteria, Noble Lady Qing calmly informed her that the Emperor’s southern tour had no set date to return.

And the Imperial Noble Consort wouldn’t hold out until his return. The Emperor would not make it back in time for her funeral rites—though Noble Lady Qing left this unspoken, the Imperial Noble Consort was not unaware.

The Imperial Noble Consort, her face gaunt and sallow, her hair dull as straw, her skeletal frame barely filling her undergarments, pointed a finger at Noble Lady Qing—now a ruined, grotesque claw, far from the delicate, well-tended hands of the past.

“You—cough—you destroyed me—cough!” she hissed, glaring at her rotting hand with bitter mockery.

“This was just to prevent... accidents. Sister, I had no choice.” Noble Lady Qing’s thoughts were inscrutable, so she had to block every possible path that might have given the Imperial Noble Consort a chance to turn the tables—her hands. Without them, even the Rong Noble Consort would find nothing of interest left.

Noble Lady Qing was no bold gambler. She could only eliminate every possible path that might allow the Imperial Noble Consort to use the Rong Noble Consort to stage a comeback. The Emperor had laid out the terms of allowing a second Tongjia into the palace.

“Do you think—cough—that no one will suspect foul play when I grow sicker under your care? Cough! Cough!”

The Imperial Noble Consort’s anger seemed to drain the last of her life. Her violent coughing sounded as though she were coughing up her lungs, her eyes filled with venom as she glared at Noble Lady Qing, a far cry from her once-regal, peony-like grace.

Noble Lady Qing, as if prepared for this long ago, felt only relief at her sister’s hatred.

She knew what she was doing. If she hadn’t acted, her elder sister would have drained her dry. She refused to accept that fate.

She also knew that, though she had acted under tacit permission, this stain on her hands and soul meant she would never again know favor. All she could gain now was status and honor.

The Imperial Noble Consort seethed at being left with scraps. Noble Lady Qing resented being used by her in turn.

“Sister, even now, you still speak like this,” Noble Lady Qing said softly, her smile calm, her eyes eerily still—no triumph, just the calm statement of fact. “That’s why you were the one discarded.”

“The Tong family has more than one Tongjia. But the harem needs only one.”

One obedient, sensible Tongjia.

The Imperial Noble Consort seemed to collapse, as if all strength had left her. Her face, once sallow, now bore an ashen pallor, her breath faint as though her last had already escaped.

She had long known something was amiss. By the time she realized it, she had lost all control. Noble Lady Qing had taken everything over, and the palace servants acted as though her ravings were merely the delirium of a dying woman. Later, she understood—she would not recover. The Tong family would no longer pin their hopes on an Imperial Noble Consort at death’s door.

Instead, they would use her final days to elevate Noble Lady Qing. Even her sickbed attendance would serve to burnish Noble Lady Qing’s reputation. There would be no last-minute exposure of Noble Lady Qing’s treachery—arranging her entry into the palace had already cost the Tong family dearly. They could not afford to do it again. The Emperor’s patience had limits. Even knowing Noble Lady Qing had orchestrated her downfall, she could only swallow it for the family’s sake and die.

She had exhausted the Emperor’s patience. Tears welled in the Imperial Noble Consort’s eyes—even for their final meeting, the Emperor would not see her.

The Imperial Noble Consort passed away.

Exactly as the imperial physicians had predicted.

The news rippled through the harem. Though the Imperial Noble Consort had long been ill, everyone had assumed she would linger indefinitely, left to fade silently in Jingren Palace.

Who could have imagined she would truly die?

With the Emperor away on his southern tour, unable to return in time, the funeral duties went to those he’d named before his departure—Consort Yi, with Noble Lady Qing assisting. The Grand Empress Dowager, elderly, could not be burdened with such matters.

After all, Consort Yi is now the only one at the rank of Consort in the palace, and Noble Lady Qing is a Tongjia, so naturally she can’t stay out of it either.

But right at this crucial moment, with those who could give it weight unable to return, the funeral rites appear all too rigidly by-the-book.

Still, it’s exhausting work. Being put in charge of the Imperial Noble Consort’s funeral should’ve given Consort Yi some quiet satisfaction—after all, such a laborious duty is not something just anyone is deemed worthy of handling.

But if Rong Noble Consort hadn’t gone on the southern tour with the Emperor, this responsibility would have fallen to her. Rong Noble Consort's departure from the palace now seems almost like an evasion of this troublesome affair.

What’s really alarming is that the Imperial Household Department has already started quietly preparing items like the empress’s ceremonial robes. Though kept under wraps, word was bound to get out.

And who else could the candidate be? The existence of the Imperial Noble Consort had already been deliberately reduced to a mere ornament. Who’d have guessed the Emperor wouldn’t even want a figurehead in the future empress’s way?

When Rong Noble Consort returns from the southern tour, she’ll probably walk right into her own coronation as empress.

This undeniable fact leaves no room for doubt, nor does it allow anyone to delude themselves into thinking they might be the unexpected variable.

The Grand Empress Dowager couldn’t help but sigh. When Imperial Noble Consort Tongjia first entered the palace, the Grand Empress Dowager had criticized her as mismatched in character and status, unfit for such responsibility. Had it not been for the Emperor’s favor toward his maternal family, how could the Tongjia clan have achieved such prominence in both court and harem?

She wasn’t as steady as Niohuru and always lost out in their power struggles. Yet Niohuru, too, was defeated by the sister she insisted on sending into the palace, falling just one step short of the empress's position as Imperial Noble Consort. And now, Tongjia has similarly been bested by Xiao Tongjia Shi, halting at that same seemingly close yet unattainable distance from the throne.

The role of a nation’s mother is of utmost importance. Rong Noble Consort may excel as a favored consort, but she cannot bear the weight of such a position. Yet the Emperor insists on this path, revealing that the resistance behind it is far from simple.

The Grand Empress Dowager always said no favorites—even if you had them, you had to play fair, spreading your favors evenly to maintain harmony in the harem and prevent the concentrated hostility of all from falling upon a single person.

In the end, every favored consort in history has come to a bad end.