Chapter 217: Desiring Grand Favor

Li Defu's breathing became noticeably heavier, and greed and vigilance clashed fiercely in his eyes.

He stared fixedly at Wan Tang, his voice pressed down to a very low tone.

Like a venomous snake spitting its fang: "You… what exactly do you want?"

Wan Tang met his gaze without avoidance, got straight to the point, her tone flat yet carrying a chilling coldness: "It's nothing."

"Now that the palace guard commander can disappear without a sound, that would be even better."

Li Defu's pupils contracted sharply, and he inhaled a breath of cold air.

It was as if he were truly meeting this woman for the first time, his voice even warbled: "You… what you want… is truly frightening!"

Wan Tang smiled, the smile laced with sarcasm: "Frightening?"

"A little palace maid who should have been executed now seeks to become a Consort."

"Lord Li, is what you desire any less?"

"Are you not afraid?"

"She is I (servant)'s daughter!" Li Defu emphasized sharply.

"Then what of it?" Wan Tang sneered, her gaze slicing him like an ice blade, "A eunuch's daughter… is that identity glorious?"

"You!" Li Defu, furious to the point of trembling all over, his face iron‑blue, his finger pointing at Wan Tang shaking, "I (servant) know far more than you!"

"Emperor also is willing to hear I (servant) say a few words!"

Wan Tang brushed his hand away indifferently, her tone cold and hard: "So Lord Li, aren't you now helpless against my palace?"

"If it weren't for my 'Mo family remnant' status, Lord Li, what right would you have today to stand here negotiating with my palace?"

These words were like a dagger, stabbing hard into Li Defu's deepest pain.

He suddenly clenched his fist, veins bulging at his temples, murderous intent raging in his eyes, nearly out of control.

Wan Tang merely watched him indifferently, as if observing a farce unrelated to herself.

Leisurely smoothing her hem, she said lightly: "If Lord Li finds it difficult, you may simply depart."

"In this palace there are plenty of people willing to cooperate."

"As for whether the collaborators are 'sisters', or loyal to me…," she chuckled lightly, "it doesn't matter."

She raised her hand, making a dismissive gesture: "Lord Li, please."

Li Defu stared fiercely at Wan Tang, and in the end all his fury was forcibly suppressed by the lure of great profit.

He gritted his teeth hard, forcing words out between his teeth: "Very well, may Madam be able to say and fulfill it."

"Otherwise, turning a Consort of the Cold Palace into I (servant)'s everything is not impossible."

Having said that, he fled with a wild laugh.

Wan Tang clenched her fist hard, "This person truly deserves death!"

A few days later.

Li Ping'er wore a brand‑new, brocaded silk palace robe embroidered with intricate entwining lotus patterns, surrounded by pearls and jade.

But that once‑timid and innocent little face now looked terrifyingly pale and haggard.

Her eyes, which always held a watery gleam, now resembled two dried wells, completely devoid of spirit, leaving only a dead, hollow void.

Wan Tang, seeing her in this state, felt the thread of guilt in her heart deepen a few more strands, and was about to speak.

But Li Ping'er walked straight to her, and without any warning, with a "splash" sound, knelt straight down.

"Sister." she began, her voice hoarse, her tone infused with icy hatred, lacking any trace of past reliance or softness.

Each word seemed dredged from the Ice Cellar, "Little sister has understood… your previous words."

She lifted her head, those hollow eyes staring straight at Wan Tang.

Even the corner of her mouth twisted into an extremely odd smile: "Today little sister saw Lord Li, and personally made him a slice of pine cake to send."

When she said this, she was clearly smiling, yet a chill surged from her feet straight to the top of her head.

Wan Tang watched her, her lips moving, countless words stuck in her throat, finally turning into a heavy sigh.

She reached out to help her: "Ping'er, get up first…"

Li Ping'er avoided her hand, standing stiffly on her own, moving like a soulless puppet.

She continued in that flat, zombie‑like tone: "From now on I hope, sister… you will give me many instructions."

Wan Tang's heart suddenly sank, seeing Li Ping'er's visage as if her soul had been drained, leaving only cold hatred, her expression turned exceedingly solemn.

She stepped forward, reaching to help Li Ping'er up, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor:

"Ping'er… have you really thought it through?"

"Once this path is taken, there is no turning back."

Li Ping'er allowed herself to be supported, yet her body remained stiff and cold.

She tugged at the corner of her mouth, revealing a grimace uglier than crying, her voice light yet bearing a bone‑gnawing chill:

"Thought it through… couldn't be clearer."

She lifted those hollow eyes, within them swirling twisted hatred: "His sins… merely killing him… how could that be enough?"

The plan was progressing step by step toward the direction she had envisioned, even more smoothly.

But at this moment, Wan Tang, looking at the woman before her, completely consumed by hatred and no longer bearing any trace of her former self, felt her chest tighten with panic.

Her face showed a wildly complex expression, guilt, pity, worry, and a thread of destiny she herself could not escape intertwined.

In the end she merely closed her eyes bitterly, and when she opened them again, her voice was calm yet weighed a thousand pounds:

"Fine."

She grasped Li Ping'er's icy hand, word by word, as if swearing:

"I will help you… obtain an unparalleled favor within this harem."

Within a short month, the harem's winds shifted dramatically.

Li Ping'er's favor is like fire searing oil, its momentum is immense.

Chu Yunzheng almost spends every night lodging in her palace, and his gifts flow like water without cease.

Each night, faint songs and Silk and Bamboo Music drift from the exquisite palace gardens; the skill is not extraordinarily superb, and on close listening there is even a hint of rawness.

But to the Emperor's ears, it seems like celestial music, bearing an indescribable charm that enthralls him.

The six palaces cast side glances, murmuring privately, all saying that this newly risen Lady of Grace must have used some unknown means to make His Majesty so exclusively favor her that he sees no one else.

Even the Virtuous Consort, who once raised towering waves in the Cold Palace, seems long forgotten by the emperor, never mentioned again.

Cold Palace.

Now the Cold Palace is no longer the dead, desolate silence of former days.

The tiny courtyard has been tidied to immaculate order, exuding a strange vitality.

One corner has been cleared, neatly planting several rows of lush green vegetables.

The other corner is fenced with bamboo slats into a small breeding area, where a few plump hens leisurely peck at food.

Xiao Shunzi's wound has fully healed, and she now rolls up her sleeves.

She grabs a handful of bran, skillfully feeding the chickens, occasionally making a "gugu" cooing sound.

Wan Tang sits by the stone mill, intently grinding some sun‑dried herbs, the air scented with a faint, clean bitterness.

Her movements are neither hurried nor sluggish, as if all the world's storms are irrelevant to this tiny realm.

With a "clang", the not‑very sturdy wooden door of the Cold Palace is impatiently pushed open from outside.

Xu Yanchuan mutters curses as he walks in, his commander‑of‑the‑Imperial‑Guards uniform accentuating his upright posture, yet his brows bear a trace of hostility and disgust.

The guard on duty outside the door, seeing this, quickly bows and greets, "Commander Xu!".

Xu Yanchuan pays no heed, strides straight into the courtyard, his gaze sweeping over Xiao Shunzi feeding the chickens and Wan Tang grinding herbs, a sharply scornful smile curling his mouth.

"Yo, isn't this our esteemed Virtuous Consort?" he raises his voice, full of unabashed sarcasm, "Haven't seen you for days, and your life these days… is really down‑to‑earth!"

"Just like a rustic village woman, truly… pitiful, lamentable!"

He strides forward, his eyes disdainfully scanning the surroundings: "It seems merely imprisoning her does nothing; to utterly destroy a person, one must crush that pitiful spirit of hers."

"A person who spends every day only handling chicken droppings and soil must have long forgotten what 'countless phoenix rites' are, or what 'royal glory' means."

Wan Tang's grinding does not pause, not even a flicker of her eyelids, as if she never heard his filthy words.

The guard beside him seems uneasy, whispering, "Commander Xu, if you continue this… and the Emperor asks about it later…"

"Emperor?" Xu Yanchuan laughs as if hearing a huge joke, his voice growing louder, "Nowadays, who in the palace doesn't know the Emperor has a gentle Lady of Grace, adored nightly, and has long forgotten the old ones in this Cold Palace to the farthest heavens!"

"You actually still think she could have a day of reversal?"

"Dream on!"

As he speaks, his gaze suddenly lands on the few rows of vegetables that have wilted from lack of fertilizer.

He shouts outward, "Servants! Go fetch two buckets of the finest big dung for our Virtuous Consort!"

"The Consort now craves this, so see to it properly!"

Wan Tang's hand grinding the herbs finally pauses ever so slightly.

She lifts her head, looks at Xu Yanchuan, her face showing a timely mix of humiliation and anger, her lips trembling faintly.

As if furious yet speechless, she can only lower her head rigidly.

Xu Yenchuan offers a round of mockery.

Then checks again.

Confirming nothing is missing inside, he then stylishly turns around.

He orders, "Hurry and bring it up!"

Xu Yanchuan, just after leaving with that arrogant mockery, the Cold Palace gate clangs shut again.

Xiao Shunzi immediately drops the bran, her face blooming with a smile, lowering her voice excitedly, "Master! Commander Xu truly is… a coal delivered in snow!"

"We were just worried this ground lacked fertilizer!"

Wan Tang instantly drops the humbled expression, but her delicate nose immediately wrinkles.

She hurriedly covers her mouth and nose with her hand, grumbling in a hoarse tone, "Stop being so poor!"

"Really, don't even mention… this smell… it's truly overwhelming!"

The two exchange a glance, caring for nothing else.

Xiao Shunzi swiftly runs to the corner to fetch an iron spade, and Wan Tang also rolls up her sleeves, revealing slender yet strong wrists.

"Quick, quick, quick—while the smell hasn't spread everywhere, hurry and dig a pit to bury it and let it soak!"

Wan Tang commands, also picking up a small shovel to help.

"Virtuous Consort! How bold you are!"

A sharp angry shout, accompanied by a heavy door‑pushing sound, suddenly rang out, breaking the courtyard's bustle.

The guards outside hurriedly shout, "Empress, may you live ten thousand ten thousand years!"

Xiao Mingshu, eyes like phoenix feathers and bearing authority, leads a group of palace attendants with a fierce momentum.

As soon as she steps into the courtyard, within two steps the strong, pungent odor hits her like a solid wall.

The Empress, caught off guard, gasps a cold breath, then is choked and forced to retreat repeatedly.

She hurriedly uses the luxurious sleeves embroidered with golden phoenixes to tightly cover her mouth and nose, her delicate willow‑shaped brows knit tightly, and her voice changes tone:

"What smell?!"

"So stinky!"