Qi Ming had been visiting Consort Jing's quarters more often than usual lately. Consort Jing lived in a separate courtyard toward the western side of Yongning Palace. It was small but neatly kept, with two pots of clivia beneath the covered walkway that she tended herself. She disliked socializing. When the other consorts visited one another to chat, she always pleaded illness and declined, shutting her doors to live her own life. When Qi Ming entered, she was sitting on the couch by the window, sewing an underrobe. The fabric was plain, finely woven cotton, and the stitches were exceptionally close. At a glance, it was clearly meant for him.
"Mother." Qi Ming sat down opposite her. Consort Jing looked up at him, rested her needlework on her lap, and asked why he had not gone to the Imperial Study that day. Qi Ming said the Grand Tutor had taken leave, and he had asked Zhou Wenhan to deliver his schoolwork for him.
Consort Jing watched him for a while. She had raised him herself; he could hide none of his thoughts from her. She set her needlework aside and asked what he wanted to say. Qi Ming picked up the teapot and topped up her cup by half a cup, then poured one for himself. He held his cup without drinking, rubbing his fingers back and forth along the rim. Only after a long silence did he speak. "Mother, after all these years with Father, have you ever regretted it?"
Consort Jing looked at the two pots of clivia outside the window. Their leaves were thick and dark green, their edges a little scorched from being left in the sun when she had forgotten to water them a while back. She studied the leaves for a time before slowly