A Faint Fragrance in the Spring Chill

The words Han Fu heard most often were that she was lucky, since she had gone from a palace maid in the flower house to Prince Feng Yuchang's concubine in a single day.

In the eyes of the palace attendants, Han Fu was the prince's favorite.

They didn't know it was only a cover for his cold-heartedness and scheming.

Han Fu tried her best to please Feng Yuchang, day after day, always cautious. In the end, all she got was news that he was going to marry a crown princess.

That day, Han Fu knelt outside Feng Yuchang's palace and begged him to spare the child in her womb.

All she received was Feng Yuchang's cold reply: “Get rid of it.”

Perhaps Han Fu was blessed, because the child survived.

As Feng Yuchang and the crown princess stood on the high platform receiving congratulations from the assembled officials, Han Fu gave birth to a son.

But she never even got to see the child before someone carried him away.

In the days that followed, she never heard her baby's cry again.

Everyone in the Eastern Palace said the beautiful concubine in the side hall had probably gone mad.

When Feng Yuchang heard, he went to see Han Fu.

As she pleaded desperately for him to return her child, Feng Yuchang merely shook off her hand, leaving her in the rain. “Know your place.”

But Feng Yuchang never imagined this would be the last time they saw each other.

When the side hall caught fire, the days of unrelenting rain finally came to an end. The flames spread and burned for three days.

The only thing carried out of the hall was a charred corpse.

Feng Yuchang tightened his grip on the jade thumb ring and said coldly, “Bury her.”

That night, the camellias planted in the palace suddenly bloomed.

Feng Yuchang walked over fallen petals and plucked a branch with his own hands. Looking at the child behind him, whose face resembled Han Fu's, he could no longer keep his composure.

Years later, while accompanying the emperor on a southern tour, Feng Yuchang heard a familiar voice in the waterways of Yangzhou.

He raised his umbrella and, through the soft veil of rain, saw a woman exactly like Han Fu.

But she was gently holding another man's hand, leaning against him, her eyes full of affection as she softly called him “husband.”

The woman from long ago had secretly called him that way, too.

Theme: Of all things, affection is the most precious