Chapter Five: Brothers

Sarah was stunned by Consort Yu's words. Although the two of them spoke about everything, this was the first time her mistress had revealed something so treasonous. She dropped to her knees with a thud and stammered, “Your Highness, please don’t say any more. As long as you understand it yourself, that’s enough.”

Consort Yu did not reply, but in the dark chamber, Ethan Foster was plunged into deep despair. Nothing is more heartbreaking than having beautiful hopes suddenly shattered. He could not imagine how a woman so noble and elegant in public could so meticulously plot against her own son for the sake of personal gain. Each word—“useless,” “good-for-nothing”—stabbed at his heart like a knife, leaving him bleeding. Was this the glory and wealth that ordinary people envied most? He didn’t know, truly didn’t know...

The conversation in the room continued, but Ethan Foster stumbled out in a daze. When Consort Yu and Sarah spoke, no one dared to be present, but the hunter’s vigilance his father had taught him since childhood served him well—no one discovered that he had eavesdropped on such an earth-shattering conversation. Bathed in sunlight once more, Ethan Foster felt not a trace of warmth; on the contrary, a chill was slowly seeping into his heart. This place was simply too cold. The sky, which had just seemed so blue and clear, now looked gloomy; the palace, which had just appeared so grand and imposing, now seemed cold and unfeeling; the eunuchs and maids, who had just seemed so humble and respectful, now appeared indifferent, their eyes and actions full of contempt. For the first time, the thirteen-year-old boy felt so helpless. What should he do? There was no going back. What should he do now?

“Seventh Prince.” Suddenly, a familiar and terrifying voice came from behind. Ethan Foster involuntarily took two steps back before turning around. Yes, it was the woman he called Aunt Ping, the one who had just discussed the most dreadful matters with his mother.

Sarah looked at the fear on Ethan Foster’s face in surprise. She didn’t know what had just happened, but after the Empress’s heartfelt confession, she could no longer feel any pity. If you must blame someone, blame the fact that you were born into the imperial family, Sarah thought silently. “Seventh Prince, the Eleventh Prince has already come to pay his respects to Her Highness. You two brothers haven’t seen each other in a long time. Her Highness asks you to come to the main hall.”

The Eleventh Prince? Ethan Foster’s heart skipped a beat. Was it that prince who monopolized his mother’s affections, his so-called younger brother? Although reason told him he never wanted to see that woman’s face again, his emotions still drove him to want to see the son his mother cherished so dearly. He mumbled his agreement.

In the main hall, Consort Yu looked with joy at the child who embodied all her hopes, her love for him written all over her face. Though only ten years old, the Eleventh Prince Lucas Foster possessed what Ethan Foster lacked most: vigor and health. As the favorite child of the Emperor’s beloved consort, he was undoubtedly the darling of the harem. To make up for Consort Yu’s regrets, the Emperor had even allowed him to live in the Tingfeng Pavilion of Lingbo Palace, which made many other consorts with children resentful, since they could only see their own children every few months.

As soon as Ethan Foster entered, he saw the scene he most longed for: Consort Yu gently stroking Lucas Foster’s hair, her eyes full of maternal affection. In that instant, Ethan Foster felt like a complete outsider. After a long silence, Consort Yu finally noticed this son, and her gaze immediately turned cold. “Wuhen, Wuxi, you two brothers haven’t seen each other in a long time. Aren’t you going to greet each other?” she said, forcing herself to speak.

Thirteen-year-old Ethan Foster looked at ten-year-old Lucas Foster, his eyes unable to hide his jealousy. Facing this brother who was the center of everyone’s affection, he found himself feeling a violent urge. This was a child as delicate as carved jade, the arrogance of royalty shining in his eyes, the slight upward curve of his lips revealing his pride. “Seventh Brother,” Lucas Foster uttered these two words, but refused to say anything more. At ten, he understood the ways of the world better than his bedridden brother, his eyes full of arrogance and cunning, and of course, he did not value this dispensable brother.

“Eleventh Brother.” Forcing himself to return the greeting, Ethan Foster could not stay any longer. Gritting his teeth, he asked to leave. “Mother, your son suddenly feels unwell. May I be excused?”

Consort Yu had no desire to say anything more to this son and, without any attempt to keep him, signaled to Sarah to escort him out. Sarah only accompanied him to the palace gate before finding an excuse to leave. Ethan Foster did not notice that Hongru and Lvyin had disappeared. In his mind, his mother’s words kept churning, over and over. It was the same road as when he came, but Ethan Foster’s state of mind was completely different. He hated this place, hated the brother who had stolen his happiness, hated everyone. Why had heaven given him wealth but taken away family affection? Was it really impossible to have both?