PM - 15

He stopped in his tracks, momentarily unsure whether he should approach.

The figure on the dais had their back to him, hiding their face. At first glance, their attire seemed different from usual. Though they still wore a deep robe, their hair was loosely tied up, resembling a woman’s chignon. This gave the robe an ethereal quality, as if it swayed with the wind, standing by the window ready to ascend to the heavens at any moment.

When he hesitated to step forward, the person by the window turned around. With a calm expression, she called out, “My Lord Chancellor, I’ve inconvenienced you by keeping you awake tonight. However, the skies are clear tonight—I’ve calculated that at the hour of Hai Zheng, the moon will be at its zenith, making it the perfect time for stargazing.”

This was not what he had expected. He had assumed that upon seeing him, she would eagerly cling to him. Instead, she maintained a formal demeanor, speaking only of official matters. Without lingering her gaze, she turned back to look into the distance. Logically, such seriousness should have reassured the Chancellor, but it did not. He stared at her back for a long while, growing increasingly suspicious that something was amiss.

Carefully approaching, he bowed to her. “Your Majesty has waited long. Stargazing is better done late than early. Moreover, being alone on this tower is unsafe—safety must come first.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “Before you arrived, I was thinking that if I were to fall from this tower tonight, no one would care about the cause of my death. So, I dismissed all the Yellow Gate Attendants. I don’t trust anyone except you, my Lord Chancellor.”

Her words made his heart skip a beat. “Why does Your Majesty trust only me?”

Turning back with a smile, she replied, “Because you and I are one. If I can no longer be emperor, how can you become the emperor’s father-in-law?”

Her teasing tone revealed the red lipstick she had applied—a vivid hue that enlivened and brightened her face.

He was momentarily stunned. “Your Majesty…”

She seemed slightly bashful. “What? Does it not suit me?”

His brow furrowed. “I’ve repeatedly warned Your Majesty to stay away from cosmetics. You hold a position of great responsibility, meant for achieving great deeds. You may enjoy music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, but you must not indulge in things that weaken your resolve. Have you forgotten my words completely?”

His stern rebuke brought back memories of her childhood, reciting texts under his tutelage. She felt a flicker of disappointment and pointed outside. “Is the great achievement you speak of merely possessing these vast lands? For a girl, the rise and fall of the nation matter far less than flower ornaments and silk skirts. I once tried to suppress my nature, but over time, I grew weary of it. I thought to myself, since I am emperor, why not have both? Otherwise, what’s the point of being emperor?”

Ah, at fifteen or sixteen, it was the age of invincibility, where she believed herself supreme. Having strayed onto the wrong path, it was his duty to guide her back. The Chancellor steadied his emotions and patiently explained, “Your Majesty must consider the late emperor. He entrusted you with this throne so that you could expand our borders and bring prosperity to the empire. To accomplish great deeds, one must first cultivate oneself. Have you done so? None of the court officials wish to see an emperor who paints her face like a courtesan. Do you understand?”

She fell silent, tilting her head and murmuring, “So, I can only choose one, is that it?”

He shook his head. “If you abandon the throne, you won’t even keep your life. How can you choose?”

Fortunately, she was intelligent and quick to grasp his meaning. After nodding, she said, “I understand, my Lord Chancellor. Thankfully, you are here. If it were someone else, I doubt I’d leave the Vermilion Bird Tower alive. Unfortunately, there’s no mirror here—I can’t see my face…” As she spoke, she tugged at his sleeves, tiptoed, and pouted. “You’ll have to help me wipe it off. If someone else sees it, it wouldn’t do.”

Only then did the Chancellor realize he had fallen into her trap. What had that blind Lian Zheng said? That at most she would verbally take advantage of him. And now? Her actions were far worse than mere words!

Fuwēi admitted to herself that she had been mischievous. Seeing the Chancellor’s flustered face through the haze, she felt victorious once again.

What kind of person was she? After ten years of ruling, how could she entertain the absurd notion of balancing cosmetics and the throne? She simply wanted to ensnare him. Look at him now—entangled in his own web, regretting it deeply. She couldn’t help but want to laugh. The more she suppressed it, the more her lips quirked upward. Outside the court, the Chancellor wasn’t such a bad man. If he were thoroughly evil, she wouldn’t dare provoke him! She owed him thanks for his inherent kindness—he remembered the saying, “A real man doesn’t fight with women,” giving her countless opportunities to act boldly.

The Chancellor was utterly cornered. Under the dim light, the young emperor puckered her red lips at him. His heart raced, yet he couldn’t throw her off the tower. Claws of anxiety raked at his insides, leaving him unsure of what to do. Had the young emperor been possessed? Once so obedient and sweet, now she exploited every opportunity to torment him. It was as if another soul had taken over her body, leaving the original one obliterated.

He tried to pull away. “After finishing your meal, do you also need a Yellow Gate Attendant to wipe your mouth?”

“No,” she replied. “You’re not a Yellow Gate Attendant.”

With no way to retreat, and unwilling to waste more time, he reluctantly rolled up his sleeves.

As he prepared to “martyr” himself, she dodged left and right. “This will dirty your clothes!”

He suddenly remembered the handkerchief in his sleeve pocket and reached for it, but before he could react, she grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly against her lips.

A thunderous boom resounded in the Chancellor’s mind. All his attention focused on that single point, which blazed like wildfire, consuming him entirely. He had led armies, debated scholars, and even presided over trials and punishments. Through swordplay and shadows, he had walked this path until today—only to be undone by her. Incredible.

Fuwēi secretly observed him. The Chancellor was utterly dumbfounded, his expression more entertaining than any cockfight or acrobatics.

Truthfully, she didn’t know where she found the courage. Was this a kiss? Though disguised as wiping her lips… The Chancellor’s skin was flawless, almost making one forget he was once a warrior. Beneath the smooth texture lay a faint, pleasant scent—healthy and resilient, making her mouth water. Applying a bit of force, she swept across his hand, then admired the red mark left behind, satisfied.

Surely he wouldn’t fly into a rage from embarrassment? She raised her head, feigning innocence and harmlessness. “My Lord Chancellor, is it clean now?”

At this point, what more could he say? The Chancellor nodded helplessly. “That’s enough. Please remember, Your Majesty—this is a one-time exception.”

Did he refer to the lipstick or her audacity? Fuwēi found both hard to reconcile, so her agreement was deliberately vague.

The Chancellor recalled another crucial question. “Where did you get that lipstick?” Identifying the source would allow him to handle the situation promptly and prevent future trouble.

Fuwēi replied, “Isn’t the empress selection underway? I acquired a full set under the pretext of preparing dowry items for the future empress. They’re on my dressing table.”

Was this a death wish? He frowned at her. “I thought Your Majesty understood the bigger picture. I never imagined you’d recklessly expose yourself to such glaring vulnerabilities for personal indulgence.”

She immediately grew anxious. “What should I do? I acted foolishly and might cause a disaster. Let’s deal with this after stargazing. Please, my Lord Chancellor, take them out of the palace for me. Leaving them in my quarters is too risky. If any of the attendants gossip about it, the ministers will surely misunderstand and think I’m… inclined toward men.”

The implied object of her affection was, of course, him. The Chancellor felt as though he had swallowed a bitter pill. But knowing her cunning, it was unlikely she had actually placed the cosmetics in Zhangde Hall. This was likely another ploy to lure him into her chambers. If he fell for it again, wouldn’t he be a fool?

He paced to the window, gazing at the distant view. Thousands of lights illuminated the imperial city, presenting a scene of peace and prosperity. After a long pause, he calmly said, “Your Majesty, please remain calm. I will issue orders to replace all the Yellow Gate Attendants and eunuchs serving near you overnight. This way, we can ensure absolute safety.”

His so-called “absolute safety” amounted to silencing witnesses. Those who truly believed him to be a good man were gravely mistaken.

There were over thirty Yellow Gate Attendants and chamberlains in Zhangde Hall—how could they be condemned to death over her casual remark? Predictably, she changed her tune. “Perhaps I was mistaken. The items should be in Changqiu Palace. There’s no need to trouble you, my Lord Chancellor.”

The Chancellor regained some confidence. Each side had scored a minor victory; the situation seemed tolerable. The young emperor, having suffered a setback, temporarily ceased her chatter and simply turned to say, “It’s about time, my Lord Chancellor. Follow me.”

The Vermilion Bird Tower was the highest point in the imperial city. On the outer terrace stood an armillary sphere, specifically for the emperor’s nighttime celestial observations. Fuwēi pushed open the door and stepped out. The wind roared, and standing atop the tower, even the tranquil night felt restless. Approaching the edge was terrifying. She took half a step back. “I’m afraid of heights. My Lord Chancellor, will you hold my hand?”

The terrace’s edge was guarded by a low wall, making it difficult to fall accidentally. Yet, refusing her request would defy the imperial command, while agreeing invited mockery. Such moments were most troublesome when no one else was around.

The Chancellor gestured toward the inner hall. “Your Majesty, please return inside. I’ll observe the stars and report back to you afterward.”

“Do you fear I might ambush you?” In the dark, simulating an accidental fall would be easy. She knew his reservations well. Displeased, he turned back, and she smiled faintly, twisting to extinguish the wind lamp above the door.

The night enveloped them in its vast darkness. Without candles, the world under the starlight appeared blue. She reached out to take his hand, her grip both domineering and spoiled. Many times, she thanked her royal status—even when useless, he had to give her a modicum of respect. His palm was warm and soft. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply into the empty expanse, smiling contentedly.

A simple touch of hands ought to bring hearts closer. Turning to look at him, she found his gaze fixed on the expansive sky. Countless stars stretched before him like an endless canvas. Raising his other hand, he pointed toward the Heart Mansion. “Your Majesty, please look…”

Fuwēi followed his gaze. The summer constellations differed from those of autumn and winter, appearing clearer and more distinct without needing the armillary sphere’s sighting tube. The Heart Mansion, also known as the Great Fire, governed the seasons. The phrase “July’s fire flows” referred to it. When it met Mars, the two stars clashed brilliantly, filling the sky with crimson light…

She remained silent for a long while, then sighed softly. “Mars lingers near the Heart Mansion. A change in rulership looms, signaling the departure of the sovereign from their palace. My Lord Chancellor, let’s make a wager. Let’s see whether it’s I who will perish or you who will relinquish power.”

The Chancellor remained silent, looking down at her. The small emperor, with her tiny hand, felt fragile in his grasp. Yet he knew that from tomorrow onward, their relationship would be a matter of life and death. Whom this Mars calamity would afflict remained uncertain. But the Heart Mansion represented the dragon’s heart, and Mars invading the emperor typically foretold the emperor’s demise.

“Let us yield to fate,” he said wistfully. “Perhaps it is I who should die.”

She shook her head desolately. “There’s no need to console me, my Lord Chancellor. I do not fear death. I fear living sixteen years only to leave nothing behind. These years, I’ve been learning how to be an emperor. Unfortunately, before I could fully spread my wings, my life may already be over.”

Suddenly, she released his hand. Startled, the Chancellor reached out and grasped it tightly. She stood beneath the moonlight, smiling serenely. “My Lord Chancellor still cares for me. If I were to die, would you truly not miss me?” Sighing deeply, she added, “Thinking of the imperial tombs on Beimang Mountain fills me with dread. Twenty-four emperors from six dynasties, plus me... I am the sole empress. In life, I deceive the world; in death, I must deceive my ancestors. That’s why I cannot die.”

The Chancellor didn’t know how to comfort her. He could only say, “If it is fate, I am powerless. If it is human error, I will do everything in my power to ensure Your Majesty’s safety.”

Fuwēi felt a pang of sorrow. She knew his protection of her was incidental—more for his own sake. Sometimes, avoiding the truth allowed appearances to provide solace. Like now, without delving too deeply, she could still feel an indescribable sense of gratitude.