PM - 16

“Do you think Mars might shift on its own in the next couple of days?”

Wishes had to be made. If Mars spontaneously moved away from the Heart Mansion, everyone would be safe—how wonderful that would be! The phenomenon of Mars guarding the Heart Mansion presented two possibilities. Although she was determined to reclaim power from him, she had never considered removing him entirely. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to living under his immense pressure. If one day the mountain above her head were removed, she might even feel out of place. The ideal court dynamic would be her ruling while he collaborated—if he refrained from overstepping and devoted himself to assisting her, how could the empire not prosper?

Ultimately, governing the world required legitimacy. She was the emperor; the realm belonged to her. He was merely a regent minister. For ruler and subject to stand as equals disrupted proper etiquette. Of course, if he someday became hers, allowing him some leeway wouldn’t be impossible. But until he earned her complete trust, their contest would continue. Such was the tragedy of someone like her, who had to hold back even in matters of love.

The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the nine provinces with clarity. Mars and the Heart Mansion vied for brilliance, their radiance undiminished even under the crescent moon’s glow. Judging by this momentum, a turnaround within three to five days seemed unlikely. Though the Chancellor knew it wasn’t promising, he couldn’t be too blunt and instead replied circuitously, “The rotation of stars is natural. Even the moon waxes and wanes—how much more so for them. To be honest, I don’t believe in celestial omens. For instance, whenever an emperor is conceived, tales claim the mother dreams of the sun or moon entering her bosom. Those are fabrications by rulers to consolidate imperial authority.”

Fuwēi let out a sound of surprise. “I remember The Great Chronicle of Yin contains records about me. It says that Consort Lou, during her pregnancy, saw red light fill her chamber every night. When she gave birth, a strange fragrance enveloped the imperial city for three days without dissipating…”

The Chancellor coughed awkwardly, unable to respond. That passage had been dictated by him to the court historians. He recalled visiting the late emperor’s mansion—the then Prince of Wu—the day after she was born. The emperor, having fathered a daughter, forced a smile and lied, claiming it was a son, and ordered the servants to bring her out for his inspection. What he saw left a lifelong impression: the newborn child was hideously ugly. A moment later, the diaper was soaked—a lack of odor was already considerate; there was certainly no talk of fragrant scents!

The Chancellor raised his head halfway, staring blankly at Mars. “That’s roughly what happened… with slight embellishments. Harmless overall.”

What did he mean by harmless? She pressed further: “All lies?”

The Chancellor hesitated briefly. “Don’t dwell on those details. What matters is that Your Majesty has ascended the throne and has reigned steadily for a decade. If we say there was a fragrance, then there was a fragrance.”

She felt deeply disappointed. “So now, with Mars guarding the Heart Mansion, it proves I never had the fate of an emperor.”

The Chancellor furrowed his brow. “I’ve said it—I don’t believe in celestial omens. As long as Your Majesty remains firmly seated on the throne, I will handle matters concerning the borders and vassal states. The empire won’t fall into chaos.”

Fuwēi responded disheartened, “I’m just worried I’ll die suddenly. If only you were always by my side, Father Chancellor!” She shook his hand. “Don’t marry anyone else—just stay with me! I’ve already arranged with Lingjun to let him hold a nominal title. If I have imperial heirs in the future, I’ll bear them with you.”

A note of thinly veiled anger entered the Chancellor’s voice as he rebuked her softly but firmly: “Your Majesty, please stop speaking of this. I don’t wish to hear it.”

Repeatedly rejected, any person would grow angry. Fuwēi froze, then angrily flung his hand away. “Who are you waiting for? Do you have some ten- or twenty-year-old promise with someone? I am the emperor—even the emperor isn’t good enough for you. Are you planning to marry a fairy from the heavens?” In a fit of rage, she stomped off, taking two steps before suddenly exclaiming, “Ouch!” and collapsing onto the ground.

Twisting her ankle, the Chancellor thought mournfully—he’d have to carry her down the stairs. She was full of schemes, none of which were used for governing the nation; all were expended on him.

He approached, tucking his sleeves and looking down at her. “Does Your Majesty wish to return to Zhangde Hall?”

Her attitude was far from pleasant. “I want to go to the Chancellor’s residence!”

He pretended not to hear. “Then allow me to escort Your Majesty back.”

Reaching out to help her up, she seized the opportunity, crossing her arms around his neck.

A faint, alluring scent wafted into his mind. A young person, even without perfumes, naturally carried a refreshing aroma. She clung to him, and through layers of fabric, he could feel the delicate curves beneath her deep robe. With no one else around on the Vermilion Bird Tower, the Chancellor couldn’t abandon her. It seemed he would have to get used to her occasional displays of intimacy. She would seize every opportunity to tease him. Without a strong enough heart, he might as well retire early.

This was her strategy, he knew. When it came to persistence, if she acted nonchalant, he had to appear indifferent as well. He detached her from himself. “It’s been years since I last led troops into battle. Now, I can’t even carry a load or lift a basket. From such a height, I fear I might accidentally drop Your Majesty, leaving me unable to explain to the world. Please wait a moment—I’ll summon the Yellow Gate Attendants to bring a sedan chair…”

“That would truly kill me! How heartless you are, Father Chancellor!” She limped forward a few steps. “Forget it—better to rely on myself. I’ll slowly descend. By dawn, I’ll surely reach Zhangde Hall.”

To leave an injured emperor to fend for themselves would be too cruel for a subject. After pondering for a moment, the Chancellor was about to relent when she preemptively declared, “Since Father Chancellor is now fully recovered, it’s time for me to resume my studies. Starting tomorrow, you’ll enter the inner palace as usual. I’ll be waiting for you in Guanghua Hall of the Northern Palace to continue your lectures.”

The Chancellor nearly forgot—he still held the title of Grand Tutor. He had taken sick leave for a month and hadn’t reported back; he couldn’t even recall where their lessons had last ended.

In the past, he had avoided teaching her statecraft, but now he felt his position was perilous. The Chancellor attempted to decline. “Actually, I’ve been forcing myself despite being ill recently. After all, the affairs of the state are overwhelming…”

Fuwēi sneered coldly. “You seem perfectly healthy to me. Even consummating tonight wouldn’t be a problem.”

The Chancellor was speechless. How could such vulgar words come from the mouth of an emperor? Yet, the emperor herself seemed unfazed. “Outwardly, I am a man. A true man doesn’t fuss over trivialities. You don’t expect me to remain overly refined, do you?”

She turned and descended the stairs. The dim lanterns failed to illuminate the path, and stumbling blindly, she truly risked twisting her foot again.

The Chancellor followed silently behind her, hearing only the uneven footsteps. He wasn’t the least bit worried about her falling. This stubbornness truly gave her headaches. Continuing to pester him seemed increasingly undignified. It appeared that open confrontations in the court were necessary—relying solely on scheming private encounters clearly had no effect on him.

During moments of romantic indulgence, she could openly act coquettish. But once realizing this path was blocked, she immediately reverted to being the emperor. Her position reset, her tone grew cold and emotionless. “I went to the Chancellor’s residence today hoping to see Lingjun, but unfortunately, he wasn’t there.”

The Chancellor responded vaguely, “He’s at his estate, not at the residence.”

She casually replied, descending layer by layer. Midway, she paused to redo her hair bun. Spotting the Yellow Gate Attendant approaching with a lantern, its light illuminated the lowered brows of Jianye. She said, “Thank you for your efforts tonight, Father Chancellor. The starry skies are ominous—please take care on your way back.”

The Chancellor thanked her, bowing deeply at the base of the stairs. Fuwēi watched him coldly for a moment before decisively turning toward the Eastern Palace.

The influence of Mars guarding the Heart Mansion was significant—it even stirred Empress Dowager Liang. Unsettled, she personally arrived at Zhangde Hall, inquired about the situation, and sat silently on the mat for a long while.

Fuwēi tried to reassure her. “Mother, please set your mind at ease. My health has always been robust. Even if celestial signs are abnormal, they may not harm me.”

The Empress Dowager sighed repeatedly. “Don’t be careless just because you’re young. Lady Lou entrusted you to me, and I’ve always regarded you as my own child. I know celestial phenomena shouldn’t be fully trusted, but they also shouldn’t be entirely dismissed. I think it’s best to assign more guards to your service. I’ll order the Ministry of Ceremonies to select capable warriors, and later they can submit the roster for your review.”

Fuwēi didn’t share her mother’s concerns and laughed lightly. “Celestial signs change daily. Only after seven days of stagnation can they be considered valid. Mother, there’s no need to rush. I was planning to visit Yong’an Palace to seek your advice, and conveniently, you’ve come here. Let me ask for your guidance now.” She paused thoughtfully. “We previously agreed to crown the Chancellor’s adopted daughter as empress, but after the incident of Mars guarding the Heart Mansion, the Grand Tutor requested a postponement, so the matter was shelved. I’m considering that, regardless of whether the celestial signs hold true, an empress must be crowned—to signify my personal rule and to uphold the ancestral temple. This is a matter of national importance and cannot be neglected easily.”

Empress Dowager Liang nodded. “You speak wisely. However, I’m concerned about the selection of the empress…”

She waved it off. “If the pieces on the chessboard don’t move, the entire game becomes a dead end. Only by moving can decay transform into something miraculous.”

Ultimately, the Empress Dowager supported her. The current situation indeed demanded action—accepting the status quo meant continued control by others. Taking a risk might lead to new paths.

“If Your Majesty has made up your mind, proceed with it. Say it’s by my command. Whoever opposes it can come to me.”

Overjoyed, Fuwēi stood and bowed deeply. “I’ll immediately instruct the Secretariat to draft the decree for reading at the next court session. Thank you, Mother.”

When the emperor issued edicts, the language was always grand and elegant, the wording warm and refined. The Secretariat existed specifically to polish the emperor’s decrees. A few days later, the morning court convened as usual. Aside from the Deputy Chief Censor proposing the dispatch of officials to inspect various regions, no one directly mentioned Mars guarding the Heart Mansion. This relieved Fuwēi somewhat. As the session neared its end, she leisurely announced, “The other day, the Empress Dowager visited Zhangde Hall and inquired about the progress of crowning the empress. Not daring to delay, I take advantage of today’s court session to announce the decree.”

The herald stepped forward, unrolling the scroll and addressing the assembled officials:

“I inherit the sacred legacy of my late father, humbly serving the ancestral temples with utmost diligence, never slacking. I have heard that a wise ruler must establish an empress. The relevant officials have recommended that the Chancellor’s daughter is suitable to serve as the empress, becoming the mother of the empire. The decree is thus approved. Therefore, the Grand Marshal shall hold the ceremonial scepter and confer the jade seal, with the Minister of Ancestral Affairs as deputy, to crown Miss Nie as the empress. A general amnesty is declared, offering the people a fresh start. All outstanding debts and legal disputes prior to the tenth year of Yuanyou shall be pardoned, and no further action shall be taken.”

The shrill voice of the attending secretary echoed through the hall. When the proclamation ended, it was as if a stone had been dropped into a calm lake. Below the Chancellor, the ministers’ faces bore expressions of solemnity.

There was no need to elaborate on Nie Lingjun’s origins—labeling her as the Chancellor’s daughter sufficed. Fuwēi knew what displeased the Chancellor most was the general amnesty. While issuing pardons during times of national celebration was common, it wasn’t mandatory. Timing it now aimed to exploit the special pardon clause: “Except for the principal offenders of treason, all family members are exempt.” While Wei Shixing took his time investigating, she didn’t know how much longer it would drag on. Saving Shangguan Zhao was the perfect opportunity.

Offering a sweet treat followed by a slap—surely the Chancellor must be seething now? His efforts to topple Yuan Heng and Shangguan Mingyue—if he couldn’t eradicate them completely—would pain him more than public humiliation ever could.

A relaxed smile appeared on the young emperor’s face. “Father Chancellor, once the Minister of Ancestral Affairs and the Astronomer Royal determine an auspicious date, I will personally visit to present the betrothal gifts. I long to see the empress’s golden visage. Please convey my message to the empress, advising her to rest and recuperate. In a few days, I’ll visit her personally.”

The Chancellor showed no outward sign of dissatisfaction, performing a deep bow with flowing sleeves. But from the bland “Yes” he uttered, she still detected traces of simmering anger.