PM - 18

“Is Chancellor determined to oppose me?” she asked, exasperated, finally managing to squeeze out a sentence after a long pause. Usually eloquent, she found herself at a loss for words when it truly mattered. This wasn’t the first time he had rebuked her. Though the matter of Shangguan Zhao was important, given the current situation, it was no longer just about saving him. She was, after all, the emperor, and even acts of humility had their limits. To disregard her completely was an overstep—a blatant disrespect to the throne.

The Chancellor remained as indifferent as ever, his expression unchanged through millennia of political discourse, impervious to persuasion.

“I have never opposed Your Majesty,” he said. “I merely prioritize the stability of the nation. If this displeases you, I am guilty, but I do not regret it.”

This was the struggle between the Chancellor’s authority and the imperial power, both sides holding steadfast to their final lines in the sand, neither willing to yield. Fu Wei heard her heart pounding, waves of blood surging through her, threatening to overwhelm her. She had always known he would do everything in his power to thwart her, but his stubbornness showed that his personal stakes were more important to him. Despite her persistent efforts, she hadn’t budged him an inch—what a failure!

“Do you even have friends?” she sneered bitterly. “If it were Jin Yi Marquis implicated by association, would you still be so unyielding?”

The Chancellor showed no sign of being moved by her comparison with Lian Zheng. “If Lian Zheng broke the law, there would be no need for others to deal with him; I would personally ensure justice is served. I am but a Chancellor, yet I must consider the state. You are the ruler of this nation, and all under heaven belongs to you. Are you suggesting you value it less than I, an outsider?”

His words cut deep. Yes, it was her own realm she was ruining—could she really expect peace and order while trampling on laws?

But she couldn’t help recalling Bu Hai’s report: “Young Master Shangguan, unable to protect himself.” Her friend, the emperor, could not save him now—what was left to trust in this world? The Chief Justice’s Office had yet to make a decision, and Wei Shihang’s intermittent reports reached the palace. She knew the Wuling case was riddled with doubts. Whether Shangguan Mingyue was truly involved remained uncertain, let alone Shangguan Zhao, who was engrossed in poetry and books! She desperately wanted to pardon him but struggled to find an opportunity. Finally, during this amnesty, she thought she might bend the rules slightly, only for the Chancellor to obstruct her. It seemed that even from a position of power, one could not act freely. At times like these, she wondered why she even bothered being emperor—why not just hand the throne over to Yan Xiangru?

Her face paled, as it always did when she was angry or frustrated. Though she managed to keep her composure, her fury was plain to see.

“The ruler should not reveal their emotions,” the Chancellor intoned. “I have reminded Your Majesty several times.”

She paused, suddenly aware, and quickly composed herself. “I feel neither joy nor sorrow. It seems you were mistaken, Chancellor.”

Mistaken? A government official’s first lesson upon entering politics was to read expressions and gauge intentions. With a metaphorical sword hanging over her head, only a blind man wouldn’t see it.

How fickle he was—holding hands and smiling one moment, then wanting to tear her apart the next. Where was the loyalty in such a person? Indeed, power and profit were the eternal pursuits, and everything else, including love, served them.

“If the sovereign remains unmoved, steadfast as a mountain, then perhaps I was wrong,” the Chancellor continued. “I hope that after leaving my residence, Your Majesty will carefully consider my advice. Treason is a crime punishable by extermination of nine generations. If Shangguan Mingyue’s guilt is proven, none of the Shangguan family will escape death.”

Fu Wei felt an unprecedented sense of defeat. This was their first direct political confrontation since the Chancellor resumed his role as chief minister. Unfortunately, she had already suffered a crushing defeat right from the start. He was too difficult to control—if she couldn’t subdue him, what a pity. In the future, she would have no choice but to find a way to eliminate him.

She sighed deeply. “Chancellor, your impartiality leaves me speechless. From today onward, let us rely on our own means. If I am outmatched, I will willingly step down and yield the throne. But if you falter...” She looked at him steadily, waiting for his response.

To her surprise, the Chancellor chuckled mockingly. “Your Majesty and I should work together. Why must we become adversaries?” Seeing her resolute gaze, he nodded indifferently. “If I lose, I will voluntarily retire and return to my hometown in Hongnong to farm. How does that sound?”

But she shook her head. “There’s no need for retirement. The empire still needs a pillar like you to govern. But if you lose, then you must repay me in kind. I won’t mind your age—I’ll prepare quarters in the Changqiu Palace for you. You can move there.”

The Chancellor, who had been laughing moments before, turned pale upon hearing this. His smile vanished, and he pointed at her accusingly, trembling with anger. “A scholar may be killed but not humiliated! I have devoted decades of my life to this empire, and now you would treat me so...”

When pushed to the brink, people often forget words. Fu Wei kindly supplied the missing term: “Harassment.”

He flushed red. “Exactly! Is this how you treat loyal subjects? If the late emperor were watching from above, wouldn’t his heart grow cold?”

Whether the dead could watch over the living was debatable. If they truly could, why would they allow him to dominate court affairs until now? Fu Wei smiled faintly. “You needn’t worry. My grandfather loved me dearly and would surely rejoice to see me happy.” She studied him closely. “Chancellor, you look quite charming when you blush. Let it be reserved for me alone—don’t let anyone else see it.”

For an emperor to display such shamelessness, even past rulers would pale in comparison. While the Chancellor excelled in governance, he was no match for her in private provocations. He opened and closed his mouth, wanting to argue but finding no words to counter her. Sometimes, he realized she was indeed clever—but her intelligence wasn’t applied to the right path. How could an emperor behave like this?

Fu Wei elegantly adjusted her robes. “Let us honor the wager. If one day you take my life, I will bear no grudge. But what if you try to renege?”

The Chancellor responded with a decisive tone, akin to severing his own wrist. “We shall see whether Your Majesty has truly mastered your studies.”

Now, they had no choice but to fight. Who else had love entangled in such complications? It was her fault for falling for someone so strong-willed. In any relationship, someone had to yield. Since neither would back down, they would have to see who was more skilled.

“Very well,” she nodded. “Tomorrow, I will host a banquet in the Huaguang Hall. Will you grace us with your presence?”

The Chancellor turned away. “I must prepare for the upcoming wedding and have no time. Please excuse me from the lecture in the Huaguang Hall. Your Majesty also needs time to prepare. Let us set aside summer lessons for now.”

She agreed. “I wonder if Mars will shift its position these next few days. Hopefully, ominous signs won’t come true. Otherwise, Ling Jun will become a widow upon marriage—or worse, ascend directly to Empress Dowager…” She sucked in a breath. “Just thinking about it gives me a headache.”

The Chancellor’s face darkened, and he made no further comment. Turning around, he yanked open the door in frustration, letting the hot air rush in and tousle his hair.

The conversation had reached its end. Fu Wei arched her brows as she crossed her arms. Outside, the glaring sunlight made her dizzy. Slowly, she stepped outside, and the eunuchs quickly bowed to attend her. She glanced back at the Chancellor. “I hope you’ll visit the palace more often. It’s unfair to always have me come to you in this heat.”

His polite response was mere lip service, and she knew it. He simply wanted her gone. Her prolonged presence suffocated him.

In truth, she felt the same. After all, she was just a young woman. The teachings of Grand Tutor and Grand Preceptor had never included lessons on flirtation. Each time she challenged the Chancellor, it felt like plucking a tiger’s whiskers. After all, he had taught her for ten years and was practically an uncle figure. No wonder he felt humiliated—and reflecting on it, she felt a pang of fear and shame herself.

But if neither of them acted, they might miss their chance. He clearly had no interest in her. If she feigned aloofness, would she stand by and watch him pair up with someone else? The road ahead was long and fraught with obstacles. She sighed in her carriage. And poor Shangguan Zhao—surely, he no longer believed in friendship at this point.

Back in the palace, she penned a letter to Wei Shihang, urging him to expedite the investigation without further delay. The secret dispatch was carried out personally by the Grand Preceptor to ensure it didn’t fall into the Chancellor’s hands.

After hours of work, she was utterly exhausted. Sitting at her desk, her elbows propped heavily, her arms went numb. She had often felt a profound sense of helplessness, even as a child. Now, she couldn’t openly visit the Zhaoyu Prison, despite her desire.

The Imperial Household brought her ceremonial attire for the wedding to inspect. She was tired of seeing the ornate robes and barely glanced at them. However, the embroidered garments displayed beside them caught her eye. She touched the intricate patterns on the collar curiously. “What is this?”

The attendant replied, “Your Majesty, this is the Empress’s ceremonial robe. It will be sent to the Chancellor’s residence after the betrothal period ends.”

She felt a pang of confusion. “The Empress’s robe…” She gazed at the twelve floral hairpins, exquisite and regal accessories she had once seen the Empress Dowager wear. She had only admired them from afar, never daring to approach.

She yearned to touch them, but it took immense self-control to resist. Perhaps her gaze betrayed greed—girls were naturally drawn to such things. Yet, with her status, beyond the ceremonial headdress, she had no opportunity to wear those swaying ornaments.

She averted her eyes, waved dismissively, and the attendant withdrew with the lacquered tray.

At the other end of the hall, Bu Hai appeared with a few freshly cut poppies arranged in a vase. Spotting her glance, he eagerly approached, presenting the vase like a treasured gift. “Your Majesty, look! I picked these from the secluded garden path in the Northern Palace. They weren’t planted intentionally, growing lonely in a corner. Wouldn’t it be better to bring them here to adorn the imperial chambers? At least they’d have purpose, wouldn’t they?”

Fu Wei’s mood brightened slightly. “Place them on the desk,” she instructed.

Bu Hai complied happily, arranging them neatly before bowing and retreating.

She leaned against the armrest, chin propped on her hand, staring at the flowers for a long while before reaching out to touch them. The poppies were delicate and fragile, their petals unfurling under her fingertips. In the light, she could see the intricate veins. She lowered her head to sniff but found no scent. Plucking one, she toyed with it absentmindedly. As she passed the bronze mirror, she paused. The reflection revealed a slender youth weighed down by the heavy ceremonial sash—it seemed the flower suited her more than the regalia.

Removing the jade hairpin from her topknot, she placed the flower stem squarely in the middle of her head. The sudden burst of color delighted her, but the placement seemed vulgar. She removed it to reposition it, but the fragile stem snapped under her touch, scattering petals across the floor...

Her heart sank. She cupped her hands, palms exposing the deep creases etched into them. So, these hands were meant only to wield a sword, not to hold flowers.