PM - 26

Could it be that girls during their menstrual cycle were particularly alluring and enchanting? Fu Wei thought so. She had never been so acutely aware of herself as a woman, even while wearing her ceremonial crown. Now, here she was in the Chancellor’s residence, with no one monitoring her—such freedom! To not seize this opportunity would be a disservice to herself!

The night was still long, and he made her heart race. She pulled back slightly from hugging his neck, admiring his beauty under the lamplight. Sitting high on the throne, from the Chancellor down to minor officials, each was dignified and erudite, yet none had ever captivated her like him. She once dreamed of him for over ten consecutive days. Even then, she knew she had fallen for his face. How could someone look so good… every expression vividly charming, making her feel breathless whenever he looked at her.

“Uncle, may I kiss you? Afterward, you’ll become my Lady Yan. Then, we can choose an auspicious day for you to attend me, and we’ll truly be family. Once we have an heir, what else could I want? You can do as you please in court, and I promise never to glance at another person, ensuring you exclusive favor in the inner chambers. How’s that?”

She spoke with such self-assurance, ostensibly seeking his opinion, but her tone left no room for argument. The Chancellor, with a hint of sarcasm, pondered the truthfulness of her latter statements when suddenly she puckered her lips and leaned in, startling him into hastily blocking her, whispering, “Your Majesty, please conduct yourself with propriety… I am unworthy…”

Fu Wei’s first attempt failed, leaving her somewhat frustrated. “What propriety? Haven’t I been proper enough? Look at the other day—I worked so hard to appear majestic before you! You don’t know my heart; I just want to be with you, held by you, like now.”

The Chancellor marveled at her ability to lie blatantly. Who was forcibly embracing whom? She was the one being improper, yet with a twist of words, he became a disrespectful rogue intent on harassing the emperor.

In matters like these, the Chancellor was straightforward. To prove his innocence, he spread his hands wide. “I’ve done nothing; the inappropriate actions aren’t mine. Please spare me, Your Majesty.”

“Your way out is to submit to me.” She giggled, turning her face to rest gently in the crook of his neck. “Uncle, I think heaven kept you single until now just for me. Don’t think I’m always opposing you—it’s just to make you care for me. Uncle… Uncle… Don’t call me ‘Your Majesty.’ That’s too cold and impersonal. From now on, call me Ayin, and I’ll call you Aru…”

The Chancellor’s gaze fixed on the roof beams, his expression sorrowful. Lady Hefan… Aru… the full set—they matched perfectly!

He couldn’t indulge her any longer. With effort, he pulled her off him and earnestly told her, “Your Majesty, I am your Chief Minister and also your elder. You must be respectful and courteous to your elders; it’s the least expected behavior.”

“I have no decorum,” she quickly retorted. “At least not with you. There are countless things in the world, and if everyone adhered strictly to decorum, humanity would have perished. Which emperor in history followed decorum in private affairs? Emperor Wen was a wise ruler, yet he spent a night with five women…” Before she finished, the Chancellor covered her mouth.

To criticize ancestors was highly disrespectful. Her depiction of past emperors made them sound like unruly neighbors, riddled with flaws. If a historian were constantly by her side, future records might contain shocking entries, each meticulously labeled with “The Emperor said.”

Such talk was forbidden, even for an emperor! The Chancellor began reflecting on whether his past teachings had utterly failed. He aspired to mold her into a benevolent ruler, but clearly, she wasn’t shaping up as he envisioned.

“The ruler is the source; a clear source leads to clear streams, a murky source to muddy ones…” he murmured. “I must teach Your Majesty about Xunzi again.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he felt a warm, damp flick against his palm. Startled, he looked at her.

Her small face, mostly covered by his hand, left only her mischievous eyes blinking. Far from restraining herself after her successful trick, she grew bolder, seizing his wrist while he was stunned and decisively sucking on his index finger.

The Chancellor’s knees weakened, nearly giving way. Her endless antics overwhelmed him—he couldn’t withstand such teasing. His mind buzzed, discovering for the first time in 28 years the incredible utility of a finger. No wonder they say fingers are connected to the heart; her gentle lick sent an electric jolt through him, leaving an embarrassing flush prominently displayed on his face.

Outside, the steward brought the sweet porridge. The Chancellor had requested it urgently, so the kitchen dared not delay. Hastily prepared, he personally carried the lacquered tray to the main chamber. With the young emperor present, every move required caution. Announcing himself, he waited silently, wondering if the young emperor had already left. Puzzled, he cautiously crept forward, only to witness a sight unforgettable for life—the Chancellor standing by the jade bed, the young emperor half-kneeling on the bed. One of the Chancellor’s fingers was thrust into the young emperor’s mouth, both glaring at each other, exuding an eerie, possessed aura.

The steward gasped, shocked by the scene. What was happening? Should he set down the tray or not? Encountering this was surely due to neglecting ancestral rites that morning.

He must leave quickly, his heart pounding. Why stay and risk having his eyes gouged out? Just as he thought to quietly retreat, both the young emperor and the Chancellor turned to look at him. Trembling, the lacquer bowl rattled on the tray. Steeling himself, he bowed deeply, presenting it. “Reporting to Your Majesty, the sweet porridge is ready. Please taste it.”

Fu Wei released her grip, letting the Chancellor’s hand drop. Both pretended nothing happened as she lay back under the covers. The Chancellor adjusted his sleeve, taking the silver needle to solemnly test for poison under the lamp.

Outside, the wind rustled the leaves. She glanced at him covertly. He seemed composed, his movements still graceful, showing no signs of panic. A seasoned veteran, she mused wistfully. He had a heart as hard as a walnut—how could she crack it open and squeeze inside? Not only was the walnut hard, but also small. Would there even be room for her?

The sweet porridge was safe. The Chancellor dismissed the steward, handing her the bowl and saying, “Eat.”

She sat up, her hair disheveled, and said, “I’m still not feeling well…”

“It’s alright; the porridge will help.” He handed her the bowl and spoon, starting on another bowl himself.

His mind was chaotic, but this chaos differed from the factional struggles in court. Political struggles had clear objectives—he knew how to dismantle opponents. This chaos was like standing unprotected in an open field, battered by relentless winds and rain from all directions. He was drenched, unable to open his eyes, the world enveloped in darkness.

The sweet porridge seemed to soothe her spirit. Finishing it, he sighed in relief. Seeking conversation, discussing the assassination case was out since she was unwell. He settled on addressing what he deemed a serious issue. Cross-legged, he said, “That day when Shangguan Zhao was released, Your Majesty personally went to meet him, right?”

Fu Wei hummed affirmatively. “We hadn’t seen each other for so long; I missed him greatly.”

He nodded. “Living beings need friends, and I understand Your Majesty’s feelings. But I have some harsh truths to advise. Your Majesty has changed much from five years ago. In the future, don’t impulsively embrace others. If he notices, it won’t benefit either of you.”

Fu Wei pondered for a while. “Notice from a hug? You mean…” She looked down; her chest was bound flat, revealing nothing.

The Chancellor was somewhat embarrassed, unable to explain thoroughly, only vaguely reassuring her, “A woman’s figure is different from a man’s—not just that… In short, heed my advice; I mean no harm to Your Majesty.”

She blinked her large eyes, tugging at her collar against the carved railing of the jade bed. “It seems I’ve overlooked something. I thought my loose outer robe concealed everything—who knew…” Frowning, she asked him, “When I press against you, can you feel it? Without thinking about that, would you mistake me for being sturdy, like a small mountain without clothes?”

He didn’t know how to respond. This topic was difficult to broach, so he chose silence, slightly turning his body away.

Fu Wei, far from being oblivious to romance, quickly realized and affirmed along his line of thought, “Alright, alright. From now on, I’ll only hug you, never getting close to anyone else.”

The Chancellor struggled. “No, it’s not…” Then faltered, unable to articulate further.

She rustled in his bedding, tossing and turning uncomfortably. Her stomachache seemed to have subsided, but her whole body ached, with a premonition of fever setting in.

She measured her forehead with her hand but couldn’t make sense of it. Propping herself up, she called to him, “Uncle, look at me—I think I might really be sick.”

Hearing this, the Chancellor lifted his robe and checked. His cool palm rested on her forehead for a while before he said, “I don’t feel anything unusual. Where does Your Majesty feel unwell?”

The temperature of his hand was naturally different from her forehead. She insisted she had a fever. “If you don’t believe me, touch me—with that.”

Her slender finger pointed directly at his forehead. He understood her roundabout ways without her needing to explain. One touch could lead to countless terrifying possibilities, so rejection was best. The Chancellor shook his head. “Today, I’ve also been feeling dizzy…”

“Is it because I’m here?” she murmured, resting on the pillow. “In the future, you’ll probably often feel dizzy. This is my home; when I have time, I’ll come back often.”

She didn’t stand on ceremony with him, accustomed to claiming territory as her own. But the Chancellor didn’t know when his residence had become her home and showed little enthusiasm for her frequent visits.

“Your Majesty, this is my home, not yours. Your home is in the palace. Occasionally visiting as a guest is fine, but coming frequently isn’t appropriate.”

She remained unfazed. “Wherever my Lady Yan is, that’s my home.”

Regarding this inexplicable title, the Chancellor found it displeasing. “I’ve served two dynasties and have been teaching Your Majesty since your early education. Can’t Your Majesty show me basic respect?”

“What respect?” she muttered. “Loving you is the greatest respect I can give.”

The Chancellor felt the conversation shouldn’t continue. After standing for a moment, he tucked his sleeves and asked, “Does Your Majesty’s stomach still hurt?” If not, it was time to return to the palace.

She knew he wanted to send her away, but having come out, she had no intention of returning tonight. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “It still hurts faintly. Uncle’s ginger tea didn’t help much. I felt terrible on the way here and vomited twice. If I move again, I might not be able to stand.” She tugged at his belt. “Let me sleep with you tonight.”

The Chancellor firmly refused. “I cannot comply.”

Fu Wei turned over, raising a hand to cover her eyes, sighing wistfully. “You’re perfect in every way except for being too rigid. What’s wrong with sleeping with me? That night, Lingjun left the Eastern Palace just fine. The empress sleeps with me one night, the consort another, and I feel like I’m enjoying the blessings of both. Besides, it’s not the first time—last time, Uncle spent the night in the Zhangde Hall, holding me all night and sleeping soundly. Why can’t we do it tonight? Uncle, did you ever sleep with Princess Chaisang? How deep was your love? I know she’s gone, so let me love you in her place. We both share the surname Yuan; why let outsiders benefit?”

She spoke the truth. A talent like the Chancellor couldn’t fall into others’ hands. She didn’t mind if he had emotional attachments in the past. From Lian Zheng’s letters, she could tell his relationship with Yuan Han never reached such depths. Still, the Chancellor had remained loyal to her memory, showcasing his pure-heartedness.

Under the candlelight, she watched him. His lowered brows revealed no emotions, but his heart must have been tumultuous.

She gently patted his shoulder. “Eventually, the weak water will replace the sea. Uncle, broaden your perspective. You can’t remain single forever. Once you understand, submit to me willingly and help me bear an heir.”

Her tone sounded like negotiating a deal. The Chancellor was overwhelmed by her persistence. “Your Majesty is right—the weak water will eventually replace the sea. Your life will be brilliant, and you’ll meet many talented and handsome men. Clinging to an old tree like me will lead to regret later.”

She said nothing, merely sizing him up with pursed lips. After a long pause, she said, “Does Uncle think I have a future? A brilliant life… it’s all self-deception. My voice might fool people now, but what about in two years? I can hide my figure, but not my voice. Soon, people will suspect my identity, and the lords will rise against me. They’ll drive me from the throne, and even survival will be difficult…”

Thus, centralizing power was essential. Only when she held absolute authority would no one dare question her identity. Ultimately, she was just a pitiful person fighting for survival. Her struggles were ignored.

The conversation grew too heavy. She paused, shaking her sleeves mockingly. “I’m still sick. Why talk so much? In the palace, I can’t let anyone know I’m in pain… Home is better. With you, I don’t need to pretend. Being with Uncle makes me feel most at ease.”

Was she truly at ease? While she schemed, he cautiously guarded against her. As long as they each remained in their positions, true ease was impossible. Only through complete surrender could harmony exist.

She seemed tired, curling up on her side, her complexion pale. Her slightly open lips were colorless. A girl striving to be as strong as a man, yet without an iron constitution, ultimately couldn’t withstand it.

He lowered his hand, removing her jade hairpin and crown, placing them on a nearby lacquer cabinet. Turning to leave, he found his sleeve caught. Eyes closed, she said, “I’ll need hot water during the night. I don’t want to get up myself, and there are no attendants, so Uncle must help me… Don’t go.”

Fu Wei believed some bonds could form through shared rest, though not necessarily following the content of the fire-avoidance chart. Physical closeness softened hearts.

Yet the Chancellor, after careful thought, decided staying awake was safer. He straightened her position and tucked her in again. “I’ll handle official matters in the outer room. Call for me anytime, and I’ll come immediately.”

Official duties piled high—a good excuse. As emperor, everything naturally prioritized state affairs.

She released her grip. “You’ll come when I call?”

He nodded, bowing to her and retreating from the inner chamber.

Beyond a screen stood a long table adorned with large diamond patterns in red and black. A golden sheep-shaped lamp sat on the desk, surrounded by stacks of bamboo slips occupying most of the table. The Chancellor, aiding the emperor and managing myriad affairs, repeated this work daily. She held court every five days, where matters were concise and clear, read from the records on the officials’ tablets. But she didn’t realize countless details were trimmed by him—otherwise, these mountains of documents would overwhelm her.

Not managing a household, one doesn’t know the cost of firewood and rice. The young emperor was at this stage now. Though somewhat annoying, beneath her capable exterior, there was still something endearing. The Chancellor rubbed his temples. Sitting long made his waist ache; shifting posture caused his silk robe to rustle against the thick mat. After reviewing ten scrolls, he set down his brush, leaning against the desk for a nap. Resting his chin on his hand, recalling her earlier antics, sleep eluded him.

That index finger, which had endured trials, stood upright like a flagpole, observed meticulously. Honestly, facing this finger now evoked an indescribable strangeness—it no longer felt like his own after being licked.

The flickering lamp distorted the fingerprints in dim light, gradually forming nose, eyebrows, and eyes, smiling smugly at him. He was startled to see the young emperor’s face and quickly plunged the finger into the nearby green jade water pot.