PM - 36

He asked her in a cold voice, “Is it only the imperial heir you desire?”

She thought for a moment and nodded, “The imperial heir is the foundation of the nation. I remember my late father once said that the prosperity of a family depends on its population, and the prosperity of a country depends on whether future heirs are wise. Having many sons gives more options; unlike my late father, who only had me—a stubborn piece of elm wood—and ended up with no choice but to make me emperor.” She began to seriously consider, “Perhaps this is why women are weak in politics. Giving birth to seven or eight children at once would be an incredible feat. Male emperors are different—they can have a large harem and, if diligent, could have two or three sons each year without difficulty. As for me, I might only be able to bear one child in my lifetime, so this one must not be wasted. It must be with the most intelligent person to justify the hardship of ten months of pregnancy.”

Thus, in her eyes, he was merely a source of good seed. Political factors certainly played a major role, but there was no doubt that love was not involved.

He calmed down and finally faced her with equanimity, folding his hands and saying, “Since I am the regent and already a grown adult, I am the best candidate for Your Majesty to have children with, is that what you mean? Do you know that such matters require mutual affection? Forced marriages won’t work, and reluctant efforts won’t produce offspring.”

She fell silent, calmly looking at him for a while before expressing her disagreement, “Father Chancellor is mistaken. When a man and a woman sleep together, whether they have feelings or not, they can still have children.”

His face paled. Theoretically, there was nothing wrong with what she said, but he was different from those self-indulgent men. To numbly do such things—he couldn’t accomplish it.

“I cannot compromise on this matter, so I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness,” he paused, his brows tightly furrowed but with a smile on his lips, appearing compassionate. His gaze flowed gently over her face, adopting the patience of an elder, and kindly said, “Please think carefully, Your Majesty, about whether you truly love me. Is it worth selling your entire life for power? You are a capable emperor. Even without using your beauty to seduce me, you can still do well in the future. If you don’t like someone yet force yourself, it will not only make you feel wronged but also make me feel wronged. Therefore, I believe this action by Your Majesty is inappropriate.”

The Chancellor believed he had been sufficiently earnest. The young emperor was a smart child; usually, when words were spoken to this extent, she could understand his meaning. He had confidence in her. All his current troubles stemmed from her misplaced efforts. Once she understood, all problems would be resolved naturally.

But sometimes, he really couldn’t fathom her intentions.

“Father Chancellor says I use my beauty to seduce people, does that mean you also acknowledge that I am beautiful?”

The Chancellor’s smile slowly solidified, and his face turned into an iron plate, “Your Majesty, what we are discussing is not about your appearance.”

Fu Wei nodded, “I know. What Father Chancellor cares about is whether I truly love you.”

Did she truly love him? The Chancellor felt his chest tighten slightly, finding it hard to breathe. If she said yes, he wouldn’t believe it—it wouldn’t be a good thing. If she said no, that would be fine—at least she would be telling the truth, giving them reason to continue discussions.

He solemnly performed a respectful bow to her, “I beseech Your Majesty to clarify.”

Her face remained leisurely, smiling neutrally. After a long silence, she mimicked his earlier response: “You guess.” As expected, the Chancellor’s expression gradually became strange. Suddenly feeling elated, she realized that upon closer analysis, he wasn’t as invincible as imagined.

If love and non-love could be clearly explained in one go, it wouldn’t be called emotion. Fu Wei still held that view. Did she love him? Yes, she definitely loved him—though not without selfishness. Primarily, she was attracted to his character. The Chancellor had always held sway, but over the years, he had done his utmost for the country. During the days when she hadn’t yet made any achievements, Dayin had grown stronger daily, all thanks to his efforts. He wasn’t a treacherous minister; he was just keen on consolidating power. He was genuinely working towards reviving Dayin, without considering the feelings of the Yuan clan. He was indeed an excellent ruler.

But did she love him deeply? Not necessarily. Petty affections could drive one to death, but when it came to major principles, she was someone who could let go. She didn’t deny having considered removing him several times, perhaps mixed with resentment over his lack of reciprocation, but more out of consideration for centralizing power. Would she feel pain if she removed him? Certainly, but she would still act without hesitation. In her heart, the Yuan clan’s dynasty was more important than anything. If one day she could abandon even that, it would mean she had fallen too deeply in love, to the point of wanting to leave here.

“It’s almost time for the evening meal,” she glanced at the light band on the watchtower, “I’ll escort Father Chancellor to Canglong Gate. Let’s go.”

She turned and walked ahead, but after two steps, she noticed he wasn’t following. Looking back, she saw him deep in thought, head lowered. Moved by a sudden impulse, she reached out to pull him, “Why aren’t you walking? Thinking of staying overnight in the Eastern Palace?”

As soon as her hand touched his, he recoiled as if pricked by a needle, immediately pushing her away. Fu Wei’s hand froze mid-air, dumbfounded, “What does this mean, Father Chancellor? Do you really hate being touched by me that much?”

The Chancellor looked at her hands, his heart filled with mixed emotions, “I have advice, Your Majesty. This habit of easily reaching out must be corrected quickly. While a certain level of amiability from an emperor has its uses in rallying ministers, indiscriminately pulling everyone’s hand is a bad habit. For instance, earlier in the sleeping quarters, the moment the attendant entered, Your Majesty acted that way—I see no necessity. As a ruler, propriety should be observed; as a minister, respect should be maintained. There should be distance between ruler and minister. Excessive intimacy disrupts etiquette and invites chaos later...” He thought of a grand theory to persuade her, but eventually gave up and directly said, “In short, don’t hold hands casually. Please heed my loyal advice, Your Majesty.”

After hearing this, Fu Wei had no intention of reflecting. She originally didn’t indiscriminately form connections with everyone. As for Shangguan Zhao, she used to fall easily when she was young, and he held her hand to help her walk steadily. A long-standing habit, it hadn’t faded over the years. Deep down, she had no awareness of avoiding suspicion between men and women. Moreover, she deliberately appeared intimate in front of him just to see if it would affect him.

Fortunately, there was some effect. He resented her so much that he didn’t want her to touch him after holding Shangguan Zhao’s hand, indicating that he wasn’t entirely indifferent to her.

Fu Wei gently exhaled, contentedly lowering her head, “I humbly accept your advice. Thank you for your guidance, Father Chancellor.”

“Also,” the Chancellor’s attitude was serious and earnest, “After arranging the marriage for the attendant, he will be a married man. Your Majesty and the attendant should maintain a proper distance. Others may not know the reasons, but Your Majesty does. I’ve told you before—distance is the best way to protect oneself. Do you remember?”

She remembered—to keep relatives and friends at arm’s length, always acting as the emperor, making everyone fear you.

Fu Wei lowered her eyes and nodded, “I understand Father Chancellor’s meaning. Once Zhao marries, we shouldn’t be entangled anymore.”

This statement was somewhat overly strict, but that was exactly the Chancellor’s point. For a sovereign of a nation, secretly engaging in affairs would be too demeaning.

He smiled at her, said no more, and strode toward the gate. Fu Wei stood there in a daze for a moment before hurrying to catch up. Outside, the autumn wind gradually picked up, rustling the leaves along the straight path. He walked ahead with his hands behind his back. She quietly raised her eyes to look at him—his thick, glossy hair shimmered indigo under the sunlight. Below the purple-golden crown, red strings hung with fragrant wood earplugs swayed gracefully with each step, and his earlobes seemed carved from jade… Such extreme colors collided into her eyes, how could they not arouse longing?

“Father Chancellor…” Ahead was the palace gate; she could not proceed further.

He turned around, standing in the sunset glow, squinting at her. Under his gaze, her face slowly reddened.

“The evening breeze is cool. Father Chancellor, don’t forget to add more clothes.”

Perhaps this was the first time she spoke tenderly like a girl. The Chancellor appeared somewhat surprised and uneasy, murmuring, “Thank you, Your Majesty… If there are any changes regarding the arranged marriage, please send someone to inform me.”

She nodded, holding her wide sleeves, “I’ll watch you leave.”

It was as if ice melted in her heart; the Chancellor heard the sound of ice cracking, hurriedly turning away. Years later, in midnight reveries, she still stood vividly in the setting sun, her features clear, never dimming.

The carriage slowly drove away into the distance, and she watched until it disappeared from sight before remembering to return to the Eastern Palace.

The weather was indeed turning cool. She rubbed her arms, feeling a bit lonely walking such a long way by herself. Turning a corner, she entered the Northern Palace through the Chongxian Gate.

The Northern Palace was where the concubines resided, a place for the emperor to escape worldly affairs. Although there were secret power struggles as intense as those in the court, on the surface, it still appeared tranquil and beautiful. Since the young emperor was not yet married and the previous emperor had few consorts, most of the palace chambers were unoccupied, guarded only by palace eunuchs and attendants. The news of the imperial visit quickly spread, and not far along the way, the Chief Eunuch and the Chamberlain hurriedly came forward to bow deeply, “We humbly welcome Your Majesty.”

She raised her hand to excuse them from formalities and turned to look north, “Chief Zhang, I wish to go to the Jiade Hall.”

“Yes.” The Chief Eunuch quickly signaled the Chamberlain, who stepped aside to give a discreet gesture, ordering someone to prepare for the emperor’s arrival at the Jiade Hall.

The Jiade Hall had been unoccupied for twelve years. Its last occupant, Lady Lou, was Fu Wei’s birth mother. Fearing that a young sovereign with a powerful mother might pose a threat, she was killed, regardless of whether her family had influence or not. Fu Wei had been trying to recall snippets about her, but after so many years, she could not remember her mother’s appearance at all.

Yet she knew her mother must have been a gentle person. Gentle people often lacked strong protection, and even giving birth to a daughter couldn’t save her from being persecuted. Men could sometimes be cold-blooded; if they didn’t love you, they could dispose of you for power and status. She thought of her father, who was a good father and a good emperor, but not a good husband—not for Lady Lou or for the Empress Dowager during the first seven years of marriage.

The heavy palace doors creaked open with a mournful wail. She stepped inside and looked around. The chamber was spotless, with a large gilded incense burner in the middle of the main hall emitting dense wisps of smoke, filling the room with fragrance. Yet beneath the rich aroma, she still detected the smell of decay.

Curtains hung low in the hall. She entered the inner chamber, waved her hand, and the attendants bowed and quickly retreated. Alone, she sat down on the jade bed. Unused for a long time, the bed was still covered with an ivory mat for convenience. She gently touched it, feeling its coolness, when suddenly a sharp pain shot through her fingertip. Startled, she pulled back her hand and saw a bead of blood seeping from her fingertip. Looking closely, she found that a gold wire used to connect the ivory pieces had come loose at the joint, standing upright like a needle.

The Chief Eunuch saw what happened through the thin veil and felt panic. Unable to persuade the young emperor to leave, he cautiously reported, “Shall we light the lamps?”

Fu Wei turned to look out the glass window. The sun was setting gradually; it was indeed getting late. She clenched her fist, stood up, and said, “No need. Have someone reorganize the bed. At this season, how can they still lay out a cooling mat!”

The Chief Eunuch and his subordinates murmured their agreement and escorted the young emperor out. The emperor’s carriage was already waiting at the palace gate. Everyone bowed deeply to see her off. After the guards escorted her far away, they finally straightened up and sighed in relief.

Fu Wei returned to the Zhangde Hall. In the middle of the night, she suddenly developed a fever. Her head felt heavy, and her whole body ached as if struck by a heavy hammer, making it impossible to lift her arms.

Her coughing startled the attending eunuchs. Bu Hai poked his head out from behind the screen, anxiously calling out, “My Lord, are you ill?”

She did not respond, her breathing heavy, turning her face to one side.

Bu Hai mustered his courage, knelt on the rush mat in front of the bed, and crawled over to check. Seeing the young emperor’s flushed face, like vermilion clouds painted on a lacquered pillow, he was startled and quickly exited to inform the duty eunuch. The emperor falling ill was a grave matter; the Zhangde Hall instantly lit up, shining brightly like daylight. The Imperial Physician and medical attendants soon arrived, waiting in the duty quarters. But after a long wait, there was no summons from the young emperor.

The Imperial Physician was somewhat panicked and asked the Chief Eunuch what to do. Jianye glanced toward the imperial bedroom and muttered, “When His Majesty falls ill, he usually refuses to summon physicians. This time, the illness seems severe. If no order comes, we’ll have to leave the palace to seek the Chancellor.” Just then, two attendants entered through the palace gate. He greeted them like a lifeline, bowing his hands, “Please, Attendant, take charge. If His Majesty doesn’t summon the physician, this delay may cause serious consequences...”

Shangguan Zhao raised his hand to signal silence; the emperor’s condition should not be discussed casually. Exchanging glances with Hulü, they quickly crossed the front hall and entered the inner chamber.

On the bed, the young emperor was flushed with fever but remained clear-minded. Seeing them, she frowned, “It’s just a minor illness, a cold... nothing serious.”

The two attendants dared not approach, standing on the other side of the carpet, trying to discern her condition from afar but unable to get a close look. Shangguan Zhao said, “The Imperial Physician is waiting in the quarters. Shall I summon him to examine His Majesty?”

Fu Wei, fearing that her pulse might reveal her true gender, had avoided seeing physicians since her menarche. Now uncomfortable and irritable, her mood worsened. Impatiently, she snapped, “No need. I don’t like taking medicine. A couple days of sleep will naturally make me better. Leave, stop making a fuss. The air in the room stinks with too many people… Go!”

Being deemed unpleasant by the young emperor, Shangguan and Hulü exchanged glances and awkwardly retreated. Outside, they each sniffed their sleeves and collars, finding no smell. Hulü said, “His Majesty visited the Jiade Hall in the Northern Palace at dusk. Could something have frightened him there?”

Shangguan Zhao looked at the moonlight, “Without His Majesty’s command, we have no authority to summon the Chief Eunuch. For now, let’s set those concerns aside and figure out how to get His Majesty to see the physician.”

However, the young emperor’s temperament was peculiar, and once a decision was made, it was usually unchangeable. After nearly an hour of futile efforts, showing no sign of relenting, everyone in the Zhangde Hall grew anxious, fearing that continuing like this would lead to a major mishap.

Jianye had no choice but to step forward, “With this disposition, unless the Chancellor comes, no one can persuade him. Please, both attendants stay here, and I will go to the Chancellor’s residence. There’s no other way.”

Hulü Puzhao didn’t object. After all, the Chancellor was the regent minister, and any palace incident required notifying him. Shangguan Zhao hesitated, “If His Majesty is ill, should we ask whether he wishes to see the Chancellor?”

Hulü was anxious, glancing at the half-open palace door, “What if His Majesty refuses? How long will we delay? And if the visit to the Northern Palace has implications, without the Chancellor, how can we question the Chief Eunuch?” With determination, he slapped his leg, “You stay here with His Majesty, I’ll personally fetch the Chancellor.” Without waiting for a response, he hurried towards the palace gate.

Shangguan Zhao had no choice, standing there for a moment before entering the hall. On the bed, the young emperor lay listlessly, being served tea by an attendant. Seeing him, she handed the lacquer cup to the attendant and dismissed everyone, softly telling him, “Sit.”

Shangguan Zhao knelt on the rush mat. She shook her head, “Sit on the bed.”

The emperor’s bed was very spacious, almost equivalent to three or four dragon beds. Sitting on it, one felt surrounded by emptiness. Shangguan Zhao climbed the wooden steps and sat on the edge. The young emperor leaned against a cushion, sighing deeply, “I thought of my mother today and went to the Jiade Hall. Seeing her old cosmetics in the inner chamber made me feel sad.”

The emperor rarely revealed such vulnerability. From the age of five, she knew not to mention her birth mother casually, as it might displease the Empress Dowager. His difficulties were perhaps understood only by old friends. Being emperor did not allow for complete freedom; sometimes, the more one gained, the more one lost—it was an inevitable trade-off.

The young emperor held up her hand, a half-burnt wooden hairpin resting in her palm. Fortunately, only the tail was burned, leaving the carved fish pattern intact. Though not exquisite, it was quaint and charming.

“What is this?” Shangguan Zhao asked.

The young emperor replied, “It’s my mother’s hairpin. When I was ten, I secretly sneaked into the Jiade Hall and took it. My tutor said she cherished this wooden hairpin, a gift from the previous emperor. But later, when she was forced to commit suicide in full regalia, the hairpin was discarded in the brazier. Luckily, a senior maid in her palace discovered it in time, preventing it from burning completely. Only this half remains, still placed on her dressing table.”

Shangguan Zhao felt melancholic after hearing this, “Why save it? It would have been better to burn it completely, ending everything.”

The young emperor smiled, “Marquis Within-the-Pass is a man of sentiment. I thought most men’s hearts were cold and hard, but you are not.”

As he spoke, it seemed he was speaking from another perspective, not as a man. Shangguan Zhao looked up at him. Under the lamplight, the sickly young emperor appeared frail but even more delicate, quite different from earlier in the day. He became entranced, vaguely seeing tears in the corners of his eyes, causing his heart to tremble. Unconsciously, he blurted out, “Ayin.”

The young emperor closed her eyes, murmuring dreamily, eventually breaking into a sobbing voice, “My greatest regret is that after ascending the throne, I couldn’t posthumously honor my mother as Empress Dowager. The previous emperor unjustly punished her, and she couldn’t enter the imperial mausoleum, being buried instead on Yuan Hill. All these years, she has been alone, so pitiful…”