PM - 56

“Isn’t this a bit excessive?” the Chancellor asked.

The young emperor smiled humbly. “Given our close relationship, this was bound to happen sooner or later.”

She was like a child with a new toy, her interest surpassing anything she’d encountered before. Perhaps it was because she lacked experience that she found it particularly fascinating. She gently stroked and squeezed, careful not to be too bold, fearing he might kick her off in anger. Leaning heavily on his arm, she cooed flatteringly, “Oh, my lord, I truly adore you...” Gradually, emboldened by his dazed expression, her audacity grew.

This level of trust was rare; few others would dare expose themselves so completely. The Chancellor shivered all over, unable to bear it any longer. He grasped her hand and said, “That’s enough. If you keep this up, how will I face you afterward?”

“Why can’t we see each other? A real man doesn’t sweat the small stuff.”

This was her usual line when dismissing propriety at others’ expense.

Even the Chancellor’s molars ached. “I’m not like that. I care deeply about details. So please, Your Majesty, stop while I can still control myself.”

“Or what? Are you going to hit me?” She bared her teeth. “The greenhouse is spacious. If you want to fight, I’ll oblige. I haven’t been to the training grounds in a long time anyway.”

His threats were all bluster; fighting now would be utterly unromantic. Yet the task at hand remained unfulfilled, and the frustration was nearly unbearable. His limbs went limp, and he could only lean on her shoulder, inhaling her faint, youthful fragrance, overwhelmed by a profound sense of melancholy.

The ever-ambitious Chancellor suddenly found himself contemplating retirement. Turning his head, he kissed her cheek. “Aying, if I build a city beyond the passes, would you come with me?”

Fu Wei, engrossed in her play, was startled by his words.

“A city? Beyond the passes? Do you plan to eat sand?”

She didn’t answer directly, and he felt a pang of disappointment. Softly, he murmured, “I’m getting old. Since my last illness, I’ve often felt powerless.”

Powerless yet still refusing to relinquish her six imperial seals? She understood him well. “That’s because you lose all ambition in my arms. Once you leave, you’re still the arrogant Yan Chancellor who sweeps across the land. I know. Your powerlessness is only toward me, not because you’re tired of politics. You love power as much as I do.” She kissed the corner of his lips. “If you want a city, why go beyond the passes to build one? I’ll grant you one. Do you like Lantian? What about Bailu Plain? I’ll give it to you as your fief. How’s that?”

He smiled after hearing her. “Lantian has two divisions of Hu cavalry—Changshui and Xuanchou. Aren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid you’ll rebel against me?” She shook her head slowly. “You already have troops covering the entire capital. What difference do two more divisions make?”

Discussing military power was an unpleasant topic; continuing might lead to an unhappy parting. He changed the subject, lying back on the grape-patterned brocade cushion, hands behind his head. “An ordinary city holds no meaning for me. I wanted to create a secluded place where, when you tire of court life, you can live worry-free.”

He always thought further ahead than she did. She had considered that an empress couldn’t reign forever but hadn’t truly planned her own retreat. Once she stepped down from the throne, death was the only path. Even fleeing to the ends of the earth wouldn’t help if her successor wasn’t her son.

“I am the Son of Heaven of Great Yin; I may never escape.” She lay down beside him, resting her head on his outstretched arm. Placing her hand on his chest, she sighed. “I don’t know what lies ahead for me. I hope you’ll stay by my side, so I won’t be so afraid.”

Wishes were beautiful, but as time passed and conflicts of interest grew, who could truly care for whom?

“Or perhaps it’s better if we part ways, each marrying separately...”

He was merely testing her, but her reaction was explosive. Furrowing her brows, she grabbed his neck, applying slight pressure. “If you dare do that, I’ll turn that woman into a human pig. You can try if you don’t believe me.”

Her domineering nature knew no bounds; she meant every word. Choking, he frowned. “It was just a casual remark, and you react like this!”

Enraged, she retorted, “You contend with me for power, and now another woman wants to take you away from me? What’s the point of my being emperor then? To lose to your whole family?”

Stunned, he realized his words might have hurt her. Smiling apologetically, he said, “My mistake. I won’t say it again. Don’t be angry.”

Only then did she soften, chiding affectionately, “You have many choices; I don’t. If you dare abandon me, I’ll unleash a bloodbath. Life holds no meaning without you; I’ll become a tyrant.”

She was truly unconventional, using herself as leverage against him, strangely effective every time. He soothed her with gentle words, and after much persuasion, she relented. Lying side by side, they savored the fleeting moment of peace, knowing reality awaited outside.

Gazing at each other, they smiled warmly. The Chancellor’s hair was slightly disheveled, strands escaping his cap. He was breathtakingly handsome.

“Your mother must have been very beautiful. You resemble her, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “My mother was far more beautiful, renowned as one of Great Yin’s great beauties. But excessive beauty isn’t necessarily a blessing. After my father passed, my uncle tricked her into the palace, where she became a favored concubine of Emperor Wen. Due to his favor, I couldn’t return to the Yan clan—a lifelong regret. I never had the chance to reclaim my ancestry.”

“In that case, why didn’t you simply take the Yuan surname?”

“I had a Yuan name until age three—Yuan Chun. Later, unable to bear my mother’s incessant tears, Emperor Wen allowed me to reclaim the Yan surname.”

Fu Wei listened wistfully. “I know so little about your generation’s affairs...” Realizing her slip, she quickly grinned sheepishly. “Still, it’s good. Had you not reverted to Yan, you’d likely be a prince, ruling a distant fief.”

Thus, life was shaped by countless coincidences. Had he been ennobled, he wouldn’t have served as Capital Garrison Commander, stayed in the capital, or become regent, nor would they share this moment.

She rolled over, leaning on him, caressing his face. “When I was little, I thought you were the most handsome among the princes. I wanted to be close to you, but you always looked stern, and I was afraid. Now you’re mine, and I’ve touched every part of you. I checked according to the books—you’re perfect everywhere, and I’m even happier.”

He knew her mention of “perfect everywhere” carried a double meaning. “What exactly are you referring to? Where is this perfection?”

She smirked suggestively. “You know... Only when that part is intact can a wife truly cherish you. I measured it with my hand...” She formed a circle with her thumb and forefinger. “Rare indeed.”

The Chancellor’s face flushed inexplicably. Annoyed, he scolded, “What kind of books do you read? How do you even know such things?”

She blinked innocently. “Among the texts collected by Prince Jing from the common folk, one happened to describe this. Don’t worry—it’s not some scandalous secret; it’s a medical text.”

Those folk sorcerers who wrote nonsense under the guise of medical knowledge truly deserved to be executed, he thought bitterly. Seeing her resting her head on his shoulder, gazing at him with wide, expectant eyes like a deer in the imperial hunting grounds, his anger melted away instantly.

“Enough,” he sighed. She was still young, and it was natural for her to be curious about a man’s body. He preferred her to explore with him rather than return to Changqiu Palace and flirt with Lingjun.

“The red ledger has already been prepared; we can return to Zhangde Hall tonight. Lord Nie is no longer a child—he knows what he needs to know about relations between men and women. Your lingering there only distracts him. Don’t create unnecessary trouble.”

Even his jealousy was couched in noble terms—his stubbornness knew no bounds. She teasingly mentioned, “The Empress told me that day she wanted to serve the emperor alongside you...”

“Absolutely preposterous!” His expression darkened immediately. “His audacity grows by the day. Serving the emperor together? Has he lost his mind? It seems restraint is necessary. If left unchecked, this will become a disaster.”

Fu Wei had only meant to tease him, but seeing his reaction, she realized the danger for Lingjun. Quickly soothing him, she smiled, “I’ve already spoken to him. He should abandon such thoughts—I only have eyes for the Chancellor. He’s still a child; don’t hold it against him.”

He sneered. “A child? I taught him myself—I know his cunning well. Bringing him into the palace was due to his usual cleverness. For now, I can tolerate these minor antics, but if he goes too far one day, I won’t care about your three-year agreement.”

Fu Wei sensed hidden meaning in his words and asked hesitantly, “Did he do something? He seems very obedient to me.”

He fiercely warned her, “Guard your heart. Don’t overthink things. A child so young isn’t suitable for you.”

Fu Wei immediately understood, blushing shyly. Glancing downward, she murmured, “I understand. With you, what else could I desire?” Then, cradling his face, she leaned in for a deep kiss.

After several rounds of practice, the Chancellor had grown increasingly skilled. The slightest teasing touch left her disoriented. Overflowing with affection, she wrapped one arm around his neck while the other hand slid over his firm back. The intricate brocade patterns on his splendid black robe flowed beneath her fingertips. Twisting her wrist, she slipped her fingers beneath his inner garment.

Like separated halves of a Taiji diagram yearning to reunite, he couldn’t stop her—even if he tried, it would be futile. Her shameless persistence was utterly different from her demeanor before the court. If the Grand Tutor were to see his most accomplished disciple reduced to this, would he choke on his breath and be summoned to the Western Heavens?

She explored his abdomen, feeling the distinct contours. He maintained excellent physique despite years of luxury and no longer fighting. Unfortunately, he was stingy—allowing touches but not sights. She could only imagine the alluring outlines in her mind. Moving lower, his waistband was too tight; her hand struggled to find entry. Then she began her earnest search for the knot, finally locating it with excitement. Just as she was about to untie it, he swiftly covered her hand and stepped back, rising to his feet.

“That’s enough for today,” he calmly adjusted his clothes. “I am only human. Such repeated teasing will harm my health. Since the timing isn’t right, let’s wait a while. Please tidy yourself up, Majesty, and leave the greenhouse. There are many reports from the provinces these days. The guest affairs officials may seek an audience at any moment. We shouldn’t linger here too long. Review those foreign matters first. When you need the seals, summon me—I’ll await your call in the office.”

In the end, the issue of the six imperial seals remained unresolved. After enduring her thorough exploration, he managed to placate her and now prepared to leave, fully dressed.

She was irritated but powerless to change anything. Huffing, she fastened her belt and stood there with a sour expression. Patiently waiting for her to finish, he turned to open the greenhouse door. The eunuchs stationed outside had long been dismissed, leaving the corridor silent except for the sizzling sound of oil candles burning.

Turning back to her with a smile, he said, “Let’s go.” Lifting his robe, he stepped out.

But after only a couple of steps, she leapt onto his back from behind. He quickly steadied her as she nuzzled affectionately against his neck. “My lord, carry me.”

He chided her playfully, patting her bottom. “What if someone sees us?”

“There’s no one here. What’s there to fear?” Extending an arm, she pointed ahead. “Just carry me to there, then I’ll get down and walk myself.”

Indulging her whims, he complied without hesitation. With her weight on his back, his sleeve trailed elegantly along the ground, creating a sinuous curve. She hummed a wedding song softly into his ear: “Bound by the heart, true when the heart is true. Skillfully tying hearts, entrusting them to the beloved…” He merely chuckled softly. How wonderful it would be if this short corridor never ended.

The greenhouse was located deep within the side halls of Luqin Palace. Passing through several secret chambers used for confidential discussions, a turn led directly to the main hall of Wend Palace. As they approached the bend in the corridor, she felt reluctant, whispering softly, “My lord, walk slower.” Obedient to her wish, he slowed his pace. Reluctant to part, neither could bear it. Distracted, she inadvertently missed the spiral path.

They had hoped for luck, though encountering someone wouldn’t be disastrous. However, fate took a turn for the worse. In the main hall of Luqin Palace, six or seven ministers waited anxiously. They stared in shock as the Chancellor carried the young emperor on his back—their alarm surpassing even the two who should have felt guilty.

Confused, myriad speculations ran through the ministers’ minds, yet none dared to meet their eyes. Bowing deeply, they retreated to the side. The eunuchs before the emperor were also at a loss, hesitating to approach, lingering uncertainly in the hall.

Caught red-handed, Fu Wei pressed her forehead against his back in frustration. Intending to get down, he subtly tightened his arms, calmly carrying her all the way to the embroidered canopy.

“Your Majesty should summon the imperial physician later. The weather is cold, and injuries heal slowly. Bone-setting might be necessary if needed.”

Clever as ever, he provided her a perfect excuse. She promptly took the cue, smiling, “Thank you, Father-Chancellor. Forgive my impropriety today.”

He assured her it was fine, his stern face maintaining composure. “If Your Majesty has no further instructions, I shall take my leave. The memorial submitted by the Eastern Censor requires discussion at the next court session. This matter is significant; please make a decision soon.”

Fu Wei nodded. “Understood. Father-Chancellor, you may retire.”

The Chancellor bowed deeply and exited Luqin Palace. As he turned, she noticed the wrinkles in his crimson robe—evidence of their earlier entanglement in the greenhouse. She discreetly tugged at her own robe, tightening the sash to smooth the fabric over her torso.

Reports from various offices were presented one by one. Seated regally above, Fu Wei dipped her brush in cinnabar to review documents, her slightly furrowed brows conveying imperial authority. Hopefully, this would dispel any suspicions. Initially, she considered remarking on the deep bond between her and the Chancellor, who had watched her grow up. But realizing it was none of their business, she wisely chose silence.

She sat in Luqin Palace for a long while. Once finished, standing up revealed her legs were severely numb. Bu Hai rushed forward to assist, “Is Your Majesty injured badly? Shall I summon the physician?”

She declined. “It’s just a slight twist.”

Bu Hai’s small eyes brimmed with astonishment. If it was just a slight twist, why did the Chancellor carry her out...? Under Fu Wei’s stern glare, he dared not breathe loudly. Perhaps the young sovereign healed quickly; unable to walk earlier, she now seemed fine after sitting for half a day!

Pretending normalcy, Fu Wei tiptoed out of Luqin Palace. Seeing someone approach from the corridor, she couldn’t discern their face in the twilight—but recognized the figure. It was Shangguan Zhao.

Since their last argument, she hadn’t spoken properly with him. Busy handling Princess Gai’s funeral, he typically made brief appearances in the palace before hurrying away. This was the fifth day since then; presumably, affairs at home were settled.

Walking under the glow of palace lanterns, the clinking of his armor resounded. She paused, squinting at him. Approaching, his gentle gaze remained unchanged. “Your Majesty’s foot injury makes walking difficult. Allow me to carry you back to the private quarters.”

Removing his armor, his deep crimson robe accentuated his handsome features. Turning, he crouched slightly. Fu Wei, mindful of propriety, hesitated. “We could summon a palanquin...”

His voice carried sorrow. “Let me carry you. I’m starting to forget the young Your Majesty.”

Her nose stung, understanding his meaning. When she was bullied, he supported her. Beneath the peach blossoms, he silently consoled her tears... How had the sincere bonds of childhood faded with age?

She agreed, climbing onto his back. He rose steadily, instructing nearby attendants to keep their distance. “Azhao...”

He responded lazily, his tone languid as always. “Has Langlang been sent off?”

He confirmed, “She hadn’t reached the age of hairpinning, so we couldn’t keep her spirit too long. Due to her parents’ absence in the capital, I lacked the authority to bury her. Yesterday, she was placed in the Eternal Life Hall on Beimang Mountain, where incense is offered. Upon the arrival of people from Shuofang, they will handle the rest.”

She sighed. “People from Shuofang... they probably won’t come.”

He fell silent. Accusations of Lord Gai conspiring with the Xiongnu and building roads for rebellion had already spread throughout the palace. He understood whose doing it was. Troops were already mobilizing; how could Lord Gai resist an entire nation? With memorials here, military power there must already be largely controlled. The Chancellor’s actions were always impeccable.

Experiencing some deeply scarring events, one’s heart inevitably hardens. On the eve of Langlang’s entombment, he felt fear, unable to enter the main chamber. Sitting by the coffin all night, he gradually understood. He was no longer the soft-hearted third son of Lord Pingchang. In these turbulent times, a ruthless heart was necessary for survival.

He remembered the young Fu Wei—crying endlessly over a dead fledgling. Now? Her transformation wasn’t by choice but forced by countless heart-wrenching pressures. He finally understood her.

Leaning against his back, she still clutched his sleeves like a child, not knowing how to embrace him. Steadily walking forward, the winter night’s chill hit them. His chest was cold, but her warmth on his back burned hot. He called softly, “Ayin... I’ve failed you.”

She didn’t speak, but her grip tightened.

His eyes brimmed with emotion; the passageway blurred before him. Regaining composure, he spoke, “I strayed, taking a long detour, exhausting all my strength to return... I should resent you, but repeatedly questioning myself, I find my heart remains pure toward you. I realize I can never escape this palace. I hope you’ll still give me a chance to stay by your side.”