PM - 6

Fu Wei was utterly astonished, and she turned to scrutinize the Chancellor. His expression remained calm, devoid of any hint of emotion. This was his usual style—always keeping others guessing until the very end, often leaving them shocked with unexpected revelations.

This time, Fu Wei was genuinely startled by him.

The person who entered was not the delicate and graceful maiden she had imagined. While there was no shortage of beauty and grace, the issue lay in the gender. In this world, aside from herself, who else would dress a girl in men’s attire? The newcomer wore a deep robe of celestial blue, its edges embroidered with intricate patterns. The gentle color complemented his radiant appearance, as if he were a figure carved by the heavens themselves. He possessed an exquisite face—long eyebrows, bright eyes, and an aura of refined brilliance. Like a sword adorned with jade or shoulders painted with vibrant colors, his presence exuded an ambiguous charm that blurred the lines between masculinity and femininity.

Fu Wei was stunned, pointing at him. “What… what is the meaning of this, Father Chancellor?”

The Chancellor offered no explanation but gestured for the youth to bow. The young man extended his sleeves and performed a deep obeisance. “Your humble servant, Nie Lingjun, pays respects to Your Majesty.”

Fu Wei was no fool. Though initially surprised, she quickly grasped the situation—they intended to turn this mistake into an opportunity. Since the emperor was a woman, then the empress must be a man. This youth appeared younger than her, likely around thirteen or fourteen, with a physique just beginning to mature. His androgynous state was perfect for their purpose. If dressed in the empress’s ceremonial robes and powdered heavily, he could easily pass for a woman.

It was indeed a clever scheme, but Fu Wei couldn’t bring herself to agree. She stood up, waving her hands in frustration. “This is too frivolous! Does Father Chancellor expect me to install a male empress? Even if it seems fine now, what about the future? He will grow taller, develop a beard—how will we silence the gossip then?”

The Chancellor, however, remained unperturbed. “Which parts of the palace the attendants can access and which they cannot are entirely up to the emperor and empress. Once the heir is born, the empress can claim illness and avoid meeting outsiders. Ceremonial duties like the Silkworm Ritual can be waived entirely. Thus, there will be no risks.”

“And what about the Empress Dowager? Surely I cannot avoid seeing her altogether! We might deceive her for now, but over time… I fear shocking her and being accused of harboring unnatural preferences. That would be troublesome.”

The Chancellor dismissed her concerns. “Lingjun’s appearance won’t change drastically within the year. Even if he meets the Empress Dowager, she may not see through the disguise. All the Empress Dowager desires is a grandchild. As long as Your Majesty fulfills the duty to the ancestors, rumors will dissipate on their own. What is there to fear?”

What was there to fear? She feared many things. Her original intention was simply to find a legitimate excuse to assume full control of the throne. Never did she imagine that the old fox would outmaneuver her so thoroughly, even forcing her to entangle herself in this web.

She glanced down at the kneeling youth, offering a perfunctory gesture of support to his elbow, and sighed sorrowfully to the Chancellor. “Living a life of secrecy is excruciating. Father Chancellor has never experienced it and wouldn’t understand the anguish. For me, this matter might still be manageable, but for a proud man to be confined within the palace walls is akin to clipping his wings—it’s profoundly unfair. Over the years, I’ve relied on you for everything, and you’ve devoted yourself tirelessly to my cause. But this matter—I don’t wish to burden you further. Please allow me to resolve it myself.”

Her words were heartfelt, designed to evoke sympathy and perhaps earn her a reputation for virtue. To her surprise, before she could finish, Lingjun suddenly drew his sword and pressed it against his neck. Fu Wei gasped, rushing to stop him. “What are you doing? Are you threatening to die if the deal falls through?”

A person intent on suicide could remain eerily calm. Lingjun replied, “Lord Chancellor instructed me that if Your Majesty refuses, I must seal my lips forever to prevent any leaks.”

This was the Chancellor’s extreme approach—success or death. If she were ruthless enough, she could ignore it. But if she wished to save him, the only solution was to bring him into the palace.

Fu Wei sneered coldly. “Father Chancellor truly doesn’t value human life.”

The Chancellor stood with his hands tucked into his sleeves, adopting a detached stance. “I’ve said it before—to preserve the empire, sacrificing one or two lives is inconsequential.”

Fu Wei released Lingjun and studied him carefully. The beautiful youth’s eyes gleamed with determination. In a few more years, he would likely grow into someone incomparably striking. Was she supposed to marry him? Bear his child? She bit her lip, deeply troubled. “Father Chancellor doesn’t know—I prefer older men.”

The Chancellor responded nonchalantly. “In a couple of years, Lingjun will grow up.”

Should she calculate matters this way? She felt disheartened. “My lifelong commitment should be my own decision. I already have someone in mind.”

The Chancellor didn’t even flinch. “The empire comes first; the ruler second. Please bear this burden for the sake of the nation.”

So, in his eyes, her position as emperor truly carried little weight. He didn’t even bother to inquire about the identity of the person she favored.

Fu Wei, frustrated, circled Lingjun like one inspecting goods. The flawless youth offered no flaws to criticize. She glanced back at the Chancellor, finding Lingjun reminiscent of a younger Yan Xiangru. When she first met him, he bore the same gaze as Lingjun today.

Crossing her arms, she muttered, “He really isn’t your son? Why does he resemble you so much—not in features, but in demeanor. Did Lingjun inherit his mother’s looks?”

The Chancellor seemed displeased, pressing his lips tightly shut, but Lingjun spoke instead. “Your Majesty misunderstands. My father was Nie Yun. During the Battle of Chencang, eight thousand elite cavalry fought until only three men and three horses remained standing without retreating. My father was one of them.”

Now, it became difficult to argue further. Indeed, he was the descendant of loyal heroes, which explained his unwavering resolve despite his youth.

Fu Wei immediately sobered, clearing her throat. “I deeply respect the Three Heroes, which is why I must remind you—you’re still young. Don’t rashly agree to anything that might lead to regret later. You may withdraw for now. There are some matters I wish to discuss privately with the Chancellor.”

Upon receiving the Chancellor’s silent consent, Lingjun bowed deeply and retreated gracefully.

Silence enveloped the hall as both parties remained quiet. Fu Wei paced slowly, stepping into the bright strip of light near the entrance. Glancing down, she noticed red shoes peeking faintly beneath her deep robe, their vibrant hue still catching the eye despite the wide hem. Tilting her head to admire them, she asked the Chancellor, “Father Chancellor said that once the heir is born, I needn’t fear anymore, correct?”

Her tone shifted abruptly, heralding an unexpected twist. The Chancellor braced himself but nodded nonetheless. “I speak from the heart. Everything I do is for Your Majesty.”

“So, does Father Chancellor believe that whoever fathers the heir is irrelevant?” She tilted her head upward, her gaze resting on the fluttering canopy above. “The essence of life lies in the union of father’s essence and mother’s blood. To have a cherished child, one must first choose the father wisely. Under the heavens, who surpasses Father Chancellor in governance and strategy? In my opinion, rather than recommending Nie Lingjun, Father Chancellor should recommend himself. You raised me; you understand me best. Since neither of us is married, why not make do with each other and live together?”

She knew these words would infuriate him, but so what? Secrets buried too long would sprout uncontrollably, growing wild and unrestrained.

Yes, she admired this treacherous chancellor—his arrogance, his deft handling of power. Some might question how she could admire such a man who trampled imperial dignity and possibly harbored ambitions to usurp the throne. Did she no longer care for the empire?

They were wrong. Only by controlling him could she safeguard the realm. She had long realized that she needed both the fish and the bear’s paw—a truth she had understood years ago. She was lonely, so lonely that even the old eunuchs in the palace pitied her. She needed someone to fill that void. Who better to share her unspoken truths than him? Finding another would introduce new risks, while choosing him felt most natural. Thus, in her eyes, this treacherous chancellor was never irredeemable. She had harbored feelings for him for years, often troubled by her inability to act on them.

Now the time had come. She was an adult; he could no longer treat her as a child. Sometimes, she even felt grateful that he had never married—it was the only hope fate had left her. Had he taken a wife and children, their relationship would have inevitably turned adversarial, culminating in mutual destruction in the struggle for power.

As a woman, voicing such thoughts required immense courage, yet she managed it. She forced a smile, though it was hardly the regal composure expected of an emperor. That smile loosened the chains around her neck and sent tremors through the Chancellor’s heart.

The Chancellor furrowed his brow, feeling deeply affronted. “Has Your Majesty been drinking today?”

Fu Wei denied it. “I never touch alcohol during the day.”

“Then why are you speaking nonsense?”

How was it nonsense? “These are my true feelings. Just as Father Chancellor has always acted in my best interest, my admiration for you is also undeniable.”

The Chancellor was clearly displeased with her lack of restraint, but a man of his depth wouldn’t lose his temper over mere words. Instead, he lamented, “Your Majesty came to my tutelage at the age of six. After all these years, I failed even to teach you respect for teachers and elders. It’s evident how much I’ve failed. I understand Your Majesty’s displeasure regarding Lingjun, but you need time to consider. I have no intention of pressuring you…”

There was no need for circumlocution when everything had already been laid bare. Why not cut straight to the point? Fu Wei interjected, “Father Chancellor needn’t defend me. My earlier words reflect my genuine thoughts. You emphasized the importance of securing the heir, and I agree wholeheartedly. If anyone can father the heir, why not you?”

The Chancellor felt a sense of futility. “Because Your Majesty regards me as your mentor. A teacher becomes a father figure for life.”

“Father Chancellor oversteps,” she chuckled softly. “My father was the late emperor, and he has passed away.”

Still undeterred, the Chancellor countered, “We are still uncle and nephew.”

Claiming kinship as uncle and nephew felt far-fetched. Although Emperor Wen had treated him generously, granting him titles and honors, they shared neither ancestry nor lineage. No one in the imperial family acknowledged such a connection. Fu Wei rubbed her forehead. “I know the late emperor called you brother, but Father Chancellor shouldn’t forget—I am of the Yuan clan, and you are of the Yan clan. We are not bound by the five degrees of mourning. Even if our relationship were overly close, no one would fault us.”

Her audacity chilled the Chancellor’s face. Such a preposterous idea—he likely hadn’t even entertained it. While the court schemed over controlling Great Yin’s next ten or twenty years, the young emperor had turned the tables within two hours. Both were gambling, but the Chancellor had placed his bet on Nie Lingjun, whereas Fu Wei wagered only on herself.

The wind whistled through the eaves, filling the tense silence. After a prolonged standoff, the Chancellor issued a dismissal. “The weather seems to be turning. Your Majesty should return.”

Fu Wei glanced outside. The sun hung high in a cloudless sky, showing no signs of changing weather. Clearly, it was the Chancellor whose heart was clouded. She pressed further. “Does Father Chancellor truly not consider it? I am willing to share this secret with you. When the heir ascends the throne, won’t you rejoice?”

The Chancellor’s face darkened with an ominous intensity, his gaze piercing and tone resolute. “I absolutely refuse to consider it. Please abandon this notion immediately.”

She appeared slightly crestfallen. “Does Father Chancellor fear disrupting moral order?”

He hesitated, then admitted, “Not entirely. I once vowed never to marry unless it was to a peerless beauty. Therefore, I regretfully must decline Your Majesty’s generous offer.”