PM - 65

He took her to watch acrobatics. The crowd was dense, and fearing they might get separated, she clung tightly to his arm. He occasionally glanced back at her. The black gauze of her veil was lifted slightly, resting loosely on the brim of her hat, revealing her emotions to him. He watched over her with great care, afraid she might disappear.

“Where shall we go?” She had already been dazzled by the myriad sights of folk culture and eagerly tugged at him. When he didn’t hear her, she shouted loudly, calling him “Master,” and gestured with her hand, “The elephant dance over there looks interesting.”

The chancellor pointed to a spot not far away, intending to take her first to see the tightrope walking. “Didn’t we agree on this last time?”

“Oh, right.” She hopped around like a child. Amidst the sea of people, no one would likely notice her. Besides, those lurking in the shadows already knew her identity—there was nothing to fear. This was one of the rare moments of joy in her life; she should let loose and enjoy herself.

He held her hand as they squeezed into the crowd. She steadied her veil with one hand while standing on tiptoe to look up. The Western Region performers were skillful, their tightrope walking different from that of the Central Plains. Two poles stood several zhang apart, with a trembling rope stretched between them. A young girl wearing a fox-fur hat and vibrantly patterned short clothes and trousers walked along the rope, holding two lotus-leaf lanterns in her hands. If it were nighttime, the sight would be even more breathtaking.

It was like walking on a thread of life suspended high above the ground. The feathers on the girl’s hat fluttered in the wind, and Fu Wei, feeling apprehensive, leaned closer to him. He looked down at her, frowning. “Don’t be afraid. These people make their living this way; they’ve long mastered walking as if on flat ground.”

People were shaped by their circumstances—no one was born loving to walk on precipitous cliffs. Reflecting on it, she realized she was much like that Western girl, each step taken with trepidation. For her, there was no room for error—if she faltered, she would fall off the rope. Beyond destroying her path, beneath her lay countless blades pointing upward, ready to leave her annihilated.

The performers showcased their skills in mid-air, performing various stunts as they walked. Fu Wei gasped in amazement below. The chancellor always felt a pang of regret for her—her empire, which she had never truly savored. In her heart, this coveted title was but an abstract number on bureaucratic reports, a source of endless, unresolvable troubles. She simply knew it belonged to her and couldn’t afford to neglect it, but what it truly entailed, she did not understand.

His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, though his attention was elsewhere. He needed to closely monitor the surroundings. Despite having arranged security, he couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t unexpectedly encounter a colleague. If recognized, things could become complicated.

He reached out and lowered the black gauze over her hat. “Better to be cautious.”

She understood and didn’t throw a tantrum. But now everything was seen through a layer, even his facial expressions blurred. Coming to such crowded places was indeed risky. She said, “Let’s go see something else.”

Pulling him, they weaved out of the crowd toward sparser areas. The tents of the Westerners were scattered like stars. After passing several, they reached an open space where they saw young men handling leopards and bears. These fierce beasts she had once seen in the Shanglin Garden, confined in iron cages and tended by specialists. Unlike here, they were tethered with ropes, given relatively open spaces to move about.

She stopped to watch. Leopards were combative; two suddenly clashed without warning. Mediation was futile—they fought heedlessly, oblivious to their surroundings. Nearby, another leopard lay leisurely on the ground, lazily licking its paws. The sun made it drowsy, and it yawned, falling into a sleepy haze.

The fight didn’t last long. The victorious leopard proudly shook its head. The chancellor murmured, “The two fighting must have been males.”

Fu Wei exclaimed, “How do you know?”

His words were soon verified. The victor mounted the dozing female leopard, thrusting awkwardly a few times. Fu Wei immediately flushed red. Before she could turn away, the male leopard rose indifferently and wandered off.

She stared, dumbfounded—it had all happened in the blink of an eye, unbelievable.

“Is it over?”

The chancellor was also embarrassed. “Presumably, yes.”

She muttered, “They fought until their faces were bruised, all for this fleeting moment? Not worth it at all.”

Such matters—worth or not—were irrelevant. He feigned sternness. “A young lady should maintain decorum; others might laugh if they heard.”

He pulled her to leave quickly. She puffed her cheeks, muttering, “It’s my first time seeing this. Humans have ethics, beasts have theirs too. Vulgarity transforms into elegance…” Looking up, she asked innocently, “Are humans and beasts the same? Once they’re done, they just leave?”

The chancellor regretted bringing her to see this. Still, he could answer her question. “How can humans and beasts be the same? Humans are the pinnacle of creation, masters of strategy, secrets hidden in their sleeves. Beasts, after eating their fill, focus on procreation…” He coughed. “In short, they’re different.”

She nodded contentedly. “Then I can rest assured.”

The chancellor’s temple twitched. “What do you mean?”

She remained silent. A gust of wind pressed the translucent gauze against her cheek—he saw her mischievous smile and suddenly broke into a cold sweat.

“Don’t do this…”

She feigned innocence. “What did I do?” Grinning, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “What is Father Chancellor thinking of? I’m an innocent person, mingling with you—I hope I don’t get corrupted.”

This talent for biting back left him thoroughly impressed.

The two walked shoulder to shoulder amidst the bustling crowd. A single day wasn’t enough to take in all the sights of the spring festival. Unconsciously, the sun dipped westward, nearing dusk.

In the early spring twilight, as the sun set, a chill rose from the horizon. She paused to gaze into the distance—the undulating lines of the distant imperial city. The sky rolled with orange hues, while beneath, grayish-blue tones deepened, cooling the air—a majestic scene evoking the grandeur of a setting sun over a long river.

He followed her gaze, reluctant to part. “Tonight, there’s no curfew. It’s fine to return later.”

She detected the undertone of his reluctance, tugging at his sleeve. “I want to stay with you, not part.”

At the instant the sun disappeared, he brushed aside the black gauze and kissed her forehead. Pressing against her brow, he murmured, confused and helpless, “Lately, my heart inexplicably aches from time to time. Even with you beside me, this feeling doesn’t fade.”

She understood. Like her, it was as if an invisible hand constantly gripped her heart, causing it to tremble and ache sweetly with pain.

She removed her veil, tossing it to the ground, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “My lord…”

What others thought seemed irrelevant. Passersby glanced sideways but weren’t surprised, only smiling enviously. He pressed her small head against his chest, filled with deep sighs. Among the world’s myriad beauties, after twenty-nine years, none had ever moved him. It turned out all this wandering was to wait for her belated arrival—what profound fate was this?

Night fell like a curtain, enveloping everyone within. The festive atmosphere didn’t wane with the darkness; instead, the deeper the night grew, the livelier it became.

Moonlight filtered like a sieve, leaving behind only the young. Beautiful maidens in veils, their long black gauze forming narrow doorways ahead, clasped their hands together, carrying delicate lanterns, walking along the water’s edge. Their reflections shimmered in pairs on the surface. Nearby, someone released floating lanterns onto the river. The flickering candle flames drifted to the center, slowly converging and drifting away. Listening closely, one could hear a maiden softly praying: “May my beloved remain true to our love, accompanying me year after year.”

She turned to look at him. He asked if she wanted to release a lantern. She shook her head. “Once the flame reaches the river’s center, who will protect it? What if it goes out? Better to hold it in hand; if the wind extinguishes it, it can be relit. You and I are like this golden flame—as long as no one lets go, the light will never dim.”

He chuckled softly, leading her to a stall selling velvet flowers. From among them, he chose a luxuriant sprig of lilac and placed it in her hair. Wearing the flower, she blushed shyly under his focused gaze. From his sleeve, he retrieved a jade pendant and handed it to her. “This was left by my mother. Today, I give it to you as a token of our love.”

She set down the lantern and carefully cradled it in her palms. Examining it closely, she saw a coiled dragon and a flying swallow carved into the jade—an unusual combination, yet harmoniously blended. Raising her eyes, they shone brightly. “Did your mother foresee this day?”

Who could say? Fate was predetermined from past lives. Dragons weren’t destined only for phoenixes—paired with swallows, they complemented beautifully.

She smiled, dimples brimming with sweetness, but felt ashamed for not having prepared a token of her own.

“What to do? I came unprepared, didn’t even bring money—I can’t buy anything…”

He recalled the cherished bellyband, immensely satisfied. “You forgot—you gave it to me earlier.”

Fu Wei was bewildered. “Did I? When did I give you anything?”

He paced with his hands behind his back, glancing at her sideways, his eyes brimming with charm. “That night when you stayed at my residence, you left it behind before departing.”

Only then did she realize, mumbling with her head bowed, “I specifically left it for you, but you revealed it in front of those ministers. At that moment, I hated you so much.”

He had regretted this for a long time, and even now, recalling it made him feel sorry for her. He promised, “In the future, I won’t anymore. The more precious something is, the less I’ll mention it.”

Indeed, if a man flaunted his romantic achievements in front of others, it would signify insufficient love. As he had said, affection was to be cherished in the heart—touching it even lightly felt like an intrusion. If spoken aloud, such love became like betel nut, spat out as worthless residue.

She joyfully tucked the jade pendant into her sleeve pocket. After walking all day, she was truly exhausted. Dropping her hands, she massaged her calves and complained with a frown, “I can’t walk anymore. Let’s go back.”

The emperor, who had always lived in luxury and had carriages at her disposal wherever she went, found walking much more taxing than practicing archery or horsemanship on the training grounds. However, he didn’t mind—he had marched long distances during military campaigns in his younger years. Strolling around the outskirts of the city was nothing for him. He squatted down, letting her jump onto his back. “From now on, only I will carry you. If Shangguan Zhao dares to lay a hand on you again, don’t blame me for being unforgiving.”

It was hard for him to suppress his jealousy for so long. Fu Wei opened her mouth but couldn’t help but snicker. He grew unhappy, complaining that she was too carefree about propriety. Pouting, she explained, “I was raised as a boy, accustomed to calling him brother and treating him casually. We don’t have so many taboos!” Fearing he might feel awkward, she quickly kissed his earlobe. “Alright, alright, I’ll be more careful in the future—you can rest assured.”

Walking along a dim path, they gradually moved away from the bustling crowds. Only the two of them remained. Her arm stretched straight out, resting on his shoulder. The lantern illuminated his face, brimming with a sense of fulfillment.

They had originally planned to camp under the pear blossoms, but fearing the cold might make her ill, the idea was abandoned. Spring nights were still as chilly as winter—her breath misted in the air like clouds. At the end of the path stood a heavy carriage, arranged beforehand by the chancellor. Knowing she would tire eventually, the spacious carriage had a fragrant brazier hanging from the ceiling and a soft cushioned bed below for resting.

He helped her inside and took up the reins. “Your Majesty, shall we return to the palace, or… to my humble residence?” No need to spell it out—they both understood each other perfectly. But unsure of her intentions, his heart raced anxiously while waiting for her answer, fearing she might hesitate and change her mind at the last moment.

Leaning on the doorframe, she asked, “Are your men guarding the area?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I ordered them to stay far away—no need to worry about ambushes.”

“And what we say and do here, will they hear or see anything?”

“No,” he assured her. “They are discreet individuals. Seeing me with a lady, they will keep their distance even further…” Before he could finish, she pulled him backward into the dim carriage.

The doors closed behind them, sealing off this tiny world where only the two existed. The faint glow of the pearl lamps in the four corners of the carriage softly lit her tender gaze. Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, “I remember what Father Chancellor said that night—you returned the six imperial seals to me. If I ever felt the need to appease you, I would reconsider later.”

His hands braced beneath him as she leaned closer, nearly pressing half her body against him. Her warm breath grazed the edge of his ear, igniting him like flames consuming dry wood.

“Yesterday, when I received the six seals, I was completely satisfied. Yet I never considered your words because there was no need—I had already made up my mind.” She spoke slowly, her lips moving to kiss his neck. “You probably don’t know how much I admire you. I want you to treat me sincerely, but I’m also afraid you won’t believe me… If I do this, you won’t doubt me anymore, right?”

A woman entrusts her body to someone for life, committing herself unconditionally. Though the timing wasn’t yet ripe, she wanted a child. Their relationship was profound—too tangled to sever—but fragile enough to dissolve with a few words. Either way, both could survive without the other.

She loosened her robe, and his fingertips traced along its edges. Reclining on the embroidered cushion, she reached out her hand to him. He bent down, pressing close to the delicate curve of her neck, guiltily murmuring, “This subject is ashamed,辜负先帝之托.”

She smiled, lips pressed together. “Father Chancellor has returned a magnificent realm to me—what shame is there?” Her cool fingers gently roamed across his shoulders and back. One was as pure as snow, the other brimming with strength. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Having seen towering mountains, how can one settle for mere hills? You are my mountain. After you, there will be no one else.”

His heart surged, his breathing trembling. He lifted the thin fabric of her inner garment, revealing her pale skin. Her slightly slender chest rose and fell rhythmically in the dim light of the pearls. Pausing, he asked hoarsely, “No regrets?”

Her lips curved faintly upward. “No regrets, though I am a little afraid.”

He cradled her closer. “If I am too hasty, please inform me, Your Majesty.”

He wasn’t hasty—his demeanor mirrored that of a scholar-general leading troops through mountains without harming a blade of grass. Wherever he passed, warmth preceded him, followed closely by summer’s bloom. She reclined amidst a sea of gentle flowers, stretching her limbs to follow his lead. He was meticulous, proceeding step by step. Her breath quickened as visions of peach blossoms stretched endlessly before her eyes, birds chirping on branches above, streams murmuring below… Suddenly, she ascended to the heavens, recalling the night months ago atop the Zhuque Gate, standing alone before intricately carved red railings, communing with the universe, reaching out to pluck stars.

Slowly and gently, he moved downward, stirring waves of heat. She sighed softly, “Ruchun…”

His hand trailed along her shoulder, intertwining fingers with hers. They exchanged smiles, indulging in whispers and caresses, embarking on an expansive journey.

Propping herself up, she carefully tied a strand of her hair with his. “Bound together as husband and wife, we shall not part until our hair turns white.” No matter how rushed, this ritual could not be omitted.

The glow of the pearls illuminated his face, suffusing it with a radiant aura. Leaning over, he kissed her, murmuring, “Thank you.”

The temperature inside the carriage rose steadily, their skin damp with sweat, the air growing thin. She bit her lip tightly, soft moans escaping through her nose. He guided her hand toward his trouble.

Curiosity had consumed her before, but despite her attempts to guess through layers of silk, he had always kept hidden, refusing compliance. Now, faced with honesty, shyness overwhelmed her courage. Encouraged by him, she tentatively explored, her heart racing uncontrollably. In a small voice, she whispered, “Do as you wish!”

Their heated bodies pressed together, radiating intense warmth. The chancellor struggled to appear experienced—a daunting task for someone entirely inexperienced seeking admiration.

“There may be some discomfort,” he muttered, steeling himself with a nod. “It’ll pass soon.”

Fear flickered within her, finding no foothold. Clutching the felt tightly, she braced herself.

Like soldiers facing battle, they were equally tense. The chancellor’s usual decisiveness wavered significantly. Troubled, he hesitated, “Is this... correct?”

Fu Wei almost rolled her eyes. “How would I know?”

Let’s try then—it seemed about right… A trace of satisfaction crossed his face as he gently stroked her cheek, kissing the corner of her lips.

Her full attention focused inward, distracted even during kisses. How to describe it? Like a pestle embedding itself into flesh, fear gripped her. He advanced, piercing through resistance, struggling forward. Sensing her tension, his movements remained exquisitely gentle. Still, pain spread achingly, unreachable and far more unsettling than any sword wound. She flinched; he froze immediately, trapped between retreat and advance, drenched in sweat.

Through blurred vision, she watched him. What if he gave up now—how would he feel? After so many attempts, would failure leave him unable to rise again?

Perhaps enduring briefly would suffice. Having come this far, bearing the initial bitterness, finishing swiftly would resolve lingering issues. Steeling herself, she reached to measure, only to find despair filling her heart—”The great Peng bird spans thousands of miles...”

He chuckled ruefully. Clearly, extensive reading paid dividends—her metaphor carried profound implications.

Caught in the moment, Fu Wei felt slighted but refrained from blaming him. If unsuccessful now, who knew when another chance would arise?

Lifting her frail arms, she cupped his face, then trailed downward to rest on his waist. Without words, a gentle tug conveyed her intent—he understood instantly. Finally, Fu Wei heard the sound of tearing flesh, akin to an ungreased axle grinding against its socket in mortal combat.

Endure, endure… Gritting her teeth, she found solace within. At least, she completed the ritual—this man belonged irrevocably to her grasp. The ordeal wasn’t over yet, she knew. A true ruler faced pain head-on, seeking joy within suffering.

Softly, she began counting—one, two, three, four, five… On six, he paused, salt poured into the deepest wound exploding violently within. Hissing sharply, she drew in cool air. “Didn’t you say humans differ from beasts?”

Flustered, he stammered, “Six... I thought it a very auspicious number.”