PM - 7

To undermine imperial authority and consolidate his own power, everything had been handled with cold pragmatism. During this time, the emperor was merely an opponent, a pawn to be manipulated and placed on the opposing side. Thus, her harsh words were understandable—even expected. After all, it was human nature to dislike someone who constantly opposed you. But if she, who should have hated him to the bone, suddenly expressed a desire to discuss private matters—or even to bear his child—then beyond the initial shock, he needed to consider her true intentions. Was her goal merely to reclaim power, or did she also intend to force him into retirement?

In the eyes of most, the young emperor was a taciturn and timid figure. She rarely voiced opinions in court; her primary contribution was deferring decisions to the Chancellor with a simple “Please let Father Chancellor decide.” For a long time, the Chancellor shared this view. When the late emperor entrusted her to his care, she had been a child barely reaching his belt buckle. The late emperor, with his last ounce of strength, urged her, “Aying, call him Uncle. Only Uncle can protect you… Call him Uncle…” Standing on a footstool, the young emperor stared blankly, her lips sealed as though glued shut. Even as the late emperor drew his final breath, she remained silent. At that moment, the Chancellor thought, This child is unremarkable now and will remain so in the future. Over the years, he had served as her chief advisor, handling state affairs while her duties consisted of eating, sleeping, and studying.

The Chancellor’s initial vision for the young emperor was that of a sovereign whose presence was as immovable as a mountain—someone who need not concern herself with thorny matters, content to reign as a figurehead during a peaceful era. However, she seemed to harbor her own ambitions. From the age of ten, she could often be seen practicing archery and horsemanship on the training grounds. He assumed it was merely a child’s way of alleviating loneliness, something she would soon abandon. Yet she persisted for five or six years, enduring falls and injuries without complaint. The Chancellor was puzzled but eventually dismissed it as a persistent attempt to stave off boredom. Now, however, things appeared to be shifting. Her request to establish an empress required him to reassess her. Her previous silence had been a strategy of concealment, a disguise for her growing audacity and ambition. Now, openly making such an outrageous proposal, she was clearly challenging him head-on.

The Chancellor’s pride and aloofness radiated from every pore. As he regarded the young emperor, his unease grew.

Fu Wei, too, was deeply affected. Pondering his response, she wondered: was he implying she wasn’t beautiful enough? Before coming, she had scrutinized herself in the mirror for a long time. Unable to apply powder, she consoled herself with her naturally fair complexion. Without rouge for her lips, she reminded herself that her lips were naturally red. Unable to paint her brows, she noted their deep, well-proportioned arches. What exactly was wrong with her appearance that made him disdain her?

As both emperor and woman, being judged inadequate in beauty was unacceptable!

Her smile vanished, replaced by a cold edge as she addressed the Chancellor. “Father Chancellor seeks a peerless beauty? I believe I am one. Are you blind to it?”

The Chancellor deliberately turned his face away, his attitude unmistakable—he truly saw nothing.

What a blind fool! His discerning eye for talent and governance failed him entirely when it came to appreciating beauty. Fuming, the young emperor shifted her gaze toward the direction Nie Lingjun had departed. “Fine then. If Father Chancellor recommends him, I shall accept. But regarding the matter of the heir, what does Father Chancellor propose? If the empress cannot bear children, and the emperor appears pregnant in court, won’t it cause an uproar? Or perhaps I could claim illness and rest for ten months, leaving the affairs of state in your hands during that time. What do you think?”

The Chancellor hesitated, visibly uncomfortable. In theory, it was a sound plan, but voicing it carried the whiff of usurpation.

He bowed deeply and replied respectfully, “The decision rests with Your Majesty. You may send him to the inner palace for your consideration.”

Fu Wei glanced at him, her tone tinged with melancholy. “Father Chancellor, once famed for his romantic exploits, I had thought you a man of grand ambitions. It seems I was mistaken.” Without another word, she clasped her hands behind her back and strode out. Facing the empty courtyard, she called out loudly, “Prepare the carriage—return to the palace!” With that, she marched toward the long, shadowy corridor.

The Chancellor bowed low. By the time he straightened, the emperor’s carriage had already departed through the gates of the chancellor’s residence.

Behind him, unrestrained laughter erupted. A lavishly dressed figure emerged from behind the screen, stroking his chin mockingly. “The little emperor has taken a fancy to you—what are you going to do about it? In my opinion, accepting isn’t the worst idea. As she said, once the heir ascends the throne, you can openly govern while secretly reigning supreme as a retired emperor. Compared to your current predicament—working tirelessly only to earn a notorious reputation—it’s a far better outcome.”

The Chancellor brushed past him, arms tucked into his sleeves, without sparing him a glance. “The commandery has been leaderless for over a month. You should return to Tianshui. Lingering in the capital isn’t a solution. As for military provisions and weapons, I’m currently negotiating with the Minister of Agriculture. Progress will be made soon. With any luck, the matter will be resolved by the next court session.”

“Let’s set aside military matters for now,” the man persisted, blocking his path. “Let’s talk about the current emperor. When I left the capital last year, she was still a child. How has she grown so much in the blink of an eye? In the past, her words lacked confidence, but now she speaks with assurance and poise. It’s as if she’s become a different person.” Mimicking the young emperor’s tone, he teased, “Anyone can father the heir—why not you, Father Chancellor? You’re famed for your romantic exploits. I wish to share this secret with you—why not give in to her request?”

His incessant chatter grated on the Chancellor’s nerves. Annoyed, he waved him off. “Lian Zheng, if not for our longstanding friendship, I’d have banished you to Yumen Pass to eat sand long ago. Must you prattle on endlessly? Would it kill you to hold your tongue for once?”

In life, everyone needs at least one friend willing to share life and death. For the Chancellor, that friend was Lian Zheng, the Marquis Jin Yi.

Lian Zheng was the son of Princess Nanshan. Due to his mother’s circumstances, he had been raised within the palace. Back then, the Chancellor—neither legitimate nor influential—had been unable to mingle with the princes. Only Lian Zheng, carefree and unburdened, had befriended him. “We’re both outsiders,” he had said. “Your mother is gone, and so is mine. Let’s rely on each other from now on.” Thus began a bond that lasted over two decades. What was it like to befriend such a troublemaker? He constantly caused problems, and you were left to clean up after him. The Chancellor had lost count of how many times he had bailed Lian Zheng out of trouble. Perhaps all his patience had been exhausted on him, leaving none for anyone else.

Their deep brotherhood meant Lian Zheng was accustomed to the Chancellor’s dismissive scowl and didn’t take his sharp words to heart. Silencing him was impossible, and as a friend, he often worried about the Chancellor’s personal life.

“Have you ever considered seizing the throne?”

The Chancellor adjusted his sleeve and leisurely poured himself a cup of tea. “First, I’d need to eliminate all twelve regional lords. Do you think your Tianshui cavalry is up to the task?”

Lian Zheng shook his head. “The disparity is too great. If seizing the throne isn’t feasible, finding an alternative shortcut isn’t out of the question.”

He knew Lian Zheng was still fixated on the young emperor’s earlier words. Sometimes, he couldn’t fathom how his mind worked. “She was merely mocking me. Surely you don’t take her seriously?”

“You think it’s a provocation?”

“What else could it be?” The Chancellor frowned. “I simply didn’t expect her to have such audacity. Her words genuinely startled me.”

Lian Zheng chuckled. “If even you, the Chancellor, were taken aback, it’s clear the little emperor isn’t ordinary. She reminds me of the late emperor—quiet and unassuming yet capable of great deeds. You’d best tread carefully. If she sets her sights on you, resisting superficially might suffice. After all, she is the emperor. If she chooses to wear you down slowly, I fear you won’t be able to withstand her.”

The Chancellor scoffed. “She’s just a child. Must you exaggerate so? When she sought to learn statecraft, I only taught her the basics. Her limited knowledge is no match for me. Even if she aspires to rule, I need only stand aside and let her realize her limitations. She’ll back down soon enough.”

Lian Zheng smirked. “Some people are born masters of intrigue, requiring no formal lessons. A hero like you must beware of stumbling in unexpected places. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” His words were always ominous. Pausing, he added, “Earlier, you mentioned a peerless beauty—how hurtful! If the little emperor were to dress up, her beauty would rival anyone’s… Have you forgotten? It’s been so many years…”

The Chancellor cut him off impatiently. “I have numerous affairs to attend to. If Lord Marquis has nothing further, please excuse yourself—I won’t see you out.”

Lian Zheng protested, “Leaving feels lonely. I planned to drink with you today.” He tugged at the Chancellor’s robe admiringly. “I noticed when I arrived—this garment is exquisite. Is it the latest style in the city? It suits you remarkably well…”

Without a word, the Chancellor removed his robe and tossed it to him.

Lian Zheng pointed again. “And the headdress.”

The Chancellor, now clad only in his undergarments with his hair loose, still exuded an air of elegance. Yet his words were curt. “You’re single and childless—why waste time worrying about the nation? Focus on your own needs. Spare me your visits to the capital.”

He pulled out the hairpin and threw the headdress as well. “Make a list of whatever else you want, and I’ll have my steward prepare it. I’ll pack your travel supplies and send them to you later. Focus on leading your troops in Tianshui. Don’t miss home—there’s no one left there anyway. And don’t miss me—I’m too busy to write back. There’s a jar of wine buried under the osmanthus tree since your last visit. Help yourself if you’re thirsty. Tonight, I’m hosting a philosophical discussion—I can’t keep you company. While drinking, look at the moon and imagine I’m with you.”

Even disheveled, the Chancellor remained strikingly handsome. Yet his ambiguous tone irritated Lian Zheng. “People say there’s something improper between us. Have you heard it?”

The Chancellor stopped on his way to change clothes, straightening his sleeves. “Looking like this, anyone who sees us will believe the rumors. Every time you visit, you covet my attire. If your feet weren’t larger than mine, you’d steal my shoes too. Honestly, what are your servants doing? Can’t they prepare clothes for you?”

Lian Zheng grinned sheepishly. “Their clothes aren’t as stylish as yours.”

Perhaps his natural charm shone through regardless of attire. Even in rags, he retained a unique flair. Lian Zheng felt unworthy of his title as Marquis Jin Yi—a mere warrior with no sense of fashion. Back in the palace days, the Chancellor, favored by Emperor Wen, had possessed far more finery than him. Over time, he had grown adept at appropriating the Chancellor’s garments—a habit that persisted to this day. Consequently, the Chancellor always purchased extra clothing, knowing he’d need replacements after Lian Zheng’s raids.

The Chancellor watched him, exasperated. Of all people, only Lian Zheng could leave him feeling so defeated. “Why don’t you marry? It would save you from living like a widower. Bring your wife to Tianshui, and you won’t need to visit the capital so often. When I finally leave the capital for an inspection tour, I’ll stop by Tianshui to see you. Reuniting with an old friend would be delightful, wouldn’t it?”

“How long must I wait?” Lian Zheng fanned himself and laughed. “I fear you’ll never leave the capital. If I wait for you in Tianshui, my hair will turn gray before you arrive.” Smirking, he added, “If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you. I lack the patience to wait for anyone—after all, there’s only one Lady Chaisang.”

He realized his slip of the tongue the moment the words left his mouth. Certain names were taboo in the Chancellor’s presence. Though the pain had lessened over the years, time hadn’t erased everything. In the past, even his closest friends would have been beaten black and blue for mentioning her.

Lian Zheng cautiously observed the Chancellor’s expression, but his features remained cold. Unperturbed, the Chancellor said lightly, “I’m truly busy with the capital’s affairs. When I finally decide to leave, I’ll let go of what needs to be released. If there’s someone you fancy, tell me—I’ll arrange the match for you.”

Lian Zheng shook his head. “Never mind. Marriage is fate. If one door closes, another opens. Who knows? Today’s rejection might become tomorrow’s love.” Smiling meaningfully, he earned a sharp glare from the Chancellor.