This was the true her...

Her unrestrained dance and blazing gaze deeply captivated Ling Yiran seated below.

Accompanied by the stirring strings and lively castanets, she suddenly turned, snapping her fingers toward the marquises' seats, exuding an air of arrogance that seemed otherworldly. A smile played on her lips; her eyes shimmered with a mischievous glint, radiating brilliance. In an instant, she illuminated the dim hall. With just one glance, she seeped into his heart, leaving behind a faint trace of fragrance.

Ling Yiran unconsciously leaned forward, yearning to seize this flame. But he couldn’t—despite repeatedly steadying his breath, his heart still pounded like a drum. Her hazy, teasing gaze grew even more alluring: truly maddening, utterly maddening...

The jade cup brimmed with fine liquor, swaying gently.

As the wine slid down his throat, he let out a sound of unfulfilled desire.

Her silk sleeve slipped down, revealing flawless white skin. Ling Yiran’s refined brows furrowed, a flicker of anger crossing his handsome face. His sharp eyes scanned the room, catching sight of Yu Ning glaring while holding his goblet. Ling Yiran quickly composed himself: damn, had they noticed? He rested his chin thoughtfully, his seductive eyes trembling faintly: Yuan Zhong harbored feelings for her, but at least he didn’t need to worry about that.

But before he could settle his mind, shock rippled through the hall. Everyone's gazes were entranced, as if their spirits had been seized. Ling Yiran hastily looked up, and in the moment he glimpsed the truth, his dark, bright eyes clouded like a lake tainted with ink, swirling with inscrutable emotion.

She... she smiled.

Clear as spring water, radiant as moonlight.

Ling Yiran clenched the edge of the table, a surge of bittersweet emotion welling up in his chest.

She... that damn woman actually smiled.

No amount of pallor could conceal her luminous grace, no bold step in her dance could hide her ethereal charm.

His heart itched with unease, his chest rising and falling faintly. He glanced sidelong. As expected, suspicion had already arisen—and from the two most troublesome individuals...

...

The north wind howled mournfully as the baggage carts rumbled along. All day long, the cold grass stretched endlessly as the royal army marched southward.

“Cough… cough…” Inside the bright yellow imperial carriage, King Qing Ling Zhun held a brush to annotate documents, one hand clutching a handkerchief to cover his mouth as his frail body trembled intermittently.

De Xian unfolded the yellow silk handkerchief handed to him by King Qing, revealing a startling splash of crimson. This illness likely wouldn’t be cured; the eunuch who had served King Qing for decades felt a pang of sorrow. He placed the blinding silk over the brazier. Moments later, the dazzling yellow was consumed by greedy red flames. Your Majesty feared his days were numbered, which was why he worked so tirelessly. An illustrious ruler cursed with a short life—what could be done?

Hmm? Ling Zhun narrowed his dragon-like eyes, scrutinizing the memorial under candlelight. After a while, he gently closed the pages, his pale fingers tracing the silk cover: “De Xi.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Are there any eligible daughters left in the Qiu family?”

“...” De Xian’s sparse eyebrows twitched slightly. After a moment of thought, he replied, “To answer Your Majesty, according to what this servant knows, Lord Zhen Guo has two sons and three daughters. Two years ago, the third daughter of the Qiu family married the second son of Chancellor Rong, and since then, the Qiu family has had no eligible daughters.”

The Jin Yang Qiu clan, originally ministers of the previous dynasty, had earned their status by aiding Qing Yue Wang Ling Zhan in seizing power. They were later bestowed the title of First-Class Marquis Zhen Guo. Subsequently, Qing Yue Wang married off his own daughter, Ling Baozhu, to the eldest son of the Qiu family, thus beginning an inseparable bloodline between the Qiu and Ling families. By the reign of Qing Wen Wang Ling Mo, the Qiu family remained prosperous, considered the foremost noble family of Qing Country. Under the support of Princess Hu Guo, the head of the Qiu family, and Empress Dowager Ling Baozhu (Wen Wang’s aunt), the seventh son of Wen Wang, Ling Zhun, ascended the throne. The eldest daughter of the Qiu family, Qiu Jingxian, entered the palace as empress consort.

At the time, there were two other families that rivaled the Qiu clan: the Huang family of Ru Ping and the Lin family of Luo Xi. Following the Qiu family, the Huang and Lin clans respectively filled the ranks of the royal harem, becoming consorts Hua and Shu. When Ling Zhun first ascended the throne, he was controlled by these three families, unable to decide court affairs independently. Who would have known he possessed extraordinary patience? Over ten years, he exploited the rifts between these families, overthrowing the three powerful clans that had dominated two generations, finally consolidating power in his hands. Alas, the Qiu and Huang families had contingency plans, nurturing new noble families before their decline. Cutting grass doesn’t remove the roots, and after twenty years of struggle between king and minister, Ling Zhun lost his most precious asset—his health—and the person he loved most.

Thus, Qing Wang Ling Zhun, who owed his throne to the noble families, loathed these power-hungry factions.

And thus, he resolved to eradicate this “cancer” within Qing Country during his lifetime.

Moreover, he wasn’t particularly fond of those two sons entangled with the noble clans...

“And...” Ling Zhun frowned, lowering his gaze, his index finger tracing the edge of the paper. “Why did the Liu family of Liang Country seek a marriage alliance with the Qiu family, and with national ceremony at that?” He hissed softly as the sharp edge of the paper sliced his fingertip, drawing blood that stung faintly.

De Xian hurriedly brought bandages and medicine, wrapping Ling Zhun’s wound while respectfully saying, “Perhaps King Liang, upon learning that Your Majesty had become the leader of the Yu City Alliance, ordered the Liu family to mend relations between the two countries through marriage.”

“But why did the head of the Liu family specifically request to marry Qiu Chenlu? And when did the Qiu family produce a fourth daughter?” Qing Wang tapped his fingers on the desk, deep in thought. “Thud, thud, thud...”

De Xian stood bowed, silently counting in his mind: one, two, three...

“De Xi,” on the fifty-second count, King Qing finally spoke.

“Your servant is here.”

“Send a pigeon dispatch, ordering Yuan Wan to swiftly investigate this matter thoroughly.”

“Yes.” De Xian responded, quickly stepping out of the imperial carriage.

Under the candlelight, Ling Zhun pinched the cut on his fingertip, narrowing his eyes dangerously: How many moves had the Qiu family kept hidden? What countries had Xiao Qi secretly contacted? At the thought of the alliance banquet offering, a fire surged in his heart: So, so, even the Upper Pavilion had someone loyal to you! Did Xiao Qi not know that military power was his taboo?

“Slam!” He pounded the desk heavily, his jaw tightening. Unintentionally, his fingertips brushed against something smooth; he looked down, picked up the memorial beneath his palm, and skimmed through it quickly:

The Shang family was taken in by Yi Wang, and I humbly request Your Majesty to grant Shang Sima a noble title to legitimize his position.

In the twenty-third year of Tian Chong, mid-winter, submitted by Ling Cheran.

Xiao Qi, your calculations are indeed precise—gaining favor by granting benefits, intending to secure Shang Mi’s unwavering loyalty? Ling Zhun picked up his brush and quickly approved:

Granted. Award Shang Mi the title of First-Class Duke, bestow silver seal and blue ribbon.

“Hmph!” Ling Zhun flicked the pen away, his gaze piercing the still-wet vermilion characters. If he was going to give, he’d give the highest rank. Let’s see how many can remain humble despite favor. Cheran, though you possess some cunning, you fail to grasp human nature. Shang Mi chases fame and fortune, a typical opportunist. Once he climbs high, do you think he’ll remain obedient?

His thin lips slowly, slowly curved upward: This time, I’ll make you understand what it means to lift a stone only to drop it on your own feet. Dare to touch the Upper Pavilion? You’ll soon learn the consequences.

Ling Zhun sipped his tea, casually flipping open the next memorial. The elegant, delicate handwriting reminded him of the official who had submitted it. Setting down the exquisite teacup, he slowly opened his palm. The warm yellow candlelight cast an orange glow on the deeply textured center of his palm. His thick brows tightened then relaxed, relaxed then tightened, eventually forming a character resembling the Chinese word for “river.”

That day in the empty hall, he had forcefully pressed down on that person’s head. Their pride both delighted and infuriated him. Delighted because this sixteen-year-old boy possessed such remarkable character, born of humble origins, injecting fresh virtue into the court. Infuriated because this person dared defy royal authority—a crouching dragon or fledgling phoenix, difficult to control.

And... Ling Zhun focused his gaze downward, staring blankly at the memorial. That smile at the alliance banquet, eyes shimmering like the first moonlight on water; that palm press as she departed, her slender figure like a tender willow.

Was he male, or...?

King Qing was perplexed, failing to notice the memorial slipping from his hand. Pages fluttered down, making soft, pleasant sounds. The warm yellow candlelight crossed over Ling Zhun’s broad yet lean shoulders, casting a shadow on the long memorial, yet unable to obscure those few delicate characters: Your humble servant Feng Yunqing submits.

Doubt took root...

On the twenty-fourth day of the eleventh month, the twenty-third year of Tian Chong, the royal army returned to the capital, filling the nation with excitement. The next day, court resumed, and Qing Long Wang Ling Zhun became renowned for his diligence, hailed as a wise ruler of the era.

“Him?”

“Yes, His Majesty personally bestowed a courtesy name.”

“Hmph, just a young upstart!”

“Sixteen years old? Third-rank official?”

“Gentlemen, please lower your voices, lower your voices.”

Whispering, grumbling, murmuring—were these people neighborhood gossips? Slightly turning his head, he shot an impatient sidelong glance. Behind him, the junior officials of the Ministry of Rites fell silent, scattering with their documents.

Bored, lazily withdrawing his gaze, he frowned at the text in his hand: Left Chancellor Dong Jianlin’s daughter, Dong Huiru, known for her elegance, was betrothed to the third prince. According to Qing law, a first-class marquis could have both a principal and secondary wife. Naturally, Princess Tianjiao secured the main wife position without question. Although the Left Chancellor wielded immense power in the bureaucracy, where only the Right Chancellor could rival him, ultimately the arm couldn’t twist the thigh, and Dong Huiru could only be made a concubine. Given her haughty nature, could she willingly accept a subordinate position?

He raised his head, resting his chin in thought. Moreover, the former concubine whose position she displaced was the Empress Dowager’s own niece, who had just borne a son for the third prince. Dong Huiru faced a domineering mistress above and a fierce rival below—it was truly walking on thin ice. On the other hand, Rong Ruoshui’s ambitious eyes surfaced in his mind as he glanced at the ledger spread on the table. He frowned again, unable to muster goodwill toward Rong Ruoshui. She had happily been betrothed to the seventh prince as his principal wife, scheduled to wed alongside Dong Huiru on Laba Festival. Both brides would leave home on the same day, yet their futures starkly contrasted—one bright, the other dim. Truly lamentable, truly pitiful.

The warm afternoon sun, accompanied by a gentle breeze, seeped through the fine silk covering the window, softly touching the mask on my face. My skin alternated between warmth and chill, my heart tightening and loosening unpredictably, filled with the sorrow of swaying willows and withering chrysanthemums.

“Alas!” A deep sigh escaped, carrying emotions too complex to articulate.

“Why are you sulking like this?” A deep, aged voice sounded from behind.

I subtly relaxed my brows, rose, and bowed: “Minister Wei.”

“Hmm.” Wei Jiyan responded indifferently, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked toward the upper seat.

This old man had been summoned by the Left Chancellor early in the morning and only returned to the Ministry of Rites now. His face bore an odd expression—his sparse beard quivered, and the corners of his slightly sagging eyes twitched. Could it be that he had been insulted?

“Feng Shilang.” Wei Jiyan pulled a scroll of yellow silk from his sleeve and handed it over. I respectfully accepted it, unrolled it, and was momentarily stunned. Focusing again, I felt a surge of emotion within me, waves of green affection rippling through my heart: He’s coming, he’s coming...

Turning my gaze, I saw everyone staring at me in astonishment. Dust particles floated in the air along with a few thin sheets of paper; the room fell into complete silence.

Is there something on my face? I raised my hand to touch my cheek, blinking in confusion. No, nothing. I touched again, my fingertips brushing against the upturned corners of my lips. Really nothing. Composing myself, I suppressed my smile, only to see time resume its flow—the floating papers descended once more. Some people awkwardly bent down to pick them up, while others hurried away, covering their faces as if avoiding a venomous snake.

What a strange group of people. I withdrew my sidelong glance, rolled up the yellow silk, and presented it with both hands: “Master.”

Wei Jiyan's sparse beard trembled even more violently, his aged eyes filled with wrinkles quivering exaggeratedly—he appeared quite unwell. After a moment, he hastily snatched the yellow silk, cleared his throat, and said, “Hmm, Ding Marquis has sent a diplomatic letter, stating that he plans to spend the winter in Yundu.” His old eyes glanced at me briefly before quickly lowering again. “Feng Shilang, you’ve dealt with Ding Marquis before. The ceremonial arrangements will be entrusted to you. What do you think?”

It was exactly what I wanted, exactly what I desired—a rain shower nourishing my heart, painting a stream of fresh green. Unable to suppress my joy, my smile gradually deepened: “Yes, Your Excellency, I will not fail this mission.”

“Whoosh!” The thin papers fluttered again, followed by a deathly silence.

Wei Jiyan pointed at a stack of official documents on the desk, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring, his body seemingly convulsing.

Stroke! This was undoubtedly a sign of impending stroke. I stepped forward gently and kindly suggested: “Master, should I call for the imperial physician to examine you?”

“Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm.” The old man blinked rapidly, clearing his throat repeatedly. “No need, no need.” His gaze seemed to evade mine. “You... take these documents to the Ministry of Revenue, then go to the Imperial Academy to fetch new ones.”

“Oh.” I complied, picking up the stack of documents and stepping forward. “Master, please take care of yourself.”

“Mm, mm, mm.” The old man closed his eyes, responding perfunctorily. “Feng Shilang is new here, so it’s best to familiarize yourself with the various departments. Don’t worry, I’ll hold down the fort here—you can go.”

Huh? Was he giving me the boot? I touched my nose, wisely quickening my pace out of the Ministry of Rites. As soon as the cotton curtain dropped behind me, a heavy sigh echoed from within: “Alas!” My foot faltered, nearly causing me to stumble. The collective exhale was unmistakable.

“Truly wise, Master.” Flattery rang out.

I slowed my steps, pricking up my ears to listen.

“Yes, if Feng Shilang were still here, we might not have been able to get any work done today.”

Damn it! They’re all blaming me unfairly! How infuriating!

“Master sending the Shilang out is killing two birds with one stone.”

Hmm? A conspiracy? I retreated around the corner, holding my breath to listen.

“Sending him to the Ministry of Revenue means the Imperial Silk Bureau won’t be able to operate today!”

“Hahaha!” Laughter erupted throughout the room.

Fuming, I turned sharply and strode away. Do they really think I’m a pest? How hateful! How detestable!

The warm sunlight poured silently, casting patches of light and shadow within the solemn Meridian Gate. The winter in Yundu wasn’t as bitterly cold as in the north, but it carried a bone-chilling dampness. Clutching a stack of documents, I walked through the thousand-step corridor connecting the two academies, entering the territory of the Right Chancellor.

“Who are you?” A young man stood at the corner of the corridor, wearing the same third-rank robe as me.

With a respectful bow, I answered brightly: “I am Feng Yunqing, Shilang of the Ministry of Rites. By order of Minister Wei, I’ve come to deliver these documents to the Ministry of Revenue.”

“Shilang of the Ministry of Rites?” A flicker of surprise crossed his otherwise ordinary face. He flashed an extremely worldly smile, walking steadily toward me. “So you are Feng Shaochu.” He bowed deeply, his smile somewhat blinding. “I am Zhu Tinggui, styled Xiaoxian, Shilang of the Ministry of Personnel.”

The Ministry of Personnel governed the promotion and demotion of officials and had long been regarded as the Heavenly Treasury, the foremost among the four ministries of the academies. For someone so young to already hold the position of Shilang indicated a promising future. Moreover, the Ministry of Personnel was the stronghold of the Seventh Prince, making Zhu Tinggui undoubtedly one of his trusted aides. With this in mind, I smiled outwardly but remained guarded inwardly, bowing again: “Yunqing has just entered court and is unfamiliar with the layout of the various halls. I hope Shilang Zhu can guide me.”

“It would be my honor.”

Walking side by side, I carefully maintained a distance from him. The knot on my chest, which had changed from a fourth-rank fragrant knot to a third-rank fish knot, swung in the northern wind, the red tassels twirling. My pale purple robe fluttered slightly.

“Shaochu?” Zhu Tinggui initiated conversation, turning his face toward me with a sincere smile. “Does Shilang Feng mind if I address you by your courtesy name directly?”

Smiling and shaking my head, I replied gently: “Not at all, Brother Xiaoxian.”

His eyebrows twitched slightly, and he froze in place. I stopped, turning to look back: “Brother Xiaoxian?”

Zhu Tinggui rubbed his eyes and hurried to catch up: “Ah, the wind got into my eyes, into my eyes.”

At the end of the long corridor, we turned right and walked another hundred steps, arriving in front of a building.

“Xisi Hall.” Hmm, the name suited the function of the Ministry of Revenue well—national finances indeed required meticulous calculation. Zhu Tinggui stepped forward, lifting the cotton curtain and smiling faintly at me: “Shaochu, please.”

Such an irritating expression. For some reason, I found his smile highly repulsive. Politely nodding, I stepped inside. The Ministry of Revenue truly lived up to its reputation as the busiest office—wherever my gaze landed, everyone was buried in their work, heads bowed over documents, pens scribbling furiously.

“Colleagues.” Zhu Tinggui’s voice suddenly broke the silence behind me, disrupting the tranquil atmosphere. He pointed at me and introduced, “This is the newly appointed Shilang of the Ministry of Rites, Feng Yunqing, Feng Shaochu.”

“Tap.” “Tap.” Pens were set down one by one, officials rose and bowed in greeting.

“Your illustrious name precedes you, thunderously renowned.”

Thunder, thunder—I understood only these eight words of flattery, and they were overwhelming enough.

“Your talent leaves this humble junior in awe!”

Uncle, you’ve got a full beard—stop pretending to be young, alright?

“...Your literary and martial prowess makes you truly extraordinary...”

“Such youthful heroism makes an old man blush...”

“...”

One by one, I returned their courtesies, my tongue cramping. These people, who usually deal with numbers all day, had finally found someone to chat with, seizing the opportunity to vent. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead as I feigned politeness—it was dizzying, like ghosts and goblins chanting together. All I wanted to do was cry for help.

“Alright, back to work.” A deep voice rang out like heavenly music to my ears. Gradually, the surroundings quieted, and the crowd dispersed awkwardly.

I patted my chest in relief, only to see Yu Ning standing by the inner door, clad in a purple robe, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. The officials who had surrounded me earlier nodded in acknowledgment, the crisp sound of abacuses filling the room.

“Minister.” I pulled three books from my chest and presented them with both hands. “These are the lists of gifts needed for the weddings of Marquis Lie and Marquis Rong, as well as the items required for Marquis Ding’s visit. Please review them, Minister.”

“Hmm.” Yu Ning responded lightly, taking them somewhat slowly. “Understood.” Lifting his head, I noticed his clear black eyes trembling slightly. “The winter is bitterly cold, Shilang Feng must take care.”

“Hmm, you too, Minister.” I nodded briskly, bowing deeply. “I have official duties to attend to, so I’ll take my leave first.”

“Alright...” His tone carried a hint of reluctance.

Without dwelling on it, I turned to bow to those around me: “Colleagues, Yunqing takes my leave.” Then, with a gesture of thanks to Zhu Tinggui, who had been quietly watching the commotion, I added, “Thank you, Brother Xiaoxian, for guiding me.”

Clutching the documents, I was about to step over the threshold when Zhu Tinggui chuckled: “Shaochu really wants to thank me?”

Hmm? I paused: “Of course.”

“I have several colleagues eager to meet you.” He arched his brows, flashing an overly sincere smile. “If you truly wish to thank me, why not join us tonight for a gathering? Consider it a celebration for your promotion.”

How cunning! In front of the entire Ministry of Revenue, could I possibly refuse? Reluctantly agreeing, I left in anger and frustration. As expected, the Imperial Silk Bureau was indeed a den of tigers and wolves. Escape, escape. With the wind at my feet, I used three-tenths of my lightness kung fu and fled beyond the Seventh Prince’s sphere of influence.

“Hah.” Gazing from afar at Yuanhua Hall, where the academies were located, I exhaled deeply. Hmm, the Imperial Academy was nearby, wasn’t it? Looking around, I recalled the map in my mind. Ah, yes—it was near the western side of Youye Gate, west of Chongwu Hall and Jingshen Hall.

“West, west.” I muttered softly, heading toward the slightly tilted winter sun.

The sunlight cast a long shadow between Chongwu Hall and Jingshen Hall. As I walked into the shaded area, I felt a faint damp chill, the air around me filled with an ominous haze.

Turning the corner of the hall, I saw my brother and several generals standing respectfully under the corridor. Shang Sima, who had just been granted the title of First-Class Duke, strode past arrogantly, his sleeves flapping, exuding an air of haughtiness.

“What trash?!” As soon as Shang Sima left, the hot-headed young Han De spat in anger, his brows furrowed as he glared fiercely. “A title bought by selling off his daughter, and he still dares to flaunt it!”

“A-De.” My brother lightly admonished.

“Even Grand Marshal Xiao of the Martial Affairs Office shows respect to our general. On what grounds does that old man...” Han De's face flushed red with anger.

“A-De!” My brother shot him a stern sidelong glance.

Han De pursed his lips but reluctantly stepped back.

I quietly approached behind Han De and spoke softly: “Left Deputy Commander, there’s no need to be angry.” His body stiffened, frozen in place. I strolled in front of them, hands clasped behind my back. “Rising too quickly often leads to a deep fall.”

My brother's sharply chiseled handsome face softened into a warm smile: “Minister Feng, when did you arrive?” Though we were allies, the young officers of the Han family army were unaware of my true identity. My brother was always cautious, leaving no room for error.

I blinked and pointed into the distance: “Shang Sima just left moments ago, and I arrived right after.”

My brother reached out to smooth the slight wrinkles on my collar, speaking gently: “Have you gotten used to things these past few days?”

“Mmm... It feels a bit strange.” I touched my slightly cool nose tip, noticing his faintly furrowed brows, and quickly corrected myself: “But nothing serious.”

“I really don’t understand why His Majesty assigned Minister Feng to the Ministry of Rites,” Han Dong remarked thoughtfully. “Minister Feng clearly seems more suited for a military role.”

“Yes, yes,” I nodded emphatically. “Reading documents all day feels like being locked up, making my whole body ache.” I rotated my neck. “Why are you leaving the Martial Affairs Office so early today? Leaving work early, eh?” I glanced subtly at him.

My brother’s thin lips curved upward in a friendly smile: “After the battle of Chengyuan, the Han family army suffered over ten thousand casualties. Meanwhile, the Reserve Office has already gathered troops, ordering us to train the new recruits at the nearby camp tomorrow. Thus, I’ve been ordered to return early today.” He emphasized the word “ordered.”

“In that case, General, please take care of yourself.” I instinctively moved closer to him, covering my face with my sleeve while mischievously curling my lips. “I heard Lady is with child—how impressive! Congratulations, congratulations.”

“You little brat...” My brother ruffled my hair, quickly correcting himself: “Little guy!”

“Hahaha!” I jumped back two steps and dashed off, yelling over my shoulder: “I still have things to do! See you later, General!”

“Come to the house for porridge on Laba Festival!” My brother’s hearty laughter echoed behind me. “Don’t run so fast! Slow down!”

“Mm, mm, I know!” I waved casually over my shoulder.

With light steps, I floated along. How wonderful! By early summer next year, the Han family will have another member. I hope Sister-in-law gives birth to a cute nephew. Nephew, nephew... Closing my eyes, I silently made a wish. Suddenly, it felt as though I’d collided with a wall, my body flying up like a kite.

“Be careful!” A loud shout rang out. I opened my eyes to see the world spinning sideways, my cheek almost brushing the ground. Placing my elbow down, I gathered my strength and flipped twice in the air before landing steadily.

Bending over to brush the dust from the hem of my robe, I looked up to see a pair of enormous feet before me. Slowly, slowly, I straightened my body, tilting my head up gradually—so tall! Backlit, his square face was shrouded in shadow. A bit frightening, with an overwhelming presence.

“I’m sorry!” He bowed deeply. “It was entirely my fault for being careless and colliding with you, Master!”

Embarrassed, I looked at the giant bowing before me: “I was walking with my eyes closed. You’re not at fault.” I extended my hand to help him up, only to see him lift his head, tears pooling in his eyes, his lips trembling: “Master is truly kind to comfort me even now...”

Uh? I, I, am I seeing this right?! How could such a burly man have the eyes of a timid little rabbit? Impossible, impossible. Rubbing my eyes, I looked again—it was terrifying, truly a giant white rabbit...

Seeing him cover his face and sob, I hurriedly tugged at his sleeve: “Hey, don’t cry! What’s there to cry about?”

I tried soothing him gently, but he cried even harder. Enduring it, enduring it—I couldn’t take it anymore. Clenching my teeth, I growled low: “Stop crying!”

The sobbing stopped instantly. He wiped his tear-streaked cheeks, leaving a wet mark on his sleeve: “M-Master...”

Looking at his towering figure, then at my own short stature, I was clearly the... the... smaller one. Clearing my throat, I asked formally: “Do you know where the Imperial Academy is?” Absolutely refusing to admit I was lost.

“I just came from the Imperial Academy.” He sniffled, grinning sheepishly. “If Master doesn’t mind, I’d be happy to show you the way.”

Glancing at his sixth-rank robe, I nodded politely: “Mm, then I’ll trouble you.”

He hunched his back, taking small steps beside me, strictly adhering to the etiquette of hierarchy.

“Straighten up,” I said earnestly, looking at him. “You’re tall. Bowing like this must be uncomfortable. Since no one passes through this secluded area, there’s no need to be so formal.”

“M-Master...” His lips quivered, and it seemed he was about to cry again.

Cursing inwardly, I rubbed my temples and quickly changed the subject: “What’s your name? Where do you serve?”

He raised his head, forcing back the tears, and smiled sincerely: “This humble servant’s surname is He, given name Meng, styled Loujing. I am a censor in the Eastern Pavilion's Inspection Office.”

“Censor?” I raised an eyebrow, looking at the gentle-eyed giant rabbit. “Are you a remonstrator?”

“Yes,” he nodded solemnly.

Unbelievably, I scrutinized him up and down, stuttering: “Can you even scold someone?” Remonstrators were known for their verbal battles, yet this man trembled just speaking. How could he possibly submit petitions of impeachment?

He Meng bashfully scratched his head: “No.” His voice was weak. “I owe my position to the protection of my father-in-law.”

“Father-in-law?”

“Mm, my father-in-law is Censor He Yan of the Inspection Office.”

Upon hearing this, I stared wide-eyed: His father-in-law was He Yan, the current first-rank official known as the “Iron-Faced Judge”? From my observations these past few days, Censor He was upright and incorruptible, not someone who would abuse his power for relatives’ benefit. So how...? “You...” I glanced skeptically at the embarrassed He Meng. “...you also share the surname He?”

His massive frame stiffened slightly, revealing a bitter smile: “Yes, I’m a son-in-law by marriage.” He Meng lowered his head, quickening his pace, his profile shadowed.

I nearly had to jog to keep up with his hurried stride. “What does it matter if you’re a son-in-law living in the bride’s home? Serving parents with warmth and devotion is noble.” I recited loudly, causing him to stop in his tracks and look at me in surprise. Smiling warmly, I stood still and recited again: “Only love the twin green willows before the door, holding hands to honor mother and father.” Turning, I smiled kindly, meeting his gaze gently.

A faint glow of tenderness appeared on He Meng’s rugged face. He straightened his arms and bowed deeply: “Thank you, Master, for the poem.”

I waved my hand dismissively, strolling leisurely: “He Meng, what was your original surname?”

“Zhen.” He smiled as he answered. “I originally belonged to a humble family; my father’s surname is Zhen.”

I stumbled, nearly falling over: Zhen... Zhen Meng? Steadying myself, I adjusted my cap—thank goodness he kept the surname He. He Meng, He Meng—it sounded much better.

After half a cup of tea’s time conversing, we finally arrived at the Imperial Academy. It was indeed remote. Built with blue bricks and red tiles, it lacked the opulence of the other halls. Yunzhi, is this where you stationed yourself? It was completely unlike his usual taste—utterly perplexing.

“Minister Feng.” The giant “rabbit” fidgeted nervously, hesitantly speaking.

“What is it?” I turned to look at him. “Won’t you come in with me?”

He Meng blushed and smiled awkwardly: “The Imperial Academy is mostly attended by sons of humble families... They...” The giant “rabbit” scratched his ear. “They don’t really like me.”

Because you married into a noble family to secure a position? Out of consideration for his dignity, I refrained from voicing this thought: “Mm, you can go back first. If anything comes up, you can find me at the Ministry of Rites.”

The “rabbit” secretly raised his head, tears welling in his eyes, his thick lips trembling: “R-Really? Truly?”

“Mm.” I smiled and nodded. “Truly.”

He Meng choked up, trying to speak but unable to produce sound. He lowered his arms, clenching his fists tightly, and bowed deeply to me for a long time. After a while, he covered his face and walked away. His towering figure resembled a mountain, his straight back like a beam. Caught between the increasingly polarized noble and humble families, he endured discrimination from both sides, utterly alone.

“Sigh!” I sighed deeply and entered the modest-looking Imperial Academy. Looking up, I saw four bold characters proudly written on the horizontal scroll: “Clear Vigor and Cold Integrity.”

Entering the first room, I saw rows of bookshelves reaching the ceiling. Officials dressed in eighth-rank robes bustled about, either tiptoeing or climbing ladders, busy with their tasks. Moving to the second courtyard, the scene shifted dramatically. A massive square table dominated the center, surrounded by dozens of men leaning over piles of memorials, reading swiftly and sorting them into eight bamboo baskets.

“Excuse me?” A lean scholar approached from the side, bowing respectfully without arrogance or subservience. “Which office does Master belong to?”

“I am Feng Yunqing, Deputy Minister of Rites, here to collect documents for the Ministry of Rites.” I spoke softly, careful not to disturb the hardworking crowd.

Before the scholar could speak, a soft voice called out from within: “Lu Wen, bring her in.”

Lu Wen, an eighth-rank editor, lifted the door curtain and gestured respectfully: “Master, please.”

I stepped inside lightly to find Yunzhi lounging on a long chair, basking in the faint winter sunlight, absentmindedly flipping through documents. He lazily turned his gaze toward me, his red lips curling into a mischievous smirk: “Come, sit.”

As I approached, I realized what he was reading and stared in disbelief: “You...”

He carelessly closed the memorial, its silk-covered front page emblazoned with glaring red characters: Confidential !

These were urgent dispatches sent from various provinces via 800-li express, meant only for the king’s eyes. Yet not only did he disregard the rules, but he also appeared utterly disinterested while reading them. Disinterested! Clearly, he had done this so many times that it no longer held any thrill for him.

Our eyes met, and he leaned closer, emitting a low, husky laugh: “What? Scared? Hmm~”

I tilted my head, my gaze roaming over his exquisite features: “So that’s how it is... No wonder you’re content to stay in this quiet, unassuming place.” While all of King Qing’s sons chose to build their factions within the three pavilions, four ministries, or four offices, this man had chosen to remain in the Imperial Academy—a place where officials merely organized petitions and transcribed documents without holding formal positions—for years. In truth, he saw more clearly and deeply than anyone else.

“Oh~” His pupils flickered, a strange, seductive smile playing on his lips. “And you know this, do you?”

His slender fingers slowly reached out. This time, I didn’t dodge, lowering my voice: “You know the affairs of the world without leaving your room, controlling the dynasty from within these walls. Yunzhi, your calculations are truly precise.” His long finger traced my earlobe and paused. Those bewitching eyes grew even deeper and more inscrutable as he slowly curled his fingers. Suddenly, his dark pupils blazed with brilliance, like a raging fire ready to engulf everything.

“Truly... truly...” He ground out each word through clenched teeth, “I wish I could devour you whole!”

Realizing the danger, I quickly rose and made for the door. As I reached the curtain, his deep, raspy voice followed me: “I can only ensure your safety within the outer court. But once you step beyond the Meridian Gate, always keep Zhu Que by your side.”

“Mm.” I nodded slightly.

“Eat less, drink less, speak less. Don’t let anyone get too close. Remember!”

I glanced back at those piercing, narrow eyes, momentarily stunned...

...

The gloomy clouds obscured the setting sun, and delicate hands served newly brewed wine.

As the seasons changed, light snow began to fall; the willows slept, drunk, and there was no need to return.

I should have known, I should have known...

Sighing inwardly, I continued exchanging pleasantries with those around me. Social interactions among officials were never just about drinking tea and chatting casually—at the very least, they involved visiting brothels or bathing houses. Subtly pushing away the alluring courtesan leaning against me.

These so-called “proofreaders” were merely elegant names for courtesans, praised for their literary skills and mockingly referred to as talented scholars.

“Shaochu,” the plain-looking Zhu Tinggui raised his cup, winking at me. “Yunshang Pavilion is the top brothel in the capital. The girls here are the best of the best. Today, enjoy yourself to your heart's content.”

“Yes, yes.” I forced a bitter smile, turning my head to sip the sake the courtesan fed me. Enjoyment—what a delightful “enjoyment” indeed.

“Minister Feng, there’s no need to be so formal.” Sitting across from me, Qiu Qiming embraced a courtesan, licking the rouge from her lips. “The private rooms of Yunshang Pavilion are reserved exclusively for noble families. Those coarse commoners wouldn’t dare spoil our fun.”

I secretly wished someone would ruin it. Sighing inwardly, I slumped, my mind racing furiously. This Qiu Qiming... Glancing toward the opposite seat, he was the nephew of Empress Dowager Qing, cousin to the seventh prince, and heir to the title of Marquis Zhen Guo. Though he held no official position, his connections within the court were vast and intricate. Looking around the room, I realized that today’s gathering consisted of young nobles under Rong Marquis’s influence—clearly, trouble was brewing. With this in mind, I steeled myself, straightened my back, and accepted toasts from several officials.

After three rounds of drinks, one side engaged in polite banter with the refined courtesans, while the other dealt with flirtatious women who occasionally slipped into their laps—it was a dual torment of both body and spirit!

“Master, does the food not suit your taste?”

“Hmm?” Having dismissed yet another persistent drink-pusher, I turned to look at the courtesan beside me, her delicate brows furrowed in frustration, resembling the famed Ajiao.

She leaned in softly, her crimson lacquered nails pointing to the dishes on the table: “You’ve barely touched any of these.”

Before entering, Zhu Ren, my attendant, had warned me that food and drink in brothels were often laced with “additives,” urging me to be cautious. No wonder Yunzhi had said, “Eat less, drink less, speak less.”

“That...” I shifted slightly to avoid physical contact and whispered, “I’m originally from the north and am not used to southern cuisine.”

“Oh?” Zhu Tinggui, sitting nearby, overheard me. “If that’s the case, Shaochu should have said so earlier.” He waved his hand, beckoning a brothel manager. “Go, fetch some northern dishes for Minister Feng.”

I gritted my teeth inwardly, unable to show anger, wishing desperately for this banquet to end soon.

“Marquis.” A thin man in fourth-rank robes raised his cup, fawning over Qiu Qiming. “I heard that the case against you has been suppressed. Allow me to offer this humble toast to wash away the ill omens.”

“Hmm, thank you.” Qiu Qiming casually raised his hand, arrogantly tipping his head back to drink, slamming the cup down heavily. “Hmph, what trash! Does he think a mere commoner, an eighth-rank editor, can bring me down?” Without restraint, Qiu Qiming pulled the courtesan closer, slipping his hand into her clothing, eliciting soft moans. “If that thousand-year-old tree can serve as a coffin for my beloved, then it was worth it.”

I averted my eyes, refusing to watch the scene unfold, hearing only flattery and cheers around me. The case of Xie Lin, an eighth-rank editor of the Imperial Academy, accusing Young Marquis Qiu Qiming of misconduct, had caused quite a stir recently. It was said that Xie Lin’s family possessed a thousand-year-old nanmu tree, regarded as a cherished ancestral treasure. When one of Qiu Qiming’s concubines fell ill and died last month, the arrogant young marquis forcibly entered the Xie household, cutting down the tree to craft a luxurious coffin for her burial. Now, the matter seemed to have been swept under the rug. Would the commoner scholars simply let it go? Doubtful.

“But Xie Lin won’t let this go so easily,” Zhu Tinggui voiced the doubt lingering in my mind. “Young Marquis, you must tread carefully.”

“Hahaha!” Qiu Qiming laughed wildly, his grip tightening, causing the woman beneath him to bite her lip in pain. “Xiaoxian still fusses like an old woman. Those commoners are insignificant. Remember the failed impeachment of the Left Chancellor? All those who exposed his embezzlement ended up dead.”

My hand faltered, the wine in my cup trembling slightly. An image of a desperate beauty flashed in my mind—Pan’er...

Not only had the Left Chancellor killed her father, but he had also altered her fate.

Qiu Qiming withdrew his right hand from the woman’s embrace, licking the blood from his fingertips, his smile sinister. “Everyone here knows the truth, and His Majesty is fully aware, yet no action was taken. Why?” He raised his eyebrows, looking down at the pale-faced courtesan beneath him. She shook her head, forcing a weak smile. Qiu Qiming tightened his grip on her chin, biting her hard before declaring loudly: “Commoners are all lowborn. Nobles can do as they please, hahaha!”

The crowd erupted in laughter. Zhu Tinggui chuckled faintly, raising his cup and shaking his head.

“So,” Qiu Qiming finally released the courtesan, adjusting his disheveled clothes, and raised his cup to toast me. “Minister Feng, you must choose your path wisely.”

I relaxed my brows and drank the clear wine: “Yunqing is slow-witted. Please enlighten me, Young Marquis.”

Qiu Qiming fixed his gaze on me, pointing with his chopsticks: “You, you’re too young, easily deceived.”

“Hmm?” I sighed softly, puzzled.

He chewed his food thoughtfully: “Let me ask you, how does the ninth prince treat you?”

“Very well,” I replied honestly.

“Hmph!” Qiu Qiming sneered disdainfully. “Ning Marquis’s scheme is devious. He grants small favors to win your loyalty, not realizing he’s actually harming you!”

I frowned slightly but remained silent.

“Listen to me first before you get upset,” Qiu Qiming pointed at me, his tone domineering. “Every official who enters service has one dream—to climb higher.”

Though blunt, his words cut deep, drawing awkward laughter from the crowd.

“If you follow the ninth prince, this third-rank position will be the peak of your career.”

I gripped my cup tightly, my lips pressing into a thin line.

“Because,” Qiu Qiming emphasized again, “the ninth prince’s maternal family is of common origin. Commoners will never reach the upper echelons.”

I was about to respond when Zhu Tinggui, sitting nearby, exclaimed in surprise: “Really?” He glanced at the brothel manager whispering in his ear, hastily set down his cup, and hurried toward the door.

The room gradually quieted as everyone turned to look at the doorway. The bamboo curtain was gently lifted, revealing a figure clad in deep purple robes.

“Master...”

“Minister, what brings you here?” Lower-ranking officials quickly rose, smiling warmly.

Yu Ning stepped forward, casting a brief glance at me, a gentle smile gracing his handsome face: “What? Are you all unwelcoming?”

“Of course not.”

“How could we, how could we.”

Zhu Tinggui tactfully gave up the main seat, and the attendants accompanying Yu Ning cleared the table beside me, swiftly replacing it with fresh wine and dishes.

Yu Ning removed his cloak, revealing a tall and slender figure. He lifted his robe and sat down: “Today, I overheard a conversation between two vice-ministers at the Ministry of Revenue, and on a whim, I decided to drop by uninvited.” He smiled kindly at Zhu Tinggui, who had taken a seat beside Qiu Qiming. “Xiaoxian, I trust you don’t mind my intrusion.”

Zhu Tinggui clasped his hands and bowed deeply: “It is an honor for us that you could spare the time to join us, Master. Tinggui is deeply humbled.”

Yu Ning rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands in the warm water brought by the attendant: “Hmm, then let’s continue.”

The crowd murmured their assent, resuming their earlier abandon.

The banquet grew colder, yet the courtesan beside me grew warmer. I glanced at her with disdain as she batted her eyelashes and tried every trick in the book to seduce me. A chill ran down my spine, cold sweat breaking out on my back: Please, leave me alone.

I pried open her delicate white fingers, relieved—only to see her knee press forward, her voluptuous body lunging straight at me. Flustered and angry, I felt my qi surge chaotically within me. Just as I was about to flick my sleeve, her movement faltered. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she stiffly turned her head: “M-Master...”

Yu Ning grabbed her wrist, his piercing black eyes glaring at her: “You may leave. I have matters to discuss with Vice-Minister Feng.”

The courtesan bowed and quietly left the table.

What a savior! I looked at him with gratitude, almost shedding tears of thanks.

“Shaochu,” Yu Ning leaned toward me, inching closer.

“Minister Yu, thank you.” I raised my cup. “Yunqing offers this toast to you.”

He seized my wrist, his clear black eyes shimmering with inscrutable emotion: “You...”

“Hmm?” I raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. “What is it, Master?”

His usually calm face now carried a trace of anger. He muttered under his breath: “Don’t call me Master.” Staring at him in shock, Yu Ning sighed softly. “Call me Yuanzhong, Yunqing.” His voice carried a note of pleading, low and hoarse.

Momentarily stunned, I instinctively replied: “Yuanzhong.” As soon as the words left my lips, the shadow in his eyes gradually dissipated, like stars emerging from behind clouds.

“Vice-Minister Feng,” a low voice called from below. “Vice-Minister Feng?”

I gently pulled free from Yuanzhong’s light grip and turned to respond: “What is it?” From above came a faint sigh.

The sixth-rank official bowed to me: “I am the registrar of Changyin Hall. Please send the family genealogy as soon as possible so we can register it in the archives.”

Changyin Hall, located near the Left Gate, stood opposite the Imperial Academy in spatial structure and symbolically represented the noble families’ sacred lineage, housing the genealogies of Qing Country's aristocracy.

“I have no genealogy.” The Feng clan of Wangshan was not among the nobility.

“What?” The man’s right hand trembled, spilling wine.

The laughter ceased abruptly, all eyes turning to me, filled with astonishment, hostility, and disdain.

I brushed my sleeves, standing tall, and gazed coolly at Qiu Qiming, whose eyes burned with anger, and Zhu Tinggui, whose expression was complex. Slowly, a faint smile spread across my lips: “Feng Yunqing, a humble commoner from Wangshan.” Turning my gaze, I saw everyone frozen in place. Head held high, I gave a slight bow. “Today, thank you all for your hospitality. Yunqing takes my leave.”

With a carefree smile, my sleeves fluttered in the breeze as I departed, leaving behind a room of silence.

“Ding! Ding, ding, ding...” The bamboo curtain fell, and cups tilted over.

Dodging the bustling throngs of courtesans, shaking off the cloying luxury, I passed through the three courtyards of the brothel, deep and quiet. Tilting my head, I exhaled deeply, feeling the clarity of the fine snow falling like rice grains.

“Yunqing.”

Just as I was about to step over the threshold, a gentle voice called from behind. I touched the red door, turning slightly to see Yu Ning hurrying toward me, wrapped in his cloak.

“Lord Yu...” Before I could finish, seeing his eyebrows knit together, I quickly corrected myself: “Brother Yuanzhong, why have you come out?”

“I’m not familiar with them.” A fleeting blush crossed his face as he slowly approached. “Didn’t the prince instruct you?”

“Hmm?”

Yu Ning frowned, his voice stern: “A place like this, you shouldn’t frequent.”

I touched my slightly cool nose, blinking mischievously: “And does Brother Yuanzhong frequent it?”

“I don’t often come...” His voice grew softer.

My teasing remark seemed to strike a chord; he burst into hearty laughter, leaving him momentarily stunned.

“Master, Master!” Through the fine snow came Zhu Que’s impatient shout. “My poor master, enjoying yourself to the fullest!” My lips twitched, unable to laugh further. Zhu Que, invigorated, continued his performance: “Heaven pity us, starving and freezing, abandoned children waiting here for a full two hours. No rain but wind, no steamed buns but heavy snow—poor me, covered in frost...”

Having such a bold servant truly was a misfortune for the household. The more I listened, the colder I felt. I hastily bowed to Yu Ning: “Brother Yuanzhong, I take my leave. See you tomorrow at the early court.”

“You!”

In the swirling snow, the red glass lanterns of Yunshang Pavilion swayed, their flickering light reflecting on Yu Ning’s handsome face, seeping into his melancholy-filled eyes.

He released my sleeve, murmuring: “Don’t smile like that again.”

Like what? I touched my cold cheek.

“Mas-ter~” Zhu Que called again.

Without understanding, I nodded to him and hurried into the sedan chair.

“Quickly! Quickly!” Outside the sedan, Zhu Que shouted loudly. “Back to the mansion!”

“Master, you know your own status, don’t you? It’s not that I nag. Places like this—you should avoid them if you can, leave as soon as possible. Besides, while you’re indulging inside, think of your brothers outside. Though we’re from Wuyan Sect and trained in martial arts, we’re not made of steel and iron—we can’t withstand the cold forever...”

Sparrow, sparrow. Silencing the chatter, ignoring his rambling. Alone in the sedan, I reflected on Yuanzhong’s words, utterly baffled. Biting my lower lip, I lifted the curtain.

“If something happens to you, the prince will blame Senior Brother. If he gets punished...” Zhu Que followed the sedan, walking and talking. “If he gets punished, I’ll hate you to death.” He turned his head, surprised. “Huh? Why are you sticking your head out? It’s cold—pull it back in.”

The capital’s main road in winter was silent, tinged with gloom. Our group moved like entering the gates of hell, my heart trembling.

“Zhu Que.” I focused and softly called.

He furrowed his brows, nagging like an old woman: “Master, please call me Yanlu. Didn’t the prince remind you? When we’re out...”

“We mustn’t reveal our identities from Wuyan Sect—I know, I know.” Nodding repeatedly, I said, “Alu, look at me.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at me. I forced a smile, lips curling mechanically: “How is it? Anything unusual?”

Zhu Que eyed me smugly: “Unusual? Of course! The face of Shen Kun’s number one man is naturally special!”

No matter how many times I changed my appearance, he remained as self-absorbed as ever. Smiling broadly, I turned my gaze—only to catch sight of a figure by the window.

Huh? Where did he go?

Leaning halfway out, I turned to look. In the snowy street, Zhu Que stood still as my sedan drifted farther away.

“Stop the sedan!” I shouted urgently. The sedan halted, and the dazed figure snapped awake, leaping toward me with lightness kung fu.

“Master!” Zhu Que glared, hands on his hips. “Don’t smile like that anymore!”

Eh? I stared at him, confused.

“If you keep smiling like that, even fools will see through your identity.” He looked at me with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

What? I was utterly lost.

Zhu Que squinted, leaning closer: “Do you know what your smile looks like?”

“What does it look like?” I was genuinely curious.

“A fox spirit!”

“Peach... spirit~”

The chilling tone echoed through the empty street...

The vast sky was heavy with snow, the mortal world brimming with faint emotions.

Amidst the shadows of drifting clouds, a cold whisper lingered: “Who can unravel the mystery?”

Inside the dim chamber, warmth floated. On a soft couch lined with furs, a figure sat up abruptly: “Not yet uncovered?” His tone was laced with irritation.

“Yes,” Zhu Tinggui, Vice-Minister of Personnel, stood with his head bowed, speaking anxiously. “All night, Feng Shaochu didn’t let any courtesans near him, nor did he eat much or drink... therefore...”

“No wonder he’s Ninth Brother’s man.” The figure on the couch sneered, his once gentle eyes flashing with malice. “Xiaoxian, your methods are still too soft.”

“Your Highness...” Zhu Tinggui hesitantly responded. “What do you mean?”

“Investigate.” A short, sharp command, cold and bone-chilling. “At any cost.”

The fierce wind whipped the snow into a grotesque wail...