Fang Zhiyan pointed to the food container in Lan Ruo’s hand. “I heard that Your Majesty has not been sleeping well lately, so I brewed some soul-soothing soup for you to try.”
Eunuch Li was stunned for a moment, looking as happy as if the soup had been specifically made for him. “Your Ladyship is very thoughtful. Please, follow this old servant inside.”
Fang Zhiyan felt a bit awkward and gave a light cough before entering the warm pavilion.
Inside the hall, the scent of ambergris lingered, crisp and steady. Xiao Huan sat behind the imperial desk; seeing him enter, he set down his brush.
“Why have you come?” There was a hint of surprise in his voice.
Fang Zhiyan walked over, signaled Lan Ruo to set down the food container, and personally opened the lid. He brought out the tureen of soul-soothing soup and placed it before Xiao Huan.
“I heard Your Majesty has been sleeping poorly at night, so I brewed some soul-soothing soup.” He paused and added, “I have consulted the imperial physician; there is nothing improper about this recipe. If Your Majesty is concerned.”
Before he could finish, Xiao Huan picked up the tureen and took a sip. His eyebrows rose slightly.
“It is sweet,” he remarked.
Fang Zhiyan felt a bit embarrassed. “I was afraid it would be too bitter, so I added some honey and red dates.” He was perhaps judging things by his own standards, as he himself had a sweet tooth.
Xiao Huan took another sip, swallowed slowly, and said in a flat tone, “Not bad.”
Fang Zhiyan breathed a sigh of relief, and a trace of a smile appeared on his face. “Then Your Majesty should drink it while it is hot. If you are not busy, this servant-concubine has a few words to say.”
Xiao Huan set down the soup tureen and glanced at him. “Sit down and speak.”
Fang Zhiyan pursed his lips and decided not to beat around the bush. He looked up, met Xiao Huan’s gaze, and spoke in a small but clear voice. “Your Majesty, Nanny Gui came today.”
Xiao Huan offered a low “Mhm” and leaned back against his chair, his expression calm and unreadable.
“I believe Your Majesty has already guessed the Empress Dowager’s intentions.” Fang Zhiyan lowered his eyes, his voice growing softer. “Nanny Gui brought several books, saying she wanted to provide me with some guidance. She also said she would move into Chengqian Palace for a few days to teach me slowly.”
When he mentioned the words “teach me slowly,” his earlobes turned a traitorous shade of red, and a thin layer of pink spread down his neck. This was not entirely feigned; Nanny Gui’s words had indeed made him feel as if he were sitting on pins and needles.
Xiao Huan looked at his reddened ears, his gaze pausing briefly before he looked away.
Fang Zhiyan took a deep breath. The question he wanted to ask had been bottled up in his heart for days, ever since Zhang Zhong’an came to take his pulse. Now that Nanny Gui had come to his door, if he did not clear things up, he would not even be able to sleep peacefully.
“I wish to ask Your Majesty,” Fang Zhiyan said, emphasizing each word, “what are your thoughts on this matter?”
The hall fell silent for a moment. Xiao Huan did not answer immediately. He picked up the teacup on the desk, took a slow sip, and set it down. He lightly traced the rim of the cup with his finger, as if weighing something.
Fang Zhiyan’s gaze followed his finger, his heart suspended in mid-air along with that teacup, swaying without a place to land.
After a long while, Xiao Huan spoke, his tone unreadable. “Setting aside what I think for a moment, I would like to hear what you think.”
Fang Zhiyan was startled. Xiao Huan had kicked the ball back to him.
What did he think? What could he think?
He was a man. Attending to the Emperor in bed? That was an offense punishable by beheading. Not attending? He would not be able to give an account to the Empress Dowager. Either way led to death; the only difference was whether it would be quick or slow.
Fang Zhiyan lowered his eyes, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the desk. His mind raced through several scenarios before he finally squeezed out a sentence.
“This servant-concubine believes Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven and has many concubines in the harem. Consort Shu is dignified and virtuous, Concubine Zhao is gentle and lovely, and there are several Beauties and Talents. Your Majesty might find it beneficial to visit the palaces of my various sisters more often.”
As he spoke, he tried to keep his tone as natural as possible, as if he were thoughtfully sharing Xiao Huan’s burdens. However, he did not dare look at Xiao Huan’s face, feeling as guilty as if he had stolen his neighbor’s chicken.
The meaning behind these words was perfectly clear: he was unwilling.
After hearing this, the expression on Xiao Huan’s face did not change, but Fang Zhiyan noticed that the finger he had placed on the desk paused slightly, as if someone had pressed a pause button. The air suddenly became thick and uncomfortable.
“You mean,” Xiao Huan spoke, his voice lower than before, “you want me to go to other people’s palaces more often?”
Fang Zhiyan nodded, trying his best to make his smile look sincere. “Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven. The concubines in the harem all belong to Your Majesty. Your Majesty can go wherever you wish. This servant-concubine will not be jealous.”
He even attempted a joke to lighten the atmosphere. In reality, no one laughed.
Xiao Huan did not laugh; instead, his eyes darkened, like a thin layer of ice forming over a winter lake. Fang Zhiyan had never seen such an expression on Xiao Huan. It was not anger, but something indefinable, something akin to disappointment.
“Which palace I choose to go to,” Xiao Huan’s voice was even lower now, his tone so flat it did not sound like he was angry, yet every word felt as if it had been pulled from icy water, “is not for Concubine Zhuang to worry about.”
Fang Zhiyan was stunned. Accustomed to Xiao Huan being easy to get along with, he found it difficult to accept now that the other person was showing even a hint of a sting.
Fang Zhiyan opened his mouth to explain, but the words died in his throat. What was he supposed to say? Say “I did not mean it that way”? But he did mean it that way. He just wanted Xiao Huan to go to other concubines and not spend every day at Chengqian Palace.
He was a man and could not truly attend to the Emperor’s needs. Xiao Huan came every day, but besides eating and drinking tea, they had not even held hands. Meanwhile, the Empress Dowager was watching them like a hawk. Was this not just putting both of them over a fire? His bitterness was truly hard to voice.
“This servant-concubine,” Fang Zhiyan lowered his eyes, his voice as quiet as a mosquito, “this servant-concubine simply feels that the various sisters in the harem must also be hoping for Your Majesty to visit.”
Xiao Huan’s face darkened further. To the side, Eunuch Li looked as if he wanted to bury his head into the floor tiles. Concubine Zhuang was going to completely infuriate the Emperor before she stopped! Every sentence was aimed directly at His Majesty’s sore spots.
“If Concubine Zhuang has nothing else,” Xiao Huan picked up the vermilion brush on the desk and reopened a memorial, his gaze falling onto the paper and no longer looking at him, “then you may leave first.”
Fang Zhiyan stood there looking chagrined. He looked at Xiao Huan’s face, then at the tureen which was still more than half full of soup. His lips moved, wanting to say something to soften the atmosphere.
However, Xiao Huan did not even lift an eyelid, his vermilion brush moving across the memorial.
A surge of indefinable grievance suddenly rose in Fang Zhiyan’s heart. He had kindly brewed soup and brought it over, and had kindly looked out for Xiao Huan’s interests, only to be told it was “not for Concubine Zhuang to worry about,” followed by a cold order to leave.
What had he done wrong? Did he not just want to stay alive? Was that also a mistake?
Taking ten thousand steps back, was Xiao Huan even a man? Did he not have those kinds of needs? He began to understand the Empress Dowager’s motive for calling a physician to take his pulse. Could it be that he truly was impotent?
Upon exiting Qianqing Palace, a cold wind hit his face, making Fang Zhiyan shiver. He did not stop until he reached the entrance of Chengqian Palace. He stood outside the threshold, looked up at the plaque above his head for a moment, and then stepped inside. He went into the main hall, sat on the couch, and took a large gulp of cold tea from the table.
Lan Ruo followed him inside and set the food container aside, watching his expression cautiously. “Your Ladyship, did His Majesty not drink the soup?”
“He drank it,” Fang Zhiyan put down the teacup and said in a muffled voice.
“Then why are you”
“He drove me out.”
As Fang Zhiyan said this, there was a sense of grievance in his tone that even he did not realize, like a cat that had been inexplicably kicked by its owner, both dazed and angry.
Lan Ruo’s eyes widened. “He drove you out? Was it truly so bad that it made His Majesty that angry?” She had considered that her mistress’s cooking might not be great, but surely it was not that bad.
Fang Zhiyan’s expression became indescribable.