At the first watch of the Hai hour, it was time for the second water supply at Chuxiu Palace. Cui Fenglin had returned late from debating Buddhist scriptures with Li Ying, and only then went to bathe.
Shu Yun, bored, leaned against her pillow and flipped through the *Shishuo Xinyu* that Pei Yue had given her.
The pages were densely covered with annotations. Shu Yun’s fingertips brushed lightly over his handwriting—his script was like the man himself: cold, refined, enduring, concise yet profound.
On this early March night, cool breezes drifted in, carrying a faint floral fragrance. Palace maids came and went with buckets of water. The door opened a crack, and soon the little maid who had served her before slipped inside. She bent low and whispered, “Miss, Seventh Master is waiting for you at the carved window in the back garden.”
Shu Yun was startled. How had he slipped into the inner palace? Seventh Master was usually steady in his actions—if he came secretly, it must be for something important.
Without hesitation, she slipped on her shoes and wrapped herself in an outer robe. The maid helped her dress, and while Cui Fenglin was away, mistress and servant quietly left the room. They circled along the left corridor to the rear, passed through the courtyard, and exited by the side gate of the back hall, arriving at the rear garden of Chuxiu Palace.
The maid stayed at the gate, curtseying. “Go on, miss. I’ll keep watch here for you.”
Shu Yun felt nervous, afraid of being discovered, but with the maid guarding her, she felt somewhat reassured. The back garden was planted with peach, plum, pear, and apricot. The plum trees were bare, the pear blossoms in full bloom. In the distance, candlelight glimmered faintly, illuminating clusters of white blossoms mingled with pink peach flowers, shadows swaying.
She passed through the withered plum grove, reached the back wall, and followed it from west to east until she found the carved window the maid had mentioned. A faint light shone through. Looking closer, she saw a familiar figure standing tall and composed outside.
Shu Yun couldn’t help but smile like a crescent moon, murmuring, “Seventh Master.”
Her voice was light, crisp, sweetly soft, so as not to be overheard.
The sound slipped straight into Pei Yue’s heart. He had never imagined that one day he would secretly meet someone in his own harem. It carried a peculiar thrill. Her small jade-like face was framed by the lattice of the carved window, making her large, clear eyes shine even brighter, like luminous pearls.
“Did the teacher beat you?” Pei Yue asked first, voicing his worry.
Shu Yun smiled gently, raising her pink hand for him to see. “Didn’t you help me?”
“That’s good.” Pei Yue leaned closer, even bending slightly so they could look at each other more easily.
Shu Yun noticed his movement, and her cheeks flushed uncontrollably.
Pei Yue was exceptionally tall—not bulky or intimidating, but slender and upright, his figure striking. Each time she met his gaze, she had to tilt her head back, which was tiring.
“Why did you come so late? This inner palace isn’t like the outer court. How will you get out later?” The young girl’s eyes blinked with worry, every glance radiating her innocence and simplicity.
Such a girl was like a rare treasure untouched by the world.
The young emperor lowered his clear, cold eyes, gazing at her with utmost seriousness. “I missed you, so I came.”
Shu Yun’s breath caught in her chest, dizzy, nearly unable to breathe. For him to say such words—the meaning was already plain. She had long hoped for clarity, and seizing the chance, she asked, “Then… are you willing? If you nod, tomorrow I’ll leave the palace and tell my father, and we can go to your home to discuss the marriage.” The academy gave two days off every ten days; tomorrow morning was half a day of lessons, and in the afternoon she could leave the palace. If it was to recruit a son-in-law, the girl’s family should go to the boy’s home to negotiate; otherwise, the reverse. Her eyes shone with vitality.
The little girl had always been shy before him, but for the first time she showed such courage.
Pei Yue looked at her with a smile, his voice steady and firm. “Silly girl, of course I’m willing.” They had no need for negotiations—only a single imperial decree.
Shu Yun was overjoyed, twisting her embroidered handkerchief into a knot, speaking excitedly and almost incoherently, as if to persuade him. “These days, lavish dowries are the fashion but this way we could save a sum of silver.”
Pei Yue was baffled. As emperor, he needed no betrothal gifts. If she wished, he could give her honor. “There’s no need to save.”
Shu Yun’s smile faltered, her voice catching, slightly dazed. “No need? But your seven brothers—all marrying must cost a fortune.”
Pei Yue looked at her, finding her too adorable. He thought she worried he couldn’t afford a bride, and declared firmly, “I don’t lack silver.”
Not lacking silver meant he would never be a son-in-law living in her household.
Shu Yun’s heart wavered. His bearing and presence—she had long known. She had only clung to a fantasy. Her gaze trembled, fixed upon the carved window lattice.
When she had first learned Pei Yue was the youngest son, she had thought of recruiting him as a son-in-law. But it was Pei Yue himself who made her waver in that thought. As long as her husband was reliable, she could accept either arrangement—bringing him in or marrying out. But then her parents would be left without care.
Shu Yun was deeply torn. “I… I understand.” She lowered her eyes, carefully hiding her disappointment beneath her lashes.
Pei Yue thought she was shy, yet sensed something amiss. He replayed their words in his mind but could not figure out what he had said wrong.
Their hearts were at cross purposes. Just then, a cough sounded from the maid behind the peach grove.
Shu Yun knew someone was coming. She quickly lifted her eyes, showing a bashful smile. “I’ll go back now…” Tomorrow she would leave the palace and discuss it with her parents before deciding.
Pei Yue wanted to say more, but the little girl slipped away like a flower vanishing among green leaves.
After leaving Chuxiu Palace, Pei Yue went to Cining Palace. The Retired Emperor had summoned him—surely he was waiting.
As Pei Yue walked along the palace path behind Cining Palace, a shadow slipped furtively around the corner.
“Cousin…” Xie Yun had lingered in Cining Palace under the pretext of visiting the Grand Empress Dowager, hoping to encounter Pei Yue. She had waited long, braving the cold night air for half an hour, and at last truly ran into him. She nearly wept with joy, but forced herself to suppress her excitement. She bowed softly, striving to appear gentle and dignified. This posture she had practiced in her boudoir many times; tonight she managed to perform it with seven or eight parts grace.
Pei Yue only gave a faint “Mm.” His mind was still troubled by Shu Yun’s change in attitude, and he barely noticed her.
Seeing his distraction, Xie Yun called again, plaintively, “Cousin, did you hear me?”
She relied on her mother being the Retired Emperor’s only living sister, often using her status to feign closeness.
In truth, Pei Yue was not familiar with her. But remembering that the Eldest Princess had cared for him in childhood, he gave her some courtesy. “What are you doing here?”
Xie Yun seized on his words, explaining pitifully why she was there, then deftly drew a book from her sleeve. “Would cousin explain this to me?”
By the light of the lantern, Pei Yue recognized *Shishuo Xinyu*. Somehow Xie Yun had learned he liked this book. He pressed his brow in weariness. “I have no time. Ask your teacher—it would be better.”
Xie Yun was not surprised. If Pei Yue had agreed to teach her, she would not have resorted to crossing half the palace at night to block the emperor outside Cining Palace. Her aim was to show she was studious and shared his interests.
Pei Yue looked at the “studious” Xie Yun, and suddenly thought of Shu Yun, who schemed endlessly to shirk study. His lips twitched faintly.
This only confirmed Xie Yun’s belief that she was right. Knowing when to stop, she quickly stepped aside to let him pass, then happily returned to Chuxiu Palace.
At the third quarter of the Hai hour, Pei Yue arrived at the warm chamber of Cining Palace. The hall was brightly lit, sandalwood incense curling upward. The Grand Empress Dowager, her hair silver, reclined against a pillow with eyes half closed.
Pei Yue had not known she was waiting for him. He hurried forward to bow, then helped her sit up a little, apologizing. “So late—why have you not slept?”
His mother had died young, and he had been raised in Cining Palace by the Grand Empress Dowager. Their bond was deep.
Her eyes crinkled with a smile, motioning for him not to worry. “I was chatting idly with your father. Don’t mind it. Emperor, it was my idea to summon you tonight. I have something to say.”
Pei Yue quickly agreed, personally adding a soft pillow behind her for comfort, then sat down on a brocade stool opposite the Retired Emperor. The Retired Emperor, dressed in a deep-blue brocade robe, lounged in his armchair, tending the incense for the Grand Empress Dowager, clearly with no intention of speaking.
The Grand Empress Dowager sipped water to moisten her lips, then spoke directly: “Your grandmother has already heard of today’s events. Regardless of whether the ministers acted rightly or wrongly, you must establish an empress and take consorts.”
“Li Zhe is arrogant with his merits, controlling the central court. His granddaughter Li Ying has inherited his temper—you dislike her.”
“Xie Yun comes from the Jiangnan Xie clan. Her father-in-law, Prince Consort Xie, is the foremost scholar of the age, famed across the empire, the only man in court who dares oppose Li Zhe. You admire Xie Xiao’s talent, but dislike Xie Yun’s arrogance, so you refuse to marry her.”
“In the end, the most suitable is Cui Fenglin, born of a century-old noble family. The Cui clan has produced ministers for generations, a house of prestige. Their daughter is raised with proper measure; her temperament makes her the best candidate for empress. Yet I have met her only a few times, and cannot see her depth clearly, so I dare not let you hastily make her empress.”
“The reason you have delayed marriage is simply that you resent the ministers’ constraints, fearing powerful in-laws meddling in politics.” The old lady smiled. “I have a suggestion.”
Though frail, her tone was crisp. “Do not appoint an empress yet. According to the Ministry of Rites, households of ministers ranked fifth grade and above must send girls over fifteen into the palace for selection. Choose those who please your eye and take them all in.”
Pei Yue’s eyes narrowed.
The Grand Empress Dowager’s gray eyes still shone. “Yet the Li, Cui, and Xie families are all founding clans. You cannot refuse them. So, let me issue an edict: confer Li Ying, Xie Yun, and Cui Fenglin as the Three Consorts—Virtue, Grace, and Honor—equal in rank. Whichever of the three bears the eldest son shall then be made empress. In this way, the ministers will have no complaint, and the rivalries of the three clans will be balanced.”
“Once they are in your harem, it is you who decides.” She leaned forward. “What does the emperor think?”
Pei Yue closed his eyes in silence.
Seeing no answer, the Grand Empress Dowager sighed, her tone softening. “Grandmother is old, Yue’er. Do not let me die with regrets.”
The Retired Emperor, displeased, turned to glare at Pei Yue and scolded, “Your grandmother is farsighted, to devise such a perfect solution. I say you should agree.”
A flicker of irritation passed through Pei Yue’s heart. He knew well his grandmother’s plan was wise, yet it was all too complete—except for his own feelings. It made him seem merely a tool for producing heirs. Though he understood this was a sovereign’s duty, his heart was still unsettled.
Thinking of that delicate girl in Chuxiu Palace, eyes like morning dew, Pei Yue’s gaze sharpened. “I beg grandmother to grant me two more days.”
The Grand Empress Dowager had raised Pei Yue and knew well that in his bones he carried pride, unwilling to bend easily. So she said no more.
The Retired Emperor, however, covered the incense burner and cast him a sly glance, smiling faintly. “I’ve heard you’ve taken a fancy to a certain girl lately—always giving her good food, even daring to steal my crabs for her.”
It wasn’t that the Retired Emperor hadn’t tried to investigate, but Pei Yue’s circle was too tight-lipped; he could find nothing.
The Grand Empress Dowager showed surprise, even a trace of joy. “Is this true?” For so long, Pei Yue had refused to take consorts, leaving her worried sick. As emperor, he bore supreme honor and the weight of responsibility, but the heights were cold and lonely. If he had found a girl he liked, wasn’t that at least some comfort?
Pei Yue’s handsome face did not change. “Yes.”
The Retired Emperor sat upright, intrigued. “Whose daughter is she? Tomorrow, bring her to Cining Palace, so your grandmother can see her.”
The Grand Empress Dowager nodded in agreement. “As long as she is the one you love, I don’t fear offending anyone. I’ll grant her a unique reward.”
Mother and son were both curious—what kind of girl could capture the emperor’s heart?
Pei Yue did not refuse. He inclined his head. “Very well.”