Pei Yue pondered in silence. He had yet to make up his mind about other women, but Shu Yun was the one he was determined to marry. First, he would bring her into the palace, making her his very first consort. The ceremony should be suitably grand, and her rank could be set apart from the rest.
“Tomorrow, I’ll bring her to pay respects to you.”
The Grand Empress Dowager beamed, unable to hide her joy. Like any ordinary grandmother, she longed to see her children and grandchildren settled.
The next day, after court was dismissed, Pei Yue returned to the imperial study. Without even pausing for lunch, he instructed Liu Kui:
“Go at once to Chuxiu Palace and invite Yun’er to Fengtian Hall.” He paused, then added, “Tell her she is to join me for lunch.”
Liu Kui understood the Emperor’s intent—this was the moment he meant to lay his heart bare to Shu Yun. Grinning, he replied, “This servant will go at once.”
He had barely stepped back a few paces when Pei Yue suddenly called him again. “Wait.”
Liu Kui hurried forward, bowing low. “Does Your Majesty have further orders?”
Pei Yue’s mind conjured Shu Yun’s wide, innocent eyes. His own gaze softened. “Do not tell her the truth yet. I don’t want her frightened. Let me explain it to her myself.”
It was the first time Liu Kui had ever seen the Emperor so cautious. Smiling, he murmured assent and hurried out of Fengtian Hall, striding briskly toward Chuxiu Palace.
At that moment, Shu Yun had just returned from her lessons. She had been delayed by paying respects at Dowager Consort Shu’s palace, so by the time she reached her quarters at Chuxiu Palace, Li Ying and the other attendants had already departed, leaving the courtyard empty and desolate.
Dowager Consort Shu regarded her as though she were a plague. Not only did she allow Shu Yun to leave the palace, she even waved her off with disdain: “Go back. You need never enter the palace again. I don’t wish to see you.”
Shu Yun could not have wished for more, yet the thought of Pei Yue brought a pang of sorrow. Yesterday she had spoken so plainly—if he truly cared, surely he would have shown some sign by now. Just then, in the blink of an eye, a broad smiling face appeared before her.
Liu Kui came striding up from the side steps, a dust whisk in hand, his expression warm and genial. “Miss Yun, I’ve finally found you.”
At the sight of him, all her tangled emotions vanished. She asked happily, “Did Seventh Master send you to look for me?”
“Indeed he did.” Liu Kui’s eyes twinkled as he took in her appearance. She wore a pale apricot long robe over a plain horse‑face skirt, its hem edged with a ring of apricot blossoms. Her attire was simple, with no gaudy ornaments, yet her face alone was dazzling enough to eclipse all splendor. “You are truly blessed, young lady,” he said with genuine admiration, his tone tinged with flattery.
From his words, Shu Yun guessed this must be about marriage. Still, she clung to a fragile hope. Some questions had to be asked, or she would never rest easy. Biting her lip, she whispered, “Eunuch, to be honest, I am my parents’ only daughter. They intend to take a son‑in‑law into the family. Could Seventh Master become our live‑in husband?” Her voice was so faint it was almost like a mosquito’s buzz.
Liu Kui’s mouth fell open as wide as a duck egg. He scratched his ear, wondering if he had misheard. “What did you just say?”
Seeing his face change, Shu Yun grew uneasy. She realized she had spoken out of turn, and in embarrassment she stepped back two paces. “Forget it—pretend I never said that.”
It was as if lightning had struck Liu Kui. Slowly he came to his senses, and in the end he nearly burst out laughing.
This girl had no idea who Seventh Master truly was, and yet she dared to suggest he become her family’s son‑in‑law.
To think she wanted the reigning Emperor, the sole legitimate son of the Retired Emperor, to marry into her household—it was absurd beyond belief.
Looking at Shu Yun’s fearless innocence, Liu Kui could only shake his head, half amused, half exasperated. “Silly child, when you meet Seventh Master later, you mustn’t speak like that.”
Shu Yun pouted. “I know… Wait—are you taking me to see Seventh Master?”
Suddenly it struck her: if Seventh Master could not be a live‑in husband, then it should be the man’s family sending a matchmaker to hers. So what did it mean, her following Liu Kui now to meet him?
Earlier, Shu Yun had taken the initiative, thinking only of finding a son‑in‑law. But now, things were no longer the same. Besides, she had yet to consult her parents’ wishes.
Liu Kui seemed to grasp her meaning, his smile carrying a hint of knowing amusement. “Miss, don’t be flustered, don’t be hasty. Once you meet Seventh Master, everything will become clear. Whatever you wish to say, you may tell him yourself.”
He led the way ahead. Anyone else, seeing the leather belt at his waist, would have recognized his status at once. But Shu Yun, with little worldly experience and her mind in a muddle, paid no attention. Hugging her bundle, she tiptoed after him for a few steps, unease prickling at her heart. Something felt wrong, yet her thoughts were too tangled to unravel.
An instinct made her stop. Lifting her gaze to the smiling old eunuch at her side, she asked, “Eunuch… Seventh Master intends to marry me, doesn’t he?”
The old eunuch stumbled, startled. He turned back in alarm, his voice sharper than before: “What did you just say?”
A mere daughter of a minor official, daring to dream of becoming the Empress? To speak of taking a son‑in‑law was laughable enough—but to covet the throne itself could mean courting death.
Cold sweat broke across Liu Kui’s brow. Meeting Shu Yun’s wide, bewildered eyes, he realized his own loss of composure. If not for Pei Yue’s command to explain matters personally, Liu Kui would have blurted out the truth already. Drawing a deep breath, he forced a smile back onto his face, though it was clearly strained.
“I’ll say it again: whatever you wish to ask, you must ask Seventh Master yourself.”
Shu Yun’s heart sank halfway to ice. Even in her naivety, she could tell things were not unfolding as she had imagined. If he truly meant to marry her properly, why all the hesitation, the evasions, the coy delays? She was still young, inexperienced, but at this critical moment her mind was startlingly clear. In her panic, she scrambled for an excuse: “Eunuch, please go on ahead. I’d like to tidy myself up a bit, may I?” She brushed back her hair to avoid Liu Kui’s probing gaze.
Though she tried hard to conceal it, Liu Kui still caught her unease. Remembering that later they must pay respects to the Grand Empress Dowager—who favored neatly dressed girls—he found her request reasonable. He signaled to the maid at his side: “See that the young lady is properly attended to. Don’t keep Seventh Master waiting too long.”
The little maid, accustomed to escorting Shu Yun, curtsied in assent.
The noon sun blazed, yet could not dispel the desolation clouding Shu Yun’s brow. She watched Liu Kui depart, then suddenly turned back into the side chamber of Shouxiu Palace. Closing the door behind her, she shut herself in, staring blankly at her travel bundle for a long while, oblivious even to her stomach growling with hunger.
At last she sniffled, swallowing her sorrow. From the bundle she drew out Shishuo Xinyu, wrapped it carefully in a cloth, then opened the door and handed it to the anxious maid waiting outside. Her face remained composed, though her breath was faintly unsteady. “Please, sister, return this book to Seventh Master for me, and convey my thanks—for his kindness in helping me.”
“And furthermore, tell Seventh Master this: Shu Yun requires the full rites of three matchmakers and six betrothal gifts, a proper marriage in broad daylight.”
If Pei Yue were sincere, he would come himself to the Shu household. If he harbored other designs, then she need not meet him again.
At those final words, the maid’s face blanched. How could His Majesty possibly take Shu Yun as wife? What place would that leave for the three exalted ladies of Shouxiu Palace?
When she regained her senses, Shu Yun was already gone—her slender figure clutching her bundle, swiftly disappearing around the palace wall.
The maid, in her panic, stamped her foot and clutched the book tightly before racing toward Fengtian Hall. She hurried to the small gate at the northeast corner, where she spotted Liu Kui standing outside with his hands clasped behind his back.
Seeing her flustered state, Liu Kui’s heart sank. “What has happened?”
Tears still clung to the corners of the maid’s eyes, but she dared not delay. Word for word, she repeated Shu Yun’s message to him.
Liu Kui muttered inwardly that this was disastrous—the Retired Emperor and Grand Empress Dowager were waiting to meet the young lady, and now she had fled.
Anxious and angry, he slapped his palm several times, yet no solution presented itself. In the end, only the Emperor could decide. Recalling Shu Yun’s final words, he warned the maid: “The last thing the young lady said—you must never repeat it. Otherwise you’ll bring calamity upon her.”
The maid understood the gravity of the matter and nodded quickly.
Liu Kui glanced at the book in her hands, sighed heavily, then took it from her. Frowning, he strode toward Fengtian Hall.
Inside the imperial study, Pei Yue had changed once more into a bright yellow dragon robe and sat behind the desk, rolling a string of bodhi beads between his fingers. He waited, unease creeping in, and lifted his gaze to the sky. Just moments ago the sun had blazed; now thick clouds had gathered.
The weather had turned.
He had once commanded armies across battlefields, once dominated the court with fearless authority—yet never had he felt so unsettled as today.
The easiest thing to grasp in this world is the human heart; the hardest thing to control is also the human heart.
Now that the young lady knew his true identity, would she still be willing?
Judging the time, the guest should have arrived. Pei Yue signaled for the attendants to set the meal.
A dozen palace servants filed in, each bearing delicate trays or porcelain bowls, arranging them in perfect order upon the Eight Immortals table. Since the banquet had not yet begun, every dish was covered with porcelain lids. In all, there were more than ten main courses and seven or eight side dishes—rare delicacies, exotic meats, and flavors of every kind.
Seeing the lavish spread, Pei Yue felt a faint ease. That little girl was most greedy; at the mention of fine food, she would surely come running faster than anyone. His lips had barely begun to curve when a familiar figure appeared, head drooping, stepping out from behind the screen.
It was Liu Kui.
Pei Yue’s gaze flicked past him. No sign of Shu Yun. A heaviness stirred in his chest, a foreboding sense of trouble. “Where is she?”
Sweat beading, Liu Kui stepped forward, presented the book, and immediately knelt in guilt. “Your Majesty, this servant has failed. I could not bring Miss Shu.”
Pei Yue’s fingers trembled slightly, though his voice remained unnaturally calm. “Why?”
Liu Kui recalled the scene, half bitter, half amused, and forced himself to answer: “Your Majesty, it turns out Miss Shu has been intent on recruiting a husband. She… she misunderstood you!”
Pei Yue’s temple twitched. He rose, bracing himself against the desk. “She wants to recruit a husband?”
Only then did he grasp the meaning of her words from the night before.
The revelation left him stunned, unable to recover, his face filled with disbelief. So she tolerated his company and listened patiently as he read to draw him in as her chosen spouse?
Pei Yue could not name the feeling in his heart. His breath caught, neither rising nor falling, and he even found it absurd. Should he blame her for failing to recognize his worth? Yet she did not know his true identity—her mistake was understandable.
If they parted ways now, a restless agitation stirred in Pei Yue’s chest. After all the effort he had spent coaxing her, how could he simply let go? Bracing himself against the desk, his gaze fixed heavily on the book.
“And then? What did she say afterward?”
Liu Kui gave a bitter smile. “This servant told the young lady that Your Majesty could never be her live-in husband. Her face changed at once. Later she used the excuse of dressing up to send me away, handed the book to the little maid, and then left the palace.”
Pei Yue pressed his fingers to his brow. “She truly refuses to marry me?”
Remembering Shu Yun’s final words, Liu Kui lowered his head deeply. “The young lady said… it must be with three matchmakers and six betrothal gifts, a proper marriage in broad daylight.”
Pei Yue’s hands fell slack at his sides.
Liu Kui watched him anxiously, fearing he might erupt in anger, and hurried to make amends. “Your Majesty, the young lady does not know your identity. Her words were careless. Please don’t take offense. If you truly wish to bring her into the palace, it would take no more than an imperial decree. Shall this old servant draft one at once and send men to the Shu household?”
Pei Yue’s expression was as deep as a hidden abyss. Slowly, he sat back down, closed his eyes, and said nothing.
Back at Zhaixing Pavilion, he had not taken her words to heart. But now, after nurturing this bond for so long, how could he not feel wounded?
The fragrance of the dishes filled the air, yet under the darkening sky it gradually cooled. Supporting his forehead, Pei Yue felt his insides churn as though in boiling oil. His emotions clashed violently within his chest, leaving him in torment. Yet his lifelong composure steadied him. After a long silence, his expression smoothed like turbulent waters settling into calm. His slender fingers brushed again and again over the worn spine of the book. His voice rose and fell in a low murmur: “No need.”
He could not bring himself to force a woman to be with him. This was his bottom line.
Pei Yue sat alone behind the wide Eight Immortals table, eating in silence. The delicacies before him tasted like wax upon his tongue.
Liu Kui, watching from the side, grew uneasy at his long silence. “Your Majesty, the Grand Empress Dowager is still waiting.”
At those words, Pei Yue closed his eyes. His anger flared.
The girl might seem soft in temperament, yet when she made up her mind, she was utterly decisive.
Steeling himself, Pei Yue rose and went to Cining Palace. Naturally, he did not reveal the truth to the Grand Empress Dowager, only saying that the young lady had urgent matters at home and had left the palace. The Grand Empress Dowager, thinking she would see her eventually, was not troubled and let it pass.
But the elder once again raised the matter of establishing a consort. This time, Pei Yue’s silence lasted even longer.
After the Retired Emperor let slip his intentions, a group of ministers led by the Vice Minister of Rites proposed that all noble daughters be brought into the palace. Whoever bore the emperor’s first son would be made empress. The proposal drew strong support. Though Li Zhe was displeased, he thought of his granddaughter’s age—no longer young—and, unwilling though he was, he agreed.
Thus, the memorial urging the emperor to establish a consort, drafted under the leadership of the Secretariat, was delivered to the imperial study the following morning.
The matter had been sanctioned by both the Grand Empress Dowager and the Retired Emperor. The Directorate of Ceremonies and the Secretariat had already reached consensus. It should have been flawless, a certainty carved in stone.
Yet Pei Yue stared at the memorial, a sudden anger rising in his heart. Whether it was resentment carried over from Shu Yun’s affair or some other cause, he could not say. But with his own hand, he picked up the memorial and tore it apart, shred by shred, until nothing remained.
Shu Yun returned to the Shu household and soon fell ill with a minor sickness. After waiting two days without any word from Pei Yue, she realized he likely had no intention of marrying her.
At first she grieved for several days. But then she thought it through—she could not truly abandon her parents to marry into another family. No matter how fine Pei Yue was, could he ever be more important than her father and mother? Shu Yun shook her head, using this reasoning to persuade herself not to be sad.
Still, she brooded for a few more days, until suddenly it struck her—perhaps Pei Yue already had a wife at home. Seeing her beauty, he might only wish to take her as a concubine. He was not young; she should have considered this earlier. Once she realized it, Shu Yun felt completely relieved.
Half a month passed. Pei Yue never came with a proposal; instead, Prince Huaiyang sent a matchmaker, intending to betroth her to his nephew, Pei Yansheng. Shu Yun’s father refused. The Shu family did not want to tie themselves to the imperial clan, so they used the excuse of recruiting a son-in-law to decline. Prince Huaiyang was regretful.
Since they had spoken of recruiting a son-in-law, they could not simply brush it off. Madam Su and Shu Lanfeng earnestly arranged two matches for Shu Yun.
The first was one of Shu Lanfeng’s students, born to a poor family with four brothers, himself the third. His parents were willing for him to marry into the Shu household. The young man was decent—square-faced, upright, and his studies were above average. Yet his parents demanded an exorbitant bride price. Silver the Shu family could afford, but the mother-in-law’s greed was too much. Shu Yun thought, once married, such a woman would surely stir endless trouble, forever demanding more. That would not be a son-in-law, but a Buddha to be worshipped. Shu Yun shook her head and refused.
Having learned from that, Shu Lanfeng was more careful in screening families. This time they found enlightened parents, themselves from an official household, their status equal to the Shu family’s third branch. The old lady declared she wanted no bride price, only some gifts for relatives and friends. Shu Yun thought such good fortune could hardly fall to her. Sure enough, upon inquiry, it turned out the young man had suffered a high fever in childhood, leaving his mind slower than most. From then on, Shu Yun lost heart and refused to consider any more matches.