Stepping down from the imperial carriage, they arrived at the Palace of Ultimate Bliss.
Ruan Jinyu followed the Emperor to the main hall, but as they reached the entrance, he had no intention of following him inside. He prepared to take his leave, but the Emperor, head down and brooding, ignored him entirely. Eunuch Hong En stepped forward. “My Lord, why not come in for a moment? This old servant will brew some sober tea; the Imperial Preceptor should have a bowl as well before departing.”
Without waiting for a response, Hong En bowed slightly and withdrew. Ruan Jinyu looked back once, then ultimately followed the Emperor into the hall. Yan Yan headed straight for the library rather than the adjacent bedchamber.
Ruan Jinyu couldn’t help but feel curious. He took his usual seat and remarked, “Your Majesty is still not sleepy?”
“Teacher, do you know what kind of person Consort Qin is?” Yan Yan asked suddenly. His eyes remained fixed on the scroll in his hand, not looking up.
It was a strange question. How could he not know Consort Qin?
“Naturally, I know,” Ruan Jinyu replied.
“I suspect Teacher does not know,” Yan Yan said, ignoring his answer. “Consort Qin is a very intelligent woman.”
Ruan Jinyu grew more confused, but finding no proper way to respond, he simply gave a half-nod. Yan Yan still didn’t look at him. For a woman to be praised so highly by the Sovereign was indeed extraordinary; clearly, she was not a typical lady of the harem. Ruan Jinyu pondered this, assuming the Emperor was signaling her importance, and elevated his estimation of Consort Qin accordingly.
As they spoke, Hong En returned with a tray holding two bowls of sober tea. “Your Majesty, the tea is ready.” He did not approach immediately, waiting for a nod of approval.
Yan Yan finally looked up; his expression unreadable. After a long silence, he emphasized each word: “Sober. Tea?”
The tea hadn’t been Yan Yan’s idea, and Hong En looked as though he were in a tight spot. Ruan Jinyu interjected, “This servant believes that even if one is not drunk, a bit of tea makes for better sleep.”
Yan Yan’s brow was furrowed, yet he replied, “Teacher is right.”
Ruan Jinyu turned to see Hong En looking at him with wide, grateful eyes, nearly ready to kneel in thanks. He gave the eunuch a subtle wave of his hand. After finishing the tea, drowsiness began to wash over both the Emperor and the Preceptor. It was finally time to sleep.
“Your Majesty should rest. This servant takes his leave.”
Ruan Jinyu turned to go before Yan Yan could even react. As he reached the door, he was startled to find the Emperor right beside him. Yan Yan looked down at him, repeating, “The night is dark. The wind is strong.”
“This servant is taking the covered gallery; it is no matter.” With that, Ruan Jinyu stepped away.
The main and side halls of the Palace of Ultimate Bliss were connected by a hundred-meter-long gallery. Few people used this path. Usually, even Ruan Jinyu would enter and exit through the main gates to maintain his station. Tonight, however, it was late, and he didn’t want to linger.
The Emperor said nothing more.
Ruan Jinyu finally ended his day’s duties and reached his room. The wind was indeed howling outside; the branches in the garden swayed violently, and the leaves rattled against one another with a loud rustle.
The grounds of the Palace of Ultimate Bliss were brilliantly lit. However, halfway through the gallery, Ruan Jinyu stopped. He looked left and right. Something felt wrong: even though it was late, why were there so few guards stationed outside the hall?
It was understandable if the Emperor disliked a crowd of servants, but imperial guards should be present at all times—especially in the palace, and even more so outside the Sovereign’s own bedchamber. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed before, but the thought now nagged at him. Looking back, even during the day, he had only seen a handful of guards.
It was highly irregular. However, he didn’t dwell on it for long and continued to his room.
In the main hall, Yan Yan remained at his desk. Hong En re-entered and, before he could salute, the Emperor asked, “Well? Has the Preceptor arrived?”
Hong En bowed quickly. “To answer Your Majesty, this servant watched the Imperial Preceptor enter his room before departing.”
The Emperor fell silent and returned to his memorials.
“Your Majesty,” Hong En remained in his respectful bow, “it is very late. You should retire.”
Hong En was surprised; the Emperor had seemed drowsy earlier, but the moment the Preceptor left, he had returned to his work with renewed focus.
“Leave us,” Yan Yan commanded without looking up. Hong En dared not say another word and immediately withdrew.
Back in his room, Ruan Jinyu was exhausted—physically and mentally. Just as he sat down, there was a knock at the door.
It was Qian Qi, carrying a bowl of steaming, bitter medicine. Ruan Jinyu was used to it by now and downed it without a word. Qian Qi was pleased by his master’s compliance and moved to take the bowl away so he could rest.
“Wait a moment.”
Qian Qi turned back. “Yes, My Lord? Is something wrong?”
Ruan Jinyu shook his head. “I saw Wen Zhong today at the Dianluo Garden.”
“Your cousin, My Lord?” Qian Qi was shocked.
“Yes.” Ruan Jinyu nearly sighed. “Tomorrow, use some funds to bribe the staff under Matron Xu. Keep a close eye on her; if anything happens, report to me immediately.”
“I understand,” Qian Qi said, though he was still puzzled. “But how did the eldest Miss Wen end up in the palace?”
Ruan Jinyu didn’t elaborate, and Qian Qi took his leave. Finally, the Preceptor could lie down. Perhaps because he was so spent, he fell asleep almost instantly—a rarity for him. Outside, the wind grew even louder, whistling through the eaves, but the sleeping man did not notice.
The next morning, Ruan Jinyu was woken by the pitter-patter of rain. The brief spell of clear weather had ended. His head ached—likely from the wine—and the sober tea from the night before hadn’t done much. He ignored the slight pain and rose for the day.
After breakfast, it was time for court. Qian Qi was waiting at the door with an umbrella. “My Lord, may I accompany you?”
Ruan Jinyu took the umbrella. “As you wish. Come if you like.”
He usually didn’t bring attendants to court, as they weren’t allowed in the Hall of Supreme Vitality and he was accustomed to the walk. But Qian Qi was adamant, still haunted by the memory of Ruan Jinyu returning soaked from the last sudden downpour.
“I’ll wait for you outside the hall then,” Qian Qi said. He wanted to ensure they could return together.
Ruan Jinyu stopped. “You know I must visit the Emperor after the session is dismissed.”
“I know,” the boy nodded earnestly. “I don’t mind the wait. I’ll stay right outside so you can see me as soon as you come out. It’ll feel… steady.”
In the treacherous whirlpool of the court, Ruan Jinyu needed to be constantly on guard. Qian Qi was the one person he could trust completely. That “steadiness” was worth the wait.
Ruan Jinyu looked at him. “Don’t forget what I told you last night.”
“Of course not.”
“Just this once,” Ruan Jinyu said, resuming his walk. Qian Qi followed, content.
At the Hall of Supreme Vitality, Ruan Jinyu entered alone. He had arrived earlier than usual and stood at his post, staring at the floor in a daze. It would be a while before the Emperor arrived.
Time passed. The ministers, who had been waiting in silence, began to look around in confusion.
Where was the Emperor?
More time passed, yet the dragon throne remained empty. The officials began to whisper. The appointed time had passed; why had the Sovereign not appeared? Had he stayed so long with his new favored consort that he had neglected the court?
One voice wouldn’t be loud, but a hall full of hundreds of ministers whispering created a low, buzzing hum. Finally, the presiding eunuch emerged to announce an imperial decree:
“His Majesty is feeling unwell today and cannot attend the court. The session is dismissed; ministers are to return to their respective duties.”