Forcibly ignoring Jun Heng’s words, Gu Jiao shifted the topic: “Your Majesty hasn’t had breakfast yet, right?”
Ning Feizhi had come to her hall early in the morning to show off his voice, and now that he was gone, she was starting to feel a bit hungry herself.
Seeing that Jun Heng didn’t deny it, she quickly added with concern: “You’re still unwell—how could you skip breakfast?”
Jun Heng pressed his lips together but did not argue. His voice carried a slightly higher tone as he called out: “Huai’an.”
The hall door gently opened.
“Your Majesty will dine here with the Empress?” Huai’an asked, bowing slightly.
“If it’s inconvenient—” Gu Jiao expertly cut herself off, waiting for Jun Heng to refuse so she could smoothly see him off.
Jun Heng said, “It’s not inconvenient.”
Gu Jiao: …
Actually, it was a bit inconvenient, but she didn’t dare say so.
“Then please have Huai’an serve the meal,” she said, trying to maintain a smile as she addressed him.
Her gaze shifted back to Jun Heng, wanting to say something, when his slender waist suddenly caught her eyes.
The heavy cloak now hiding his figure made the dark-gold dragon-embroidered belt around his waist stand out even more, highlighting the curve of his body, and she couldn’t help but frown.
She knew he was unwell, but knowing it and seeing it were two very different things.
Sighing inwardly, she added to Huai’an: “Prepare the soup lightly, and add some angelica and ginseng root.”
Jun Heng was the sole heir of the Jun family, and yet he didn’t take care of his own body.
He lifted the cup to his lips and paused for a moment.
Huai’an’s lips twitched in a slight smile and, after making a brief comment, quickly withdrew, leaving only the two of them in the hall.
“Cough—” Gu Jiao cleared her throat. “Your Majesty, are you still upset with Ning Feizhi?”
“I am not,” he said.
Indeed, he didn’t look angry at all. She sighed again.
“You know him… even Grand Tutor Ning has punished him countless times, yet he never changes his reckless ways,” she tried to excuse her friend.
“He hasn’t said anything wrong. Why would I be angry?” Jun Heng replied calmly.
“Ah?” Gu Jiao froze. Did Ning Feizhi say something reasonable? Had he ever said anything reliable?
Seeing her blank expression, Jun Heng let out a cold laugh: “The Grand Tutor’s son and the Left Minister’s daughter are indeed a perfect childhood-mate match… I suppose that makes me the villain here.”
…
Gu Jiao put a hand to her forehead. Why was she hungry first thing in the morning, hosting these two troublemakers?
If she had known, she should have just insisted on having the imperial guards drag Ning Feizhi away.
Trailing behind Gu Qingxing, Ning Feizhi sneezed quietly under the scolding.
The more she tried to talk, the more mistakes she made, so Gu Jiao bowed her head and counted the tea leaves floating in her cup instead.
She said nothing, and Jun Heng remained silent as well, his fingers gripping the lid so tightly it seemed he bore a grudge against it.
“Creak—”
After a while of this awkward silence, Huai’an had prepared the meal.
The door opened, and he entered with several palace maids, setting a few exquisite dishes on the table, breaking the tension in the hall.
Gu Jiao reacted first, practically fleeing to the table, saying as she walked: “It smells wonderful!”
She glanced back at Jun Heng, who still sat motionless, and could only give Huai’an a pleading look for help.
“The soup is particularly well-prepared today. His Majesty didn’t eat much yesterday—perhaps he could try a bit now?” Huai’an spoke considerately.
…
As expected of Huai’an—his words carried weight.
Biting down on her chopsticks, Gu Jiao glanced at Jun Heng sitting beside her, silently admiring him.
Huai’an carefully placed a bowl of crucian carp soup in front of Jun Heng, smiling: “On the way here, I ran into Imperial Physician Zhou. After seeing the dishes, he specifically mentioned this soup. Angelica is warming, and combined with ginseng root, it’s just right to help replenish Your Majesty’s energy.”
“The Empress personally worried about His Majesty’s health and instructed this—if it were just me, I would never have thought of such detail,” Huai’an added.
Jun Heng pressed his lips together in silence. Huai’an said no more, carefully arranging the dishes for him.
Gu Jiao was already hungry and didn’t pay attention to him. She picked up a bite of shredded chicken with vinegar and ate it.
Tender, flavorful, leaving a lingering taste—better than anything she had eaten recently.
Satisfied, she squinted her eyes in pleasure. Dining with Jun Heng wasn’t so bad; imperial dishes truly were extraordinary.
After tasting and approving each dish, she suddenly realized Jun Heng had barely touched his.
He had only sipped lightly at the soup.
Glancing at him, she noticed Huai’an had glanced at her a few times, intentionally or not.
Gu Jiao silently reached over, took a piece of Eight-Treasure Tofu, and carefully placed it on a plate in front of Jun Heng.
She remembered he used to like this dish.
Jun Heng was a picky eater, and she memorized the few dishes he enjoyed—just to ensure he didn’t go hungry.
Despite her obvious attentiveness, Jun Heng merely looked down, then picked up a piece of lotus root from the plate and ate it instead.
Huai’an sighed softly.
Gu Jiao ate her food with determination: she shouldn’t have gotten involved.
The table fell silent again. Gu Jiao focused on her meal, no longer offering him anything.
Even with company, it felt lonelier than eating alone.
Huai’an sighed inwardly, then gestured to the waiting palace maids to leave, adding a piece of pastry to Jun Heng’s plate.
“This chestnut shortcake is made by the imperial chefs knowing Your Majesty likes it. They learned the recipe at Xianyun Pavilion—please try it and see if it suits your taste.”
As Huai’an spoke, Gu Jiao loosened her chopsticks, startled, and looked at Jun Heng—only to see him rigidly turn his face away.
…
“I heard the Seventh Prince skipped dinner again. What’s the reason this time?”
“Go back,” he said.
“All right, it’s just a censure from the officials, not a big deal.”
Recalling what she’d heard from Gu Qingxing, Gu Jiao couldn’t help smiling: “They weren’t wrong, were they? You really are a bit closer to the Left Minister’s family.”
“Gu Jiao, you—”
“But Your Majesty and Father didn’t say anything. Why do you care what they do?”
“……”
“Could it be true, as they said, that you’re conspiring with Father?” Even though Jun Heng was the only son of the late emperor, what if he were impatiently plotting a usurpation?
“Boring.” Jun Heng turned his head away.
Gu Jiao nodded in agreement, then poked his shoulder. When he turned, she brought her hands from behind her back.
“Here, chestnut shortcake from Xianyun Pavilion.”
She placed the plate in front of him and pushed it slightly: “The chef was about to leave but agreed to make this for you out of respect for your father.”
“Try it—it’s just as good as the imperial chefs’ version.”
Jun Heng remained silent for a long time, then finally picked up a piece and took a bite under her expectant gaze.
“Too sweet,” he frowned.
“It needs to be sweet to taste right!” Gu Jiao lamented, exasperated at his lack of taste.
To avoid waste, she reached for the neglected shortcake, but someone snatched it away: “The palace curfew is near. Don’t you plan to return today?”
Gu Jiao looked at the chestnut shortcake she had brought from afar and sighed.
“All right, I understand. Next time I visit Your Highness, I’ll bring some bitter herbs instead.”
…
“Huai’an,” she said, staring thoughtfully at the chestnut shortcake on Jun Heng’s plate. Jun Heng spoke hurriedly:
“Go back.”
Before Gu Jiao could offer a symbolic word of farewell, Jun Heng hurried off with Huai’an behind him. As he reached the door, Huai’an glanced at Gu Jiao, then at the shortcake.
Gu Jiao: …
Had her earlier impression of Huai’an as gentle and considerate been a little shallow?
Still… she picked up a piece of chestnut shortcake and tasted it. Indeed, it was very similar to the one from Xianyun Pavilion.
Gu Jiao shook her head in disbelief. Not that she disliked sweet things…
After finishing her breakfast leisurely, sending away the palace attendants, Gu Jiao walked alone through Lu Palace.
Having stayed here for so long, she hadn’t had a chance to properly explore this palace of green tiles and red eaves.
Every brick and tile of the palace walls was dusted with a thin layer of snow. The green bricks of the pathways bore overlapping footprints, some deeper than others, leading toward Longzhang Palace.
Following the tracks with her eyes, Gu Jiao tutted and turned in the opposite direction.
No wonder the emperor’s residence was confusing—even though she had been here before, she nearly got lost.
After several turns, she slowed her pace and stopped at the end of a small path.
—“Qingke Garden.”
She read the plaque slowly.
Qingke—the plum.
She recalled that during the late emperor’s reign, several gardens for viewing flowers had been built, but she had only heard of them, never seen them. Today, she happened to come across one.
Standing in the garden, the faint scent of plum blossoms surrounded her. The serene surroundings evoked the poetic imagery of refined scholars and elegant ladies.
Stepping inside, she saw plum trees arranged with perfect spacing. Each tree was in full bloom. Snow occasionally fell from the branches, mingling red and white—a beautiful sight.
Perhaps because Jun Heng had no leisure for appreciating flowers, the plum garden had been left untended, allowing a natural charm to emerge.
Such an elegant setting—perfect for a talented scholar and a beautiful lady to meet and pledge their hearts—but unfortunately, there wasn’t a single bird in the garden besides her.
Lost in thought, Gu Jiao remembered the letter Ning Feizhi had once written.
Perhaps she could bring him here next time—he might even write something astonishing, worthy of storytellers’ praise.
Unconsciously, she had walked quite a distance.
After strolling, she felt refreshed and satisfied. Forgetting all about Jun Heng or formalities, she stretched and prepared to leave, planning to return another day to enjoy the plum blossoms.
Turning to retrace her steps, she froze.
Not far ahead, two lines of footprints were almost buried by snow.
No return marks, just leading straight into the depths of the plum garden.
Maybe a palace maid had wandered here, but… Gu Jiao frowned. Judging by the snow in the prints, that person must have stayed in the garden for at least three hours.
Could something have happened?
Thinking it over, Gu Jiao decided to follow the tracks. In this cold, someone fainting here could be dangerous.
After roughly the time it takes to burn one incense stick, a strong scent of alcohol reached her. Surprised, she looked up and couldn’t help quickening her pace.
“Which young lady is this? Care to share a drink?”