Guanjia was not reviewing memorials for once, reclining on a carved beauty couch with a copy of the Zhuangzi in hand, stealing a rare moment of leisure. Ice mountains were placed every ten paces in the hall, with only two palace attendants remaining to serve.
Zhang Maoze entered quietly and stood to the side. Guanjia turned a page of his book absentmindedly and said, "What is it? Is Jia still making a fuss? Send someone to Consort Zhang with a message: focus on nurturing the pregnancy, and don’t dwell on trivial matters every day."
Consort Zhang—in this lifetime, Zhao Zhen would grant her wealth and glory, but he was destined never to share romantic love with her again. She was too obsessive, too intense, like an eternal blaze that refused to cease radiating heat even as it burned itself out, drawing the Emperor, who was entirely different from her, toward its destructive love.
In her previous life, Zhang Qinghua, devastated by the loss of three daughters in succession, passed away in sorrow. Most importantly, she discovered that her beloved could not devote himself to her with the same single-minded, all-consuming passion. The destruction of their love hastened her departure.
Time had washed everything away. The Emperor had no intention of giving her false hope and adding to her suffering.
Zhang Maoze whispered, "Jia has already withdrawn. Bai Xing, Lady Xue’s attendant, has come, saying that Lady Xue was deeply moved by Guanjia’s reward and has composed a poem herself, wishing to present it for Guanjia’s perusal."
"Would Guanjia be interested in taking a look?"
"Oh, Cairen Xue’s poem? Could she be a talented poetess as well? Bring it here for me to see." Hearing it was Xue Dongyu’s poem, Zhao Zhen felt a flicker of interest.
Long before, upon learning of her as a variable, the Emperor had thoroughly investigated her family background, lineage, relatives, and past deeds. For the first dozen or so years of her life, Xue Dongyu had been an ordinary young lady from an official family—literate and educated, but never known for any reputation as a talented poetess.
Zhang Maoze retrieved a sheet of paper from his sleeve and respectfully presented it with both hands. The Emperor opened it casually, still holding his book in one hand.
The paper was neither exceptional nor poor—just ordinary xuan paper. The handwriting showed some foundation but appeared somewhat unpracticed; in the eyes of the Emperor, who was accustomed to the calligraphy of ministers and masters, it was merely passable.
As his gaze swept over the content, the Emperor abruptly sat up, shedding his casual demeanor. He read each word carefully, his expression shifting from shock to suspicion, and finally to a strange delight, his heart pounding like a drum.
Zhang Maoze, standing nearby, was puzzled by Guanjia’s reaction. As a senior eunuch, he was also literate and well-versed, having cultivated some appreciation for literature in the palace.
In his view, Lady Xue’s poem was not only coherent in phrasing but also elegant in its use of allusions and rhyme, imaginative and clever in conception, subtle and graceful, clear and moving. It could be considered a masterpiece; if circulated, it would not only endure through the ages but also stand as a pinnacle of its time.
Yet why did Guanjia’s expression shift from shock to doubt and finally to an eerie delight?
Zhao Zhen steadied his emotions. "Que Qiao Xian" was the representative work of the poet Qin Guan, composed after his own death, and it had taken the capital by storm upon its release.
Lines like "When golden wind meets jade dew, it surpasses countless mortal encounters" had enchanted countless noble ladies and sentimental youths. The poem’s popularity was such that even he, an Old Ghost of many years, was aware of it.
So the question arose: Qin Guan was born in the first year of the Huangyou era, nine years from now. Logically, Xue Dongyu should not have been able to write this poem word for word, unchanged.
Either Xue Dongyu was an Old Ghost like him, having returned from centuries later, or at the very least, she had lived until the era when Qin Guan wrote "Que Qiao Xian." Delving deeper, if Xue Dongyu was also an anomaly, did she write this poem simply to win favor, or was it a subtle way of revealing her identity to him?
When did she arrive? Having remained hidden for so long, what had she observed? Now that she had actively exposed herself, was she friend or foe?
Zhao Zhen entertained countless speculations and prepared for every possibility. At times, his mind grew ruthless, wanting to eliminate the root of the problem—no matter what, he would crush it with his own strength. At other times, he felt reluctant. Not only did the recognition of a kindred spirit slightly ease his loneliness, but he had also grown fond of her through their interactions these past days.
And then there was that strange, irritable ailment, which only subsided when the two of them were physically intimate.
Zhang Maoze saw Guanjia holding the love poem delivered by Lady Xue, his expression shifting through a hundred emotions as he stood there in a daze, silent for a long while. Even though Zhang Maoze had long known that Guanjia regarded Lady Xue differently, he couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: the word "love"—no wonder even sages throughout history could not escape it.
Who would have thought that the esteemed Guanjia of the great Song Dynasty would be so moved by a woman’s affection for him? Lady Xue clearly loved Guanjia deeply and possessed a delicate, flower-like beauty. After a moment’s thought, Zhang Maoze felt Guanjia’s reaction was entirely justified.
While Zhang Maoze was lost in these serious yet wandering thoughts, Guanjia’s urgent command snapped him back to attention. "Quickly arrange the carriage. I am going to Cairen Xue’s quarters."
After much deliberation, Zhao Zhen couldn’t make up his mind, so he decided to go see her directly, sparing himself the trouble of endless speculation. Even if there were complications, as the ruler of a nation, how could he fear a weak woman without the strength to tie up a chicken?
Meanwhile, Xue Dongyu was happily enjoying the royal premium version of fruit salad delivered by the imperial kitchen. Fruit chunks the size of half a mahjong tile were piled together—red bayberries and grapes, yellow pineapple, mango, and pomelo, along with peeled lychees and longans—all drizzled with milky-white yogurt and chilled with ice, emitting a faint mist.
With the first bite, she felt a refreshing coolness, followed by the distinctive sweetness of tropical fruits. The yogurt was the perfect finishing touch, its perfect sourness adding richness to the flavor.
The bowl, as large as her cupped hands, was half-empty after Xue Dongyu indulged her craving in one go. She savored the remaining portion slowly, taking small bites. The little light sphere watched enviously. "I love bayberries too—sour and sweet, so delicious."
Xue Dongyu asked curiously, "Aren’t you a data-based lifeform? How can you eat bayberries? I don’t know how to program."
The little light sphere retorted indignantly, "You, who scored 45 in advanced mathematics and only passed the makeup exam because the teacher went easy on you—This System is no mere data lifeform! I am a high-level lifeform created by the Main System. As long as I have enough energy, I can purchase a physical form. Of course, This System had one before!"
"This System finally escaped its failed existence and found a capable Host. Back in the day, we were unstoppable, sweeping across worlds—what glory! Damn that Demon Lord—pah! A dead perverted yandere!"
It seemed she had touched a sore spot for the trashy System again, Xue Dongyu thought. She decided to remain silent, burying herself in her fruit salad and ignoring the noise from the light sphere. In just two short days, she had already seen through the true nature of this trashy System.
For all its earlier boasting about being a top-tier product of the Main System, it was actually underdeveloped, having achieved nothing after years of flopping around. It had finally managed to cling to its former Host's coattails and get carried along, only for the Host to slip up and fall into the grave of love, leaving it half-crippled—a pure, unadulterated trash system.
Fruit salad is really delicious, Xue Dongyu sincerely exclaimed. Bai Liu pushed the door open and said Guanjia had arrived. Instantly, Xue Dongyu couldn't eat anymore, and the System abruptly stopped crying.
Xue Dongyu forced herself to stay calm, instructing Bai Xing and Bai Liu to bring water to wipe her face. She had eaten too vigorously and gotten a bit messy. The System flew around, muttering incessantly under its breath.
Zhao Zhen strode in with a commanding presence, and at first glance, he spotted the strange little sphere emitting a frantic blue glow from the ceiling beam. His heart seized with terror—could it be that Xue was a celestial being, descended to capture him, the escaped Old Ghost? Was this light sphere the legendary sword pill that could be summoned and retracted at will?
He fixed his gaze tightly on the wildly flying light sphere, waving his hand to dismiss everyone. If she truly was a heavenly maiden, more people would be useless anyway—why appear cowardly?
Seeing the others leave, Xue Dongyu's nervous mind went completely blank. The first words out of her mouth were, "You're here. Have you eaten?"
Zhao Zhen ignored this remark, frowning as he spoke. "No need for pleasantries. You wrote that poem for me precisely because you wanted us to speak frankly."
He then calmly continued, "Whether you are a deity or a ghost, put away your sword pill. Since I, the Emperor, am here alone, it already represents my sincerity. There's no need for such precautions."