On the moonlit terrace, the curtains fluttered in the wind, a kettle boiled on the stove, and Hua Shu was plucking the strings of her zither, adjusting its tone.
“Mistress, this new composition of yours is really beautiful. It’s the first time I’ve heard such a lively and cheerful zither melody,” Yun Yue said sincerely, truly impressed.
Hua Shu smiled. The traditional Chu-style zither usually favored melancholic, sorrowful tunes—playing it often led one into self-inflicted gloom.
This small melody, however, was created by the Zhao musician Bai Ran. Every time she heard it, she felt delight.
Bai Ran was strikingly handsome, and when he played, there was an ethereal quality to it—truly a feast for the eyes and ears.
Nanny Wen seemed to sense something, moving slowly as she poured tea and shifted closer to her mistress, opening her lips as if to speak.
From the moonlit terrace, the view outside was exceptionally clear, especially the bright yellow dragon robe that stood out prominently.
Noticing it, Hua Shu’s expression momentarily paused. She then composed herself, lowered her brows, and continued plucking the strings as if nothing had happened.
“As for musical scores, who could compare to His Majesty? The emperor gained fame at a young age, composing the ‘Starlit Sky’—truly remarkable. It’s just a pity…”
She trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished. Tomorrow the Empress Dowager would return. The emperor appearing here now might have some ulterior motive.
“What a pity?”
The crisp voice sounded from Kunning Palace. A group of attendants entered, and Li Sheng gave a perfunctory shout: “His Majesty has arrived!”
Everyone in Kunning Palace knelt to pay respects.
Hua Shu, seated on the terrace, glanced down at the figures below and found it somewhat amusing. She only needed to leave one remark, and the emperor could not resist coming—perhaps he had been there for a while already.
Hua Shu rose and walked down the steps. The emperor had already arrived, and their eyes met.
She performed a proper bow.
“What a pity?” Chuze asked, passing by her and sitting on the small couch inside, his dark eyes fixed on her sharply.
Hua Shu turned to meet his gaze. “Your humble servant believes that His Majesty is always occupied with state affairs, his mind preoccupied with the welfare of the people. Such refined arts… one can hardly afford the leisure to indulge in them.”
Chuze did not expect her answer, especially seeing her calm expression and the sincerity in her eyes.
His thoughts stirred slightly, and he averted his gaze, looking elsewhere.
Indeed, once one becomes emperor, many pleasures must be forsaken.
Nanny Wen cautiously served tea beside him.
Recently, whenever the emperor appeared, those in Kunning Palace were always on edge, afraid of mistakes.
Hua Shu picked up her skirts and instructed the attendants to put away the zither.
“Not playing anymore? The Empress’s skill is crude; she should practice more,” Chuze remarked, lifting his tea.
His words were quietly cutting.
Hua Shu raised an eyebrow and had the zither put down. Her gaze swept over the emperor, finally understanding.
He had been drawn here by her music but was too proud to admit it.
If he wanted to listen, then just listen—why pretend otherwise?
She sat down, plucking the strings nonchalantly. “Your humble servant’s skill is unrefined. I only intended to practice more, not daring to offend Your Majesty’s ears.”
Chuze remained silent. Hua Shu continued playing the earlier piece on her own.
The melody floated across the terrace, and it was clear the emperor was enjoying it. Hua Shu’s eyes sparkled with a small smile.
Humans are always curious about novelty. The emperor was no exception.
The piece ended, the lingering notes fading away.
Chuze’s expression softened somewhat. “These transitions aren’t very smooth,” he commented, pointing to the score on the table.
He moved closer to her, leaning over to pluck the strings himself. His hands were long and slender, with well-defined joints—handsome to behold.
The zither sang smoothly under his touch.
Hua Shu nodded. When she had written the score, she noticed issues—she could hear them, but not recall them clearly. The emperor, however, spotted the problem immediately.
She corrected the notes with her pen as she listened.
Chuze, glancing sideways at her focused expression, found it unexpectedly pleasing.
For the first time, he was close enough to study his empress without disdain.
Previously, she had promised to behave obediently—and it seemed she had kept her word.
In the summer heat, Hua Shu wore only a thin golden gown. Sitting gracefully at the desk, she leaned forward slightly to write, her garment hugging her form, highlighting her elegant waistline.
Chuze, close by, caught her scent—subtle, just right.
His gaze lingered on her. In the moonlight, her skin gleamed, flawless. The curve of her ear was delicate, inviting a playful touch.
A breeze stirred the curtains, and her pen traced characters on the paper.
Hua Shu’s handwriting was refined; even the corrections were neat.
Sensing his gaze, she calmly picked up the sheet and blew gently on the still-damp ink.
Her lips were soft and pink, and the gentle wind seemed to stir something within him—a teasing, ticklish sensation.
Chuze quickly realized his reaction was improper. He turned his head, vexed.
Why shouldn’t he look?
He was the emperor. All the women of the harem belonged to him. The empress was no exception.
As long as she performed her duties, he was willing to give her another chance.
Chuze cleared his throat lightly. Li Sheng seemed to understand the emperor’s intentions, but before he could speak, Hua Shu took the initiative.
“Your Majesty, perhaps the wind has chilled you. Li Gonggong, help the emperor back to rest!”
Back to rest?
Li Sheng’s words caught in his throat.
Had the empress lost her mind? She was practically pushing the emperor away.
Chuze’s face darkened completely. He lowered his gaze at Hua Shu, as if trying to pierce a hole through her face.
Yet her eyes were innocent.
He was not foolish—he could tell she was doing it on purpose. She was likely still upset with him, which explained her earlier sarcasm about his “mediocre taste.”
Very well!
He had planned to give her a way out, but she had not taken it seriously.
“Return to the palace,” Chuze said coldly, standing and turning away, not giving her another glance, his sleeves sweeping as he departed.
Hua Shu slowly stood, bowing to see him off.
The emperor left Kunning Palace in a huff once again.
Nanny Wen stepped forward, puzzled. “Mistress, His Majesty came all this way. Why take offense?”
Just moments ago, the atmosphere between the emperor and the mistress had seemed so good. A stayover would have been natural.
“If he wants something, he picks it, but there’s no need to give it too easily,” Hua Shu replied lightly.
She had other plans in mind.
If the emperor could have whatever he wanted too easily, it would lose its charm.
His current interest in her was merely curiosity sparked by her sudden change.
What comes next?
If that curiosity isn’t used wisely, the emperor’s wariness will take over.
Hua Shu had long understood one truth: the more poisonous the flower, the more alluring.
She sought that irresistible passion, the inability to extricate oneself.
Knowing it was poisonous yet savoring it like sweet nectar.