Zhao Yan and Fu Zhong both turned to look at her. Only then did Yu Qijian speak calmly.
“It’s a folk tale. This dowager felt that His Majesty is still young, so I chose something simple and interesting for enlightenment.”
“Does Your Highness consider using a child’s words to mock a foolish ruler and sycophantic ministers as ‘simple’?”
Fang Jinxian closed the memorial in his hand and placed it neatly aside, looking at her indifferently.
For the first time, Yu Qijian did not avoid his oppressive gaze. She met it quietly.
“What His Majesty understands is exactly what this dowager intended.”
The atmosphere instantly turned cold, like blades crossing in silence.
“His Majesty’s brushstroke is weak,” Fu Zhong’s voice broke the tension.
Zhao Yan snapped back to attention and continued writing.
Fang Jinxian watched the woman who, unlike her usual gentle and submissive demeanor, now carried sharp edges—as if something had been forced to sprout thorns, forming a high wall around herself.
He keenly sensed that she was displeased.
Why?
Yet contrary to what he expected, there was no anger or dissatisfaction from being challenged. He withdrew his gaze and lowered his eyes slightly.
“Your Highness need not be like this. There is nothing improper about the story itself. This servant has no intention of blaming you.”
A faint sound escaped Yu Qijian’s nose. Her expression eased slightly.
Fang Jinxian was again surprised. This had clearly been an opportunity for her to press further.
He tilted his eyes lazily, opened another memorial, and said to Fu Zhong, “Teacher, please continue with the story of Duke Huan of Qi and Guan Zhong.”
Fu Zhong raised a brow, but before he could speak, Yu Qijian dropped two words.
“You do it.”
All eyes turned to her again.
Yu Qijian had once injured her lower back working heavy part-time jobs at sixteen or seventeen. Since then, standing too long or sitting incorrectly would trigger pain. Now, after standing for so long, it had begun to flare up.
Her patience finally ran out.
“Chief Eunuch, you tell it.”
The freshly opened memorial was closed again.
Fang Jinxian complied and calmly narrated how Guan Zhong assisted Duke Huan of Qi step by step to achieve dominance. His voice was steady, precise, and unhurried.
Only after finishing did he look at Yu Qijian.
“Duke Huan of Qi set aside past grievances and appointed Guan Zhong, who had once tried to kill him, as chancellor. In the end, he achieved hegemony. This is called: employing without doubt, doubting without use. What does Your Highness think—why did Guan Zhong earn such trust?”
Yu Qijian no longer pretended ignorance. She replied flatly, “Because Guan Zhong, from beginning to end, was loyal only to Duke Huan of Qi. Not to former masters, not to personal gain, not to posthumous reputation. All his thoughts, talents, and strategies were devoted solely to making Duke Huan of Qi a true hegemon.”
Fang Jinxian raised his brows slightly, momentarily silent.
He then noticed that the Empress Dowager’s face had gone pale, drained of its earlier color. Even her posture had loosened.
He was about to ask if she was unwell when Yu Qijian supported her lower back and sat down in a nearby chair.
“My back hurts. Please forgive me, Teacher.”
Fu Zhong nodded lightly, offered a few polite remarks, and advised her to see a physician while still young so it would not become a chronic illness. Yu Qijian acknowledged it.
Fang Jinxian said nothing.
Fu Zhong glanced at him, then said, “Today’s lesson ends here. Chief Eunuch may continue as he pleases.”
He took his leave without hesitation.
Once he was gone, the hall fell into a suffocating silence.
Zhao Yan, while practicing his writing, secretly glanced at Yu Qijian.
She was looking at him.
Then she spoke calmly, “Does His Majesty recognize this dowager as Mother Empress now?”
The sudden question left Zhao Yan speechless. He turned instinctively toward Fang Jinxian for help.
Yu Qijian’s voice carried a faint pressure. “I am asking you.”
She was completely different from the gentle woman who had told stories the night before.
Zhao Yan stiffened his small face and replied formally, “Since you are Father Emperor’s empress, you are naturally my Mother Empress.”
“Then why have you never called me that?”
“……”
Zhao Yan turned his head away and said nothing.
Yu Qijian’s gaze shifted to Fang Jinxian.
“Chief Eunuch is implying that I should wholeheartedly assist His Majesty. But that requires His Majesty’s willingness as well. ‘When a ruler treats his ministers as limbs, the ministers treat the ruler as their heart.’ I only wonder—what do you and His Majesty truly want? A real mother… or a puppet with no thoughts behind the curtain?”
She had laid everything bare.
She stood and walked to the desk, sitting across from Fang Jinxian in a position of negotiation.
“You want His Majesty to become a wise ruler. I only want to live comfortably in this position. As for what my maternal clan plots, I have no interest. Yet it seems Chief Eunuch is very dissatisfied with that.”
Fang Jinxian leaned back, resting his arms on the chair, lazily turning the jade ring on his finger. His gaze assessed her openly.
“Supreme goodness is like water… water benefits all things and does not compete… it dwells in places others disdain, and thus is close to the Dao. These past few days, I have been like water flowing downward, not competing in anything. Yet I have not gained the peace I wanted. Instead, I seem to have amused Chief Eunuch. Now that I am brought here for inspection, are you waiting to see when I can no longer keep up the act?”
Fang Jinxian’s eyes curved slightly. “Continue.”
Yu Qijian felt irritation surge.
On a negotiation table, and you’re acting like the client?
She hated clients.
But beneath the irritation was something heavier—an oppressive, nauseating suffocation, like wearing a soaked cotton coat that clung to every inch of skin.
She remembered the first time she saw Fang Jinxian: he had surrounded the Palace of Eternal Peace with men, claiming there were thieves in the palace who stole human skin to make lanterns.
One night she got up and ate roast chicken. The next day he came to mock her, calling her heartless, saying she had feasted like a starving ghost only days after the Late Emperor’s death.
Later, he saw her climbing an apricot tree and immediately ordered it cut down to prevent wild cats from breaking their necks.
Nothing about him had ever been normal. Everything was either a threat or deliberate provocation, watching her performance with amused interest.
And now she knew even what she said in her own chambers was completely monitored.
In modern terms, this was a full-blown paranoid controlling freak—and she would have called the police.
This was not the life Yu Qijian wanted.
One minute ago, she had even considered cooperating with Fang Jinxian, jointly supporting the young emperor.
Now, under that evaluating gaze—as if she were a piece of merchandise being appraised—she was done.
Her miserable twenty-year modern life had already ended abruptly in a tiny eighty-square-meter rented apartment. She had long been exhausted of a life where she could never rise, constantly strangled by existence itself.
The Yu Clan was powerful. The original owner’s grandfather had students everywhere; her uncle was Grand Tutor; her brother was Vice Minister of Revenue; her father held the title Duke of Imperial Grace.
The new emperor had just ascended the throne. The court was unstable. Fang Jinxian would not risk unnecessary trouble.
If she turned against him, she would still be safe—for now.
After careful consideration, Yu Qijian flipped the table.
“Fang Jinxian.”
It was the first time she called him by his full name. Her voice was soft, but it was laced with ice.
“Do you know what I hate most about you?”
Fang Jinxian’s hand, which had been turning the jade ring, stopped.