On the Lantern Festival, the Emperor, as usual, went to the central palace to accompany the Empress.
Not required to follow, Song Shutang returned to her room and continued with her needlework.
It was only after serving in the Imperial Presence that she learned palace maids did not need to do their own needlework—anything required within their allotted provisions would be prepared by the embroidery workshop.
Back in the Yeting, with limited resources, she sometimes had to make small items and ask young eunuchs to take them out of the palace to sell. Usually, she had to mend her own clothes, whether they were too long or too short.
Now, although it was no longer necessary, she still kept herself busy. In her hands was a pouch nearing completion.
Made of black fabric, it featured a dragon soaring into the sky. Her needlework was exquisite, and the auspicious dragon seemed to come alive under her skilled hands.
Although the Emperor treated her coldly, he had not issued an edict forbidding her from serving in the Imperial Presence, which suggested he still had some interest in her.
However, apart from testing her that one day, the Emperor had not made any further advances. Song Shutang guessed that perhaps the Emperor was waiting for her to take the initiative.
But she understood this principle well: things obtained too easily are never cherished.
She took a deep breath, reminding herself not to rush.
Meanwhile, in Chongqian Palace.
The hall was as quiet as ever. Pei Hengyu leaned against the headboard, holding a military strategy book in his hands.
The Empress removed her hairpins and ornaments, letting her long black hair cascade freely. Dressed in red sleeping robes, she approached and stopped about three feet away from Pei Hengyu, her voice still gentle and calm.
“Your Majesty, I shall retire first.”
The red candles cast a dim light, but there was no hint of intimacy in the hall. Pei Hengyu glanced up for a moment before lowering his eyes to continue reading. “Rest well.”
Jiang Xuewen, however, did not move. After a brief moment of thought, she spoke softly:
“Today, Neishi Hall presented the list and portraits of candidates for the Imperial Selection. Tomorrow, I will have someone send them to the Imperial Presence for Your Majesty’s review.”
“I will send someone to fetch them tomorrow.”
Jiang Xuewen did not argue with him, nodding slightly. “Then I shall take my leave.”
With that, she walked toward the opposite side of the bed, where a slightly smaller single couch was prepared with pillows and bedding. Jiang Xuewen naturally extinguished the candles nearest to her, leaving those on Pei Hengyu’s side lit.
The hall returned to silence, with a clear boundary between light and shadow. Both of them were evidently accustomed to this arrangement.
Page by page, Pei Hengyu turned the military strategy book. When the candles were about to burn out, they were extinguished, and Pei Hengyu closed his eyes to sleep.
In the pitch darkness, the scene shifted with the play of light and shadow, returning to the Imperial Study.
Instead of the usual ambergris incense, the room was filled with a heart-racing fragrance. A woman’s delicate, fair wrist rested on his arm, then moved to his shoulder, and finally settled around his neck.
Her touch was warm, her fingers lightly caressing the skin of his neck. Her beautiful face wore a cunning and alluring expression, her lips slightly parted as she whispered “Your Majesty” in his ear.
On the imperial desk, usually piled with memorials and scholarly treasures, everything had now been swept aside. He reached out, wrapping an arm around her slender, soft waist, and with a single motion, effortlessly lifted her into his arms.
The woman’s breath was like orchids, her eyes filled with springtime allure. Her clothes had already been disheveled in their earlier movements. Pei Hengyu’s gaze deepened, his knuckles flexing slightly as he slowly undid her garments.
With each layer of clothing loosened, the woman’s pale, cool skin trembled a little more.
She took the initiative to extend her arms, wrapping them around his neck, and brought her cherry-like lips close, starting from his chin with light pecks, moving upward along his cheek, past his temple, finally stopping at his earlobe.
Her pink tongue gently licked as if savoring a delicacy.
Pei Hengyu’s eyes darkened, and in an instant, he shifted from passive to active, leaning over.
… Thin smoke rose steadily from the Suanni incense burner, blurring all the lingering intimacy.
The woman’s soft, seductive calls of “Pei Lang” echoed like spring birds, enchanting and alluring.
The next day, before dawn broke, Pei Hengyu awoke as usual, feeling the stickiness on his undergarments, and paused in his movement to rise.
He lifted his head, scanning every corner of the room, confirming that he was in the Empress’s bedchamber.
Memories of the absurd yet vivid dream flooded back.
The woman’s tender, fair arms;
Her slender, pink legs bending and stretching at the waist;
Her curled, glistening toes…
And amidst her fragmented sobs, the clear and audible address.
… Pei Lang.
Pei Hengyu pulled the quilt back over himself and shut his eyes tightly.
Outside the room, the palace maid on night duty at Chongqian Palace heard faint sounds from within and softly inquired:
“Your Majesty, may this servant enter?”
After a few tense moments of silence, the Emperor’s cold voice replied:
“Lu Ping.”
On the way from Chongqian Palace to the Imperial Presence, Pei Hengyu remained stern-faced.
Lu Ping stood by, holding his breath, not daring to speak. Having served the Emperor for so many years, this was the first time he had encountered such a situation.
Ahem.
The Emperor and the Empress had long slept separately, yet unexpectedly…
Unaware of Lu Ping’s thoughts, the Emperor’s entire demeanor was shrouded in an extremely low pressure.
After the morning court session, the Emperor received ministers in the Imperial Study.
Once official matters were concluded, the Emperor kept Li Qianyi behind. “Stay and play a few rounds of chess with me.”
Li Qianyi bowed. “As you wish, though I must admit I have been neglecting practice these days.”
The matter of refugees in the outskirts of the capital had infuriated Pei Hengyu, and Li Qianyi, tasked with handling it, had devoted most of his energy to the issue.
As a piece was placed, the Emperor said, “It matters not.”
Li Qianyi fell silent, occasionally responding when the Emperor spoke. But as the game neared its end, he was somewhat surprised.
He had won.
It was not due to any exceptional skill on his part, but rather because his opponent today was far from his usual form. Even when Li Qianyi intentionally made a misstep midway, the Emperor failed to notice.
The Emperor himself was well aware of his uncharacteristic demeanor today. In truth, it was not such a grave matter—he had experienced similar moments in his youth before marriage. Yet today, the subject of his thoughts…
Just as he pondered this, a series of gentle knocks sounded at the door, followed by light footsteps entering.
As a familiar scent wafted into his nostrils, the Emperor’s hand hesitated slightly while placing a piece, only to hear Li Qianyi’s refined voice utter a word of thanks.
Pei Hengyu looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of the woman retreating. Though it lasted only a few seconds, Li Qianyi across from him observed it all.
No wonder, he thought. Having served the Emperor since his days as a prince, this was the first time he had seen a personal palace maid attending in such proximity.
The Emperor did not speak of it, and Li Qianyi knew better than to ask.
Nevertheless, he formed a judgment in his mind. The Emperor had always been a man of principle; this woman must possess something rather special.
The aroma of tea filled the room as both men refocused their attention on the chessboard. When the noon meal arrived, the Emperor invited Minister Li to dine in the palace before allowing him to depart.
After a brief half-hour rest, the Emperor returned to the Imperial Study.
Song Shutang waited outside the hall. Generally speaking, she had no particular tasks to attend to. Unless the Emperor gave additional orders, her duties were limited to brewing and serving tea.
These past few days, the tea had been brewed with the freshest snow water she collected early in the morning from the imperial garden.
The Emperor had not commented further, so she assumed he was satisfied. Just as she was thinking this, Pei Hengyu’s figure appeared inside.
She quickly cut off her thoughts, rose, and pushed the door open. Today, she wore a bluish-green winter outfit, its light hue reminiscent of moss reflecting sunlight on a lake—fresh and strikingly beautiful.
Pei Hengyu watched her approach. Every smile, every movement adhered to propriety, utterly unlike the boldness of the woman in his dreams.
Song Shutang bowed in greeting and asked, “Does Your Majesty have any instructions?”
The person behind the imperial desk remained silent. Song Shutang held her breath for a few moments, noticing the gaze fixed upon her had not shifted. She pursed her lips and mustered the courage to look up.
“Your Majesty?”
The woman’s eyes held only simple confusion.
Pei Hengyu motioned for her to come closer.
Such a situation had occurred before. Unprepared, Song Shutang obediently walked over and stopped at the foot of the white jade platform.
“Come up.”
The Emperor’s thoughts were inscrutable. Song Shutang had too little experience dealing with him, and trying to discern his intentions from just a few words was exceedingly difficult.
She lowered her head, stepped onto the platform, and stopped at the corner of the imperial desk.
Pei Hengyu said nothing.
The next moment, Song Shutang felt a chill on the right side of her neck. With a tearing sound, her clothing was ripped open by an external force.
She stifled a gasp, panic-stricken, and knelt abruptly on the floor.
“Your Majesty!”
On her slender, pale right shoulder, there was indeed a dark red blood mole.
She dared not move, her entire body rigid as she knelt, trembling slightly.
“Enough. Why are you crying?”
His voice was somewhat cold. He grabbed a nearby black cloak and threw it over her, covering the exposed skin.
Wasn’t she the one who provoked him first?
Yet now she was so timid.
The cloak was filled with his scent. Song Shutang even softened her breathing as she reached out to hold the cloak. “Your Majesty, please forgive me.”
“This servant was frightened.”
She did have such intentions, but his sudden, rough actions had been beyond her expectations—so abrupt and forceful.
She had no control over the situation. What if he took even more inappropriate steps next?
Before Pei Hengyu, he was the butcher’s knife, and she was the fish on the chopping block.
This belated realization brought a sting to her eyes.
“With such little courage, how dare you provoke me?”
He applied slight pressure, gripping her chin and forcing her to look up slightly. Clear tears hung on the verge of falling from her reddened eyes. Suddenly, he released his grip.
“Get out.”
Lu Ping, returning from outside, saw Miss Song emerge from the Imperial Study wrapped in the Emperor’s cloak, her steps unusually hurried.
He stopped in disbelief, blinked, and looked again—indeed, he had not been mistaken.
Oh, in broad daylight… He had no time to sigh or lament. Cautiously, he entered the study.
First, he held his breath. Aside from the scent of ambergris incense, there was nothing else. His anxious heart settled slightly, and he walked further in.
“Your Majesty, this servant just saw Miss Song—”
“Silence.”
He had lost his senses, allowing himself to lose composure over such a matter.
“This servant spoke out of turn. Your Majesty, please forgive me.”
Outside the Imperial Study, at the corner of the rockery, Ziyun watched the figure of the woman emerging from within, her steps just about to move forward were abruptly withdrawn.
That was… undoubtedly the newly arrived palace maid in the Imperial Presence.
Her expression shifted slightly as she turned and headed back to Zhongcui Palace.