The Emperor Linhui raised his hand and tapped her head. “From now on, you will stay in the Changsheng Hall.”
“Your Majesty…” Jing Miaoyi hurriedly rose and knelt. “I wish to return to Qingzhou.”
The Emperor’s gaze darkened. The cold aura of a ruler pressed upon her, one hand easily grasping her delicate wrists.
“Your Majesty…” she tried to step back in fear, but was effortlessly drawn closer.
Her cherry-like lips were full and moist, and the Emperor’s gaze lingered there.
Such a beautiful mouth, yet she never spoke a word.
The Emperor’s phoenix-like eyes glimmered with a dangerous light. Looking at the beauty’s flustered yet stubborn face, his thin lips curved into a perilous arc. His voice was low and magnetic: “The women I favor have only two fates: either they enter the palace or they meet a violent end. Choose, Jing Miaoyi.”
The emperor’s sandalwood scent pressed against her, leaving her breathless as he drew near for a kiss.
“Your Majesty… no…” Jing Miaoyi turned her head to avoid his lips, exposing the white curve of her neck.
“Why?” the Emperor chuckled softly, burying his face in her neck. The heat of his breath made her body tremble.
“The rules of the Jing family forbid marrying merchants; I cannot be a concubine.”
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. He rose and sat her in his lap, studying the woman before him.
The woman in his arms carried no seductive airs—she was as ethereal and clear as a sky-blue porcelain vase, gentle and refined like jade.
Even with tears in her eyes, she cried with dignity and restraint.
A high-born lady like this should be uninteresting, yet beneath that pure face lay a body that stirred desire.
Unquestionably, this Emperor felt greed awaken.
He disliked complications. After all, he had just made her husband a Ministry of Personnel official, forced him to divorce her, and then seized his wife.
It hardly sounded respectable when told to others.
Yet she always came to him, scratching at his heart like a cat.
He was the Emperor—why should he restrain himself?
Such brazen acts were not for a wise and respected emperor.
Jing Miaoyi could clearly see hesitation in his eyes. A little indulgence might be fine, but too much would be harmful.
She would not let the Emperor be clouded by lust.
Thus, she could not let him easily claim her, lest she be no different from the concubines waiting to be chosen in the harem.
She needed the Emperor’s special attention, to safeguard what was done for her.
She struggled slightly to leave, but the Emperor held her waist firmly, his eyes fixed on her.
“You Jing family from Qingzhou are always troublesome,” the young Emperor said, as if making a decisive resolution. “The Empress has done no wrong these years. I have no reason to depose her.”
“Then I will decree your expulsion from the Jing family and grant you a royal surname.”
A genius, indeed—never complaining about the environment, gaining two benefits at once.
Absurd, completely absurd.
Only an Emperor could speak this way, giving desire without consequence.
He satisfied himself while she was still supposed to feel grateful.
After taking power, the Emperor had ruthlessly eliminated three regents—how could his heart be warm?
The Emperor was the most calculating man under heaven.
Jing Miaoyi freed herself from his embrace and resolutely knelt before him, her back straight, eyes resolute. “Your Majesty, I have lived half a life like a floating silk, with no support. My only longing now is home.
“If Your Majesty even strips me of this last thought, then my life here is but a walking corpse. I beg Your Majesty’s mercy, pity me. But if you insist, I ask only for death.”
“No…” Emperor Linhui quickly stood, hands on his hips. “What has happened to you?”
“Jing Miaoyi, do not overreach,” the Emperor was stunned. “You claim the Jing rules forbid concubinage, the Empress has no fault, yet you want me to depose her? Have you considered the consequences from the Wang family? This is for your own good.”
“For my good”—how she loathed that phrase now.
Once, Emperor Taizong had overruled objections to make Gaozu’s consort the Empress. Now, the Emperor wished to depose and replace her—what of it?
Yet Jing Miaoyi never wanted the Empress title. She only wished to use the Emperor’s power for her own protection.
“I never sought to enter the palace, nor to become the Empress. What I desire is only to grow old with one devoted heart.
“Now that Shen Lang has abandoned me, I have no standing in the capital. The Duke of Zhenguo eyes me with lust. I only wish to return to Qingzhou.”
“You claim you never wished to enter the palace, nor to be my Empress!”
The Emperor erupted, his calm hall now filled with the sound of his frustration.
“Jing Miaoyi—”
The Emperor glared coldly at her.
She must be acting, pretending indifference on purpose.
He was the youngest, most capable Emperor since the founding of Da Qian, inheriting the beauty of his mother, as handsome as Pan An, refined and majestic.
Which woman would not dream of his favor?
By opposing others here, she aimed to pique his interest.
Was he so shallow? Jing Miaoyi had gone too far.
Yet he saw her furrowed brow, tears welling in her almond eyes, lips tightly pressed, evoking pity.
He had not scolded her—why was she crying?
Enough. As an insightful Emperor, he should teach this naive woman a lesson.
But even steel has tenderness; he could not be heartless.
“I only suggested it,” he murmured, “anyone unaware would think me a tyrant, oppressing the people.”
A beauty’s tears were a sharp weapon.
Yet as a just Emperor, law and sentiment were intertwined—he had not fallen for a beauty’s scheme.
Still, who could resist a soft-hearted ruler?
“There is a house in Changle Lane, originally your Jing family’s.”
Jing Miaoyi looked up, meeting the Emperor’s compromising gaze. “Jing Miaoyi, the women I favor can never leave. Since you do not wish to enter the palace, then remain there. Qingzhou? Forget it.”
An Emperor doing this—truly a first.
Indeed, he was too kind.
Jing Miaoyi’s eyes reddened, tears welling before she could speak. She clutched her handkerchief tightly. “Your Majesty, I have a maid who has accompanied me since childhood, remaining at the Duke of Zhenguo’s residence.
“I am no longer a member of the Shen family. Returning there is improper. I beg Your Majesty to have my maid leave the Duke’s residence.”
Her words were reasonable.
Yet the Emperor could not bear them.
He lifted her chin. “Jing Miaoyi, I see that you truly push your luck.”
“Your Majesty, I—I dare not.”
“Dare not? I see you as bold and reckless.”
To refuse me repeatedly, and still seek a favor—there is no logic like this.
Wait…
He suspected he was being tricked.
This woman was deceiving him.
“Jing Miaoyi, I feel cheated. You refuse the palace—why should I help you? What do I gain?”
Her silk attire, pale and elegant, embroidered with white jade orchids, reflected dappled light across her face.
Tears clung to her long curled lashes.
She gazed at him devoutly, eyes as clear as winter snow, pure and untainted.
She removed the jade pendant from her neck, hands clasped. “Your Majesty, you rise early and sleep late for the welfare of the Da Qian people. You are a rare Emperor in the hearts of the common people.
“All that You do benefits both the present and the future. I possess nothing, only wishing Your Majesty health and longevity. I pray daily before the Bodhisattva for Your Majesty’s eternal life, and for Da Qian’s peace through the ages.”
Her delicate voice was unwavering.
He had heard countless flattering words, yet hearing hers made his heart skip a beat.
How could she speak such words?
Jing Miaoyi, you truly ensnare hearts, no wonder my ministers act with force on your behalf.
The Emperor reached out. Jing Miaoyi hesitated, then slowly placed her hand in his. Their hearts fluttered at the touch.
She tried to withdraw, but he held on, rotating her delicate hand, sliding to her wrist, and lifting her up.
“The Bodhisattva cannot help you—only I can.”
His phoenix-like eyes fixed on her, thumb brushing her smooth wrist, feeling her pulse quicken.
“Return now.”
“Your servant thanks Your Majesty’s grace.”
Li Dequan watched Jing Miaoyi leave, eyes wide in shock. The Emperor… just let Miss Jing go?
Something was very wrong.
After all that effort to restore her freedom, she was simply released?
Men, once they get what they want, grow bored.
Poor Miss Jing—she would gain nothing.
Outside the palace gates.
“Miaoyi, what did His Majesty say? Did he vindicate you?”
“Sister Zhao, you’ve waited long. Let’s go back first.”
“Going back is fine, we can talk in the carriage.”
“What!” Zhao Jia jumped up, bumping her head on the carriage roof, tears welling in her eyes.
“Be careful, Sister Zhao,” Jing Miaoyi quickly steadied her.
“This is outrageous. No wonder the Emperor wouldn’t let me in—he feared I’d cause a scene in the Changsheng Hall.
“Can this Emperor still be fair? The Duke of Zhenguo has merits, but so what? Even the Emperor must abide by Da Qian law.”
“He gives you a house to pacify you, just to shut you up. He takes all the good things for himself.”
Zhao Jia’s anger grew, wishing to storm back and berate the Emperor.
Jing Miaoyi pulled her gently. “Sister Zhao, it’s fine. Making a scene benefits no one.”
True, but frustrating nonetheless.
They arrived, Zhao Jia still fuming. Seeing the house, she exclaimed, “Your Majesty, are you mad? You give her this ruin to settle her?”
The house, confiscated from an official, had been unsellable. Anyone angering the Emperor by touching a corrupt official’s home would pay dearly.
The property lay in decay, carrying a cold, abandoned air.
Grass in the courtyard grew taller than people.
Jing Miaoyi’s gaze darkened.
This house was prepared by her father, fearing she would be mistreated after marrying in the capital, having no place to go.
Yet her father never anticipated the broken engagement between the Cui and Jing families, and this house became evidence of his embezzlement.