Ever since she managed to get herself onto a work-one-day, rest-one-day schedule, Song Ying had even started grumbling about that damned emperor less often in her head.
Her immediate superior was an easygoing Bodhisattva, while her newly arrived coworker was an extreme introvert who could barely say three sentences in an entire day.
This workplace environment was practically heaven.
But a life of comfort was nothing more than a sugar-coated bullet.
It wasn’t until she changed into her winter palace uniform that Song Ying belatedly remembered her plan to go home.
In the original novel, Li Jingrong’s next encounter with Emperor Yongzhao took place in winter.
After realizing that she couldn’t defeat the villain, Li Jingrong disguised herself as an imperial kitchen eunuch and poisoned that damned emperor during his birthday banquet.
The important thing was—
Who the hell reads a novel and remembers a villain’s birthday?!
Song Ying had absolutely no idea what month or day it was!
She could only infer from the author’s descriptions of the surroundings and the characters’ clothing that it happened sometime in winter.
And now, winter had already arrived.
The plan had to be put into action immediately.
Although Li Jingrong’s bowl of poisoned soup wouldn’t kill that damned emperor, it would be enough to cripple most of his martial arts cultivation and throw the palace into chaos.
Taking advantage of the disorder, the male and female leads would escape by hiding inside a swill cart.
Surely it wouldn’t be too much for her to squeeze herself into a barrel beside them?
Song Ying had already thought it all through.
If the male and female leads could crawl in there, why couldn’t she?
The plan was flawless. The greatest obstacle was—
The male and female leads had no parents and no family. Once they ran away, they were gone.
But if she ran away, what if that damned emperor issued a kill order?
Song Ying was grinding ink.
Her fingertips held the inkstick as she moved it around and around in circles inside the inkstone.
At the thought, she became so nervous that the speed of her grinding unconsciously slowed.
Smack!
The vermilion brush was thrown heavily onto the brush rest.
“Song Ying!”
Emperor Yongzhao shot Song Ying an irritated sideways glance.
She was grinding the ink slower and slower. Who knew what she was thinking about?
These days, she slept well and ate well. Although she wasn’t permitted to practice calligraphy or painting in her free time, he had even allowed her to amuse herself with needlework.
What else could she possibly be dissatisfied with?!
The sharp reprimand startled Song Ying.
When she met Emperor Yongzhao’s angry eyes, she hurriedly looked away, wishing she could bury her entire head in the inkstone.
Did this damned emperor take the wrong medicine today?
Normally, he guarded those lousy memorials like they were his most precious treasures. Yet today, he had actually ordered someone to grind ink right beside him?
The sun really must have risen from the west.
Forget it, forget it.
Considering how ridiculously good her current employment benefits were, Song Ying immediately maxed out her professionalism.
Her hand sped up dramatically. Her movements were even, her posture textbook-perfect, and her technique extremely professional.
However, what Song Ying didn’t know was—
The moment she lowered her head, the nature of Emperor Yongzhao’s anger had already changed.
His gaze slowly moved downward from her startled face and settled on the hand turning continuously over the inkstone.
Her four fingers were slender and fair, her nails neatly trimmed into smooth curves, gleaming pale like the finest mutton-fat jade.
And yet those very hands were gripping a coarse inkstick, circling it again and again before him.
The contrast between her delicate skin and the pitch-black inkstick created a strange, mesmerizing image that refused to leave his mind.
Especially that slightly raised little finger.
Whether intentionally or not, with every movement, it seemed to pluck at the strings of his heart again and again.
Emperor Yongzhao’s Adam’s apple rolled.
She stood while he sat.
Her head was lowered, docile as an utterly defenseless lamb, completely unaware of the improper thoughts passing through his mind.
While he continued staring at her without restraint.
Breathing in her scent without restraint.
When she had stood beside the carved pillar, he couldn’t smell it.
When she moved closer to the imperial desk, he still couldn’t smell it.
Only now, after being ordered to grind ink, had she finally come to stand beside him.
That fragrance finally drifted into his nose, thread by thread.
—At last, he could smell it.
Emperor Yongzhao closed his eyes and nearly let out a sigh of satisfaction.
His gaze returned to her hand, tracing each joint of her fingers as his thoughts began drifting somewhere they shouldn’t.
The thought alone left him restless, and even his breathing grew heavier.
The sky gradually darkened, and candle flames flickered inside the hall.
The dim golden glow happened to fall across the strip of pale skin exposed at the back of Song Ying’s neck as she lowered her head, making it look as though a layer of honey had been brushed over porcelain.
He was still somewhat dissatisfied.
She was standing too far away.
An even fiercer, more primal impulse slammed violently against his reason.
He wanted to move closer.
Far too close.
Crack!
Something snapped.
Song Ying jolted in shock and turned around in astonishment.
Only to collide directly with a pair of beastlike eyes.
Those eyes were filled with such intense emotion that it looked as though he might devour her alive.
The vermilion brush that had been forcibly snapped in two slipped from between his fingers.
Song Ying: !
Her heart skipped half a beat in that instant.
She knew exactly what kind of look that was.
It was the gaze of a predator locking onto its prey.
Something primitive and dangerous.
But in this world, she was only sixteen years old.
She wasn’t married yet, which meant there were things she shouldn’t understand.
And she absolutely had to act as though she understood nothing at all.
If he saw through her, she would be in serious trouble.
Song Ying blinked.
The terror in her eyes instantly disappeared, replaced by innocent confusion, and a timid, puzzled expression appeared on her face.
That Oscar Best Actress-level performance finally helped the out-of-control beast recover a shred of reason.
Emperor Yongzhao’s chest rose and fell violently, as though trying to conceal his earlier loss of composure.
Taking the opportunity, he lashed out.
“Impudent! Behaving improperly before the emperor, why aren’t you—leaving!”
The word scram had already reached his lips, only to be swallowed back down.
Even he froze for a moment.
Song Ying froze too.
But she quickly reacted—
This meant she was getting off work early!
The abacus in her head started clacking furiously.
Taking one scolding in exchange for leaving early?
What an absolute steal!
Hiding the wild delight in her eyes, Song Ying curtsied and withdrew.
Watching her flee in apparent panic, Emperor Yongzhao leaned back against the dragon chair, feeling both relieved and endlessly empty.
He closed his eyes.
The restlessness in his body, which he had only just forcibly suppressed, began clamoring again.
He was already irritable beyond measure when a conversation at the entrance to the hall made his entire body tense once more.
Song Ying had finished duty early today.
She had barely reached the front of the hall when a timid figure stepped into her path.
Song Ying recognized her.
That Miss Fu.
Apparently, she was a spy planted in the palace by the powerful minister Gao Boshen.
The two of them often encountered each other while on duty, but both had tacitly maintained a distant politeness.
Fu Lanyue always kept her eyes lowered.
As for Song Ying, she simply didn’t want to get involved with anyone who might bring trouble.
Better to have one less problem than one more.
Song Ying was just about to step around her when the other woman spoke first.
“Sister Song.”
Song Ying turned back in confusion.
“Miss Fu, is something the matter?”
Sensing the slight stiffness in Song Ying’s attitude, Fu Lanyue bit her lower lip before taking something from inside her robes and holding it out in her palm.
“This… I found it beneath the covered corridor a few days ago. I thought about it for quite some time, but there wasn’t really anyone else around, so… could Sister have dropped it?”
It was a decorative knot.
Light green.
Inside the hall, Emperor Yongzhao’s breath abruptly caught.
Song Ying looked slightly startled and instinctively reached into her sleeve—
Sure enough, it was empty.
She must have been walking too quickly one day and accidentally dropped it.
“…Thank you for going to the trouble, Miss Fu.”
She reached out, accepted the decorative knot, and tucked it into her robes.
No—
No—!
Her decorative knot was clearly still with him!
Emperor Yongzhao pulled a light-green knotted cord from the inner pocket of his robes.
The stitching wasn’t very good, making it look somewhat crude.
It was the decorative knot he had secretly kept so he could smell her scent.