Shang Fuqu quietly summed things up and reached a conclusion.
The Son of Heaven was a workaholic, and nine times out of ten, a resentful soul full of grievances.
Key warning: she must not crawl around lurking in some dark corner with her hair loose, lest she scare him.
“His Majesty is afraid of ghosts?”
“Now that’s a thing to say, my lady.” Xing’er denied it without a moment’s thought. “His Majesty is the Son of Heaven, protected by a true dragon—how could he possibly fear such things? Besides, that serving girl the Empress Dowager sent over was a beauty chosen after a thousand screenings. She was also tutored for months by the madame in charge of bedding duties. One glance at her could melt half your bones.”
So no matter how twisted his thought process, it didn’t diminish her beauty.
Any normal person who lifted the covers and saw such a ravishing beauty would be stunned by her loveliness.
Unfortunately, Lu Huai’s thought process was even more twisted.
Not pretty—ghost.
Pretty—seductive ghost.
…
The hand-copied scriptures sent to Shou’an Palace had greatly pleased the Empress Dowager.
It seemed that most victors of palace intrigue, after fighting for half their lives and entering their Buddhist retirement phase, all developed this same plain, unadorned hobby—worshipping Buddha.
The Victorious Fighting Buddha.
Even the palace servants of Shou’an Palace had kind, gentle faces.
“My lady, Her Majesty the Empress Dowager heard that you’ve been studying diligently lately, so she sent you this gift.”
A double-sided rattan cooling pillow, edged with begonia patterns embroidered in gold thread—comfortable both to rest on and lean against. The two serving girls’ faces were beaming with joy, but Shang Fuqu’s smile was strained.
This meant they were preparing her for long-term suffering…
With no additional tasks assigned, she finally, haltingly, finished memorizing the rest of the Three Character Classic. The setting sun melted like gold, and evening clouds gathered on all sides. Before she could even drink a cup of tea and catch her breath, Xiaodie came hurrying in, lifting her skirts, her steps rushed.
“My lady, Dong Meiren is here!”
“Dong Meiren?”
Shang Fuqu froze for a moment, then remembered that was the consort she’d clashed with earlier. She waved her fan. “I won’t see her. Just tell her it’s hot today, and being new to the capital, I haven’t adjusted to the water and soil—I’ve suffered heatstroke and have already retired to rest.”
“Very well, I’ll go deliver the message right away!”
The moment Xiaodie left, Xing’er leaned in anxiously. “My lady, that excuse is a bit too perfunctory… Dong Meiren probably won’t believe it.”
The Son of Heaven had kept his lamp burning and stayed the night three nights in a row.
But the moment Dong Meiren came calling, she was suddenly unwell and needed to rest. Such an almost laughably clumsy excuse—anyone could see through it.
“And if she believes it, will she stop coming?”
Her slender fingers slowly smoothed out the crumpled corner of her book. Shang Fuqu’s tone was mild. “No matter what I say, she’s determined to pounce on me anyway. I’m the lowest-ranked lady-in-waiting, and her rank is higher than mine—if I can avoid her, I’ll avoid her for now.”
Clashing head-on would only end in bloodshed.
That was a lesson her mother had taught her since childhood.
Xing’er seemed to want to say something more, but glancing at her calm expression and remembering her earlier warning, she ultimately swallowed her words.
The imperial palace had always been a place that devoured people.
Soft flesh and bones were easily gnawed away completely.
A full cup of tea’s worth of time passed before Xiaodie returned. Her whole face was twisted in frustration—clearly that Dong Meiren had dragged things out for a long while and wasn’t easy to send off.
“My lady, from the look of her, she’ll come again. You didn’t see how politely she smiled—not a trace of her earlier arrogance. She’s a clever one.”
But Shang Fuqu merely smiled. “If she were truly clever, she wouldn’t have come at this particular juncture.” The words “a weasel paying New Year’s respects to a hen—with no good intentions” were practically written across her face.
Who would want to bother with her?
“Forget about her.” Having finished reciting the Three Character Classic, Shang Fuqu felt as if she’d shed a heavy suit of armor, light and easy all over.
“What’s for dinner tonight?”
…
[Three Character Classic completed √]
[This year’s natural disaster index: 40%]
A mechanical, peculiar voice sounded from deep within her mind, and the red bar representing the disaster index instantly dropped by a considerable amount.
Lu Huai, however, paused, his long brows knitting slightly.
He began seriously pondering whether there had been any improprieties in the years since his ascension—otherwise, why would Heaven’s intent to send down calamity as punishment be so high?
With nearly half the chance of disaster still remaining, the memorials in his hands suddenly became impossible to work through.
[Current task: Study the Four Books and Five Classics, and the disaster probability will drop to zero.]
The System even added a sincere reminder.
[Your Majesty, to build a better Great Chen, you must keep up the good work.]
“Someone come!”
Usually he would stay in the Xuanshi Hall until the lamps were lit, reluctant to leave. Today’s sudden shout startled Qi so badly outside the hall that he jolted, hurriedly straightened his askew hat, bowed, and stepped inside.
“Your Majesty…”
“Wrap up all of the Four Books and Five Classics.”
To build a better Great Chen, Lady Shang had to keep up the good work!
…
Unprecedented. Utterly unheard of.
Lu Huai left early.
He personally carried that string of books to Hanlan Pavilion, striding along at a rapid pace, his wide sleeves trailing in the wind, his aura impossible to suppress.
Qi, trotting along behind him, felt his heart rise to his throat. Even with his brain racing at top speed, he couldn’t guess what was going on.
The young emperor was tall and long-legged. The moment he stepped through the door, Shang Fuqu was sitting there happily slurping up a sheet of rice noodle, the System’s mental screen still scrolling through that book.
She looked up and met the Son of Heaven’s gaze head-on, her eyes going instantly round.
For some reason, Lu Huai thought of the kitten from his childhood that would bolt at the sight of strangers beneath the palace walls—it had the same reaction.
“C-cough, cough cough… This concubine greets—cough, cough—greets Your Majesty…” The radish stick was stuck in her throat, and wave after wave of spiciness made her nose sting.
Shang Fuqu practically slid down off her seat, stubbornly finishing her greeting between coughs.
The young emperor had a strong sense of propriety.
That was the only bad thing about him—every time he came, he never sent word ahead.
Seeing her cough until her face was flushed red, tears welling in her eyes, looking truly pitiful, Lu Huai couldn’t help frowning. He gestured to the two maids kneeling behind him. “Why haven’t you helped your lady up and poured her a cup of tea?”
The Four Books and Five Classics were waiting—if she coughed herself sick, what then?
A cup of cool tea washed down, dousing the fire in her throat. Shang Fuqu held the empty cup, stood there, and forced out a smile. “…Why has Your Majesty come?”
For the past several nights he had rested here every evening, and before sleep he would watch her the way an immortal alchemist watches a furnace, insisting she finish reciting that Three Character Classic.
She had finally endured until it was over, thinking she could rest for a few days and catch her breath.
And now, he’d come even earlier!
Lu Huai’s gaze was drawn to the bowl of bright red liangpi on the table.
To extend his uptime, the emperor’s diet consisted mostly of bland food. Though the effect seemed minimal, he still dropped dead just the same.
But in Great Chen, slenderness was considered beautiful. Successive emperors’ harems, in pursuit of that ethereal, fairy-like appearance, would gladly gnaw on raw cabbage at every meal.
Thus the eastern kitchens strove in that direction too.
Something this obviously spicy and stimulating—no need to guess, Shang Fuqu must have ordered it herself.
He stared a little too long, and Xing’er behind him quietly tugged at Shang Fuqu’s hem. On a sudden inspiration, the latter extended an invitation to share a meal.
“Has Your Majesty had dinner yet?”
Lu Huai froze.
Ever since he had finished his schooling, he had only ever shared a table with his mother, the Empress…
“Then let’s set another place at the table.”