Chapter 14

The palace had been shaken by a scandal of poisoning the heir, a matter so grave that the emperor spent the entire night sleepless and restless.

After the morning court session, he felt overwhelmingly fatigued and intended to rest briefly, only to be summoned by the Empress Dowager’s attendants to the Palace of Compassion and Tranquility.

By the time he wearily returned, his mood soured; everything seemed displeasing, and he had no desire to discuss state affairs with his ministers. Instead, he retreated to the imperial study, dismissed everyone, and planned to leisurely peruse the memorials submitted to him.

He opened one at random and found nearly a thousand characters written in flowing script, yet the entire message boiled down to a single sentence: “Your Majesty, how are you?”

...Not especially well.

The emperor frowned, setting the memorial aside without even bothering to annotate it with his customary red ink.

He picked up another and endured his impatience to read on. The first third was formal greetings; then it shifted abruptly to an account of a torrential downpour underground, followed by news of an old monk’s passing on a certain mountain, and yet another death somewhere else.

The emperor was silent.

He checked the cover seals, then retrieved the earlier memorial to compare handwriting, discovering with displeasure that these two documents were penned by different individuals.

In other words, he had two ministers of such exceptional talent—akin to the legendary Zhuge Liang and Pang Tong.

His irritation surged to its peak.

With a grim expression, he swept all the scattered memorials from the desk to the floor.

Hearing the commotion, Liang Jiugong hurried in, clutching his feather duster. He bent to gather the fallen documents, cautiously observing the emperor’s face for any sign of displeasure.

After tidying the papers into neat stacks and placing them just out of the emperor’s reach, he tentatively suggested, “Your Majesty, I hear the flowers in the imperial garden have blossomed. Would you care to take a look?”

The emperor lifted his eyelids and fixed him with a cold glare.

Liang Jiugong immediately bowed his head and slapped his own cheeks twice, murmuring an apology for his misstep.

“Enough, I do not blame you,” the emperor replied, his handsome features still clouded with vexation.

Even he could not say exactly what troubled him.

After a moment’s reflection on the dragon throne, he asked, “Where is Guo Luoluo?”

Liang Jiugong hesitated slightly. “Your Majesty did not summon her today; she is probably resting in her chambers.”

Before he finished, the emperor rose abruptly. “Come, let us see.”

Liang Jiugong hurried to follow.

In the rear quarters, the guards and maids at the door were startled by the emperor’s arrival but quickly composed themselves to salute. The emperor sharply commanded silence, and all fell mute.

He motioned to Liang Jiugong, who immediately understood and stood perfectly still, holding his feather duster.

The emperor crept silently to Guo Luoluo’s door and pressed his ear to listen carefully.

As he proceeded, he gradually understood the source of his unrest: yesterday’s events had shaken him deeply. He could not fathom how the women of the harem wore such contrasting masks—

Outwardly delicate and vulnerable, yet ruthless and cold-hearted behind closed doors.

Seemingly devoted mothers, yet willing to use even their own children as pawns to topple rivals.

Some sisters called each other affectionate names daily, only to reveal colder-than-strangers demeanors when crises arose.

At least strangers would not seek to strike when one is down or seize advantage amidst chaos.

In times past, when troubled, he liked to invite Guo Luoluo to converse and lighten his spirits.

Yet today, for reasons unknown, a strange awkwardness stirred within him, prompting this secretive visit.

Inside, he heard two clear, lively female voices reciting a rhythmic chant:

“You pat one, I pat one, a little child wears a flowery dress.”

The emperor fell silent.

He listened for some time as the voices counted up to ten and back down, then switched to nonsense phrases like “malan flowers” and “two eight two five six”...

What on earth was this nonsense?

...Enough. No need to probe further.

He sighed wryly, then suddenly felt a release as if a tide of vexation washing over more than ten hours had ebbed away completely.

He smiled silently, lowered his gaze, and cast a long, deep look at Guo Luoluo’s window frame before turning away and departing.

Next, he visited the Palace of Prolonged Happiness to check on his eldest son, who had nearly been poisoned the day before, exchanged a few perfunctory words with Lady Nara, and then returned to the Palace of Compassion and Tranquility.

Half an hour later, he was back in the imperial study.

Liang Jiugong, unaware of what the emperor had overheard, cautiously stole glances at his expression. Seeing the tension in the emperor’s brow had eased, he guessed his majesty’s mood had improved.

Yet Guo Luoluo had not opened her door.

If merely hearing through the door could so pacify the emperor’s fury... it was clear the young lady held a very special place in his heart.

Silently, Liang Jiugong elevated Guo Luoluo Qingyao’s status in his mind, resolving never to slight this “noble young lady” again.

“Your Majesty, you didn’t sleep well last night. Would you like to rest a while?” Liang Jiugong offered with a strained smile.

The emperor pondered briefly and shook his head. “No need.”

Then, as if recalling something, he said, “I remember that young lady of Guo Luoluo’s is now serving tea in the pantry?”

Liang Jiugong was caught off guard by the sudden mention of Li Shuyao, his face betraying his surprise before he quickly bowed his head and replied cautiously, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The emperor picked up a memorial from the desk and tapped it on the edge, casually ordering, “Have her prepare a cup of tea and bring it here.”

Liang Jiugong was about to leave when the emperor suddenly changed his mind. “Wait, I want to see for myself.”

At that moment, the emperor happened to witness Song Fuwen bringing snacks to Li Shuyao.

The delicate palace maid was impeccably adorned; even as she handed over the box, she deliberately lifted her pinky with practiced grace, bending just so to reveal the gentlest beauty of her profile toward the pantry’s main entrance.

The figure seated on the small stool was tiny, clad in fresh green maid’s attire, hair styled in two messy buns adorned with an array of fuzzy flowers in green, pink, purple, and blue—as if an entire box of decorations had been haphazardly stuck into her hair.

Her small face was no larger than a palm, features exquisite and radiant, though her cheeks puffed up in anger, giving her the appearance of a freshly steamed bun.

Striking at first glance, yet somehow amusing.

This must be Li Shuyao, the one playing pat-a-cake with Guo Luoluo.

The emperor’s gaze shifted to the other maid, and he frowned slightly.

Nevertheless, he patiently observed as the coquettish palace maid theatrically produced a small box of pastries. Even the composed emperor’s breath faltered for a moment.

So little food—surely it wouldn’t satiate, much less fill the stomach.

Was this a calculated gesture of goodwill, yet without genuine generosity?

Before he could dwell further, Li Shuyao voiced the very doubt in his heart with earnest seriousness.

Good! She was clever, he thought approvingly.

As the two fell into silence, the emperor quietly asked Liang Jiugong, “Have they had conflicts?”

Liang Jiugong nodded softly. Although Song Fuwen never showed any hint of discord before him, on the few visits he made, Li Shuyao was always alone in the corner, so despite Song Fuwen’s efforts to conceal it, he sensed something amiss.

He had even secretly investigated but found Li Shuyao never complained to him, and so he refrained from intervening.

Besides, to survive in the palace, one must rely on oneself.

This current neglect and grievance were mere trifles compared to the true palace intrigues still far ahead.

Thus, Liang Jiugong maintained his silence.

Now, startled by the emperor’s sudden inquiry, he felt an inexplicable unease.

Unexpectedly, the emperor seemed to ask casually; upon Liang’s nod, he turned away with a cold expression.

Together, master and servant watched as Li Shuyao, crouched like a small mushroom in the pantry corner, suddenly stood.

One might expect an outburst, but instead, she declared plainly:

“Because I’ve already eaten my fill at Qingyao’s!”

Her tone was more of a dry explanation than a threat.

Liang Jiugong’s face twisted in silent discomfort.

The emperor paused briefly, then let out a low, joyful laugh.

After delivering her “fierce words,” Li Shuyao glared at Song Fuwen with a scowl.

After a moment, seeing Song Fuwen remained motionless, she brusquely adjusted the wooden box in her arms and said, “You should leave quickly. I never accept handouts.”

As if Qingyao’s offerings weren’t handouts.

With a “snap,” she sat back down on the small stool.

Just as she reached for a travel journal on the table, a deep, magnetic chuckle came from the pantry’s entrance.

Curious, she looked up to see two figures: one dressed in dazzling bright yellow robes, the other in a navy eunuch’s uniform holding a familiar feather duster.

Oh no—when did the emperor arrive?

Startled, Li Shuyao quickly tossed the journal beneath the table, shifted from sitting to kneeling, and bowed deeply, her forehead striking the stone floor with a dull thud. She whispered a muffled greeting: “Your servant greets Your Majesty.”

“Your servant greets Your Majesty,” Song Fuwen also recovered, suppressing her panic, turning to offer a graceful salute.

Li Shuyao, not hearing her kneeling sound, looked up in curiosity.

Oh, so a kneeling bow was sufficient.

Tsk, how foolish she had been...

She berated herself while considering whether to stand and adopt a different posture.

Suddenly, the chuckle at the door burst into clear, hearty laughter.

Li Shuyao was speechless.

The emperor was truly formidable.

Pointing and whispering ensued.