Chapter 13: Andersen No Longer Wishes to Tell Stories

At this moment, Fang Xu was ambling through the rear garden, following closely behind Qin Suwen. His gaze lingered, almost involuntarily, on her delicate figure, prompting memories of last night’s ambiguous encounter to resurface. Qin Suwen, sensing the veiled suggestiveness in his eyes, whirled around with a flush of embarrassment.

“Hey! Can you be a bit more proper? Where exactly are you looking?” She clutched her robes, scolding him with a mix of shyness and indignation.

Just earlier, in the grand throne hall, Fang Xu’s commanding presence as he outshone all others had left Qin Suwen deeply impressed. She had sought him out with questions in mind, never expecting his hopelessly incorrigible behavior to persist.

“Ahem, apologies, apologies. It was a moment of sentiment,” Fang Xu replied awkwardly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew full well that his lingering gaze was rather impolite, yet he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t as if he could control his own eyes. Forcing himself to look elsewhere, he couldn’t resist quietly observing Qin Suwen.

There’s an old saying: fine feathers make fine birds. In her current attire, Qin Suwen exuded a heroic elegance, though Fang Xu’s mind kept drifting to less innocent associations.

“What are you staring at?” she muttered with a trace of annoyance, obviously displeased with his apparent amorousness.

Alas, Qin Suwen was still young and hadn’t yet come to understand the irresistible pull of attraction or that desire is a part of one’s nature.

“I’m looking at you,” he replied without hesitation, as though entirely oblivious to the discontent in her tone.

“Me…? What is there to see…?” Her voice grew faint, and she nervously fiddled with the edge of her imperial robe, unable to meet his gaze.

“You’re quite beautiful, truly,” Fang Xu offered, for once in earnest. Qin Suwen, however, was already blushing too deeply to respond.

After all, as the sovereign of Great Qin, who would dare utter such words to her? Did he not fear for his life?

But one mustn’t forget that Qin Suwen was herself a young maiden, and what girl does not yearn for admiration?

“Sit down. I have some matters to ask you about,” Qin Suwen said, regaining her composure as she seated herself in the stone pavilion. Traces of her earlier embarrassment still lingered on her cheeks.

“What does Your Majesty wish to ask?” Fang Xu took his seat across from her, smiling gently.

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Fang Xu found Qin Suwen even more striking now. Perhaps it was that, after being surrounded in his previous life by garish faces and painted beauty, Qin Suwen’s understated elegance brought out her natural allure all the more.

In fact, in Fang Xu’s eyes, had Qin Suwen lived in his previous world, she would surely have been a global superstar—without question.

“Ahem! I wanted to ask you about the story you told in the great hall earlier…” Despite her irritation at his lingering gaze, Qin Suwen, perceiving more admiration than impropriety within it, chose not to take offense.

“The story of the boy who cried wolf? Was there something about it you didn’t understand, Your Majesty?” Fang Xu asked curiously. To him, even a rough-hewn general like Meng Tian would grasp such a tale—was it possible the emperor herself did not?

“It’s not that I don’t understand. I just wonder… did you make it up?” Qin Suwen asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Fang Xu did not reply immediately; instead, he regarded her with a smile. Now he understood why she’d sought him out: she’d become addicted to his stories.

On reflection, it made sense. Back in his previous life, Aesop’s Fables and Andersen’s Fairy Tales were endlessly captivating—it was hardly surprising that Qin Suwen would be drawn to them.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Qin Suwen asked, puzzled by his silence and gentle smile.

“It’s true, I crafted the story myself. Does Your Majesty have any advice for me?” Fang Xu answered, unconsciously referring to himself in the feminine form, a habit he had yet to break. How could he not, when faced with Qin Suwen’s regal dignity?

“Ahem… Then, does my beloved consort have any more stories?” Qin Suwen widened her bright eyes, gazing at Fang Xu with the hopeful look of a pleading puppy. The sight made Fang Xu stifle a laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” Qin Suwen demanded, a little miffed. If not for the amusing story of the boy who cried wolf, she would not have sought him out like this.

“It’s nothing. I was just recalling a few interesting tales. I hope Your Majesty will like them,” Fang Xu replied with a smile, careful not to reveal that it was her demeanor that had amused him.

“What? You really have more? Tell me at once!” Qin Suwen’s delight was palpable, as if she’d stumbled upon hidden treasure.

Seeing this, Fang Xu couldn’t help but feel a bit bemused. So she’d been testing him just now and he’d fallen for it without realizing!

Still, since things had come to this, Fang Xu saw no reason to hold back. Fortunately, he remembered quite a few fairy tales from his childhood, so he began to recount the stories of Pinocchio, Snow White, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, and more.

Qin Suwen sat quietly, resting her chin in her hands as she listened, utterly absorbed. Fang Xu, adept at enrapturing his audience thanks to his former career as a sales executive, skillfully brought the tales to life.

With each twist and turn, Qin Suwen found herself living vicariously through the characters. She fumed at the injustice suffered by Cinderella at the hands of her stepmother and stepsisters, fretted over Snow White’s collapse after eating the poisoned apple, and rejoiced when the prince finally awakened her.

Gone was the solemn emperor from the grand hall; at this moment, Qin Suwen was simply an entranced young girl. Who could have guessed that the ruler of Great Qin would be so captivated by these tales? Not that Fang Xu cared about such things.

Since Qin Suwen relished his stories, Fang Xu was more than happy to oblige. Gradually, the audience grew—from Qin Suwen alone to the young ladies-in-waiting and eunuchs in the rear garden, even to the palace guards who drifted over to listen.

Fang Xu had planned to pause and rest—after all, speaking nonstop for several hours was taxing even for the best of voices. Not even Andersen himself would have wanted to tell so many stories in succession!

Yet, faced with so many eager eyes awaiting his next tale, Fang Xu found himself unable to refuse, and so he chose to carry on.