Chapter 11
The emperor did not enjoy attending court banquets.
Whenever he sat upon the throne, watching the guests raise their cups in endless toasts, exchanging flattery, and shouting long live the emperor, a secret, inexpressible weariness would stir deep within him.
It was a boredom born from desires being overly satisfied, a dullness that crept up from the depths of his heart.
Yet, as emperor, he was expected to be present at these gatherings.
It was his duty.
He understood this perfectly well.
He simply found it tedious.
Since the age of thirteen, when he rebelled alongside his father and unseated his cousin from the dragon throne, this weariness had persisted for nearly twenty years.
Only when marching to battle could he grasp a fleeting sense of pleasure belonging to ordinary men.
No, there was one more: when he was with that young girl.
Thinking of her, the emperor’s fingers clenched the string of beads more tightly, his fingertips turning pale beneath his sleeve.
Madam Chengyi continued chatting with the Empress Dowager, recounting amusing stories about the younger generation in the family, making the Dowager laugh heartily.
“You are fortunate to have so many grandchildren at home, keeping you lively every day. My place is so quiet,” Madam Chengyi said, patting the Dowager’s hand with a sigh.
The Empress Dowager lamented, “I only have one grandson, and the palace is quiet, the Western Gardens too. Sometimes it’s so dull, I don’t even know whom to talk to.”
The emperor’s gaze fell upon the pavilion ahead, where he focused on the song and dance, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.
Sensing an awkwardness, Madam Chengyi quickly pointed to Li Yuanjing beside her and said, “The Dowager isn’t satisfied yet—only one young master, which is better than my whole brood.”
She sighed, “Our young master takes after His Majesty—handsome and diligent. Unlike my children, little rascals who neither study nor train properly, always climbing on roofs, playing cuju and cricket fighting, which worries their parents so much that it’s turned my hair gray.”
She reached up to show the Dowager the strands of white hair.
The Dowager was amused by her words and teased, “Oh my, if you really become an old woman with a head full of white hair tomorrow, I won’t recognize you.”
The palace servants laughed along, and Madam Chengyi secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Thankfully, a palace maid near the Dowager had whispered a reminder when she arrived, or else she might have said something inappropriate.
She wondered what had changed—usually, the Dowager only complained about the heir in private, yet today she spoke openly before His Majesty.
As she spoke with the Dowager, Madam Chengyi quietly speculated.
To divert the Dowager’s attention, she accepted the precious tea snacks handed by a servant and placed them before the Dowager, smiling, “We’ve shared jokes and complaints; now it’s time to meet the person in question.”
Upon her prompt, the Dowager realized the time and ordered, “Call Shen to come in; let her great-aunt have a look.”
Li Yuanjing felt uneasy upon hearing this.
She was nothing special, hardly worthy of calling Madam Chengyi “great-aunt,” yet she only curled her lips silently.
The emperor remained as before—calm, lightly toying with the beads, lost in thought.
The Dowager knew he disliked such occasions, so she said, “Since it concerns Yuanjing’s lifelong matter, no matter how grave, the emperor should behave as a senior and have a proper meeting.”
The emperor nodded in agreement. “Your son understands.”
His eyelids lifted, and his gaze casually shifted nearby, where he spotted the approaching figure.
With a sudden snap, the beads in his hand halted their rotation.
The Empress Dowager noticed his pupils contract sharply, a flicker of something flashing in his dark eyes, and his jaw tensed instantly.
Her son was usually steady and indifferent; it was rare for anything to cause such an expression.
“Your Majesty?” the Dowager asked in puzzlement.
Suddenly, countless beads slipped from his hand, bouncing endlessly on the crimson carpet beneath, like a sudden downpour.
Everyone was stunned; the servants held their breath, not daring to make a sound.
After what felt like an eternity, when the hall finally quieted once more, the emperor turned his head and smiled faintly, saying,
“It’s nothing—just a broken string of beads.”
His expression was calm and composed, betraying no emotion.
The Dowager believed him and said, “The Imperial Workshop is careless; this is just a poor-quality bead string. One of the enamel censers in my hall was found to be fading just yesterday.”
The emperor promised to have someone investigate and report back to her.
As they spoke, they inadvertently overlooked He Hui, who remained kneeling.
The Dowager finally noticed and bade her to rise.
Today, He Hui wore a floral skirt embroidered with peacocks and birds, layered with an apricot-colored robe with wide sleeves. Her hair was neatly combed with osmanthus oil, styled in a chignon adorned with a small ‘oil spot’ hairpin and pearl decorations, giving her a lively, neat appearance.
With the rouge mark on her forehead, she looked more radiant than usual.
“Oh my,” Madam Chengyi said, rising to take He Hui’s hand with a smile, “What a lovely sight—she’s even more charming than I imagined.”
She then pushed her beside Li Yuanjing, clicking her tongue, “Dowager, Your Majesty, look at these two standing together—don’t they resemble the golden boy and jade girl from the paintings?”
The Dowager smiled, “Indeed, they do.”
Madam Chengyi glanced at the emperor, who stared intently at He Hui, his eyes dark and heavy, the flicker within them terrifying to behold.
Yet in the blink of an eye, that chilling pressure vanished as if it had been a mere illusion.
The emperor’s lips curved slightly as he said, “Madam is right—they do resemble them.”
Relieved, Madam Chengyi laughed and fanned herself vigorously with a round fan, suspecting she might have overheated in the summer heat.
The emperor was a brave and majestic ruler, broad-minded and concerned with the empire’s affairs—how could he bear ill will toward a young girl?
Could it be... that he looked down on her?
It was true that, by family background, Miss Shen's origins were rather humble and not quite a match for Prince Ning.
But from what she saw, the girl’s temperament was commendable—not arrogant or impatient. Even many noble ladies would be frightened in the presence of the emperor; after all, this was an imperial audience, not a poetry gathering among friends.
Yet Miss Shen had made no mistake and did not tremble in the slightest.
Clearly, she was no ordinary person, and perhaps destiny held great things in store for her.
In truth, Madam Chengyi was mistaken.
He Hui was not unafraid—she was simply too frightened to respond.
She knelt blankly, performing the formal greeting she had learned, then stood dazedly when called, her limbs numb and seemingly no longer her own.
By now, she knew without touching that her back was drenched in cold sweat.
The emperor was terrifying.
Even though she had been warned since yesterday to prepare for the imperial audience, when the moment came, her heart still pounded like a drum.
The emperor was not the white-haired, fearsome old man she had imagined.
On the contrary, he appeared quite young, no older than someone in his early thirties.
Handsome and deep-eyed, dressed in a bright red wide-sleeved dragon robe, he sat with an effortless elegance unlike any other.
Most strikingly, he bore a strong resemblance to Prince Ning—six or seven parts alike.
Earlier, from afar, she almost mistook the figure on the throne for Prince Ning himself, thinking her eyes deceived her, as if there were two Prince Nings inside the hall.
Moreover, the emperor’s voice was remarkably similar to Prince Ning’s. When he spoke, she instinctively glanced at Li Yuanjing beside her.
It was natural for father and son to resemble each other so closely.
Yet... He Hui could not help but look up and cautiously observe the emperor.
The emperor seemed to dislike her.
From the moment she entered, his gaze toward her was off.
Where exactly it was wrong, she could not say, only that the feeling was terrible and made her instinctively want to escape.
Just as she was about to look away, the emperor caught her gaze directly, his eyes like ice—cold and terrifying.
He Hui quickly lowered her head and shivered, silently resolving to keep her distance from this Son of Heaven in the future.
—
Today, when Madam Chengyi entered the palace, the Empress Dowager was pleased and invited her to stay the night. She also instructed the Bell and Drum Department to summon a troupe to perform at the Rainflower Pavilion, where He Hui, as a junior, naturally accompanied them.
Fortunately, the emperor left early, and the atmosphere at the banquet was much lighter, no longer as stifling as at noon.
He Hui had intended to speak with Prince Ning, but there was never a proper moment. Finally, when Li Yuanjing stepped out, she took the opportunity to excuse herself under the pretense of changing clothes and slipped away.
However, perhaps because dusk was falling, her eyesight was poor, and she lost track of him.
When she asked a stranger among the palace servants where Prince Ning was, they pointed toward a nearby side room near the Rainflower Pavilion.
He Hui approached and knocked on the door, receiving no response.
Gathering courage, she pushed the door open, but the moment her foot crossed the threshold, a hand grabbed her wrist and pinned her against the wall.
Her heart suddenly skipped a beat.