Yirong had not yet spoken when she couldn’t help biting her lip and dodging to the side. Yet she was still held firmly on his knee by the Emperor’s palm.
The hand that had originally been caressing her cheek gradually shifted downward, rubbing and wandering at her waist. The warmth of his palm seeped through her clothes, flushing Yirong’s cheeks with a blush. She unconsciously leaned forward a little and shot the Emperor a glare.
It was a pity that her gaze was misty with water, utterly devoid of any intimidation.
Meeting the Emperor’s faintly smiling eyes, Yirong averted her gaze.
She had to admit that the two of them were quite compatible in this regard.
The Emperor prompted her, “What did you want to say?”
In a low voice, she said, “Your Majesty, please don’t move. It’s not appropriate here!”
Zheng Yan was at the prime of his life, full of vigor. With his slightest motion, Yirong felt his touch with exceptional clarity.
From the moment she had entered, all the palace servants had tactfully withdrawn.
The Emperor glanced over the furnishings in the East Hall. This was where he reviewed memorials and summoned ministers every day— a place of solemn dignity. The chairs before the desk were neatly arranged, the memorials spread out upon it with ink not yet dry. He had not finished writing.
“What’s wrong with here?”
Yirong still spoke in a low voice. “The palace servants all saw me come in. If word gets out later that I was entering Your Majesty’s study… what if someone hears a commotion and starts imagining things?”
“Who would think such things about others?” His warm breath brushed Yirong’s ear. “Zhen never does. Do you?”
“Of course not!”
She refuted without thinking, then shot the Emperor a resentful glare, both embarrassed and annoyed. The heavy mood that had been weighing on her heart subtly dissipated a little.
Yirong grew serious. “Your Majesty, I truly have something important to discuss with you.”
Zheng Yan lifted his chin slightly, signaling her to continue.
“Your Majesty, I can’t just stay in the palace preparing… preparing, can I? You summoned my uncle and aunt to the capital so I could leave the palace and stay with them for a time?”
He nodded. “You need prepare nothing. Zhen will have people escort you out.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Yirong’s eyes lit up.
Seeing the smile that instinctively bloomed on her face, the Emperor’s hand at her waist tightened involuntarily.
“You really want to leave the palace?”
Yirong skirted the main point. “Once I’m out, I can see my long-unseen family.”
Hearing this explanation, Zheng Yan still gazed at her broodingly.
Yirong shifted away from his pressing stare. “I have one more request. I hope Your Majesty can grant it.”
She paused, then said, “In the future, I don’t want to live in Zhaoyang Palace.”
Zhaoyang Palace was the Empress’s residence, the palace she had visited most often.
Her first visit had been two years ago, not long after her marriage to Cui Cheng. The Cui family’s fourth young madam had accompanied her into the palace to pay respects. The Empress Cui had smiled as she appraised her for a long time, bestowing silks and satins she had long prepared. Holding her hand, she had spoken warmly for a good while, advising her to live well with Cui Cheng and to continue the family line. The new bride had shyly lowered her head, drawing laughter from those around them.
After leaving the palace, Cui Cheng had waited for her at the gates, grinning as he teased that there was nothing to fear.
She had been filled with joy back then.
Her last visit had been this year. After leaving, she had been tricked away by two palace servants and encountered the Emperor.
Zheng Yan said, “And why is that?”
Under the Emperor’s suddenly sharp gaze, Yirong wondered if he had seen through her thoughts and pondered how to respond. Before she could speak, the Emperor continued.
“Never mind. Zhen had no intention of putting you there anyway.”
Yirong raised her brows slightly. “Then what is Your Majesty’s arrangement?”
“Live with Zhen in Purple Chen Hall.” He stated it lightly.
“The matter is settled. No need for further words,” Zheng Yan added.
This time, his tone brooked no argument.
Yirong stared dazedly at the Emperor’s calm face, gradually coming back to herself. She nodded.
This was foreseeable, after all. From their return from the traveling palace, the Emperor had mentioned having her live with him. She had resisted vehemently back then, settling for the next best thing.
“Very well,” she agreed solemnly.
The Emperor smiled and lowered his head to capture her lips. Yirong closed her eyes and parted her lips lightly. Her slender arms hesitated for a long moment before draping over the Emperor’s shoulders.
He paused. Their breaths mingled closely, their gazes locking without the slightest barrier.
Yirong leaned on his shoulder, her temple hair lightly brushing his jaw. The jade earrings on her lobes swayed faintly, just as when they had first met. He rubbed her lips with his, then lowered his head once more to kiss her deeply.
After a long while, Yirong gently pushed the Emperor away and closed her eyes to catch her breath. In no time, she reached up to tidy her disheveled hair.
The Emperor’s heart softened. He adjusted her earring and rasped, “Keep Zhen company and talk.”
Yirong was candid. “Your Majesty, my heart is in turmoil today. I truly don’t know what to say to you. But you seem to be in high spirits.”
For some reason, he found her words grating—perhaps because she was unhappy, or because her tone was too polite and compliant. Yet she was so obedient today, calmly accepting his arrangements without fuss. He frowned but did not voice his displeasure.
“Zhen accomplished a great matter today, so naturally Zhen is in high spirits,” the Emperor said.
Yirong burst out laughing.
The Emperor leaned forward. “What are you laughing at?”
The faint smugness in his brows and eyes struck Yirong as amusing, but she could hardly say so to him. Seeing her merely smile and shake her head, Zheng Yan pulled her slender, resilient waist close and coaxed half in demand, half in enticement, “What is it?”
Yirong pressed her lips together in a smile, still shaking her head and refusing to say.
After much pestering, Zheng Yan released her. He wandered the East Hall, then remembered where a mirror was kept. He fetched it and helped Yirong redo her hair.
Once she was presentable, Yirong stood. “Your Majesty, then I shall return to pack my things in preparation for leaving the palace.”
The Emperor murmured in acknowledgment. Watching her retreating figure as she took her leave, he added, “When you return, have a good talk with your mother. Have her teach you some things.”
Yirong froze. What did he want her mother to teach her?
She turned back. The Emperor’s handsome face was expressionless. After a moment’s thought, she suddenly understood.
It was still about avoiding pregnancy.
The autumn sunlight filtered through the ornate window inlaid with pearls and rubies, filling the room with bright, warm radiance.
Yet the air seemed to thin instantly, turning chill.
She moved her lips. “Yes.”
–
Duke Qiao’s Mansion.
The atmosphere in the main courtyard’s flower hall was oppressively heavy. The Eldest Young Madam patted Second Miss Cui’s back, offering a few distracted words of comfort, her own thoughts unsettled.
“They were the ones fawning over us before, and now that His Majesty has only mentioned establishing an empress, they start feigning illness and staying away. Bah! What illness strikes so conveniently? Big Sister-in-Law, you must let me pay a visit to that Minister of Rites Right Chancellor’s household and give them a proper dressing-down.” The fourth young madam fumed.
The older concubines and young madams nearby chimed in agreement.
The Eldest Young Madam swept her gaze over their angry faces and said curtly, “Think about what happened at Pingyang Marquis Mansion.”
Her sisters-in-law deflated at once, letting out long sighs.
Today had been the day for Second Miss to meet the youngest son of the Minister of Rites Right Chancellor.
Everything had seemed promising before—the young man’s mother had been warmly proactive, calling on them several times. But as soon as morning court ended, they had sent someone to the Cui residence with apologies: the son had suddenly fallen ill and could not come for the meeting.
Their attitude had been polite and proper, with a respectable steward and matron delivering gifts as amends. They had not closed the door entirely, but everyone knew they were clearly avoiding association.
This marriage was surely off.
The Cui family’s former daughter-in-law was highly likely to become the Empress. Some speculated that Cui Sixth Young Master’s divorce from his wife had been suspicious from the start—perhaps the Lu Clan and the Emperor had already been in cahoots. Others thought that if it had come to divorce, there must have been discord during Madam Lu’s time in the Cui family.
With the uncertainty of how the Emperor would treat the Cui family, their position had become awkwardly precarious.
Someone murmured, “What does any of this have to do with us? Because of her, Sixth Brother is gone without a trace, Second Sister can’t even have a meeting now, and who knows what will become of our younger sisters below…”
Before she could finish, an old mama attending Madam Chen, who had just emerged from the inner chamber, snapped, “Hold your tongue!”
The several grandchildren, three or four years old, who had been playing in the hall, immediately burst into loud wails.
In an instant, the hall filled with the children’s piercing cries and the women’s low-voiced excuses, descending into chaos.
The Eldest Young Madam sighed and called her personal maidservant to escort Second Miss Cui back, forbidding her from listening to any more of the adults’ talk.
The Duke Qiao’s Mansion was deathly quiet. Along the way, Second Miss listened to comforts, but by the time they reached her door, she had no mood left to respond. With a slight nod, she entered her room.
Those who had escorted her back exchanged uneasy glances.
Once in her room, Second Miss ordered all her attendants to withdraw. She collapsed over the desk, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
She missed her sixth brother terribly. Since he had left, there had been no word, and she did not know where he was now.
After crying for a while, she stumbled to the bed, trembling as she retrieved an exquisite box of fragrant powder from the lattice.