Cui Cheng hurriedly dashed outside the hall, where he spotted a little palace maid trotting along with the medicine. “Hand it over. You go find Xue Gui.”
He reentered the hall. Helian Jin had already stripped down to his undergarments and was lying supine on the imperial couch.
Like a broken kite plummeting from the sky.
His hair hung loose, fingers pressed to his brow. Moonlight spilled across his slightly curved knuckles, lending them a pale, jade-like glow.
His other hand tapped idly at the edge of the bed.
Tap—tap.
Tap tap—tap—tap tap.
Cui Cheng’s feet nearly executed Lingbo Weibu as he presented the medicine before the couch without spilling a single drop.
The relentless, death-knell rhythm finally ceased.
Helian Jin seemed to be in excruciating pain. He drained the bowl in one gulp and tossed it aside carelessly.
Cui Cheng caught it deftly and stood by, words hovering on the tip of his tongue but unspoken.
Helian Jin must have dozed lightly for a spell. A quarter of an hour passed before he cracked his eyes open. Spotting Cui Cheng still lingering nearby, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
“Get out.”
That was all Cui Cheng had been waiting for. He bolted from the bedchamber without a second’s hesitation.
No sooner had Cui Cheng emerged from the grand hall than Xue Gui came striding directly toward him. Xue Gui dropped to his knees at the entrance and proclaimed loudly, “Your Majesty, Daoist Wei has divined irregularities in the heavens and sent this slave to report.”
Cui Cheng’s eyes bulged. Before he could utter a word, a deep voice rumbled from inside the hall. “Summon Wei Shan.”
The next day, Helian Jin did not appear before Yun Jichu’s window.
“It looks like Little Lian was wrong. With Helian Jin buried in state affairs from dawn till dusk, how could he possibly have time to loiter by my window?”
Her patient vigil a failure, Yun Jichu set off for Shouning Palace, the Empress Dowager’s residence.
Rain had fallen incessantly of late, a persistent drizzle that set hearts on edge. Yun Jichu stood beneath an umbrella as Lady Shuxiu offered patient counsel at her ear.
“Consort, mind your manners when you meet the Empress Dowager. If she inquires about your family circumstances, answer honestly. As for the arts of qin, chess, and calligraphy, just say you know a smattering of each. Never admit to knowing nothing at all.”
Yun Jichu replied, “Don’t worry. I have some experience with interviews.”
Lady Shuxiu did not grasp the term but heard the assurance in Yun Jichu’s tone and held her peace.
They waited a quarter of an hour. Slanting rain needled under the umbrella’s edge, soaking one corner of her skirt and darkening the dusky blue to a deep indigo.
Yun Jichu’s legs had gone numb by the time Meng Dong, the Empress Dowager’s personal attendant, appeared.
Meng Dong curtsied with leisurely grace. “Greetings, Consort.”
“The Empress Dowager woke unwell this morning and remains abed. Perhaps the Consort should return another time.”
Yun Jichu nodded in perfect understanding. “If the Empress Dowager is ill, she needs her rest. I won’t disturb her. I’ll take my leave.”
With that, she turned and departed.
Composed. Compliant.
Meng Dong stood rooted, blinking in bewilderment. Su Qiu emerged from behind her, umbrella in hand, and gasped in disbelief. “She just… left?”
Lady Shuxiu hurried after Yun Jichu, splashing through puddles. “Consort, how could you leave like that?”
Yun Jichu turned, astonished. “The Empress Dowager is ill and sleeping. What good would standing there do?”
If she were truly unwell, the last thing she’d want was someone waiting at her door.
Lady Shuxiu studied her intently, weighing whether this was genuine naivety or calculated innocence.
Yet the beauty’s eyes shone with clear sincerity, utterly devoid of hidden intent.
Lady Shuxiu let out a deep sigh. “If the Empress Dowager were truly ill, why keep you waiting a full quarter of an hour before sending Meng Dong out?”
Yun Jichu pondered. “Perhaps she was tending to her.”
Lady Shuxiu pressed: “If she were so occupied with care, why emerge without a trace of urgency?”
Yun Jichu fell silent.
Some new insight was sinking in.
“So…”
Lady Shuxiu explained, “The rear palace has stood empty for ages. You’re the first to take up residence. The Empress Dowager seeks to humble you, bend you to her will.”
“…” Yun Jichu absorbed this. “She’s the Emperor’s mother. I respect her already. Why go to such lengths?”
Lady Shuxiu replied, “The Empress Dowager doesn’t yet know your heart is purely kind.”
Yun Jichu faltered, foot neither advancing nor retreating. “What now?”
Lady Shuxiu sighed in resignation. “Meng Dong has surely reported back inside by now. To approach at this point would reveal you see through it but feign ignorance.”
“Better to withdraw entirely. In time, you can plead ignorance of courtly ways.”
Yun Jichu gazed heavenward with a long sigh. “How is everything so convoluted?”
At thirteen, she had entered the sanatorium, spending five years unable to speak. Painting had become her whole world. Even after her condition eased in university, she seldom mingled with others.
Yun Jichu cherished solitude.
The milk teas her roommates skipped ordering just for her, the way they’d leave five minutes early on purpose, conversations that died the moment she entered a room, the solitary laps around the track during gym class…
Yun Jichu had never found anything amiss.
These were things she only learned after being pulled into a strange little group chat upon graduation.
They offered a lengthy explanation of the reasons behind it all. The excuses were flimsy, but their eagerness to mend fences was plain to see.
Yun Jichu stared at string after string of messages in the chat window, racking her brain to recall those details. At last, she typed out the killer question.
“Did these things really happen? I don’t remember them at all.”
The group fell silent for a long time, then kicked her out.
Later, her boss came by with a stack of resumes, asking amiably, “Little Chu, these folks look like they graduated with you. What do you think of their skills?”
Yun Jichu spotted their names and gave it no second thought. She offered a fair assessment of their grades and graduation projects.
She never saw them again after that.
The tangled web of human relationships and the depths of emotion never failed to make Yun Jichu drowsy.
She blinked, silently processing it for a moment. “I understand.”
Lady Shuxiu said worriedly, “Consort, what if His Majesty takes in more concubines in the future? How will you hold your own? Tomorrow when you pay your respects, you must be utterly compliant and win the Empress Dowager’s favor. Only then will you have any real backing in the depths of the palace.”
Yun Jichu nodded.
She still needed to escape as soon as possible.
To her, everything in this world boiled down to strings of numbers. The Empress Dowager was aloof and distant, Helian Jin cold and tyrannical, Li Wenzhu jealous and cunning, Lady Shuxiu indifferent and ruthless, Cui Cheng greedy and spineless.
And…
Those two little ones.
She hadn’t encountered those two in the game before—or rather, to Yun Jichu, they weren’t mere numbers. They were the first real friends she’d made in this world.
She hadn’t gone more than a few steps when two children came running up, hand in hand.
The Crown Prince’s strides were long yet steady, his little face grave. The Princess took short, bouncy steps, and her eyes lit up at the sight of Yun Jichu.
The Princess let go of the Crown Prince and flung herself into Yun Jichu’s arms. “Consort Yun.”
Her soft cheek nuzzled into Yun Jichu’s palm.
Her voice was as sweet as honey-dipped sugar.
Yun Jichu’s worries melted away in an instant, her heart turning to mush. She scooped up the Princess. “Where have you been, Ah Huan?”
The Princess glanced at the Crown Prince, who stood silently by, and huffed before answering herself. “Consort Yun, Imperial Father is sick.”
Sick?
Hadn’t he been perfectly fine yesterday?
His strength had been overwhelming as he pinned her to the bed and showered her with kisses.
Yun Jichu asked, “How did he fall ill so suddenly?”
The Crown Prince replied, “It’s nothing serious. Just an old ailment from these past years. Rest will set it right.”
The Princess cut in. “It looks worse than before! Imperial Father didn’t hold morning court today.” She gazed up at Yun Jichu with big, pleading eyes. “Consort Yun, let’s go see him together.”
Yun Jichu’s heart lurched. She set the Princess down and tried to beg off. “Since the Two Highnesses have already visited, I won’t intrude.”
The Crown Prince nodded and lowered his gaze, reaching for the Princess’s hand. “Come on, Ah Huan.”
But the Princess dug in her heels, her eyes welling up with tears. “Consort Yun…”
“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Yun Jichu said helplessly.
Helian Jin was so gravely ill. Who knew what kind of mood he was in? If he was out of sorts, would he grab his sword and start killing?
Yun Jichu trailed behind the Little Princess into Zichen Hall.
Before they even reached the Imperial Couch, the Little Princess called out, “Imperial Father, look who came to see you.”
Helian Jin reclined against the soft pillows on the Imperial Couch, not bothering to look up. His eyes stayed fixed on the scroll in his hands, his voice slow and feeble. “Back from Imperial Grandmother’s? Ah Huan, go play with Ah Nian.”
Yun Jichu drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was finally less afraid. With a thud, she knelt before the Imperial Couch. “Greetings, Your Majesty.”
“Ah Chu?”
The two little ones had already slipped out of the Grand Hall.
Had she imagined it? Those two words seemed to quiver.
Yun Jichu looked up and met Helian Jin’s profound, shadowy gaze.
He wore only his inner robe, the collar loosened to reveal the pale skin of his chest. Powerful muscles lay half-concealed beneath the dark brocade, like mountains cloaked in the deep night and bathed in ethereal moonlight.
Faintly visible, rising and falling.
He truly seemed ill, his ink-black hair unbound, a chill radiating from his body. His slightly curved fingers resembled cold jade. The usual bloodthirsty menace from his sword-wielding days was gone, replaced by a refined, otherworldly beauty.
That single call sent a tremor through Yun Jichu’s heart.
She remembered those dreams from five or six years ago.
That gentle, tender Helian Jin had always called her this way—shouting her name in the throes of passion, or whispering it into her mouth as their tongues entwined in sober moments.
They had lain deep amid the cool lotus blooms on a sweltering summer day. The boat’s gentle rocking startled the fish below, lotus petals drifting down one by one. Ripples spread across the water as the little vessel floated free.
The summer breeze whispered lightly, and the pond fish flicked their tails.
Yun Jichu was disturbed by the sunlight leaking through the cracks and couldn’t open her eyes. She casually pulled over a lotus leaf to cover her face. Helian Jin kissed his way up inch by inch, his lips carrying a salty, damp breath. He arched his body, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, nipping away the obstructive leaf before lightly pecking the corner of her mouth.
“Ah Chu, is it alright?”
“Ah Chu, look at me.”
“Ah Chu… Ah Chu.”
Yun Jichu never answered him, but Helian Jin had already divined her intentions.
The sunlight stretched on endlessly, long and intense.
Twilight fell with heavy dew; deep amid the lotus blooms, they forgot to return.
She could voice no refusal. Fluttering petals rained into her embrace, only to be licked clean and devoured by Helian Jin.
Those petals fell into her memories too.
The days of forsaken meals and soul-haunting dreams were gradually eclipsed. Her nine-to-nine grind consumed her entire life. It took her a long time to believe—
That they had been nothing more than bizarre, fantastical dreams.
“Your Majesty…” Yun Jichu murmured, startled by his gaze.
That single address seemed to pull Helian Jin back to reality. He set aside the scroll in his hand and reached out toward Yun Jichu.