Chapter 17
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He Hui’s fingertips clenched tightly on the skirt panel, nearly tearing off the delicate carved lattice above. Inside, a man sat gracefully, leaning casually against the bed. His face was broad and open, with a prominent nose, and his profile resembled Prince Ning’s. Yet, the brilliant yellow dragon robe embroidered with coiled dragons clearly marked him as the supreme ruler of the Great Zhou.
Why was it him...?
He Hui was momentarily stunned, unsure how to react.
Recalling her actions before the mirror just moments ago, she felt as if the sky were collapsing.
Not only had she been completely naked before the mirror, she had even...
He Hui was consumed by shame and fury.
Things she had never done before—why had her first time been under such circumstances?
If it had been someone else, perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered; after all, Prince Ning was the man she was to marry, and those eunuchs were hardly men—they spent their days serving the palace ladies and were no strangers to the female form.
But it was the Emperor—
The Son of Heaven of Great Zhou.
What was she to do?
Though nothing had been settled with Prince Ning, it was almost certain she would marry him, and the man inside was Prince Ning’s father, which meant he would be her future...
The thought alone made her scalp tingle. She instinctively wanted to flee, but her feet felt nailed to the ground, unable to move.
Which respectable young lady, before marriage, had her body laid bare before a man—let alone the man who would become her father-in-law!
If word got out, there were only two possible outcomes.
Either she would be taken into the Emperor’s harem as one of his many consorts, or she would be thrown into the sinking pool.
The Emperor was a wise ruler who would never choose a woman prepared by the Empress Dowager for his son. Therefore, her fate could only be the latter.
Thinking of the women from her hometown who had been branded unchaste, their hair disheveled, thrown into pig cages and submerged in the river, He Hui shuddered all over, her nails digging into the skirt panel, nearly breaking them.
Sensing something, the Emperor suddenly looked up, his gaze sweeping over her. He Hui quickly crouched back against the wall, covering her mouth, fearing even the slightest sound.
From inside came the rustling of movement—sounds as if the Emperor was rising.
He Hui’s heart trembled with terror.
She hurriedly draped her inner garment and the magpie-bridge embroidered patch over herself, tying the sash while stealing glances at the dressing mirror diagonally opposite.
The mirror was placed in such a secluded spot, and the left side had a green gauze cabinet with a beaded curtain hanging, so the Emperor probably hadn’t seen anything.
Even if the beaded curtain was ineffective, there was a sheer curtain hanging down, tied up with silver hooks on both sides, still enough to obscure the view.
What lay outside might not be visible from within.
Comforting herself with this thought, she kept moving her hands. Finally dressed and about to leave, her hand touched the door latch just as footsteps approached outside, followed by two soft knocks.
“Your Majesty, I have freshly cut some fragrant melon. Please enjoy.”
He Hui’s brow twitched.
It was the same consort who had sat before her at the Rain Flower Pavilion, watching the opera.
Instinctively, she stepped back, hearing movement within the green gauze cabinet. Behind the screen, the corner of the man’s robe flickered faintly.
The Emperor was coming out!
Her heart nearly leapt out of her throat.
She quickly scanned the small room. Besides the green gauze cabinet inside, the main chamber only contained some small ornaments and a low couch.
Now trapped here, it wouldn’t be long before the Emperor emerged, leaving her nowhere to hide.
In a panic, He Hui lifted her skirt and swiftly slipped to the right side, finally spotting a half-height wardrobe. She opened the door and slipped inside.
When the Emperor came out, he saw the main chamber was empty except for a woman’s wrapped chest cloth lying quietly in the corner.
Consort Qing stood outside, holding a yellow and blue floral fruit platter, lingering for some time, growing puzzled at the lack of response.
Had the Empress Dowager not arranged with His Majesty for her to attend him, even sending away the eunuchs and palace maids nearby to avoid displeasing him?
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Yet now, there was not a sound.
Had the Emperor changed his mind and already left?
The thought saddened Consort Qing deeply.
She had lived in the Forbidden City for months without seeing the Emperor. When she heard he had moved back from the Western Garden, she hoped to see him at the Palace of Heavenly Purity and made several attempts, only to be turned away each time with the excuse of imperial affairs.
Today, appointed by the Empress Dowager to attend His Majesty, if this rare chance slipped away, what hope would she have left? She might as well shave her head and become a nun.
Wiping the corner of her eye with a handkerchief, just as she prepared to knock again, a voice from inside said, “Come in.”
Consort Qing’s mood brightened like the sky clearing after rain. She smoothed her temple and cautiously pushed the door open.
Stepping inside, she was immediately hit by a strong fragrance—the palace’s special incense. A small pinch of it cleared the mind and enhanced intimacy when one made love on the bed.
In all her years within the palace, this was the first time she saw such incense burning in the Emperor’s chambers.
The Empress Dowager truly cared for them.
Consort Qing softly called out, “Your Majesty.”
After a moment, a faint hum came from inside. Turning, she saw the Emperor sitting alone at the kang table on the right, tossing dice. She couldn’t help but smile and walked over, inviting him to rest his hand, placing the fruit platter on the table.
“Your Majesty, why are you here? Why not sleep over in the western chamber?”
She had just glanced—the west side was where the resting green gauze cabinet stood.
The Emperor replied, “Lying down too long, I wanted to sit for a while.” Then he looked up at her.
Consort Qing’s heart raced under his gaze, her cheeks flushing. After more than ten years in the palace, she rarely had such moments with the Emperor.
“I haven’t seen Your Majesty for so long. Do you notice any change in me?”
The Emperor did not respond. Feigning annoyance, she turned away and said, “Don’t you see? I’m much thinner than a few months ago. My face has lost all its flesh, and none of my old clothes fit—they’re all too big.”
She glanced at the Emperor, waiting for comforting words like, “You look better thinner; it’s I who have worn you down.” But he simply stared at her, as if studying something, then suddenly frowned.
She heard him ask, “Was that you in the room just now?”
Consort Qing was momentarily confused, not understanding what he meant.
Could someone else have been in the room before she arrived?
Impossible—who in the palace would be so bold as to disturb the Empress Dowager’s arrangements and the Emperor’s rest at this hour?
She answered instinctively, “Of course it was only me, Your Majesty. What’s wrong?”
The Emperor’s gaze drifted to the magpie-bridge embroidered patch she wore, almost identical to the one seen on the floor in the mirror earlier. His eyes darkened before he finally looked away.
“Nothing.”
Consort Qing smiled and sat opposite him on the kang, picking up the dice he had just played with and tossing them. “It’s dull playing alone, Your Majesty. Let me keep you company.”
The Emperor watched the dice tumble onto the lacquer tray, giving no indication.
Consort Qing carefully observed his expression, relieved to see no displeasure.
The Emperor never liked playing such games with them, so his tolerance meant he was somewhat pleased today.
Her spirits lifted.
She had come for the Emperor himself, so after a short time, she tossed the dice aside.
Reaching out, she pushed the fruit platter toward him, her gaze soft as water. “The fragrant melon has been here a while. Does Your Majesty still want some?”
The Emperor said, “The Empress Dowager sent you here just for that?”
“Of course not.” Consort Qing smiled brightly and rose, sitting on the Emperor’s lap. Her delicate arms encircled his neck, and she whispered into his ear, “If Your Majesty won’t eat the melon, how about I do? Would Your Majesty like to taste me?”
The Emperor lowered his eyes to her, expression indifferent.
—
Inside the wardrobe several feet away, He Hui curled up, sweat beading on her temple, struggling to keep silent.
She had thought that after the consort came inside, the Emperor would take her to the western green gauze cabinet, allowing her to slip out while the main room was empty. But the Emperor abruptly changed course, moving toward the right chamber.
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She could only watch and wait, thinking she would leave once their conversation ended.
Instead, she overheard their intimate words.
The Emperor was waiting in this room for the consort to come and attend him!
He Hui knew nothing of the details of consort attendance, but hearing the noises outside filled her with inexplicable shame and made her heart pound wildly.
She had thought her own seductive voice when flattering Prince Ning had been enough, but this consort’s was a hundred times more enchanting.
How could a person make such sounds?
Her throat seemed filled with honey, stirring a restless yearning within He Hui.
The consort spoke again, and after a while, the Emperor hummed softly in response.
Peering through a crack, He Hui strained her eyes in the dim wardrobe to see clearly.
The Emperor leaned against the kang, expression unreadable, his dragon robe pristine.
The consort sat opposite him, slowly unfastening her magpie-bridge embroidered patch, identical to He Hui’s own.
The woman’s slender, pale body was soon revealed in the sunlight, her waist swaying as she reclined.
She began beckoning the Emperor, “My dear...”
But the Emperor merely sat still, quietly gazing at her bare form.
He Hui was stunned, forgetting to react.
What was the Emperor thinking?
Consort Qing wondered the same, as the Emperor remained motionless for a long time, leaving her uncertain.
“Your Majesty...”
Her eyes reddened.
The Emperor asked her to place her hand on his chest.
Consort Qing hesitated but did as told, despite her embarrassment.
The Emperor looked at her, pursed his lips.
No.
Not her.
He lowered his gaze, grabbed the clothes she had taken off and threw them back over her, covering her.
“Leave.”
Consort Qing was taken aback. “Your Majesty?”
The Emperor’s voice was cold and firm. “I will not say it twice.”
Consort Qing nearly cried, hurriedly dressing, covering her face as she fled.
He Hui opened her mouth, utterly confused. Everything had been fine moments before—why had the Emperor’s expression changed so suddenly?
After a brief moment of sorrow for the consort, He Hui sighed.
Though it was not a proper thought, she was relieved the Emperor had stopped the encounter. Otherwise, she had no idea when she could leave, and if Yao Zhu came looking for her, things would be even worse.
Just as she relaxed, she caught sight through the crack of a pair of boots—white with yellow faces and embroidered golden dragons—standing before the wardrobe.
She froze.
Slowly raising her eyes, she finally saw the face outside.
The Emperor’s mouth opened, his voice cold as ice.
“Had your fill?”
“Come out.”