Shen Du pondered briefly before patiently explaining, “Lai Luozhi has many spies. Acting like this will give them something to use against you.”
“Hah,” Zhu Yan scoffed, “With your Imperial Guards watching my every move, how could Lai Luozhi’s people catch me doing anything?”
She turned away, refusing to look at him.
Realizing Zhu Yan was upset about being monitored without prior notice, Shen Du’s cold demeanor softened. He gently turned her to face him and explained earnestly, “The capital has been unstable lately. I feared for your safety but knew you disliked being supervised, so I quietly arranged for people to follow you. This way, no matter where I am, I can have some peace of mind.”
Zhu Yan had already figured this out but was still annoyed that Shen Du had been away for days only to return home and interrogate her like a criminal. She was deliberately being difficult.
Seeing Zhu Yan’s expression soften, Shen Du pressed on, “In the future, please don’t act so rashly. Lai Luozhi has committed many injustices beyond this one case. If you try to manage every instance, how could you possibly handle them all?”
As Zhu Yan stood to leave, Shen Du pulled her back down to sit opposite him. Irritated, she shook off his hand and retorted sharply:
“Stop talking. I may not know about the other cases, but since I know about this one, I must act.” She pursed her lips and turned away, continuing, “You may be able to turn a blind eye to such cruelty, but I can’t. I worked hard to become a female official in the Ministry of Justice to examine corpses, judge cases, and speak for the dead – to seek justice for the people. General Kana Qisuo was innocent, and his family and servants were even more so. Yet based on fabricated charges, they face the extermination of nine clans. You didn’t see how they were mutilated, their ears cut off and faces disfigured. General Kana Qisuo suffered the worst. Why? Why should innocent people be treated so brutally by Lai Luozhi?”
Struck by her resolute words, Shen Du felt conflicted. He pulled her into his arms, enduring the pain as she stomped on his feet, unwilling to let go.
Eventually, Zhu Yan noticed Shen Du’s furrowed brow and pained expression, his thin lips hissing in discomfort. Her heart softened, and she buried her face in his chest without a word.
“It’s not that I’m turning a blind eye. I know that if I intervene, they’ll turn their attention to you,” he continued when he felt her calm down. “I can handle anything happening to me, but I can’t bear to see you in danger. Lai Luozhi’s power is immense. You’re alone and vulnerable. If he decides to punish you, I fear even I couldn’t protect you.”
Shen Du’s patience with her was extraordinary, and being unaccustomed to flowery words, his heartfelt confession made Zhu Yan’s heart race and her ears turn red.
After a while in each other’s arms, Zhu Yan finally spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it through and didn’t understand your good intentions.”
Shen Du shook his head, naturally not blaming her.
Zhu Yan moved back slightly and sighed, “In the future, I’ll inform you beforehand. I won’t act on my own again and worry you.”
Her sincere attitude mellowed Shen Du, who hadn’t been particularly angry to begin with. He stroked her hair and pulled her back into his embrace.
Despite Shen Du’s efforts to suppress the matter, news leaked out after a few days.
Shen Du held the silver fox cloak embroidered with red plum blossoms, his expression as cold and stern as frost and snow.
At the beginning of the Mao hour, the palace sent someone to escort Zhu Yan, specifying that she should come alone.
Originally, it was their day off, and Zhu Yan had planned to visit her parents with Shen Du.
“His Majesty wants me to go alone,” Zhu Yan reminded, adjusting her collar and seeing Shen Du in his court attire.
Shen Du looked down, his dark eyes fixed on Zhu Yan. “I’m coming with you.”
“You’re defying the emperor. If I die because of you, you’ll regret it for life,” Zhu Yan poked his forehead, feigning anger.
He poked her forehead in return. “If I let you go alone, I’ll regret it for life.”
Under his gaze, Zhu Yan’s face turned red. Nearby, Zhang Baohuan rolled her eyes before stepping forward to intervene. “His Majesty said only Lady Zhu should come. Please, Lord Shen, don’t make this difficult for us.”
Shen Du insisted, “If His Majesty finds fault, I’ll take responsibility.”
“Heh,” Zhang Baohuan chuckled lightly, then suddenly turned serious. “Rest assured, I’ll ensure Lady Zhu’s safety. Not a hair on her head will be harmed.”
As Shen Du hesitated, Zhu Yan exchanged a glance with Zhang Baohuan. Seeing Zhang Baohuan leave, she stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Shen Du’s lips, smiling brightly at him.
“Wait for me to return.”
Stunned, Shen Du wrapped his arms around her slender waist, bending down to claim her lips thoroughly before resting his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.
“Don’t mention anything related to General Kana Qisuo, or any of Lai Luozhi’s affairs. And don’t…”
“Alright, I understand. You’re such a worrier,” Zhu Yan interrupted.
Zhang Baohuan called from outside. Zhu Yan smiled sweetly, biting her lip before hurrying out.
Shen Du raised his hand to his lips, his eyes deep in thought. Then, as if remembering something, he summoned Jinglin for instructions before quickly leaving.
—
It had only been a few days since her last palace visit. The Empress summoning her so early in the morning undoubtedly related to recent court matters, likely involving Shen Du.
What could make the Empress so concerned about a mere sixth-rank official in the Ministry of Justice like herself?
After winding through the Imperial Garden’s three curves and nine rings, passing through twisted corridors, Zhu Yan arrived outside the Lanwu Pavilion in the center of the lotus pond. She kowtowed, crying “Long live Your Majesty!”
There was no response from behind the gauze curtains for a long time, so Zhu Yan continued kneeling.
Finally, a voice responded from inside, and a palace maid came out to summon her.
Having knelt for so long, Zhu Yan needed the maid’s support to stand. Her knees were cold from the bluestone slabs. She quickly tidied herself and entered, bowing respectfully with her head lowered.
After dismissing the attendants, the Empress rose and said softly, “Sit down.”
Zhu Yan didn’t react immediately, still remembering how the Empress had threatened to execute her to make way for Princess Jia’an last time.
“What’s the matter? Am I so old now that no one listens to me anymore?”
Zhu Yan wouldn’t dare. Claiming to be “terrified,” she had no choice but to perch on the edge of the stone bench, sitting up straight with her ears pricked, not daring to move carelessly.
“I’ve summoned you for three matters,” Zhou Zhao lightly tapped a plate of jade-green cakes on the stone table with her chin. “Do you know what they are?”
The jade-green cakes were made from the tenderest lotus leaves picked by coming-of-age palace maids in small boats during summer. The leaves were dried in gold-stone ovens, ground into powder, and preserved. When lotus leaves withered in autumn and winter, the powder was mixed with flour and molded into jade-green cakes. They melted in the mouth with the fresh scent of lotus leaves, as if transporting one back to the lush summer days of verdant lotus ponds.
“Your humble servant does not know,” Zhu Yan said, holding a piece of jade cake in her hand and shaking her head to indicate her ignorance.
Zhou Zhao lounged lazily on the fur rug received as tribute, drawing out a gold phoenix hairpin and letting a strand of her hair fall to play with it.
“Indeed, growing old has its drawbacks. Nowadays, eating just half a piece of this jade cake leaves me unable to eat anything else for half a day. It’s not like you young people.”
Zhu Yan, unsure of the meaning, stood holding the jade cake, feeling at a loss.