After carefully kneeling and paying his respects, Yu Lin Lang stole a glance at her and was immediately stunned.

He was accustomed to painting portraits and had seen hundreds if not thousands of beautiful women, but none could compare to the person before him. Comparing her to spring orchids or autumn chrysanthemums would be too plain and thin; comparing her to peach blossoms in their glory would be too shallow, failing to capture her dignity.

This seventeen-year-old youth searched his mind thoroughly, suddenly stumped by how to describe her.

It wasn’t until Chen Da Chang, standing guard by the door, sternly reprimanded him: “Insolent!” that Yu Lin Lang realized he had been staring directly at the Queen for quite some time.

This was greatly disrespectful!

He was about to kneel to apologize when Feng Miao Jun waved her hand: “Never mind, just paint a good portrait for me.” She then asked him, “Will you paint here?”

The East Qing Pavilion was her library. Although it housed many books, it was exclusively for the Queen’s use and was arranged exquisitely and warmly, quite unlike the cold and rigid study rooms of men.

“The scenery in the garden would be better, but it’s cold…” Yu Lin Lang looked around, thought for a moment, and said, “Let’s stay here.” Though it had cleared up outside, the temperature was low. If he suggested the Queen go to the garden for scenery and her precious body caught a chill, he would be in big trouble.

Feng Miao Jun took a book in hand: “Fine, go ahead and paint.” He would paint while she read.

Yu Lin Lang hesitated a moment before saying softly, “Would you… would you like to change your appearance?”

Feng Miao Jun touched her face: “Doesn’t it look good?” She specifically touched the corners of her mouth—there weren’t any rice grains there.

“It looks very good,” the young man smiled awkwardly. “It’s just that your hairstyle is a bit… plain.”

Not just her hair—today the Queen wore a sky-blue gauze dress with a soft sheer outer layer, her black hair secured with just a single jade hairpin. Although a beauty looks good in anything, the noble ladies who previously sought his portraits always came in brocade clothes and fine makeup to preserve their momentary splendor. The Queen’s attire was truly too simple.

Feng Miao Jun smiled: “Just paint. Did I say I would only sit for a portrait once?” She was too lazy to move.

Yu Lin Lang responded with a “Yes,” and indeed turned his attention back to setting up his easel, grinding ink, and spreading out the scroll, attending to his own business.

Painting a sovereign’s portrait was a very meticulous task, taking at least three hours to begin, and Feng Miao Jun needed to cooperate with him.

In the blink of an eye, an hour passed. She had finished reading two books and was about to send someone to fetch a third when Chen Da Chang announced from outside: “State Preceptor Fu has arrived.”

Fu Ling Chuan entered, his gaze first sweeping over Yu Lin Lang’s face and body. The latter was wholly absorbed in painting and didn’t even bow to him. Fu Ling Chuan didn’t mind, just smiling and saying to Feng Miao Jun: “I heard you were having your portrait painted, so I came to join the fun.” After speaking, he walked to the easel and glanced a few times, “Hmm, not bad. Hopefully, it can capture a tenth of your beauty.”

Feng Miao Jun covered her mouth and yawned: “It just takes too long. I’m getting a bit sleepy.”

She spoke casually and naturally as if treating him as her closest person, the tension from the past few days seemingly gone. Fu Ling Chuan instead grew slightly alert: she was getting better at hiding her thoughts, even controlling her emotions at will.

But on the surface, he still smiled and said: “How about a game of chess?”

She put down her book and asked curiously: “State Preceptor handles countless affairs daily, yet has time to play chess with me?”

“To accompany Your Majesty, any major matter must be set aside.” Fu Ling Chuan sat at the end of the couch, and a maid naturally brought over a small table and chessboard, followed by clear tea and fruits.

This match lasted two hours.

Fu Ling Chuan’s chess style was dense and meticulous, his thoughts concealed, while Feng Miao Jun played naturally and directly, charging left and right, often managing to break through the encirclement in the end.

Fu Ling Chuan smiled: “Chang Le’s chess skills are becoming increasingly formidable.” The last time they played was when they had just arrived in Wussel City. Back then, her moves were already fierce, but not as nimble as today.

Feng Miao Jun snorted: “You flatter me, but unfortunately, I still can’t beat you.” She tossed a black piece into the bowl. “I concede.”

Fu Ling Chuan nodded and praised her: “Indeed, the wise know when to yield.” She had lost a large territory, and even if she persisted to the end, the result would remain the same. It was better to concede early and save time.

“I’m not wise,” she took a sip of clear tea. “I am the Queen.”

“Another round?”

“No thanks.” She glanced out the window, seeing it was noon. “Chess is boring. It’s time for lunch.”

Fu Ling Chuan then gathered the pieces back into the bowl, saying: “Your Majesty spent more than just this little time playing chess at Lan Xiu Garden.”

Lan Xiu Garden was where the Wei Kingdom envoys had stayed during the summer. It seemed her activities with Yun and Xu Guang Xiang hadn’t escaped Fu Ling Chuan’s eyes and ears. Feng Miao Jun continued gathering pieces without even pausing: “If I hadn’t played chess for a while, could we have reached an agreement?”

Was she reminding him of her great contribution? Fu Ling Chuan’s gaze upon her became increasingly peculiar: “How were the wins and losses in those games that day?”

“One loss, one win.”

“It seems Chang Le’s chess skills are on par with State Preceptor Yun.”

“No,” she was honest. “He deliberately let me win to save the sovereign’s face.”

Today, however, Fu Ling Chuan hadn’t let her win. His brow furrowed slightly, then relaxed: “State Preceptor Yun is also generous, willing to wager five hundred thousand taels of silver to make Chang Le smile.”

He even knew their bet at that time. There were his eyes and ears everywhere in the palace, including around her. Feng Miao Jun looked up with a smile so brilliant it made even him feel dazzled: “Like this?”

Fu Ling Chuan averted his gaze and lightly coughed: “Is the painting done?”

Yu Lin Lang on the other side had not moved for a long time, seeming lost in thought. Fu Ling Chuan repeated his question, and only then did the painter wake as if from a dream, saying with frustration: “It’s far from complete. Please forgive me, Your Majesty and State Preceptor.”

How so? Before Fu Ling Chuan could even frown, Yu Lin Lang had already explained apologetically: “It’s truly difficult to capture Your Majesty’s spirit and charm. Please allow Lin Lang to take it back and refine it for three days before presenting it!”

“Fine,” Feng Miao Jun stood up and waved her hand. “You may go.”

After Yu Lin Lang left, Feng Miao Jun glanced at Fu Ling Chuan: “Five families still haven’t come to submit. What do you plan to do?”

Within the specified time limit, most noble families had complied, but five families still showed no movement. The Royal Court had not received their military reduction reports, and their clan leaders had not come to the capital to report.

Who would willingly give up power once they had wielded it?

“There are still twenty days left before the deadline,” Fu Ling Chuan smiled darkly. “Those who fail to arrive by the deadline will be treated as rebels for disobeying orders!”

Then the Royal Court’s army would have just cause to act. Now that various regional noble families had reduced their forces and the realm was peaceful, New Xia had even more confidence to deal with these few stubborn holdouts.

Incidentally, it would also let the court and the people witness the Royal Court’s thunderous methods.

As a result, the clan leader from another family arrived three days later. Almost simultaneously, Queen Chang Le received a letter from the Wei Kingdom.

The characters on the letter were flamboyant as if still exuding the vigor of fresh ink:

“The Zhang family of Yun Prefecture fled in rebellion in late autumn, leaving New Xia for the islands of Wu Kingdom. Family members left in three batches, totaling 267 people. Currently, half are detained at Zhuilong Valley, ninety miles west of Pu Ling Kingdom. I offer this as a gift, and to ease An An’s worries. Please retrieve them yourself. We shall meet soon.”

The signature was just a single character: “Ya.”