The morning light crept through the gaps in the window, perhaps hoping to sneak a peek at the two figures inside.

But when it slipped in, it found only one person.

“Ning-gege” lay face down on the bed, seemingly asleep — yet the faint smile at the corners of her mouth said otherwise.

The covers had been tossed half aside, the rest draped over her from the waist down. The small shaft of sunlight landed on the smooth expanse of her back, making it lovelier still — white as fresh snow on winter plum blossoms.

She lay there, too lazy to rise, wanting just a little more rest. Li Chi had already gone to morning court.

Lying there thinking of his madness the night before, Gao Xining suddenly burst out laughing.

The laughter made her lower abdomen ache.

Beyond that dull ache, she felt the gentle warmth on her back. The sunlight so fine, the mood so good — why linger in bed?

Yes. On such a beautiful day, shouldn’t she go out and explore the Weiyang Palace she hadn’t yet properly seen?

And so the languid Gao Xining prepared to rise — but the moment she did, a sharp twinge made her frown.

She quietly cursed under her breath. *…Beast.*

This wasn’t right. Auntie Wu had always said that in these matters, it was the man who eventually gave out. She’d been quite certain about it.

Auntie Wu had also said: *It’s heaven’s law that oxen plow the fields — but there are only oxen worn out from plowing, never fields worn out from being plowed.*

True enough in principle — but if that ox was harnessed to a plow and charged forward like a madman, more embracing the plow than pulling it…

*That wretched creature.*

She cursed again, though the sweetness curling at the corners of her mouth was almost sickeningly tender.

She pushed herself up slightly and glanced back at the bed. The state of it…

*That wretched creature.*

She noticed her clothes were nowhere in sight. Searching the room — there, on the distant folding screen, her garments hung. He must have thrown them there.

She rested a while longer before rising. When her long, graceful legs swung down to the floor and sunlight fell across their flawless whiteness, it was the most beautiful sight in the world.

And yet that beautiful sight had been thoroughly *claimed* by that wretched creature — every inch of it.

*Of all the beautiful legs in the world, none compare to half of Ning-gege’s.*

It had to be admitted: Gao Xining had lost this round. The man had gone off to morning court before dawn, full of life.

Meanwhile, Li Chi on his dragon throne, maintaining his composed posture, was finding it increasingly difficult — because his back was aching.

And his legs were doing something he could not stop: a faint, involuntary trembling, as if he were shaking his leg in a most undignified manner.

It wasn’t that he didn’t *want* to be dignified. He simply couldn’t manage it.

He decided he couldn’t sit like this any longer or his back might give out entirely.

So he rose and began walking slowly down from the dais, casting about for something to say to cover the motion.

“I…” — he had barely spoken the word when he saw Grand Chancellor Gao, Elder Yan, Xiahou and the others all turn their eyes toward him.

“We… have something to announce.”

He continued down the steps. “We intend to lead troops to the northern frontier in a few days. Regarding court affairs in our absence…”

His gaze swept across the assembled ministers. When it reached Xu Ji’s face, a light appeared in Xu Ji’s eyes.

Xu Ji’s heart was pounding with anticipation — he waited, hoping, for the words to come.

He didn’t wait long.

“Court affairs will be temporarily managed by Xu Ji. Matters that cannot be decided should be sent to the northern frontier by dispatch.”

Xu Ji drew a long breath. He told himself what he should do now, repeated it twice inwardly, then stepped out with a bow.

“Your Majesty, it is truly inadvisable for you to go to the northern frontier in person at this time—”

Before he could continue, Li Chi shook his head. “We are not consulting you. We are informing you.”

One sentence swallowed everything Xu Ji had prepared. Which was exactly why Xu Ji was *delighted*.

Of course he was delighted. With the Emperor on campaign, court authority rested in his hands. What an honor. Just thinking about it was wondrously pleasant.

Li Chi walked to Xu Ji’s side. “We are entrusting court affairs to you. Do not disappoint us.”

Xu Ji dropped to his knees. “Your servant dares not betray Your Majesty’s trust.”

Li Chi nodded, then addressed the assembly: “For routine matters, Xu Ji may handle them. For urgent and important matters that cannot be sent north in time, you may consult Grand Chancellor Gao and Elder Yan.”

Those light words carried enormous meaning. They clarified that Xu Ji’s authority had a ceiling — if Grand Chancellor Gao and Elder Yan felt he was handling something poorly, they could intervene at any time.

Li Chi helped Xu Ji to his feet. “Xu Ji, understand this: it is not merely these eyes of ours watching how you perform. The entire Central Plains, newly unified, is watching. Is that clear?”

These words carried an even deeper implication.

Xu Ji, however, was too excited to absorb much. All his attention was spent containing that excitement.

“Your servant understands.”

He bowed his head, the surging joy inside him nearly bursting forth.

Li Chi said no more and turned to discuss military affairs with Xiahou and the others.

When he had dispatched Master Ye to the northern frontier, Li Chi had already ordered preparations for the campaign. After all this time, provisions, logistics and supplies were fully ready.

The army could march at any moment — awaiting only Li Chi’s word.

“We will accompany the army but not command it.”

He said, still walking: “Tang Pidi.”

Tang Pidi stepped out immediately. “Your servant is here.”

“The post of Grand General of the Northern Campaign is yours again. All civil and military officials may be commanded by you — including us. We, too, will follow your orders while in your army.”

This was vastly different from what he had just said to Xu Ji — a world of difference.

“Your servant receives the order!” Tang Pidi accepted without protest.

“Xiahou Zhuo.”

“Your servant is here.”

“You are Deputy Commander of the Northern Campaign and will lead the vanguard. You depart tomorrow.”

“Your servant receives the order!”

“Gao Zhen.”

“Your servant is here!”

The young general Gao Zhen stepped forward. He had been scheduled for the southern frontier, but the northern emergency took priority — the south could wait.

The south merely needed a show of force and stability. The north had to withstand the largest Black Wu offensive in centuries.

“Report to Xiahou’s command as vanguard general of the army.”

“Your servant receives the order!”

With military affairs settled, the Great Ning Empire’s inaugural court session came to a close.

Li Chi did not return to the imperial study first — he went to find Gao Xining. An attendant told him the Empress was already waiting in the imperial study.

He went quickly.

Opening the door, he found Gao Xining standing at the window. The silhouette was breathtaking — beautiful without limit.

Li Chi waved everyone else out, then crept up behind her with a grin and gently wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Standing here so quietly in that lovely long dress — all things in the world lose their color before you. The sunlight streaming in is unworthy of you, the gentle breeze is unworthy of you, only…”

He got halfway through before Gao Xining let out a spluttering laugh.

He saw then: her cheeks were stuffed full of pastry.

Only then did he realize she hadn’t been gazing at the scenery — she’d been standing with her back to him because her mouth was too full to face him.

With her laugh, pastry sprayed out in a wide arc.

“I’m sorry…” she said, laughing and barely coherent. “Didn’t expect you back so soon. I brought pastries in case you were hungry after court, but I couldn’t help myself, I was hungry…”

Li Chi laughed until his stomach hurt.

“You are the Empress. Mother of the realm…”

“I saved some for you.”

“Then it’s fine.”

After finally swallowing, she took the water he offered and gulped it down.

“The palace pastries are so good,” she said. “I wonder where they buy them — have someone get more next time they go out.”

Li Chi: “……”

“What’s that look?”

“Palace pastries are made by the palace pastry chefs. We have that luxury now.”

Gao Xining’s eyes slowly widened, then lit up. “Is that so… I thought it was just Auntie Wu doing all the cooking back there.”

“Auntie Wu manages the staff now. She’s the Director of the Imperial Kitchen.”

Gao Xining laughed quietly and leaned close. “Good thing I haven’t said anything to anyone yet. That would’ve been embarrassing.”

Li Chi nodded. The two whispered together.

Just then Tang Pidi and Xiahou Zhuo arrived and were announced waiting outside.

Hearing this, Li Chi immediately began stuffing the remaining pastries into his own mouth, then called out: “Tell them to wait a moment.”

Gao Xining said: “Surely… other Emperors and Empresses aren’t like this, are they?”

Li Chi: “If they’re not like us, they can be wiped out.”

Gao Xining burst out laughing again.

“When I arrived,” she said, “there were pastries on the table in the bedchamber. I didn’t know they were palace-made. But *you* knew all along — why did you rush to eat them? You could’ve shared with Old Tang and the others when they came in. Would’ve made you look generous.”

Li Chi: “In a moment I’ll have the kitchens bring them a fresh plate — as much as they like, even empty the whole kitchen if they want. But *these* ones are mine.”

He looked at her. “You brought them. They don’t deserve a single one.”

Gao Xining’s eyes shone with light, full of tiny stars.

—