Yuwen Jie paused, looking her over twice. “Solid?”

Hua Chun nodded with a beaming smile, only to notice his expression carrying a hint of meaningful teasing.

“No…” she hurriedly waved her hands. “Not that kind of solid, this concubine means Your Majesty has a good physique!”

Nodding, the Emperor with the fine physique flipped her over and pressed her down onto the couch. “I’m quite satisfied with that kind of compliment.”

A moment ago they’d been having a perfectly serious discussion, and now suddenly the mood had turned ambiguous! Hua Chun swallowed, pressed down by him, letting out a small groan. “You’re too heavy.”

“Mm, I’ll be sure to go easier.”

Hua Chun: “…”

Why did she always feel like she was being teased? Why did what she said never seem to land on the same wavelength as him?

The autumn moon hung high — another good time for bedchamber attendance. Fine, precious fabrics were tossed carelessly aside, and as skin met skin, Hua Chun trembled all over.

“How long have I been in the palace now?” she suddenly asked.

The Emperor said, “Half a month.”

Only half a month… She felt like it had already been ages. In another half a month, would she need to start worrying about pregnancy? In TV dramas, one time was all it took — was there any chance she’d already conceived without knowing?

As if guessing what she was thinking, Yuwen Jie curved his lips, saying in good spirits, “No need to rush.”

Her little thoughts exposed, feeling a touch of embarrassment, Hua Chun coughed lightly and muttered, “Who’s rushing?”

Without another word, the Emperor pulled her along into the depths, waves crashing against waves — another sleepless night.

Nourished by his care, Hua Chun’s face bloomed with color and her whole spirit seemed brighter. The next day, when she went to see the Marquis of Gongyu, the marquis studied her with deep eyes for a long while before saying, “Your Highness seems to be in good spirits.”

Hua Chun smiled and sat with him in the imperial garden, looking at the clusters of autumn chrysanthemums. “Eat and sleep, sleep and eat, no worries at all — how could my mood not be good? As for you, Marquis, we haven’t seen each other in a few days and you’ve gotten thinner again.”

He Chang’an pressed his lips together and turned his head elsewhere. “The food at the marquis estate keeps getting worse. It’s only natural I’d lose weight.”

Mentioning that, He Chang’an couldn’t help laughing softly. “Fancy you still remembering that.”

“If you’ve had too many sweets and lost your appetite, Marquis, try eating something spicy,” Hua Chun said. “You shouldn’t neglect yourself — someone already this slim shouldn’t get any thinner, or there’ll be nothing left but bones.”

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness,” He Chang’an said with a smile. “I actually came to the palace today because there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

“What matter?” Hua Chun looked at him curiously.

He Chang’an said, “Li Zhongtang has had his official cap stripped, but he shows no intention of giving up the power he holds even in the slightest. Most in court still stand on his side, and the Emperor’s position is looking rather precarious.”

Hearing this, Hua Chun grew serious as well. “You should help His Majesty win over the court officials — hold regular gatherings, so to speak, to indoctrinate them into loyalty toward His Majesty, rather than letting them huddle into factions among themselves.”

“I’ve wanted to,” He Chang’an shook his head. “But it’s proving far too difficult in practice. Prince Xi has been quietly interfering in state affairs, and his weight in court decisions keeps growing heavier. My suggestion would be for His Majesty to send Prince Xi back to his fiefdom as soon as possible, but His Majesty still seems to have reservations.”

Prince Xi did have his own fiefdom to begin with; it was only because of the Empress Dowager’s particular fondness for him that he’d remained in the capital this long. Sending him back would be perfectly ordinary — what exactly was Yuwen Jie hesitating over?

“I’ll ask His Majesty about this for you,” Hua Chun said, thinking it over. “Best if he can be sent away. A prince shouldn’t be attending court in the first place — I said as much a long time ago, but His Majesty didn’t listen.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t listen — it’s that Prince Xi is too thick-skinned,” He Chang’an said with a frown. “Because of the Empress Dowager, His Majesty has always shown Prince Xi leniency and never spoken harshly to him. Rather than take the hint, Prince Xi has instead calculated that the Emperor won’t break with him, and has stubbornly stayed rooted in court. He’s also gained the backing of a whole faction of officials, letting him stand firm within the government.”

Hua Chun frowned, shaking her head repeatedly. This was exactly why one shouldn’t show a bad person the slightest mercy — give them an inch, and they take a mile, gradually eroding what belongs to you, until finally they’ve taken everything, and you don’t even realize it happened.

Thinking it over, Hua Chun said, “Marquis, lend His Majesty more support for now. I’ll think of a way to handle the rest.”

Glancing at her, He Chang’an suddenly asked, “Does Your Highness currently think of yourself as a prime minister, or as the Emperor’s concubine?”

“What?” Hua Chun was startled, not expecting him to ask this out of nowhere, taking a moment before answering. “A concubine, naturally.”

“Which consort in the harem worries about court affairs the way Your Highness does?” He Chang’an shook his head. “You work hard for no thanks.”

Huh? She hadn’t expected He Chang’an to say something like that — he was, after all, someone loyal to the Emperor. Why would he blame her for doing things on the Emperor’s behalf?

Pausing, He Chang’an seemed to realize his words hadn’t come out quite right, and added an explanation. “With the harem interfering in politics, this official worries that one day Your Highness will bring harm upon yourself.”

“Oh, that.” Realizing his meaning, Hua Chun said, “Don’t worry. I don’t have much ambition for power myself, and His Majesty should understand that too — I’m only helping him with things, and would never get entangled with political authority.”

Throughout history, women who meddled in politics — aside from Wu Zetian — rarely came to a good end. She felt she simply had a bit of cleverness and relevant expertise, but held no real interest in the throne or in power.

“I only hope he won’t fail to live up to this wholehearted devotion of yours,” He Chang’an said, closing his eyes.

Hua Chun laughed dryly, twisting the handkerchief in her hands. “It’s getting late — when will you be leaving the palace, Marquis?”

Looking up at the bright sun overhead, He Chang’an pursed his lips. “In such a hurry to send me off?”

“No, no, not at all.” She waved her hands quickly. “It’s just that His Majesty has said before that even siblings shouldn’t spend too long alone together, and we’ve been sitting here for a full two hours now. His Majesty should be finished at Zichen Hall soon.”

Did this even count as being alone together? He Chang’an glanced over at Qing Niao nearby.

Qing Niao stood there smiling like a statue.

“Never mind, then.” He rose. “If you ever need help, just send someone to the marquis estate to let me know.”

“Alright.” Hua Chun nodded and watched him leave.

If it weren’t for something truly urgent, she would never go asking He Chang’an for help.

She’d always sympathized with the second male lead in dramas, but now that she was actually in the position, she genuinely didn’t know how to handle it. Ignore him entirely, and all that devotion he’d poured out toward her would go to waste. Keep dragging things out, and it started to feel like occupying a position without doing the job. Try to be generous and set him up with someone else, and he might not even like the match, while she’d end up saddled with the reputation of a self-righteous saint.

Feelings, truly, were the most complicated thing in the world!