Yuwen Jie followed him in, looked up, and saw a dazed idiot clinging to the roof beam, face covered entirely in dust.
“Prime Minister,” he said, displeased. “Didn’t I say not to be late for morning court?”
Coming back to her senses, catching the Emperor’s gaze, Hua Chun couldn’t help but shiver, and hurriedly said, “Reporting to Your Majesty, this servant is still injured — I truly cannot get down!”
He Chang’an blinked, glancing between the Emperor and the roof beam. He hadn’t been back in Yanjing for a long time and didn’t really know Hua Jinghua yet, only having heard the name — thunderously renowned — and had assumed he’d be an extremely serious person.
He hadn’t expected today’s encounter to be so unexpected.
Those eyes of his were really bright — full of life, like they had stars in them.
What He Chang’an didn’t know was that those “stars” were simply the sparkle that appeared in Hua Chun’s eyes whenever she saw a handsome man — the better-looking the man, the brighter the sparkle. Faced with an especially devastating specimen, it could even become like moonlight on a night road, or a searchlight cutting through darkness.
“Get down!”
Watching her looking so frail, Yuwen Jie felt a flash of irritation and, without further nonsense, barked out those two words in a low voice.
The pressure of his authority was quite frightening. Hua Chun nearly cried, looking at the ground a full zhang below her, then feeling her still-aching backside, and couldn’t help but adopt an expression of tragic resignation.
This was truly a case of “when the ruler commands death, the subject cannot refuse to die”!
Closing her eyes, Hua Chun trembled and stood up.
He’s so thin, He Chang’an thought, looking at that slender frame straining against the official robes, his brow furrowing slightly. Yuwen Jie, by contrast, wore a calm expression, even stepping back to clear space.
Eunuch Qin watched, wiping sweat, and at one point gestured to Huo Zichong beside him, signaling — should they go help catch her?
Huo Zichong readied himself; even without an imperial order, for the sake of the court, he had to catch Prime Minister Hua. He was too thin — jumping down like this with no cushioning, and no martial arts skill, he’d surely be hurt.
Everyone positioned themselves on the right side of the beam, ready. Hua Chun glanced at the soft couch on the left side, closed her eyes, steeled her resolve, and jumped straight toward the couch instead.
“Prime Minister!” Huo Zichong cried out in shock — there was a low table right by the couch too; wouldn’t jumping there hurt even more?
Yuwen Jie was clearly also startled by this move, and reacted even faster than Huo Zichong, reaching out to try to catch her. But he’d been distracted a moment ago, and his movement was clearly slower than He Chang’an, who had been watching Hua Chun the whole time.
So, after a full three-hundred-sixty-degree airborne display of reckless self-destruction, Hua Chun fell into He Chang’an’s arms. The tremendous force of the impact sent the man behind her crashing into the low table.
“Hiss—” Sucking in a sharp breath, Hua Chun scrambled up the instant she landed, looking at the man behind her, her face turning pale. “Are you alright?”
She’d heard that impact — it had been loud.
“Chang’an?” The Emperor, also looking tense, stepped over in two strides to check on him.
“I’m fine, just a minor injury,” He Chang’an said, frowning as he reached back to press a hand to his lower back. “Good that the Prime Minister is unharmed.”
Hua Chun felt a pang of guilt, but really, this wasn’t entirely her fault — the only thing nearby that offered any cushioning was that couch; she’d genuinely been aiming for the soft spot.
“I’m fine. Today, my lord’s kindness, I, Jinghua, will never forget,” she said, hurriedly bowing to him. “Once I leave the palace, I will personally call upon you to apologize.”
Her pale, slender neck bent low, the tense tendons visible from the strain. He Chang’an smiled, his gaze turning unexpectedly gentle. “There’s no need for the Prime Minister to be so anxious.”
Yuwen Jie frowned, glancing at Hua Chun, and said, “If there’s nothing more, you should head out of the palace soon. The Marquis and I still have things to discuss.”
The very person responsible for this entire mess was now speaking to her in such a reproachful tone? Hua Chun was thoroughly annoyed, and couldn’t help rolling her eyes internally.
“This servant takes leave!”
He Chang’an leaned against the couch, watching that thin figure depart, then turned back to look at the Emperor. “How did he end up on a roof beam in the first place?”
“It’s a long story,” Yuwen Jie said, pressing his lips together. “Do you want the imperial physician to take a look at you first?”
“It’s not that serious,” He Chang’an said, glancing down at his own hand. “Or rather — maybe too light. Just how hard have you been working this little Prime Minister who worries so much about the nation and its people, that he’s gotten this thin?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Yuwen Jie said, keeping his expression neutral. “Probably eating too many snacks and not enough real meals. Nothing to do with me.”
“Oh…” He Chang’an shrugged. “Weren’t you the one who had him caned just a few days ago? Doesn’t that count?”
The two of them had grown up together as close friends, and their conversation was always informal, without much regard for rank. Hearing this, Yuwen Jie didn’t take offense, but changed the subject: “Zichen Hall was sealed off last night — you must have heard?”
“I have,” He Chang’an said. “I’ve already had people investigating, though Your Majesty should understand — that person is always meticulous, never leaves anything that could be used against them. And even in the worst case, even if it’s proven to be his doing, the Empress Dowager will likely still plead on his behalf.”
“Set that aside for now,” Yuwen Jie said. “Just make sure you find the evidence and keep it secure.”
“Understood.”
The Hua Residence.
Hua Chun limped in through the gate, muttering complaints under her breath the whole way.
Maybe she was just fated to clash with the palace — every single time she left that place, she came back looking like a disaster! She only had one life to live — who had she offended to be plagued with so much misfortune?
Her face and body were covered in dust, and though she’d been caught by Marquis Gongyu when she jumped down, the impact had still hurt badly — there wasn’t a single part of her body that didn’t ache.
What sins had she committed in a past life…
“Oh no, Young Master!” The gatekeeper, seeing her state, immediately let out a wail.
The household servants scattered, spreading the news, shouting it all across the estate. Hua Chun no longer had the energy to scold them, and simply trudged step by step back to her small courtyard.
The result of this was that the moment she sat down, people from every courtyard, hearing the commotion, all came flocking to see the spectacle.
“Oh my, how did you end up like this again?” Madam Ren’s face was full of concern, though her eyes carried a hint of mockery. “Just yesterday, Sister said you might have been kept in the palace to discuss important matters — I never expected you’d come back looking so wretched.”
“Quick, go fetch a physician.” The Third Young Miss beside her ordered someone outside, then leaned in to look Hua Chun over, her small face full of innocent smiles. “Eldest Brother works so hard, always suffering for our Hua family’s sake.”
“Still, how did His Majesty end up blaming you again? Will this affect the Hua family?”
Hearing this, Concubine Wu nearby grew displeased. “How could that be right? Even if the Prime Minister is part of the Hua family, if he’s made a mistake, surely the whole family shouldn’t have to share the blame? Young Master, what did His Majesty say?”
Hua Chun’s heart chilled listening to all this clamor — not a single person cared what had actually happened to Hua Jinghua’s body, and some were even branching off into distancing themselves from her.
Just as her frustration was rising, a loud, furious shout rang out:
“EVERYBODY GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!”