From He Chang’an? Hua Chun’s eyes lit up slightly, and she said immediately, “Bring it over, let me see.”
Pin Tan searched for a moment and pulled out a small, delicate box. Hua Chun opened it to find red brocade lining the bottom, cushioning a pair of jade pendants — a mandarin duck on the left, its mate on the right, their necks intertwined into a single pair. The jade itself was crystal clear, flecked with hints of gold, the craftsmanship exquisite and lifelike.
“What kind of jade is this?” Hua Chun studied it for a while, unable to place it, and turned to ask Pin Tan.
Pin Tan shook her head too, murmuring, “This servant has never seen this kind of jade before. It must be quite rare.”
He Chang’an really had put thought into this. Hua Chun couldn’t help but sigh again — how fitting, “though we were born the same year, we’re both men after all.” How tragic, how tragic!
“I’ll keep this one myself. You and Mother can go ahead and inventory the rest into storage.”
“Yes.”
The pair of pendants could still be worn together without separating them, and given how genuinely charming they looked, Hua Chun carefully tied them onto her waist sash.
Morning court continued as usual. Hua Chun hadn’t received memorials from any of the senior officials in several days now, but she didn’t bother asking about it, simply sending her own memorials into the palace each day with easy indifference, no longer nearly as diligent as Hua Jinghua had once been — reviewing every single memorial. Instead, she just did a rough screening, rejecting the ones that were pure nonsense.
As a result, Yuwen Jie’s workload increased considerably, leaving him sitting grim-faced in the harem every day, consorts dancing before him while he sat above, revising memorials.
“Summon the Prime Minister into the palace for me!” After failing to finish reviewing the memorials before him even after a full hour, Yuwen Jie lost his patience and slammed down a teacup.
Eunuch Qin hurried forward, asking quietly, “Shall I have him summoned to Qinghe Hall?”
The Emperor paused, thought about it, then rose. “Have the carriage prepared for Wanbao Hall.”
Below, Consort Hui, still in her dancing attire, bit her lip in disappointment. Seeing the Emperor about to leave, she couldn’t help but reach out and gently tug at his sleeve. “Was my dancing not as pleasing as Huo Zhaoyi’s?”
Yuwen Jie frowned, gently pulling his sleeve free, and said to Consort Hui, “Rest well. Don’t overthink it.”
With that, he left.
Consort Hui looked as though she’d been slapped, her face burning, able only to watch helplessly as the Emperor walked out of Qinghe Hall, not daring to call after him again.
Such was the fickleness of imperial favor, truly flowing like water…
Hua Chun had been happily relaxing at home over tea when, without warning, she was hauled back into the palace again.
“What now?” Walking alongside the palace attendant, Hua Chun glanced up at the blazing sun above, thoroughly annoyed.
“His Majesty is thinking of the Prime Minister’s own good,” the leading attendant said with a smile. “Didn’t the Empress Dowager instruct that the Prime Minister accompany her in reading? His Majesty happens to be at Wanbao Hall right now, and worried the Prime Minister might be blamed by the Empress Dowager, sent for you specially.”
Hua Chun fell silent.
She’d completely forgotten about that whole business with the Empress Dowager. So, in a roundabout way, she supposedly had the Emperor to thank for the reminder?
Sighing, Hua Chun thought it would be wise to request some kind of wedding leave from the Empress Dowager later. As for Huo Zhaoyi being a bit charming — well, judging by how the Emperor could apparently still focus on reviewing memorials while sitting in her palace, he clearly wasn’t the type to be swayed by her charms. The Empress Dowager’s worries were unnecessary. Too much fretting wasn’t good for an elderly person’s health — children and grandchildren had their own fortunes to work out.
With that thought, she stepped into Wanbao Hall.
And then she saw the Emperor, arms wrapped around a still rather scantily dressed Huo Zhaoyi, seated together on the main throne, whispering sweet nothings. From this angle at the doorway, it looked as though Huo Zhaoyi might be kissing the Emperor’s neck.
Amitabha! Hua Chun quickly lowered her head, goosebumps rising all over her body.
In broad daylight, in a public setting, could they not be at least a little mindful of appearances?! Ugh! Even if he didn’t care about protecting his own dignity, could he at least have some basic decency and protect other people’s eyes? Hua Chun was thoroughly outraged — if there were newspapers here, she’d definitely be submitting a story. Headline: “Shocking News! The Reigning Emperor Indulges Wantonly in the Harem, Staging a Live Bedroom Scene in Broad Daylight!”
That would sell like hotcakes.
Given the scene before her, she genuinely wanted to turn around and leave — after all, one shouldn’t look at what’s improper. But before she could act on it, Yuwen Jie spoke up.
“Come in.”
Damn him.
Cursing internally, Hua Chun kept a composed smile on her face, walking forward without lifting her eyes, and bowed. “This subject pays respects to Your Majesty.”
“No need for formalities.” He reached over and shoved a stack of memorials across the table toward her. “Nice weather today. The Prime Minister can go ahead and revise these.”
Hua Chun: “……”
This man was absolutely shameless! As Emperor, wasn’t revising memorials literally his own job? Just because Hua Jinghua used to help him out regularly didn’t mean it was suddenly her responsibility — was he just that used to depending on someone else now?
Choosing her words carefully, Hua Chun said with a smile, “Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager’s decree states that Your Majesty is to revise the memorials personally.”
The only person in this palace outranking the Emperor was the Empress Dowager — might as well invoke her more often, for the sake of her own health.
Yuwen Jie raised an eyebrow slightly. “You revise them.”
Ha! What a joke — did his cold two-word command actually work on her? Hua Chun lifted her chin with full conviction.
Then quietly picked up the entire stack of memorials in front of the Emperor and carried them over to the small side table.
Sigh.
Why did people even have such a thing as courage? And if they had it, why was hers always in such short supply? She could have reasonably argued her case, pushed the Emperor to correct his own behavior — but instead, the moment he used that icy tone with her, she caved, and once she caved, there was no bottom left to hit. Whatever he said, she just went along with it.
Such is the way of the world — soft persimmons get squeezed, and being too gentle only invites trouble. And look where it had gotten her!
An attendant brought over brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. It was only upon seeing the writing brush that Hua Chun snapped back to reality, breaking into a cold sweat.
Her… her handwriting was completely different from Hua Jinghua’s. Yuwen Jie had spent so long looking at Hua Jinghua’s calligraphy — what would happen if she suddenly submitted memorials in a completely different hand?
She didn’t even need to think about the outcome. One word: death.
Shivering, she forced a dry laugh and turned back. “Your Majesty, none of these memorials are urgent — could they wait until tomorrow?”
The Emperor, arms still around his companion, didn’t even look at her. “No.”
Hua Chun grew flustered, glancing back at the ugly, tear-inducing handwriting on the memorials, forcing herself to focus and think of a way out.
What could she do right now to avoid having to write?
Option one: set the palace on fire. There happened to be a candlestick right by her left hand — if she knocked it over, the flames could spread along the nearby gauze curtains.
But given how many staff the palace employed, the curtain probably wouldn’t even be halfway burned before the fire was put out — and she’d surely be charged with attempted assassination, then dragged out and executed on the spot.
On to option two, then: fake being sick, claim a stomachache, and head to the outhouse, stalling until the palace gates locked for the night, at which point she could slip away.
But this was the imperial palace, crawling with royal physicians — the Emperor could summon any one of them and expose her ruse instantly. Then she’d be charged with deceiving the sovereign and exiled.
Option three? Smash her head straight into the table and die on the spot — no charges to worry about, a clean and simple exit from this world. At the moment, this seemed like the best option available.
Ha ha.
Raking her fingers through her hair, Hua Chun felt utterly defeated inside.
“Your Majesty,” Huo Zhaoyi spoke up. “It seems cooler outside now — shall we take a walk?”
Yuwen Jie glanced over at Hua Chun, hesitating slightly.
Hua Chun immediately stood up and applauded. “Huo Zhaoyi is so thoughtful toward Your Majesty, mindful of your fatigue and looking after your health — truly a rare quality. Your Majesty shouldn’t disappoint her wishes.”
Huo Zhaoyi blinked, forcing a smile, then looked up at the Emperor expectantly.
“Very well.” Yuwen Jie nodded in agreement. “The Prime Minister should join us too.”
“…Huh?” Hua Chun said blankly. “I should go too?”
What kind of role was she supposed to play, tagging along as a third wheel on a couple’s garden stroll? She’d much rather stay behind and figure out how to deal with these memorials — who had time to watch them flaunt their affection?
The Emperor nodded. “Let’s go.”
Her head drooping, Hua Chun answered weakly, “Yes.”
Well, fine — she’d just think of herself as a lapdog, being walked by her two masters. She could keep brainstorming solutions along the way, at least.
Huo Zhaoyi looked somewhat displeased but followed along regardless.
The imperial garden was designed with exquisite, refined detail. As Hua Chun walked through it, she saw ornamental rockeries everywhere, each shaped differently. The flowerbeds bloomed in every color imaginable, as rich and varied as a botanical specimen exhibit. Further ahead was a small lake, quite charming and romantic.
“This consort has heard that this year’s imperial garden has seen unusually auspicious signs — even the rockeries have flowers blooming on them,” Huo Zhaoyi said. “Look, Your Majesty, aren’t those little yellow flowers scattered across them lovely?”
Yuwen Jie didn’t even look up, offering no response at all. Yet Huo Zhaoyi remained enthusiastic regardless, hanging onto the Emperor’s arm, more delighted than if she were at a festival market.
Hua Chun trailed behind, thoroughly bored, glancing up at the rockery ahead — and suddenly, an idea struck her.
That’s right — there was another way to avoid revising the memorials after all!
Cripple her hand!
The idea was bloody and violent, and just thinking about it made her right hand throb in advance. But if she didn’t cripple it now, her head would end up crippled instead later. Between a hand and a head, the choice was obvious — after all, she had two hands, but only one head!
Guided by the principle that scarcity breeds value, Hua Chun made up her mind.
“Your Majesty,” she spoke up. “I think those flowers on the rockery look especially lovely too. Might I pick a couple to bring back and please Qing Niao?”
Yuwen Jie paused mid-step, turning to glance at her.
“If you want to pick them, go pick them yourself. No one else will help.”
“Many thanks, Your Majesty!”
She’d known he’d say exactly that — if someone else went to pick them for her, she’d lose her chance entirely.
Huo Zhaoyi raised an eyebrow, remarking lightly, “There’s a lot of moss on that rockery, Prime Minister. Do be careful.”
“Understood.”
Rolling up her sleeves, Hua Chun made her way around to a more distant rockery, calculating angles and appropriate points of leverage.
Though she’d studied the humanities, this level of calculation wasn’t beyond her — essentially, it was just a matter of free-falling in a way that would specifically injure her right hand, however that ended up happening.
Taking a deep breath, Hua Chun bravely climbed up to the top of the shortest rockery she could find and picked two small yellow flowers.
Now came the real problem — how was she supposed to fall convincingly under the Emperor’s watchful eye?
Anxiously, she glanced over at Yuwen Jie, only to find that he’d already walked further ahead with Huo Zhaoyi on his arm, showing no intention whatsoever of watching her.
…She’d been flattering herself. How embarrassing.
Well, since no one was watching, she might as well take her time. This height was only about two meters — not enough to actually kill anyone.
Gritting her teeth, Hua Chun shifted her weight, preparing to move — when, without warning, a pair of hands appeared behind her and shoved her down hard.
“Ah!”
Completely unprepared, she still let out a scream, and the only thing she could manage was to let her right hand hit the ground first.
“Thud—!”
The commotion was loud enough that Yuwen Jie whipped around instantly, frowning. “What happened?”
Eunuch Qin looked equally baffled. A young eunuch rushed forward to report, “Prime Minister Hua has fallen!”
Brow furrowing, the Emperor shoved past the people in front of him, striding quickly toward the rockery.
Hua Chun lay sprawled on the ground, cold sweat pouring from the pain — the agony of her fractured right hand was no joke, her vision going white at the edges.
“What happened to you?” the Emperor’s voice sounded right beside her ear. “Don’t you have bones in your feet? How does one even manage to fall like this?”
Too drained to even answer, Hua Chun clutched her right hand and let out a pained groan.
Her arm, pale and slender, showed none of the robust build one would expect of a man — something Yuwen Jie had long since grown accustomed to seeing. He reached out without hesitation, moving to help her up.