“Ow, ow, ow!” As soon as his arm was touched, the person on the ground started screaming like a pig being slaughtered.
The emperor frowned. “Where did you learn to be so delicate? A man should endure pain no matter how bad it is!”
Even as he shouted this, his hands changed direction anyway, gripping directly at his waist and lifting him up.
Slender and soft, barely a handful—Yuwen Jie was genuinely shocked by Hua Jinghua’s willowy waist, so much so that he couldn’t quite come back to his senses for a moment.
“Your Majesty?” Huo Zhaoyi caught up and looked up just in time to see the emperor’s ears faintly reddening.
“Send for the imperial physician.” Yuwen Jie pressed his lips together. “Eunuch Qin, have someone bring a palanquin. Send the Prime Minister to Zichen Hall.”
“Yes!” Eunuch Qin acknowledged and hurried off to fetch people. Before long, both the palanquin and the imperial carriage arrived together.
A palace attendant nearby reached out, wanting to take Hua Jinghua from the emperor’s hands, but Yuwen Jie showed not the slightest intention of letting go, personally supporting Hua Jinghua all the way to the palanquin.
“Your Majesty, you…” Huo Zhaoyi was not pleased.
The thing most likely to upset a woman is watching someone be kind to a person she despises. Hua Jinghua had caused her so much trouble, and now that he’d fallen and hurt himself, it served him right—why should the emperor fuss over him like this?
Her voice this time was louder than before, but Yuwen Jie still showed no sign of turning back. He saw Hua Jinghua into the palanquin, then boarded the imperial carriage beside it himself.
“You go back first,” he said.
Looking left and right, Huo Zhaoyi only then realized these words were meant for her. She grew even more displeased inside, but could only bend her knees in a curtsy. “This concubine bids Your Majesty farewell.”
She’d finally gotten the chance to stroll through the garden with His Majesty, and it had been ruined just like that!
Watching the departing palanquin recede into the distance, Huo Xianrou twisted the handkerchief in her hands, her eyes deep with thought.
“Mistress,” the maid Mian’er beside her said quietly, “this servant can’t help feeling today’s incident was rather too convenient. The Prime Minister fell at just the right moment—if nothing had happened, His Majesty might well have stayed the night at Wanbao Hall.”
“I think so too.” Huo Zhaoyi narrowed her eyes, thoughts turning over several times, then finally flicked her handkerchief. “Forget it. Let’s head back. Once His Majesty has gone this time, he certainly won’t be coming back.”
“Yes.”
The whole way there, Hua Chun felt like death would be preferable to this. She should have known—if she was going to fake it, she should have fallen lighter. This much pain meant it was definitely broken; forget writing, even eating would probably be a problem.
What rotten luck. Who exactly had it in for her? If she hadn’t been shoved like that, she could at least have braced herself and lessened the damage.
“Your Majesty, the imperial physician is already waiting inside.”
They had arrived at Zichen Hall. Eunuch Qin helped the emperor down from the carriage and said quietly.
Yuwen Jie nodded, glancing sideways at the person in the palanquin. “Can you walk on your own?”
Hua Chun gritted her teeth and answered, “I can.”
After all, it was her hand that was broken, not her foot. Though her whole body ached from the fall, walking wasn’t a problem. To maintain some semblance of manly dignity, Hua Chun clenched her hand, sweat pouring down, and marched stiffly into Zichen Hall.
The emperor walked beside her, glancing at her sideways once or twice, saying nothing.
Everyone in the palace was precious; no one had ever suffered such a serious external injury before. The imperial physician’s gaze was heavy with concern as he gently pressed on her wrist, and Hua Chun couldn’t help but let out a wail of pain.
“Enough.” Yuwen Jie frowned. “It’s most likely a hairline fracture from the fall. Apply some medicine and set it with a plaster splint.”
He’d seen plenty of injuries like this during military campaigns—it wouldn’t cost her her life, just a few months without the use of her right hand.
“This subject obeys.” The imperial physician had been worried that the Prime Minister’s screaming might get him blamed for incompetence, but once the emperor personally stated the treatment method, he relaxed. He set to work without holding back, feeling along the bone to reposition it, then instructed his assistant to bring the splint and plaster.
“Aaaaah—”
Throughout the entire process, Hua Chun kept her mouth wide open, howling at the heavens.
The noise was truly enormous—loud enough that even the emperor couldn’t help covering his ears.
“Your Majesty.” Eunuch Qin, reading the room, said quietly, “Wouldn’t you like to rest in the side hall for a while?”
“No need,” Yuwen Jie said. “Go and bring back all the memorials. I might as well review them here.”
Eunuch Qin paused slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but he complied, having people bring the memorials back from Wanbao Hall.
The emperor had an odd habit: the noisier the place, the better he could focus on reading memorials and books. In the past he’d always had the consorts dance for him, precisely because he disliked watching people dance so much that he could get through his memorials quickly that way.
Now here he was, reading memorials at the place where the Prime Minister was getting bandaged—just how deep did his grudge against Prime Minister Hua run…
Though, admittedly, Prime Minister Hua’s howling was louder than even the loudest zither in the palace—a fine substitute indeed.
The imperial physician spent nearly an hour bandaging her, and Hua Chun howled for nearly that same hour. During that time, Yuwen Jie silently worked through his mountain of accumulated memorials without a sound, and afterward had a sumptuous dinner prepared, bringing the teary-eyed Hua Chun along to eat with him.
“Many thanks for Your Majesty’s banquet.” Her voice hoarse from screaming, Hua Chun’s eyes were red as a rabbit’s, looking utterly pitiful.
Yuwen Jie, uncharacteristically, didn’t make things difficult for her, only saying, “Eat plenty of bone broth to nourish yourself.”
On the table were medicinal dishes for replenishing blood and energy, bone soup, and the braised pork ribs and sweet-and-sour ribs she’d been longing for last time.
Her stomach growled audibly. Hua Chun licked her lips and smiled at the eunuch serving food beside her.
The eunuch understood the Prime Minister’s meaning well enough—the moment the emperor picked up his chopsticks, he followed suit, placing food into Prime Minister Hua’s bowl.
Hua Chun instinctively reached for her chopsticks with her right hand, only to discover her right hand couldn’t move at all.
She was momentarily stunned. How was she supposed to use chopsticks with her left hand? She wasn’t left-handed!
Watching all sorts of delicious dishes pile into her bowl, Hua Chun nearly wanted to cry. “Your Majesty.”
“Hm?” Yuwen Jie looked up, glancing at her. “Don’t like the food?”
“…This subject can’t hold the chopsticks.”
Raising an eyebrow slightly, the emperor seemed to only just realize this. He looked at her, thought seriously for a moment, then waved Eunuch Qin over and had a chair added at his own right-hand side.
“Come here.”
Reluctantly glancing once more at the dishes in her own bowl, Hua Chun swallowed and moved over.
“Open your mouth.” Yuwen Jie personally picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks, watching her.
Hua Chun: “…”
A wave of heat rushed from her neck up to her face; she was completely stunned. “Y-Your Majesty?”
What was he doing? Feeding her himself? Could she even survive this? Wouldn’t people be pointing at her spine and cursing her as an idiot the moment she stepped outside?
Yuwen Jie impatiently gestured for her to look around.
Hua Chun paused, glancing left and right. Huh—all the attendants who’d been standing there moments ago were gone, leaving only Eunuch Qin still positioned behind them, and even he had his back turned.
This setup… wasn’t it just like sneaking around for an affair?
What had gotten into Yuwen Jie, lowering himself to do something like this?
The thousand suspicions in her mind were slowly overwhelmed by the aroma of food filling her nostrils. She opened her mouth wide and bit directly into the meat on the emperor’s chopsticks.
Yuwen Jie seemed to be getting into it like some kind of addiction, one hand propping up his cheek, the other picking up food, eyes half-lidded as he watched her, then fed it into her mouth.
For a moment, Hua Chun thought this emperor seemed rather kindly.
In truth, Yuwen Jie had originally just wanted to tease her a bit. This Prime Minister was normally so meticulous and proper—having to eat food he fed her would surely fluster her, make her eyes dart about nervously, torn and embarrassed. Just imagining that expression seemed rather amusing.
Instead, this shameless Hua Jinghua only blushed briefly, then began eating as if it were the most natural thing in the world, even directing him: “That one, that sweet-and-sour rib.”
Who exactly was teasing whom here?
The emperor was displeased, but still patiently fed her until she was full, not eating a single bite himself.
After the meal, Yuwen Jie began frowning, contemplating life.
He’d been rather off lately, hadn’t he? Why did he keep wanting to look at Hua Jinghua? Why was he treating him so well?
He’d tested himself before—he still had normal interest in women, and toward other men, everything was normal too, no particular feelings there. So why, of all people, was it this Hua Jinghua who stirred something in him he couldn’t quite name or explain…
His gaze deepened slightly. The emperor looked up at the person beside him. “Prime Minister Hua.”
“Hm?” Hua Chun, having eaten her fill, was feeling a bit drowsy, her expression dazed, her clear eyes carrying a faint glimmer as she turned to look at him blankly.
Yuwen Jie paused, gazing into her eyes, and for a moment forgot what he’d meant to ask.
“Your Majesty?” Hua Chun waved a hand in front of him. “What are your orders?”
Closing his eyes in frustration, the emperor said in a low voice, “It’s nothing. Head out of the palace early.”
“Oh.” Hua Chun nodded, standing up and bowing awkwardly. “Then this subject will take her leave.”
Yuwen Jie waved dismissively, turning his head away.
Was this emperor perhaps a little tsundere? Sneaking a couple more glances at him, Hua Chun pursed her lips and turned to walk out of Zichen Hall.
Honestly speaking, when she watched TV dramas, she generally preferred the second male lead—someone like He Chang’an, kind and gentle to people, without all this tsundere awkwardness, someone who clearly understood his own feelings. Being with a man like that wouldn’t leave you feeling so exhausted.
As for this Yuwen Jie—though he seemed to be the male lead, his temperament was just too poor. Even if Hua Jinghua might have feelings for him, there was no way she herself could like him.
Still, what genre was this drama supposed to be, exactly? If it was an inspirational growth story, was there any chance Hua Jinghua could turn back into a woman?
Just as she was thinking this, her path ahead was blocked by someone.
“Prime Minister Hua.” The person who’d appeared was Auntie Yuejian from beside the Empress Dowager, smiling as she looked at her. “The Empress Dowager requests your presence.”
Here we go again—first the emperor, now the Empress Dowager. Hua Jinghua truly led a life of constant running around.
Sighing, Hua Chun resigned herself and said, “Please trouble yourself to lead the way, Auntie.”
This was her second time seeing the Empress Dowager. Without the nervousness of the first time, Hua Chun entered and bowed immediately. “This humble subject pays respects to the Empress Dowager.”
The palace doors closed. The Empress Dowager spoke. “The Prime Minister has worked hard. Hearing that you’ve been injured again, this old one truly feels for you.”
“It was merely an accident,” Hua Chun said. “This subject serves His Majesty and Your Highness until death—and I haven’t died yet, so it’s nothing serious.”