Everyone says being emperor is the best thing under heaven—wealth, glory, fine clothes, exquisite food, nothing to worry about. Yet being born to be emperor means sacrificing far more. When he made a mistake, it was always those closest to him who bore the consequences—and that was far more painful than bearing it himself.

Yuwen Jie couldn’t even remember when exactly he’d stopped smiling. Perhaps it was when the senior palace maid who had always accompanied and cheered him up died for no reason in a well in the cold palace. Or perhaps it was when everyone who tried their best to make him happy ended up meeting a bad end.

The Empress Dowager said that an emperor’s feelings must never show. If you showed someone great favor, showed partiality, and let others grasp your weakness, then either the one you favored would die, or you yourself would lose the throne, falling into an abyss with no return.

He had resisted before, but after countless bloody, undeniable facts were laid before his eyes, Yuwen Jie gave up struggling and obediently walked the path the Empress Dowager had arranged.

Now he had nearly taken a wrong step again. Fortunately—fortunately, no one had been hurt.

Closing his eyes, the Emperor gripped the medicine bottle in his hand tightly.

Eunuch Qin’s eyes reddened slightly. Seeing the Emperor’s expression, his heart ached too, but he didn’t know what to say.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy; even the sunlight outside seemed unable to reach in.

“Eunuch Qin!” someone suddenly shouted, bursting in as if trailing light, wide eyes darting, hopping to the bedside and looking at him with distress: “This is way too miserable, worse than what happened to me last time. There’s still some medicated ointment I didn’t finish using at the Hua residence—should I have someone bring some out of the palace for you?”

The Emperor startled, and Qin Youcai also froze for a moment, looking up at the Prime Minister before them.

He clearly didn’t glow, yet somehow made everything around him seem brighter, dispelling much of the gloom in the room.

In that instant, Qin Youcai suddenly understood why the Emperor was drawn to him.

“The Prime Minister needn’t worry. This old servant has cheap bones and is used to beatings—I’ll be fine.” Eunuch Qin said with a soft laugh: “It’s just that for the next two days I probably won’t be able to serve the Emperor. The Prime Minister will have to help out more.”

“That’s nothing.” Hua Chun waved her hand generously.

Now that the Emperor had become so much gentler and was easy to deal with, no longer targeting her, everyone understood each other and coexisted peacefully—serving him really was no big deal.

But just as those words left her mouth, the Emperor spoke, tossing out a sentence: “You may leave the palace. You no longer need to continue serving here.”

What? Hua Chun froze, turning to look at Yuwen Jie.

Hadn’t he said she needed to stay in the palace a while longer? Did this mean it was safe outside now? Or what?

Not a hint of emotion showed on the Emperor’s face. He stood, his tall figure blocking the sunlight streaming through the window, casting her entirely into shadow.

“Go back and do what a Prime Minister ought to do.”

“…This servant obeys.”

Since the Emperor had put it that way, she couldn’t very well ask why. Still, out of nowhere, why did Yuwen Jie seem to have reverted back to his old self? Not a trace of human warmth left in him.

“Right, there’s something else this servant wanted to ask.” Hua Chun said: “What I said before the Empress Dowager was only meant to help Your Majesty out of a bind. Now this servant would like to ask seriously—does the Emperor truly have intentions of favoring a male companion?”

“No.” Yuwen Jie answered resolutely: “What I told her is the truth. In this life I despise men who love men most of all, and I would never do such a thing. Nor will there ever be such customs in this palace.”

Letting out a soft breath, Hua Chun smiled: “Then this humble servant can rest easy.”

Rest easy… Yuwen Jie closed his eyes, gave a light scoff, and turned to leave the small side chamber.

Hua Chun watched his retreating back, baffled.

“The Emperor isn’t very good at saying kind things.” Eunuch Qin said quietly: “Staying by the Emperor’s side, you must learn to listen to what he says with your heart, not just your ears. The Prime Minister is a clever one—surely you can understand what this old servant means.”

Hua Chun nodded. She decided she’d just treat Yuwen Jie as a child throwing a tantrum. She’d been living in the palace for so long now; it was about time to head out.

She went to the side hall to pack up her things, then went to the rear hall to bid the Emperor farewell. Though they’d still see each other at tomorrow’s early court, they wouldn’t be eating meals together or reviewing memorials together anymore—it was worth a bit of reluctance to part.

Yet Yuwen Jie showed not the slightest hint of reluctance. The moment she stepped through the rear hall door, a memorial slammed down at her feet, and the Emperor’s voice, laced with anger, said: “You could even manage to drop an urgent memorial marked eight hundred li and forget to show it to me!”

Hua Chun blinked, thinking back for a moment. Given how often she dozed off while reviewing memorials, accidentally knocking one down, having it fall under the desk—that kind of thing happened often enough.

Seeing that Yuwen Jie was genuinely angry, she still knelt down properly and bowed: “This servant admits fault.”

“The memorial about the flood disaster in the northwest—a simple ‘I admit fault’ isn’t enough.” The Emperor said in a deep voice: “As punishment, fifty… taels of your salary.”

He’d originally meant to say fifty strikes of the cane, but seeing his own hand propped on the ground, still wrapped in plaster, he changed his mind.

Hua Chun quickly kowtowed her thanks. Any punishment that wasn’t a beating was a mercy—the silver didn’t matter much anyway, since the Prime Minister’s residence only had so few people in it.

“Get out.” Yuwen Jie turned his back, his anger not yet spent.

Hua Chun carefully rose and tiptoed out of Zichen Hall.

News that the Emperor was in a bad mood, had taken it out on Prime Minister Hua, and had driven the Prime Minister out of the palace spread quickly through the court. For a time, everyone grew anxious, afraid of doing something wrong and angering the Emperor. The Empress Dowager sent Attendant Yuejian to deliver sweets to placate him, but reportedly the Emperor didn’t touch them at all, letting them go cold before having them taken away.

None of the consorts in the various palaces dared step forward, but Hua Xunyue chose this moment to bring tonic medicine into Zichen Hall. No one knew exactly what happened, but the Emperor’s anger seemed to subside, and he rewarded the Noble Consort with several chests of jewels.

A trend of “ugliness” then arose in the palace—the consorts abandoned their beautiful makeup, trying hard to make themselves look plain, hoping to win the Emperor’s favor that way. The Emperor, meanwhile, returned to his old self, spending today in one palace, tomorrow in another.

Everything returned to normal. Hua Chun, too, happily sat in the Prime Minister’s residence hugging a bowl of dried fish snacks that Madam Wan had made, eating and resting at the same time.

“Hua’er.” Wan Liufang looked at her with great worry: “Your hand is injured now, you can’t review memorials, and you’ve angered the Emperor too. The Prime Minister’s authority hasn’t been restored either. If this keeps up, what will happen?”

“It’s fine.” Hua Chun took it lightly: “Consider it a vacation for myself. The Hua family has Third Sister holding things together now, we don’t need to worry.”

“But…”

“The Emperor has his own considerations.” Hua Chun smiled faintly: “Whether he favors me or keeps his distance, he has his own thoughts and purposes. As a subject, all I need to do is cooperate with the sovereign—no need to dwell on anything else.”

She understood better than anyone that Eunuch Qin had been right—when it came to the Emperor, you couldn’t listen with your ears; you had to listen with your heart. Yuwen Jie wasn’t as selfish and domineering as she’d first thought. On the contrary, his heart was rather soft inside; he just always seemed so fierce on the surface for some reason.

He treated her well, and she kept that in her heart, resolved to repay it with loyalty—to safeguard his throne and make his nation prosper.

Having that kind of mutual understanding was enough. On the surface, whatever the Emperor wanted to do, as long as it didn’t cross her bottom line, everything was negotiable.

Madam Wan sighed and relented: “Then I won’t go back to the Hua residence. I’d rather not see those little vixens strutting around with their tails in the air—it makes me uncomfortable just looking at them.”

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” Hua Chun smiled: “Even though my salary’s been docked, I can still afford to support you.”

Madam Wan laughed despite herself.

Qing Niao had her hair styled in a married woman’s bun, dutifully doing housework, tidying his clothes.

“Young Master is really open-minded.” While helping him change clothes, Qing Niao said quietly: “If it were anyone else, they’d probably harbor resentment toward the Emperor.”

“It’s not about being open-minded—people just need to be reasonable.” Hua Chun said: “Though everyone lives for their own interests and speaks from their own standpoint, sometimes you have to see the bigger picture and cooperate with others to walk a better path yourself. Refusing to accept even the smallest loss just means you’re bound to suffer a bigger one later.”

Admiration filled Qing Niao’s eyes as she looked up at her: “It’s wonderful that Young Master thinks this way.”

“Hm?” Hua Chun looked at her, blinking: “You care about the bigger picture too?”

“This servant isn’t interested in such things.” Qing Niao said earnestly: “All this servant wishes for, in this life, is for Young Master to be safe and happy, and for your days to go smoothly.”

“Good girl.” Hua Chun smiled brightly and patted her hand: “I’ll have a maid go buy you some osmanthus cakes later.”

Qing Niao smiled, her eyes bright, and after finishing dressing her, pulled her out to eat.

“She made this dish with her own hands.” Madam Wan said, looking at Hua Chun with great satisfaction: “With such a good wife, you should really cherish her.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Hua Chun nodded teasingly and buried herself in her meal.

The food wasn’t as precious or refined as the dishes in the palace, but it carried the rich flavor of home cooking. As she ate, Hua Chun found herself thinking—if Yuwen Jie tasted cooking like this, he might like it too. After all, once you’ve had your fill of rich, heavy dishes, a bit of light, homestyle food surely whets the appetite.

Yuwen Jie sat alone at his table, staring blankly at the food spread before him.

The sky had gradually darkened, and lanterns had been lit in the palace, bright and cheerful. Yet beside him there was no Eunuch Qin, no Hua Jinghua—only the newly assigned eunuch attending him, and a table of food that gave him no appetite at all.

“Your Majesty.” The eunuch beside him broke out in a cold sweat: “If the food isn’t to your liking, shall I have the Imperial Kitchen prepare another table?”

The Emperor said nothing, his gaze falling silently on the empty seat across from him, and finally said hoarsely: “I want to eat dried fish.”

“…?” The eunuch looked utterly confused.

“The fried kind, tossed with chili.” Yuwen Jie stood and walked toward the inner hall: “Have someone go make it. Take the dinner away and give it to the servants.”

“Yes.”

Why would the Emperor suddenly crave dried fish? The newly arrived eunuch couldn’t understand it at all, but went to carry out the order anyway.

For the next several days, aside from morning court, the Emperor never saw Prime Minister Hua alone again.

There was nothing strange about that. Morning court proceeded as usual; some officials handed their memorials to Hua Chun, while others still gave them directly to His Majesty.

Hua Chun was quite troubled.

Who could she get to help her review the memorials? So many memorials—Yuwen Jie would surely have to stay up until midnight going through them all. Her right hand was still bound and healing, and none of the people at the residence were really up to the task either…