“Young Master.”

Just as she was worrying over it, Qing Niao came in carrying tea, glanced at her troubled expression, and tilted her head to ask: “Is something difficult troubling you?”

Hua Chun sighed and looked at her: “Can you write?”

“I can.” Qing Niao nodded confidently: “This servant had no other talents at Tianxiang Pavilion, so I studied calligraphy. What does Young Master need written?”

Hua Chun felt Qing Niao could be trusted. Even in the worst case, if she happened to belong to someone, it could only be connected to He Chang’an, and He Chang’an was loyal to the crown and devoted to the nation—so having her look over memorials shouldn’t be a problem.

Besides, her titanium-alloy discerning eyes were sharp enough to spot any connection at a glance, and she could tell Qing Niao, despite being almost excessively demure, held no ill will toward her at all, nor any intention of whispering pillow talk—just like her best friend Qin Niao, she was a warm-hearted simpleton.

So she confidently handed over the memorials, saying: “Here—you write. Write it right here in the blank margins, and make your handwriting neat.”

“Yes.” Qing Niao took up the brush and ink, sat down properly on the couch nearby, while Hua Chun went to the other side of the couch to watch her, reading the contents aloud line by line. Qing Niao listened attentively, then began writing in an elegant posture.

Madam Wan, watching from outside the window, felt deeply gratified.

Such loving companionship, such mutual respect between husband and wife—truly a model marriage!

At this moment she had completely forgotten the fact that her Hua’er was actually a daughter. Clutching her hands to her chest, she withdrew while murmuring with feeling: “If only my husband were this gentle with me.”

Pin Tan laughed despite herself: “Master treats you well enough, my lady.”

“Forget it!” Madam Wan glared: “It’s been so long since I left the Hua residence and he still hasn’t come to fetch me back. He’s surely been bewitched by that pack of little vixens in the courtyard again.”

Was there a man in this world who didn’t tire of the old and crave the new, who didn’t like young girls? Even with one foot already in the coffin, they’d still stare after young girls.

The shamelessness of lecherous beasts truly knew no age limit!

Grinding her teeth angrily, Madam Wan was about to go instruct someone to inquire after news from the Hua residence when, just as she reached the gate, a carriage pulled up.

He Chang’an, having finally found a spare moment after several busy days, learned that the Prime Minister had already left the palace and rushed over without even changing his clothes.

Stepping down from the carriage, paying no attention to those around him, he handed his calling card to the gatekeeper and headed straight inside.

Hidden behind the door, Madam Wan watched him walk in and couldn’t help muttering: “This Marquis Gongyu sure visits Hua’er often.”

Pin Tan said quietly: “Now that the Prime Minister serves as the Emperor’s left arm, and the Marquis of Gongyu as his right, it’s only natural the two would associate often.”

“Is that so?” Watching his exceptionally graceful retreating figure, Madam Wan still sighed with feeling: “If only Hua’er were truly a daughter—marrying a man like that would be a blessing indeed.”

“My lady.” Pin Tan called out to her quietly.

Madam Wan came to her senses, composed her expression, and went back to her own business.

“Master, the Marquis of Gongyu has arrived.”

Someone announced from outside the main courtyard. Hua Chun hastily put away the memorials, then looked at He Chang’an entering with a calm expression and smiled: “What brings Second Brother here?”

He Chang’an looked her up and down, then let out a breath of relief: “I heard quite a lot happened in the palace recently. It’s a wonder you managed to come through unscathed.”

“I’ve always had good luck.” Hua Chun grinned: “Besides, with the Emperor watching over me, Second Brother needn’t worry too much.”

“The Emperor?” He Chang’an shook his head repeatedly, sitting down beside her: “Your eldest brother’s moods have been unstable again lately—who knows when he might suddenly have another fit and punish you. You’d best stay well hidden, and don’t trust him too much.”

The way he put it, it was as though Yuwen Jie were ill.

Hua Chun sighed: “The Emperor has it hard too. As a subject, one should naturally try to understand more.”

Such elevated thinking, all of a sudden? He Chang’an raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking at her with amusement: “It seems your days at Zichen Hall weren’t wasted—you’ve grown quite partial to your eldest brother.”

Hua Chun just smiled. Kindness and unkindness between people were always mutual—she wasn’t the type to bite the hand that fed her. Yuwen Jie treated her well, and naturally she’d return the favor.

“Right, I came this time because there’s something I need to discuss with you.” Composing his expression, He Chang’an glanced at Qing Niao standing nearby.

The latter, quite skilled at reading the room, immediately withdrew and closed the door.

“What is it?” Hua Chun asked curiously.

“The Emperor and the Empress Dowager are in a cold war over the Fenghe Palace matter.” He Chang’an said helplessly: “You must already know about this. These past two days the Empress Dowager has tried every way to please him, but the Emperor hasn’t accepted any of it. Prince Xi came out to criticize the Emperor a couple times, which only angered him further—he wants to send Prince Xi back to his fief. The Empress Dowager naturally won’t allow that, and now things have only gotten worse.”

Hearing this, Hua Chun found the plot rather familiar—two princes vying for their mother’s favor, one hot-tempered, one patient and scheming, and in the end it’s always the hot-tempered one who suffers.

Although Yuwen Jie was already emperor and surely couldn’t suffer any real loss, hearing He Chang’an describe the situation still left Hua Chun feeling somewhat uneasy.

She was the protective type—since the Emperor was close to her, she naturally disliked Prince Xi. Last time the Empress Dowager had also asked her to help put in a good word, but she’d left the palace in such a hurry she’d forgotten. She wasn’t sure if it would still help to go say something now. A falling-out with the Empress Dowager would do the Emperor no good at all, and would only let Prince Xi gloat secretly. Naturally, neither she nor He Chang’an wanted to see that happen.

“Does Second Brother have any ideas?”

He Chang’an sighed: “The Emperor’s temperament is quite stubborn. We need to think of a good way to persuade him, or he won’t listen. What I’m thinking is setting up a stage in the palace, having the Emperor and Empress Dowager watch a performance together, so they can properly resolve their differences.”

A stage? Hua Chun blinked: “Would the Emperor even enjoy watching a show?”

“He probably would.” He Chang’an said gravely: “If all else fails, we could send up a group of beauties to dance for him.”

Hua Chun: “…”

He Chang’an really did understand Yuwen Jie well. Whether he’d enjoy the show itself was one thing, but if beauties were sent up to dance, the Emperor would very likely show up.

“Just watching a show isn’t quite enough, though—there should be a small segment too.” Hua Chun said: “Something related to family bonds, to stir up the Empress Dowager’s maternal love deep inside, and the Emperor’s filial piety.”

“That… isn’t a bad idea at all.” He Chang’an’s eyes brightened slightly: “Seems like you’re quite skilled at this sort of thing, little brother. Why don’t you handle the arrangements—which part of the palace to use as the stage, what performers we’ll need—I’ll help you find them.”

“Sure thing!” Hua Chun patted her chest with great confidence: “Don’t worry, Second Brother. I organized Mid-Autumn festival celebrations and joint elementary-and-middle-school Christmas performances back when I was in school—plenty of experience. I definitely won’t mess this up!”

He Chang’an was about to nod and praise her, but upon hearing the second half of that sentence, he was left utterly baffled: “Mid-Autumn festival and joint what?”

“Never mind the details!” Hua Chun said seriously: “Just trust me, that’s all you need to do. Let’s go into the palace to scout the venue first, then sort out the sponsorship situation.”

“…”

He Chang’an suddenly felt that after all these years alive, he might not understand human speech anymore. Every word Jinghua said was a proper word, yet strung together, he couldn’t make out the meaning at all.

Still, seeing him so full of enthusiasm and confidence, He Chang’an figured he might as well just leave it to him with peace of mind.

Yuwen Jie was shut away in Zichen Hall reviewing memorials when someone came to report quietly: “Your Majesty, the Marquis of Gongyu and Prime Minister Hua have entered the palace together.”

His hand, in the middle of turning a page, paused. The Emperor looked up: “Are they coming this way?”

“No, they went toward the rear palace, likely to pay respects to the Empress Dowager.”

His gaze darkened, and Yuwen Jie said nothing more.

He was born rebellious by nature—the more someone tried to lecture him or push him toward something, the less willing he was to cooperate. This whole matter with the Empress Dowager would have blown over after a day or two of anger, but someone kept insisting on using various analogies to lecture him about filial piety and reconciling with her.

This only made him angrier.

Seeing Chang’an and Hua Jinghua make this trip, he guessed they’d probably been entrusted by the Empress Dowager to come persuade him. The Emperor thought darkly, his face grim—if Hua Jinghua really dared come nag at him, he’d throw him straight into the pond in the imperial garden!

Yet, after waiting half an hour, the two never came.

Sulking alone, the Emperor reluctantly asked the shadow guard: “Where are they?”

The shadow guard answered: “They took the Empress Dowager’s written order and went toward Furong Palace.”

Furong Palace was used for celebrations—what were they doing there? The Emperor was baffled, but couldn’t very well go ask, so he waited quietly, thinking that surely before they left the palace, they’d come pay their respects to him?

An hour later, the shadow guard came to report: “Your Majesty, the Marquis of Gongyu and Prime Minister Hua have already left the palace.”

Yuwen Jie: “…”

Did these two scoundrels even consider him at all?!

“Send someone to follow them,” the slightly irritated Emperor ordered. “Whatever they do, report back to me.”

“Yes.” The shadow guard complied and silently left Zichen Hall.

Yuwen Jie aspired to be an unflappable emperor, the type who wouldn’t show strong emotion no matter what he heard. In truth, he’d managed it fairly well—his face had long been like a slab of stone; aside from in front of Hua Jinghua, no one could read his emotions at other times.

Yet that evening, upon hearing the shadow guard’s report, the Emperor still couldn’t stay composed.

The shadow guard reported: “The Marquis of Gongyu and Prime Minister Hua went out shopping together, bought a great many things, talking and laughing the whole way, in very good spirits. Afterward they dined at Shanhai Tower, and the Marquis of Gongyu escorted the Prime Minister back to his residence before returning to his own manor.”

How did that sound like the itinerary of two grown men? Shopping together, eating together—Hua Jinghua’s nerve really was something, wasn’t it, sneaking off to flirt with Chang’an the moment he was out of his sight?

This could not be tolerated!

The next day, after morning court, the Emperor finally spoke again: “Prime Minister, stay behind. Come with me to Zichen Hall.”

Hua Chun froze, cupped her hands in acknowledgment, and watched everyone else withdraw.

It had been so long since he’d kept her behind to speak privately—what could this be about? The whole way there, Hua Chun felt rather uneasy, worried it might be bad news.

Once inside Zichen Hall, Yuwen Jie looked at her and asked: “What are you and Chang’an up to in secret?”