Hua Chun was startled, thinking—had he found out this quickly?

She’d specifically gone around with He Chang’an in circuitous routes to throw off any spies watching them, precisely to keep this a secret until the festival—otherwise, where would the surprise be? Yet somehow he’d found out anyway. What a failure.

Sighing, Hua Chun looked up to meet Yuwen Jie’s deep gaze and, resigned, said: “Yesterday I went out with the Marquis to look around, trying to find a suitable time and place to properly carry out that matter.”

The Emperor narrowed his eyes: “You think this is appropriate?”

“Why wouldn’t it be appropriate?” Hua Chun said: “Your Majesty, rest assured, we absolutely won’t let you down!”

Won’t let him down? Yuwen Jie frowned: “You think I’d support the two of you doing this?”

Hua Chun shook her head, looking at him ingratiatingly: “This servant and the Marquis both know Your Majesty might not be able to accept this right away, but you must trust us—neither of us will put you in a difficult position.”

She’d actually admitted it so openly!

His heart sank, and Yuwen Jie’s expression grew grave, a rush of emotions passing through his eyes.

The person before him had eyes full of innocent, cheerful mirth, looking at him openly and honestly, as if not thinking at all that loving men was such a serious matter—as if she already had enough confidence to face whatever storms lay ahead together with He Chang’an.

He’d only gone a few days without speaking to them—how had he ended up feeling as though the two of them had joined forces and abandoned him?

Though he’d sensed before that Chang’an and Hua Jinghua might have feelings for each other, he never expected this day would come so soon—so soon that he felt lost, his heart suddenly hollow.

The thought that these two might one day stand together boldly in front of everyone, that Chang’an’s hand would hold Hua Jinghua’s firmly, that Hua Jinghua would lean against Chang’an’s chest, the two walking side by side through wind and rain, loving each other dearly—the Emperor’s heart simply could not settle.

If he’d known… he should have kept the man locked up in Zichen Hall for a few more days.

His throat tightened slightly. Yuwen Jie lowered his eyes, betraying not the slightest emotion on his face, and said flatly: “If a great disaster comes of this, you two… don’t expect me to come save you.”

A great disaster? Hua Chun lowered her head to think for a moment—surely not? Even though she’d rigged up some special equipment, it shouldn’t cause any major disaster, at most a minor mishap, and she’d already prepared sand for putting out fires in advance.

So she said confidently: “Rest assured, Your Majesty, since this servant dares to do this, she’s certainly considered everything carefully.”

“You…” The words nearly slipped out but he swallowed them back. Yuwen Jie said instead: “Come sit with me in the imperial garden for a while.”

Such good spirits, of all things? Hua Chun smiled: “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Rare indeed—she’d thought the Emperor would keep his distance from her for a good long while, yet here he was so bluntly asking her to attend him again.

Not having observed him closely for a few days, she noticed at a glance that the Emperor seemed to have grown quite thin, probably from having been ill earlier, his complexion also somewhat pale.

Out of human concern, Hua Chun offered: “Your Majesty should take good care of your health.”

Yuwen Jie gave her a heavy look: “Just worry about Chang’an. No need to concern yourself with me.”

Why did that sound so odd? Hua Chun raised an eyebrow, rubbing her chin. She was indeed rather fond of He Chang’an—he was a heartthrob after all! But she and the Emperor were also familiar enough that a bit of concern shouldn’t be excessive, right?

“Second Brother is doing great. He’s been full of energy lately—he can even carry five gift boxes with one hand.” As for you, though, mighty and imposing as you are, you’re wasting away like a beanpole.

The second half of that sentence, our timid Hua Chun still couldn’t manage to get out, and quietly kept it to herself instead.

The Emperor gazed at the sky with melancholy: “Chang’an really is quite a fine man, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Hua Chun nodded in agreement: “When we went out shopping, plenty of young ladies tried to give him sachets, and he didn’t accept a single one—returned them all.”

Where could you find such a charming yet un-promiscuous man?

“He doesn’t like them, so of course he wouldn’t accept their sachets.” Yuwen Jie pressed his lips together: “If you were the one giving it, though, he might just accept.”

Hua Chun raised an eyebrow.

Something was off. What had stimulated the Emperor today? Why, though his face was still stern, did he seem to be giving off an air of a resentful wife, his words all sour and strange?

Looking Yuwen Jie up and down, she wondered—could it be he was upset that she and He Chang’an had teamed up to scheme against him?

Was the emotional bond between men just as delicate as that between women? The three of them were good friends, and he was afraid the other two got along better and would leave him out?

Ahead was the pond in the imperial garden. The Emperor sat down in the nearby pavilion, without offering her a seat, so Hua Chun stood dutifully, continuing to ponder life.

Yuwen Jie turned his head to glance at him, and by chance, his eyes fell on the object hanging at his waist.

It was a pair of matched jade pendants carved with mandarin ducks entwined at the neck, exquisitely crafted, the jade itself extraordinarily rare—there was only this one pair in the whole world. The last time he’d seen it was years ago, at He Chang’an’s waist. He’d looked at it more than once, but Chang’an had never been willing to generously part with it.

And now, this pendant hung at Hua Jinghua’s waist—while he’d known nothing at all, many things had been quietly unfolding.

His heart heavy with a dull ache, Yuwen Jie closed his eyes, leaning against the stone railing, slowly trying to steady his mood.

There was nothing he could do. Even if Chang’an and Hua Jinghua one day openly held hands in front of everyone, the most he could do was banish the two of them from the capital together. He couldn’t be angry, couldn’t rage, couldn’t grieve. Couldn’t cry, couldn’t mourn, couldn’t save them.

Why, in the end, did he have to be emperor?

“What a huge koi!” the person beside him suddenly exclaimed loudly.

Yuwen Jie came back to himself and frowned at her.

Hua Chun ran over to the edge of the pond with an exaggerated expression, pointing at a koi about three feet long inside and saying to him: “If this thing were posted on Weibo, it’d definitely get reposted a few million times!”

What nonsense was she spouting now? The Emperor looked at her, uncomprehending—it was just a somewhat large koi; the palace had plenty of them, nothing worth making a fuss over.

After a moment of excitement, Hua Chun suddenly pressed her palms together and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a wish.”

The Emperor looked at her as though she were mad: “Making a wish to a fish?”

“Your Majesty may not know this.” Once she’d finished wishing, Hua Chun ran back to his side with a very serious expression: “Koi carry an excellent meaning—they have the power to make wishes come true. So if you sincerely make a wish to a koi, there’s a chance it’ll actually happen. Would you like to try?”

“Absurd!” The Emperor gave her a disdainful look and said coldly: “Success depends on human effort—what use is wishing? This fish itself is trapped in the pond, unable to escape—how could it help anyone else?”

Pursing her lips, Hua Chun said quietly: “You’re not the least bit romantic. Sometimes people just need to comfort themselves psychologically—why must you always be so rational about everything?”

The Emperor turned his head away: “I simply don’t believe in it.”

“…Fine.” Hua Chun shrugged. If he didn’t believe, he didn’t believe—she wasn’t in the business of forcing her views on anyone; everyone thought differently, and mutual respect was best.

Turning to look elsewhere, she saw the pavilion surrounded by blooming flowers and towering rockeries—just a corner of the imperial garden, yet exquisitely and beautifully crafted. The architecture of Great Liang couldn’t compare to the grand structures seen in TV dramas, but it carried a rich classical charm and sense of history. She found everything pleasing to the eye regardless, as though she’d already lived here for thousands of years.

While she turned away, Yuwen Jie sitting beside her quietly stared at the koi in the pond for a while, his hand rising slightly, then lowering again dismissively.

“Your Majesty, since you already know, this servant might as well ask a bit more.” Hua Chun said: “How about holding an Autumn Welcome Gathering the day after tomorrow, in the front hall of Furong Palace?”

The Emperor was baffled: “A gathering?”

“It’s just everyone getting together, watching some performances, deepening the bonds between everyone—that sort of event.” Hua Chun explained laboriously: “This gathering carries this servant’s and the Marquis’s sincere intentions. We hope that after watching all the performances, Your Majesty will understand our efforts and support what we’re trying to do.”

Yuwen Jie fell silent.

He was growing more and more unable to understand what these two were up to. Wanting his support, and now they’d even arranged a whole gathering for it? If the Empress Dowager found out about this, there would surely be trouble.

Hua Jinghua acting foolish now and then was one thing, but did that mean Chang’an actually supported this decision too?

The Emperor still couldn’t help but ask with worry: “Aren’t you afraid the Empress Dowager will object?”

“No, no, we won’t be.” Hua Chun quickly waved her hands: “We’ve already asked the Empress Dowager. She fully supports it.”

Yuwen Jie: “…”

Was he dreaming? Why could he suddenly no longer understand anyone’s behavior around him? Bringing a few men into the palace had gotten his mother so worked up, yet here was blatant same-sex love, and she actually supported it?

Pinching himself hard, Yuwen Jie’s face turned ashen. He very much wanted to bang his head against the nearby pillar, just to figure out whether he was the crazy one or they were.

“If you two want to do it, then go ahead.” After a long moment of stewing over it, he felt his head start to ache. He simply gave up thinking about it and waved his hand: “Since the Empress Dowager supports it, I have no objections either. I’ll just wait and see.”

“Great, wonderful!” Hua Chun clapped her hands happily, then bowed and took her leave: “This servant will go continue making arrangements.”

The Emperor said nothing, but as he stood and turned to leave, he suddenly, without warning, grabbed her hand.

Her heart gave an inexplicable jolt, and Hua Chun turned back, startled.

Yuwen Jie himself didn’t know why he’d suddenly done such a thing. Gripping her wrist, unwilling to let go, he said nothing, just turned his face away to look into the distance.

What was going on? Hua Chun looked him over, baffled. Though she’d noticed earlier that the Emperor had a bit of a gap between his intimidating exterior and softer interior, this face black as the bottom of a pot, yet his hand weakly gripping her wrist—the contrast was practically lethal!

In an instant, Hua Chun felt her heart soften. She didn’t even ask what he wanted; she simply stood obediently, letting him hold her without resistance.

She recalled reading somewhere that an emperor’s heart was always fragile and soft, like a cactus—stripped of its spines, it became especially helpless. They all grew up in a lonely environment, yearning for warmth yet unable to draw close to it.

A man like this could stir up every ounce of maternal instinct in a woman! If Yuwen Jie’s presence weren’t so intimidating, Hua Chun would have loved to reach over and pat his head, hug him. This mastiff-acting-cute feeling was simply too adorable. She didn’t even need to check to know her own gaze right now was surely brimming with tenderness.

After standing there for about the time it takes incense to burn, Yuwen Jie released her, acting as if nothing had happened, and waved his hand—meaning: you may go now.

The mastiff had finished acting cute and bared its fangs once more.

Hua Chun pursed her lips, withdrew her hand and rubbed it, then obediently took her leave.

Yuwen Jie sat motionless in the pavilion.

The moment she stepped out of the imperial garden, an unfamiliar eunuch came to ask Hua Chun: “Prime Minister, what did the Emperor say?”

She very much wanted to ask who he even was, but glancing at his waist token, she saw it belonged to the Empress Dowager’s palace, so she still answered politely: “The Emperor agreed. Just continue with the preparations.”

“Yay!” The eunuch left happily.

The gathering’s performances were already prepared; there were still two days left. Hua Chun immediately left the palace to find He Chang’an for rehearsal. In any case, it was meant to be a joyful family gathering—the performances didn’t need to be too formal, just full of good spirits.

Over the following two days, the moment the Emperor left morning court, Hua Jinghua and He Chang’an would be nowhere in sight. He didn’t even bother asking anymore, just sat alone brooding, climbing solitarily onto his imperial carriage.

Eunuch Qin, having rested and recovered for a good while, holding his lower back, resumed his duties—only to be startled at seeing the Emperor’s downcast mood. He hurriedly asked the eunuch who’d substituted for him: “What happened?”

The eunuch shook his head, baffled: “The Emperor’s been just the same as always every day, nothing unusual at all.”

Nothing? Eunuch Qin frowned—how could this possibly count as nothing? There wasn’t even a spark left in his eyes; it was as if his spirit had been sucked right out of him. Others might not see it, but he could see it clear as day.

Something major must have happened.

After court, the Emperor didn’t go anywhere else, but stood by the pond in the imperial garden.

Eunuch Qin hesitated a long while over whether to go ask what had happened. Before he could speak, he saw the Emperor close his eyes, press his palms together, and bow toward the pond.

What did this mean? Eunuch Qin couldn’t help but tiptoe over to peer into the pond—there was nothing there but fish. Was the Emperor praying to something?

“I finally understand why, even knowing it’s useless, those people still turn to prayer and worship.”

Turning back, Yuwen Jie said flatly: “Because once you’re utterly hopeless, there’s nothing left to do but pray to the gods and Buddha.”

The tone was so heavy that Eunuch Qin nearly wept just listening to it: “Your Majesty… if there’s anything troubling you, you can tell this old servant. This old servant will share your burden.”

“It can’t be shared.” Yuwen Jie took a deep breath, then let it out slowly: “Let’s go. Back to review the memorials. There’s a gathering tonight.”

The gathering at Furong Palace? Eunuch Qin was somewhat surprised—he’d thought the Emperor wouldn’t be willing to go, yet here he was, still keeping it in mind.

Seems this time, with the Prime Minister and the Marquis of Gongyu helping out, the Emperor and Empress Dowager would surely resolve their differences.

As the sun passed its peak and gradually slanted westward, the Emperor changed his robes and began making his way toward Furong Palace. Halfway there, his imperial carriage happened to meet the Empress Dowager’s procession.

Both sides of attendants felt their hearts clench—meeting here of all places, what if the Emperor turned around and left in a huff? What then?

The Empress Dowager, worried too, even took the initiative to show concern: “Why does the Emperor’s complexion look so poor?”