Her words sounded so reasonable that neither those who supported Yuwen Xi nor the emperor’s loyalists could find grounds to refute Hua Jinghua’s argument.

Yuwen Jie looked at her and said: “The Prime Minister’s friendship with Prince Xi isn’t deep — how can you be so certain that matter has nothing to do with him?”

Hua Chun raised her head, expression serious and solemn, and spoke loudly before Prince Xi could get a word in: “This official believes that understanding a person doesn’t necessarily require deep friendship — one can judge a person’s character from small details. Since returning to the capital, Prince Xi has remained low-key and humble throughout, never interfering in court affairs, never causing Your Majesty difficulty. This is itself a demonstration of loyalty.”

“Although there was a mishap with the guards, this official is willing to vouch that their actions have nothing to do with the prince. If Your Majesty truly harbors doubts, then simply do as this official suggested and remove the excess guards — surely the prince won’t object further.”

Having finished, she turned to Yuwen Xi with a look of utmost sincerity: “Isn’t that right?”

Prince Xi’s face turned ashen.

Every sentence Hua Jinghua spoke seemed to be clearing him of blame, yet was in fact pushing him step by step into a dead end! What was he supposed to say now? If he agreed, all the guards around him would be removed; if he disagreed, wouldn’t that mean contradicting the Prime Minister’s earlier praise of his loyalty, thereby confirming his disloyalty?

Strange — Hua Jinghua had never been this difficult to deal with before.

The court fell silent. The emperor’s gaze rested on him, full of scrutiny.

After a moment’s thought, Prince Xi decided to cut his losses: “The Prime Minister speaks truly.”

The emperor nodded: “Since that’s the case, then we’ll do as the Prime Minister suggested.”

“This official obeys,” Hua Chun said, cupping her hands, secretly letting out a breath of relief.

What she was doing now was akin to pulling teeth from a tiger’s mouth — dangerous and thrilling. She was already isolated by most of the court officials anyway, so she might as well do her best to help the emperor, if only to live up to the memory of the real Hua Jinghua.

Yuwen Jie handed the entire matter of the palace guards over to her, and she handled it beautifully. As long as she got past this hurdle with Prince Xi, the rest was minor — the whole thing could be settled within a day.

When it came to work, Hua Chun still had plenty of drive!

“Your Highness.”

After court adjourned, Prince Xi’s attendant Zhanshui approached him.

Yuwen Xi wore a faint smile, though his eyes were dark with unspoken thoughts: “Look into Prime Minister Hua thoroughly. This king finds him quite interesting — very different from before.”

“Understood.”

Hua Chun returned home from the palace in high spirits. The moment she stepped out of the sedan chair, she saw Qing Niao standing at the gate, smiling and bowing: “Master, you’ve finally returned.”

She’d been gone for several days again, and Hua Chun felt a bit guilty. She hastily pulled out a small package from her sleeve to hand over: “This is a reward from His Majesty.”

Qing Niao startled, took it and opened it — inside were several gold hairpins and a necklace.

“Master is truly impressive — rewarded every time he enters the palace,” Pin Tan said with a smile. “The Madam will be delighted for days once she hears.”

“Right, and where’s Mother?” Hua Chun asked, smiling as she glanced around.

“There was a matter at the Hua residence — the Madam went back to stay there,” Pin Tan said. “Such a large Prime Minister’s residence, and now it’s just Master and the Madam.”

A bit lonely, perhaps. Hua Chun pressed her lips together — there was nothing to be done about it.

Stepping into the main courtyard, she felt an inexplicable chill down her back and paused, instinctively glancing behind her.

The courtyard was quiet, not a single figure in sight.

“Master?” Pin Tan looked at her, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Hua Chun waved her hand. “Let’s go inside and talk.”

Qing Niao also glanced back at their surroundings, frowning slightly.

“I’ve been so busy lately, no time to accompany you.”

Once inside and seated, Hua Chun smiled at Qing Niao: “What have you been up to recently?”

Qing Niao came back to herself and smiled: “Doing some sewing work — I made you an autumn cloak.”

Where else could one find such a thoughtful spouse! Hua Chun sighed repeatedly with admiration, and generously stuffed two silver notes into her hand: “Buy whatever you like. Don’t shortchange yourself.”

Eyes brightening with a smile, Qing Niao nodded: “Thank you, Master.”

The two rarely had a private lunch together, and afterward Hua Chun went to the Ministry of War, returning in the evening to find Qing Niao already lighting the lamps, a cloak draped over her shoulders.

“So early — why are you already lighting these?” Hua Chun asked, somewhat curious. “It’s still bright in the room.”

Qing Niao paused, glanced at her, and seemed to suddenly recall something, laughing softly: “This concubine forgot — I once had a friend who couldn’t see well the moment the light dimmed, so I’ve always been in the habit of lighting the lamps early.”

“A friend?” Hua Chun’s interest was piqued. “Is there a story there?”

Qing Niao pressed her lips together, lowering her eyes, hesitating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t get jealous,” Hua Chun said quickly. “I’m just bored and want to hear a story. Even if your friend were a man, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Not a man,” Qing Niao said with a small smile. “A very lovely woman.”

Hua Chun pulled up a stool to sit beside her, stuffed a handful of melon seeds into her hand, and, gossiping like close girlfriends, blinked expectantly at her.

“Her name was… Xiao Jin. I knew her for a very, very long time,” Qing Niao said softly. “We were deeply fated to meet, and she saved my life more times than I can count — this life of mine, you could say, was given to me by her.”

“I was orphaned at five, forced to do heavy labor at a mill. One day I couldn’t take it anymore and ran away, nearly starving to death on the road. That’s when I met her. She bought me a bun — meat-filled — and brought me back to her household to be her maidservant. My hands and feet were clumsy; the moment I arrived, I broke a very valuable vase. The master wanted to throw me out, but she fought desperately to protect me, saying I was hers to answer for, that whatever happened, she would bear responsibility.”

To the small girl at the time, it felt as though a hero had descended from the heavens — even if that hero happened to be a woman.

Hua Chun listened, clicking her tongue: “Your friend sounds incredibly loyal and righteous.”

“She really was — especially upright. Even though I was just a maidservant, she protected me regardless, buying me clothes and food, not letting anyone in the household bully me. Sometimes I would think, almost, that I’d found my own mother, and yet she was only a year older than me.” As Qing Niao spoke, she gestured with her hands, clearly still very fond of this person called Xiao Jin.

That feeling of being cared for by an older sister figure — Hua Chun knew it quite well, much like how Qin Niao had treated her in the modern world. Though Qin Niao was a pampered little princess herself, she’d protected Hua Chun as fiercely as a mother hen guarding her chick, letting her bask in maternal love every single day, with nothing to worry about.

“Unfortunately, her ending wasn’t good.”

As though remembering something, Qing Niao’s eyes suddenly reddened, her pupils tinged as if with blood, startling Hua Chun.

“What happened in the end?”

“Her entire family was executed by order of the Emperor — not a single soul left alive,” Qing Niao said, voice growing hoarse. “She heard the news just one incense-stick’s time before it happened, yet she used that time to prepare travel money for me, to send me away from the household.”

“That day, I was outside the execution grounds, watching with my own eyes as her head fell,” Qing Niao said distantly. “The Emperor even came in person to watch.”

Hua Chun sat frozen, and looking at Qing Niao’s expression, she felt an inexplicable sorrow fill her own heart. She couldn’t help but gently pat her shoulder: “My condolences.”

“There’s no end to the stories about her,” Qing Niao said, coming back to herself, pulling free of that eerie mood, wiping her tears with a smile. “Truly, there are so, so many — but this concubine is grateful that now I’ve met you.”

Huh? Hua Chun tilted her head: “You think I’m good too?”

“Mm.” Qing Niao nodded, eyes earnest as she looked at her. “This concubine has never met anyone better than you, Master.”

Such praise made Hua Chun feel almost embarrassed — she clearly hadn’t done anything for her at all. Well, she’d try harder going forward. Even if she couldn’t truly be a good husband, at least she could be a good friend, right?

“It’s getting late,” Hua Chun said. “I’ll go read in the side hall and sleep. Will you be alright alone?”

Qing Niao paused, instinctively glancing toward the window, then shook her head: “Master should still sleep with this concubine tonight.”

“Ah…” Looking awkwardly down at her tightly bound chest, Hua Chun looked at her: “You’re afraid to sleep alone?”

“Mm.” Qing Niao nodded.

“Alright then.” After some internal struggle, Hua Chun agreed, secretly going to loosen her chest binder a bit before changing.

Qing Niao stood by the window, seemingly looking at something outside, and taking advantage of that moment, Hua Chun finished getting ready and climbed into bed: “Let’s rest, then.”

“Mm.”

The lamp went out, and the Prime Minister’s residence fell into quiet stillness.

After the palace guards were purged, the emperor promoted seven or eight important officials in succession. Though an imperial decree could not be disobeyed, there were still cases of outward compliance and inward resistance, so these new officials found their work constantly obstructed, unable to proceed at all.

This was when someone like Hua Jinghua, an all-purpose brick, was needed — wherever needed, there she was moved, leading the various new members of the emperor’s loyalist faction to smoothly carry out their duties, even holding ideological meetings to unite everyone’s hearts for the emperor’s sake.

Watching Hua Jinghua run herself ragged every day, even He Chang’an couldn’t bear it any longer, and went to find the emperor: “You could delegate some of this work to this official. The Prime Minister is so busy she doesn’t even have time for a sip of water.”

Yuwen Jie didn’t even look up, swiftly placing a stack of portraits before him: “You have your own matters to attend to. These are the capital’s eligible young ladies the Empress Dowager has selected for you — have a look yourself.”

“Huh?” He Chang’an raised an eyebrow, casually picking one up and unrolling it, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly: “Her Majesty the Empress Dowager is enjoying her later years in peace — there’s truly no need for her to trouble herself over this matter on my behalf. This official is in no hurry.”

“You’re in no hurry, but is the rest of the He family also in no hurry?” the emperor said flatly. “You don’t want the marquisate to be passed down?”

He Chang’an shrugged: “That depends on fate, I suppose. And besides, Your Majesty, look — none of the young ladies in these portraits are even half as good-looking as Jinghua. How could this official bring himself to choose?”

Hua Jinghua, again.

Yuwen Jie set down what was in his hands and looked up at him: “You’ve gone a bit too far.”

“Hm?” He Chang’an raised an eyebrow. “What’s gone too far?”

“For ordinary brotherly affection, there ought to be some distance,” the emperor said earnestly. “You show concern for him every single day, constantly asking about his affairs, always together with him — don’t you think that’s inappropriate?”

Eunuch Qin glanced oddly at the emperor and said nothing.

You have the nerve to lecture Marquis Gongyu about this? What standing do you even have? You yourself are clearly…

“This official feels no guilt in his heart,” He Chang’an said with a shrug. “As long as one knows one’s own affairs, why concern oneself so much with others?”

The emperor startled slightly, looking up at him.

He Chang’an’s eyes were cool and clear, calmly meeting his gaze: “As for you — always making things difficult for the Prime Minister. Even a heart of loyalty forged in fire will grow cold eventually.”

“I don’t need your instruction on how to conduct myself,” Yuwen Jie said, frowning.

After saying it, he realized his tone had been a bit harsh, and softened his expression: “Are your injuries healing well?”

“Just superficial wounds,” He Chang’an said. “But now that Prince Xi’s guards have been withdrawn, he’s probably harboring some resentment. Your Majesty should pay closer attention to the Prime Minister’s safety.”

The emperor fell silent. He Chang’an bowed and took his leave.

Cold sweat streamed down Eunuch Qin’s forehead — had these two had a falling out? But over what exactly? The emperor had been perfectly fine, so why was he unhappy again?

Hua Chun had finally finished her work for the day and, like a dead dog, climbed into her sedan chair, ready to head home, when without warning the bearers turned direction and carried her straight back into the palace.

“Prime Minister!” Eunuch Qin’s eager call rang out again from outside. Hua Chun lifted the sedan curtain, looking at him with exasperated amusement: “What’s happened this time? I’m truly exhausted.”

Wearing an extremely amiable smile, Eunuch Qin said in a low voice: “His Majesty and the Marquis had a bit of a dispute. His mood isn’t very good right now — he’s shut up in Zichen Hall. The servants are at a loss, so we had no choice but to send for you.”

Hua Chun was quite surprised — could even a close bond like Yuwen Jie and He Chang’an’s lead to a quarrel? What on earth happened?

She got out of the sedan and hastily followed Eunuch Qin inside.

Yuwen Jie’s expression seemed normal, sitting in Zichen Hall reading through memorials. From a distance, Hua Chun nearly thought Eunuch Qin had set her up.

But as she drew closer, a thick wave of alcohol fumes hit her, making her roll her eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

Yuwen Jie looked up, and the moment he saw her, his expression instantly soured: “Weren’t you supposed to leave the palace on time and go home early?”

Bracing herself, Hua Chun walked over and grinned: “Hearing Your Majesty was in a poor mood, this official rushed over without a second thought, hoping only that Your Majesty’s spirits might lift.”

“Seeing you does nothing to lift my spirits,” Yuwen Jie said coldly.

Hua Chun shot Eunuch Qin behind her a resentful look — he’d already said things like that, and she was still supposed to shamelessly stay?

Eunuch Qin pressed his palms together and bowed to her in supplication.

Fine. Taking a deep breath, Hua Chun sat down anyway, picked up the wine the emperor had set on the table and took a sip, and screwed up her courage: “This official is willing to share the sovereign’s burdens.”

“Share my burdens?” Yuwen Jie raised an eyebrow, his eyes hazy with a thick mist, looking at her. “Very well. You only need do one thing.”

“What is it?” Hua Chun asked curiously.

“Turn into a woman,” the emperor said flatly.

Eunuch Qin jumped in fright and scurried out of the hall in two or three steps, shutting the door behind him.

Hua Chun gave a dry laugh: “Why?”

“You, turn into a woman… and marry Chang’an,” Yuwen Jie muttered. “So you won’t have to be with him as a man and invite gossip.”

Hua Chun: “…”

This man worried about far too many things. She’d never even wanted to be with He Chang’an that way, and yet he wanted her to turn into a woman and marry him off.

Looking at him with amusement, Hua Chun asked: “If this official truly were a woman, wouldn’t that constitute the crime of deceiving the sovereign?”