Hua Chun felt as though she’d woken up from being drunk—by the time she finally came to her senses, her head throbbed with dull, pulsing pain.
Her body felt as if it had been swept through by a tide and washed over, all four limbs drained of strength. Once the blur before her eyes finally cleared a little, her first reaction was still to quickly look down at herself.
The official robe was still wrapped around her body. There was no one else nearby. The dragon bed was perfectly neat, and it looked as though the Emperor had simply left her here without bothering with her further.
Thank heavens—fortunately he hadn’t called for the imperial physician, or she might have felt like smashing her head against the wall right then and there!
Sitting up and glancing around, Hua Chun clutched the robe around herself and bounced over to the screen, pulling off the inner robe and breast-binding, and quickly putting them back on.
Just as she was tying the outer robe, she heard a splash of water from the other side of the screen, followed by the Emperor’s low voice: “Awake?”
Her body gave a start. Hua Chun froze for a moment before stammering, “This servant has caused Your Majesty trouble.”
“Quite a lot of trouble, indeed.” Yuwen Jie emerged from behind the screen in his sleeping robes, his gaze cool as he looked at her. “You’re heavy.”
Laughing awkwardly, Hua Chun stole glances at him, her heart in turmoil, unsure whether the Emperor had discovered anything while she’d been unconscious.
This reaction of his was completely unreadable. If he had discovered something, wouldn’t he be furious by now? But if he hadn’t discovered anything at all, why did he now have such a deathly expression?
Stepping past her, Yuwen Jie went and sat directly on the edge of the dragon bed, looking at her. “It’s getting late. The map can wait until tomorrow—the Chancellor should rest.”
What? Hua Chun froze, then frowned. “Didn’t you say the map was needed by tomorrow morning?”
“I can extend the deadline for you.”
What in the world—then why bother in the first place? Why insist on keeping her here to draw it? If she hadn’t been here, she wouldn’t have lost her composure like that, and wouldn’t be sitting here now with her heart in her throat.
Glancing at the Emperor, Hua Chun gritted her teeth and went to kneel down properly, saying gravely, “This servant lost her composure earlier.”
“I am generous and magnanimous—I can forgive it.” Yuwen Jie said flatly. “I only hope the Chancellor won’t fall asleep in the hot spring again next time. It’s dangerous enough to cost one’s life.”
So she had fallen asleep just now? Hua Chun frowned—it was obviously that she’d been drugged, wasn’t it? Thinking back on it now, that cup of tea Consort Huo had brought must have been tampered with. Most likely it had been meant to drug the Emperor, but he’d casually handed the tea over to her instead, turning her into the unwitting victim!
But then, the drug’s effects hadn’t seemed particularly potent either—at most she’d merely lost consciousness, and nothing had happened, so she was fine.
After thinking it over for a moment, Hua Chun still looked up and cautiously asked, “Your Majesty, did this servant do anything she shouldn’t have?”
The Emperor’s expression was utterly unreadable. He lowered his eyes to look at her, his gaze sliding from her face, down to her neck, then to her chest.
Hua Chun felt goosebumps rise all over her body, as if a tiger were staring at her.
Could it be that something really had happened, given the way the Emperor was looking at her like this? Was there still time to prepare some tragic tale, to tell the Emperor she’d had her own hidden reasons?
Her heart clenched tighter and tighter in the Emperor’s silence, until Hua Chun felt as though she could barely breathe at all.
After a long while, the Emperor finally spoke. “Aside from splashing water all over me, the Chancellor did nothing else wrong.”
Really? Hua Chun looked up at him, delighted. Didn’t this mean he hadn’t discovered her identity after all? Otherwise, deceiving the Emperor was an unforgivable crime!
“This servant thanks Your Majesty for his grace!” Excited, she immediately bowed deeply to the Emperor.
Yuwen Jie looked at her with a complicated expression.
Earlier he hadn’t fully processed it, too caught up in the joy of realizing he wasn’t inclined toward men after all. But after thinking it over carefully in the hot spring, the Emperor finally came to a fuller realization—
Hua Jinghua had committed a crime of deceiving the Emperor, one severe enough to warrant execution of her entire clan to the ninth degree.
All this time he had regarded her as a man—struck her, mocked her—never imagining she had held the position of Chancellor while secretly being a woman, deceiving the entire realm the whole while!
He did feel some anger at having been deceived. Although he’d guessed at this outcome early on, now that he truly had to face it, alongside his joy, he also had to confront the fact that he’d been played like a fool by Hua Jinghua all these years.
This was nothing short of an insult to his intelligence as the Emperor!
However, this anger was quickly suppressed beneath the worry that rose up right behind it.
If anyone else were to learn of this, Hua Jinghua would certainly die—even as Emperor, he absolutely wouldn’t be able to save her. Setting aside Hua Jinghua herself, as Chancellor she carried far too much responsibility, and had helped him far too much—within the court, she served as the anchoring pillar. Once her identity was exposed, his imperial authority would effectively be torn open with a massive breach.
A breach large enough for anyone with ulterior motives to exploit.
So no matter which angle he considered it from, he couldn’t possibly have her condemned—he could only help her continue concealing it.
That was what reason told him, and yet he still couldn’t help wanting to give the person before him a good beating.
Why did she have to walk such a difficult path? Wouldn’t it have been fine to simply be a daughter? Perhaps she’d already be in his harem now, like Consort Shu or Consort Hua.
And yet, if she truly were a woman and had entered the harem like the other women, he might not have…
“Go rest.” Yuwen Jie said wearily.
Hua Chun, completely unaware of the string of thoughts running through the Emperor’s mind, was still immersed in the joy of having survived this brush with disaster—she bowed in acknowledgment and hurried off to the couch in the outer hall to prepare for sleep.
Beside the couch, near the partition, hung a beautiful standing bronze mirror. As she climbed onto the couch, she glanced at it casually.
Wait, something seemed off. Hua Chun paused, walked over, and looked closely.
Why was there a mark on her neck?!
Her eyes flew wide open, and a chill surged straight up from the soles of her feet to her heart. Hua Chun stood frozen for a long moment before forcing a smile and calling toward the inner hall, “Your Majesty, did anyone else come into the hall just now?”
“No one,” Yuwen Jie answered flatly.
“…”
An overwhelming terror surged up like a black tide, and she nearly lost her footing.
If no one else had come in, then this mark could only have been made by the Emperor.
She was no naive, innocent girl anymore—she hadn’t eaten pork, but she’d seen a pig run, so to speak. To be able to leave a mark like this on her neck, and while she’d been unconscious with her clothes in disarray no less—if Yuwen Jie hadn’t discovered anything, she’d eat her own name backward!
Her legs going weak, Hua Chun struggled onto the couch, pulling the blanket over herself, trembling.
The Emperor knew her identity, yet pretended not to know—what exactly was going on here? Was he planning to use it as leverage against her later? But there was no need for that—he was the Emperor, and could take her life in an instant if he wished. Why go through such a roundabout scheme?
That left only one explanation—an emotional one. Did the Emperor have feelings for her? Was that why he’d left this mark on her neck, and then decided to protect her by not condemning her for her crime?
This idea was ridiculously sentimental, but it did make a certain kind of sense. After all, her current position aligned with the Emperor’s, and this face of Hua Jinghua’s really was quite attractive—if the Emperor, who had always loved beautiful women, happened to be drawn to her, it wouldn’t be entirely surprising.
But there hadn’t been the slightest sign of this before—he’d been openly hostile toward her all along—so how could things have flipped to affection so suddenly?
“Thump—thump—”
She heard her own heartbeat, pounding faster and faster with each beat. There was a touch of anxiety, a touch of delight, just like when she was a child unwrapping a love letter someone had given her.
Although she’d never had much fondness for Yuwen Jie before, the thought that he might be so deeply in love with her made Hua Chun suddenly find him rather endearing. She couldn’t help beginning to spin fantasies of a “domineering emperor falls for me” storyline in her head—surely the Emperor would treat her wonderfully from now on, find some way to restore her to her true form as a woman, then bring her into the harem, letting her command the winds and rain, becoming an empress for the ages!
Thinking it through, Hua Chun found herself smiling foolishly and even laughing out loud.
If it really were like this, then she wouldn’t need to worry about anything at all—she could just sit back and let things fall into place!
The unease in her heart was gradually pressed down by this comforting fantasy. She rolled over and quickly drifted off to sleep.
No wonder they say the eternally optimistic live longest—dwelling on such impractical fantasies, Hua Chun slept extremely well. Meanwhile, within the inner hall, the Emperor barely slept a wink all night, the color in his eyes darker than the night itself.
At dawn the next day, Hua Chun woke and went to the inner hall to pay her respects, smiling brightly. “There’s still half an hour before court begins—should this servant continue with the map?”
Yuwen Jie was getting dressed and, without even looking up, said, “What you draw with your left hand is far too ugly. I’ve already handed the map-drawing task to someone else. Just wait for court.”
His tone was quite cold, entirely unlike what she’d imagined.
Director, did we get handed the wrong script?
Looking at the Emperor’s expression, Hua Chun found herself confused all over again.
What exactly did this mean? Why was Yuwen Jie’s mind so hard to read? She’d thought she was already close to figuring out the answer, and yet he’d struck her down all over again.
So reality really wasn’t as beautiful as the novels made it out to be, huh? Couldn’t the Emperor be moved to a fit of righteous fury over a beauty, disregarding everything else just to keep her by his side?
Fine, even just imagining it felt unrealistic. Hua Chun still obediently bowed in respect, then, weighed down with worries, headed off to court.
That night at the Purple Dawn Hall had felt like a dream—waking up afterward felt as though the world had turned upside down, and yet also as though nothing at all had changed.
The Emperor truly acted as though he knew nothing at all. At court, he sparred and debated with her exactly as before, listened to her suggestions, and afterward summoned her to the Purple Dawn Hall to continue discussing court matters, his expression composed, entirely businesslike.
She badly wanted to read something into his eyes, and yet every time she looked into them, all she found was boundless, endless darkness, like a black hole revealing nothing at all. As for what had happened that night, he never mentioned it once.
That day, the Emperor issued only a single edict—elevating Consort Huo to the rank of Pin and moving her residence to the Palace of Eternal Fortune.
Being raised in rank was a good thing, but the Palace of Eternal Fortune was farther from the Purple Dawn Hall, and clearly not as favorable as the Ten Thousand Treasures Palace. For a while, no one was quite sure whether this was meant as a reward or a punishment. Huo Pin found herself unable to properly express gratitude or grievance, and could only maintain a stiff expression as she bowed to thank the Emperor.