Qionghua Island, Guanghan Palace.

Shang Qinglan woke from her drunken stupor. Being young after all, her body was resilient and recovered quickly. Moreover, she had vomited up most of the chrysanthemum wine she’d drunk. After sleeping for nearly an hour, she opened her eyes.

Shang Qinglan’s last memory was lying on a rock as big as a bed, surrounded by floral fragrances. But she woke up inside bedding, with the scent of ambergris, the bed hung with golden dragon curtains. Shang Qinglan counted—nine five-clawed golden dragons circled overhead on the canopy.

Wet Nurse Song had taught the palace ladies palace etiquette. Only the emperor could use the pattern of five-clawed golden dragons; all other princes, including the crown prince, used four claws.

Could I have wandered around drunk and secretly fallen asleep on the emperor’s dragon bed?

I didn’t mean to sleep here!

Shang Qinglan was so frightened she got out of bed barefoot. She discovered her chrysanthemum-patterned python robe was gone, replaced by a brand-new silver-red long robe, her hair hanging loose.

She didn’t know what material this robe was made from, but wearing it felt as soft as clouds, so light it was like wearing nothing, yet very warm and perfectly fitted everywhere. It seemed as if the Weaving Maiden had cut and sewn the red clouds of sunset. Wearing it, she couldn’t even feel the seams!

How much must this robe be worth!

Certainly much more expensive than the chrysanthemum python robe.

Thinking this, Shang Qinglan immediately stopped feeling sorry for the missing python robe. This robe was the truly valuable one—having exchanged clothes, she wasn’t losing out at all.

Shang Qinglan fondled the robe with delight and foolish joy, faintly hearing sounds outside. Following the sound, she parted layer after layer of golden curtains and saw a Taoist priest with a topknot, wearing a black eight-trigrams Taoist robe, sitting in meditation on a prayer cushion.

His eyes were closed, muttering incantations. While chanting sutras, he held a small hammer, striking a copper ritual implement shaped like a long ruler, producing melodious sounds.

Shang Qinglan felt somewhat panicked, but hearing the chanting and ritual sounds, her heart gradually calmed.

She slowly approached and sat on the prayer cushion opposite the Taoist, mimicking his meditation posture. Clearing her throat softly, she said: “Old immortal, may I ask where this is? Do you know how to get to the Chrysanthemum Garden? I seem to be lost.”

This Taoist was precisely Emperor Jiajing. While the intoxicated beauty still slept, his mind had already wandered and desire arose, but out of imperial dignity, he wouldn’t take advantage of someone’s vulnerability for intimate relations. So he simply meditated and chanted sutras to suppress his desires.

While chanting and striking the stone chime, he reached a state of self-forgetfulness, only to hear the intoxicated beauty call him “old immortal.”

Emperor Jiajing suddenly awakened from his scriptures, his small hammer striking the wrong place—hitting the wooden frame holding the copper chime.

The sound immediately changed from melodious to the clumsy “dong” of wood.

Shang Qinglan found it amusing and giggled.

The palace attendant crouching in the corner like an invisible person immediately scolded: “Bold palace lady! How dare you mock His Majesty!”

So this old immortal was the emperor!

Shang Qinglan was a fearless newborn calf. The image of the “old immortal” before her—refined, elegant, with immortal bearing—had already taken hold in her mind. Shang Qinglan felt he had an ethereal aura about him, as if he could ride the wind and return to heaven at any moment, having achieved immortality.

In Shang Qinglan’s eyes, immortals were all like Guanyin Bodhisattva—omnipotent beings who rescued those in distress. And the emperor should be the person most able to approach divinity.

So Shang Qinglan wasn’t afraid, but became increasingly excited, exclaiming: “So this is what the emperor looks like!”

The palace attendant scolded again: “Bold palace lady! How dare you comment on the dragon’s countenance!”

Emperor Jiajing said: “Get out.”

“Oh.” Shang Qinglan stood up.

“Not you.” Emperor Jiajing said to the attending palace servants: “All of you, withdraw.”

Where was Huang Jin? How come he was surrounded by such tactless servants!

The palace attendants silently withdrew, leaving only Shang Qinglan and Emperor Jiajing in the great hall.

Emperor Jiajing asked: “What do you think I should look like?”

Shang Qinglan, pampered and spoiled by her father, had a blindly confident and strong inner self, not knowing what fear was. She spoke frankly: “I thought you’d be a white-bearded old man wearing dragon robes, doing nothing all day except stamping seals, with about a hundred people attending you, like Consort Jing—not needing to peel grape skins yourself, not even needing to spit out grape seeds yourself, having others peel the fruit and remove the seeds, placing the flesh in bowls for you to take at will.”

All the women Emperor Jiajing had encountered were either submissive and servile, coquettishly clingy, or trying to strangle him with white silk. This was the first time he’d met such an innocent, bold woman who didn’t fear imperial authority. Her words were practically nonsense, but very sincere—these were her true thoughts.

She was like a clear, gently flowing brook where you could see the fish swimming below at a glance, even every strand of water grass clearly visible.

At this moment, Emperor Jiajing was still in meditation posture. Shang Qinglan had forgotten to bow and spoke while standing, so Emperor Jiajing actually had to look up at her.

Huang Jin knew the dragon’s heart was greatly pleased and that he would likely favor this palace lady today, so when Shang Qinglan was carried to Guanghan Palace, he had prepared for her to receive imperial favor. He ordered palace wet nurses to bathe her and change her clothes into a silver-red feather robe. This robe was woven from threads spun from the softest down of white swans, making it incredibly light and soft. If the feather robe was splashed with rainwater, like dew on lotus leaves, a gentle shake would make it roll right off without wetting the robe.

Besides this, she wore nothing underneath the robe, making it convenient for Emperor Jiajing’s favors—mustn’t tire His Majesty, after all, the emperor never peeled his own grapes when eating them.

Emperor Jiajing saw her ten slightly upturned toes, nails showing a healthy pink luster, delicate ankles. Above the ankles was covered by the feather robe, unclear to see.

Emperor Jiajing used the chime hammer to lift the feather robe. Looking up—nothing there. The long-dormant old candle was lit!

Huang Jin, this old companion who had attended him since childhood, truly understood him! Everything was already prepared!

The lit candle couldn’t wait to illuminate the red makeup. Emperor Jiajing threw down the small hammer and, grasping Shang Qinglan’s hand, pulled her into his embrace.

Shang Qinglan cried out in surprise: “Don’t… I… I’m not used to sitting on a man’s lap. Your Majesty, let me sit on the prayer cushion instead.”

Emperor Jiajing looked at the little beauty in his arms: “You’re not going anywhere. I am your flesh cushion—you sit right here.”

Having spoken, Emperor Jiajing lifted her robe, revealing her fleshy double chin. Shang Qinglan hadn’t eaten in vain these days—in less than fifteen days, she’d gained over five pounds.

Sitting on the old emperor’s lap, the slow-to-react Shang Qinglan only now realized she wasn’t wearing pants—no wonder walking earlier felt breezy!

Emperor Jiajing gently caressed her neck, tucking the stray hair caught in her double chin behind her ear: “It seems the palace food suits your taste well.”

A girl of this age, slightly plump but not stocky, still retaining childish features, was like a freshly refined elixir—pink, full, surrounded by immortal aura, making one unable to resist wanting to taste it.

Being caressed like this by the old immortal she’d just met, Shang Qinglan immediately grew nervous, her body trembling: “Your… Your Majesty, I… this subject knows nothing! Wet Nurse Song hasn’t had time to teach this subject how to serve in bed. This subject sees it’s already late, already dusk, and this subject hasn’t had dinner yet. When this subject practices and becomes skilled another day, I’ll definitely display all I’ve learned to properly serve Your Majesty’s bed, guaranteed to satisfy you.”

Shang Qinglan didn’t yet know about intimate relations between men and women. She thought serving in bed was like practicing etiquette in Chuxiu Palace—with more practice, one would become proficient.

Emperor Jiajing was stunned, then burst into laughter. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. Suddenly feeling the wild spirit of youth despite his age, he scooped up Shang Qinglan and placed her on the dragon couch: “How to serve in bed—I’ll personally teach you. Only a famous teacher can produce excellent students.”

Fearing the flowers might sleep as night deepened, so red candles were lit to illuminate the red makeup.

Just as the pear blossom was about to overwhelm the crabapple, suddenly tremendous sounds came from outside.

Shang Qinglan wasn’t afraid at all, but excitedly crawled up from the bed: “Sounds like someone’s setting off fireworks! I love watching fireworks most!”

The Forbidden City had strict rules—who would dare set off fireworks randomly when it wasn’t New Year or a festival?

Emperor Jiajing was always suspicious. Though he didn’t know what was happening outside, he instinctively recognized gunshots. The old candle immediately went out.

Emperor Jiajing said: “Stay right here, don’t move around. I’ll handle some matters and return.”

Emperor Jiajing strode out of the bedroom and instructed the palace attendants: “Quickly send carrier pigeons summoning Lu Bing to enter the palace for protection!”

Emperor Jiajing, past fifty, had encountered two extremely dangerous bloody disasters—once a palace fire, once palace maids trying to strangle him with white silk. Both times Lu Bing had rushed in to save him.

Emperor Jiajing regarded Lu Bing as a lucky general—as long as he was there, even the worst situations could be controlled.

Guanghan Palace quickly went under martial law, all passages completely sealed. Emperor Jiajing sat upright in the great hall, quietly waiting for news.

Outwardly calm, but inwardly like the sea in a storm—turbulent waves and towering billows.

What had happened? Emperor Jiajing’s first thought was Prince Yu staging a palace coup!

It must be that rebellious son Prince Yu! Resenting that I wouldn’t let him see his birth mother one last time, resenting that I wouldn’t let him enter the palace, resenting that I ignored ancestral laws and favored Prince Jing, refusing to name him crown prince!

While pondering, Huang Jin’s men returned: “Eunuch Huang sent this slave to report to His Majesty—Eunuch Huang ordered the imperial guards to fire the guns to save Commander Lu. Disturbing Your Majesty, please forgive us.”

Huang Jin guessed Emperor Jiajing’s old candle was illuminating red makeup, but given the situation, he had no choice but to fire guns, spoiling the emperor’s mood.

So it wasn’t a palace coup. Emperor Jiajing’s heart settled, then rose again: “Who dares to harm Commander Lu?”

His milk-brother’s precious daughter couldn’t have an accident in the Forbidden City—how would he explain to his milk-brother?

The eunuch replied: “From their clothing, they appeared to be Prince Jing’s manor guards.”

Emperor Jiajing asked repeatedly: “Prince Jing entered the palace? What did he come for? Why would he attack Lu Ying?”

The eunuch replied: “This servant doesn’t know either. After firing the guns, Eunuch Huang worried about Your Majesty and first sent this slave to explain.”

He never expected the usually obedient and compliant Prince Jing would commit such mad acts. Lu Ying had been on duty in the Western Garden these days, replacing her father to protect Emperor Jiajing. Prince Jing’s men hunting Lu Ying—could he be staging a palace coup and rebellion?

Emperor Jiajing was naturally suspicious, even toward his own sons. He said: “Disarm all of Prince Jing’s manor guards and lock them all up. Also, the Forbidden City goes under martial law from now on—close all palace gates. Order the Embroidered Uniform Guards and the Imperial Horse Guard’s Strong Men Battalion to rush to Qionghua Island for support. Eastern Depot personnel immediately go to Prince Jing’s manor, control all exits and entrances—no one allowed in or out.”

Author’s Note: A fifty-three-year-old pear tree overwhelming a thirteen-year-old crabapple flower—forty years’ difference! However, don’t be surprised yet—there’s an even more jaw-dropping “when you were born I was already old” couple coming later.