Li Bingsheng appeared somewhat exhausted. She was reclining against the dragon throne with her eyes closed, and the entire hall was utterly still — not even the palace attendants dared draw a loud breath.

Then Chen Baoxiang walked up, and with a resounding thud, dropped to her knees.

“Your subordinate pays respects to Your Majesty!”

The attendants nearby were startled out of their wits and frantically waved at her to stop, but it was clearly already too late.

The figure on the dragon throne slowly opened her eyes. Threads of red still lingered at their corners.

“Chen Baoxiang,” she said. “You truly do not fear death.”

“Everyone dies sooner or later,” she replied, grinning. “They say some deaths are lighter than a feather, while others are weightier than Mount Tai. If I were to die from a single word of greeting, I’d surely go down in history.”

Li Bingsheng glanced to the side. At once, every attendant withdrew from the hall.

The great doors slowly drew shut, sealing out every sound from outside.

Only then did the Emperor straighten up, supported by Hua Lingyin’s hand, and snapped without much grace, “Dying from a word of greeting — what nonsense. An Emperor like me, if she wanted to kill you, would naturally have a charge of corruption pinned on you first. You’d be dragged out and executed properly, all above board.”

Chen Baoxiang was taken aback.

She had assumed the Emperor would never bring this matter up again on her own initiative.

Yet Li Bingsheng not only raised it — she kept right on speaking. “That Ye Shuangtian you mentioned — I looked into the whole matter. Had she not stubbornly made enemies of so many powerful interests, she would never have been set upon by so many when she fell. To wade into a quagmire while dreaming of draining it clean — of course you will only drown in it yourself.”

“At the time, the Gu Family was still the least powerful of the four great clans. Even so, she couldn’t handle them. Was that entirely the fault of the late Emperor?”

“I have read the memorial she submitted on reforming the imperial examination system. It was very well written!”

Chen Baoxiang was holding her composure under the imperial displeasure when the final sentence made her blink.

She looked up in surprise. “If it was well written, then why are you still angry?”

“Precisely because it was well written that I am all the more furious.” Li Bingsheng’s anger was uncontainable. “Thirty-seven years. Had she only been able to find a gentler approach, the examination system would not have gone unreformed all the way to this day.”

Everything depended on approach. Zhang Zhixu and Chen Baoxiang also made enemies regularly, but Zhang Zhixu had his clan to stand behind him, and Chen Baoxiang had the Emperor herself. Not so Ye Shuangtian, who had already fallen under the late Emperor’s suspicion and yet still charged ahead recklessly.

Li Bingsheng’s anger sent the documents on the table rustling and fluttering with a sharp clatter.

Chen Baoxiang braced herself, expecting the Emperor to strike out at her with that fury, but after waiting a long moment, she found the Emperor instead walking toward her — face stern, setting a single page of paper in her hands.

She stared at the paper with complete bewilderment, then looked over at Hua Lingyin.

Hua Lingyin crouched down with an amused expression to explain. “Upon review by the Court of Judicial Review, the evidence in Ye Shuangtian’s corruption case was found to be incomplete. The original conviction was far too hasty, and His Majesty has already issued a decree for the Ministry of Justice to reopen the case.”

“Once the examination system is reformed, His Majesty will issue a further commendation. Ye Shuangtian will then be honoured once more under her title of Chief Minister, and Ye Qiongxin will naturally no longer be burdened by the stain on her family’s name.”

Chen Baoxiang’s eyes grew wider and wider the more she listened.

She looked up in astonishment at the figure standing before her.

Li Bingsheng stood tall, her expression cold and unmoved. “You spent this past month in reflection. So did I.”

“At the time, I thought you were extraordinarily audacious — daring to use a list of corrupt officials to imply to me what the late Emperor had intended. Everyone says the will of the sovereign cannot be presumed, yet you didn’t just presume it once — you did it twice.”

Her irritation got the better of her, and she reached out and pressed a finger to Chen Baoxiang’s brow, making her sway back and forth. “For a defiant subject like you, having a year’s salary docked is letting you off lightly.”

Chen Baoxiang was being poked forward and back as usual, and the bewilderment in her eyes, combined with the swaying, made her look rather like a soft, round glutinous rice ball.

“Your Majesty is this furious with me, and still you won’t have me killed?” she asked.

Li Bingsheng gathered up the sweeping layers of her dragon-and-phoenix robes and slowly crouched down as well.

“Honestly? I considered it,” she said with a sigh. “But then I was afraid — afraid that if I had you killed, no one would ever dare defy me like this again.”

Loyal words are harsh to the ear. Having the hidden workings of imperial authority so thoroughly exposed would make any ruler angry. But once the anger passed, Li Bingsheng also understood what she had been telling her.

— If she only sought to consolidate the power in her hands without considering the realm’s welfare, then what difference was there between Great Sheng under her rule and under the late Emperor’s? In either case, it would continue its slow decline, day by day.

She wanted her people to live well. She wanted women to have access to education. She wanted peace and prosperity across the land. And all of that had to begin with confronting the errors of the late Emperor.

She could not evade it, could not fear it, and could not make peace with it.

Li Bingsheng often found herself recalling that standoff in the tea house — the way Chen Baoxiang’s expression had shifted from anger to shock, to helplessness, and finally to calm.

At the time, she had said: Your subordinate is slow-witted. I ask that Your Highness guide me in the days ahead.

It was only later that Li Bingsheng truly understood: Chen Baoxiang had not been persuaded by her talk of not getting bogged down in minor concerns for the sake of greater goals. She had simply decided that their aims were aligned, and that they could walk the same road together.

So when she had later discovered that the Emperor — now holding absolute power — had grown timid and hesitant, Chen Baoxiang had pulled out the Ye Family’s old case and laid it before her.

Your Highness, guide me — this person had been guiding her all along. And every single time, she had worn the most innocent, harmless expression imaginable.

Li Bingsheng shook her head in exasperated displeasure.

Chen Baoxiang watched Li Bingsheng without blinking.

She had never seen an Emperor like this before — one who would actually crouch in such an undignified manner, muttering under her breath, brow furrowed tight, and yet remain crouching there for the longest time without rising.

She was rather like a child of seven or eight who had hit someone and felt guilty, but could not quite bring herself to apologize directly.

Chen Baoxiang grinned, and with great consideration, offered her a way out. “Here.”

“What is this?” Li Bingsheng took the rosewood box and opened it casually.

Inside lay a beautiful hairpin. The material was unusual — like gold, yet not pure gold — gleaming with a restrained and composed luster in the lamplight.

The seal-and-flower pattern was strangely familiar, as though she had seen something similar on Zhang Zhixu before.

“This hairpin is called Ruler and Subject,” Chen Baoxiang said. “I drew the design myself.”

Li Bingsheng studied it carefully.

A crescent moon hung high, stars cascading down around it — indeed the image of ruler and subject in its proper order. And what was particularly remarkable was the craftsmanship: even without gold, it had been made to gleam magnificently.

She slanted a glance at her. “So the shop that’s been making such a name for itself in the city lately — that’s yours?”

“Heh heh.” Chen Baoxiang rubbed her hands together. “A small profit. Just a little.”

Li Bingsheng let out an amused snort and handed the hairpin to Hua Lingyin, directing her to pin it into her hair.

Then, supporting herself on Hua Lingyin’s hand, she slowly rose, and looked down at Chen Baoxiang with a sidelong gaze. “You’ve had no shortage of people mocking you this past month, I imagine?”

“In reply to Your Majesty — not too badly,” Chen Baoxiang said, scratching her head. “I don’t let it bother me.”

“You may not let it bother you, but if your standing diminishes, who is left to do all the dirty, thankless work for me?” Li Bingsheng waved her hand. “Starting tomorrow, you will also serve as Commander of the Imperial Guards. Come this evening, take my written decree to the Ministry of Personnel and have them process the formalities.”

What?

Chen Baoxiang inhaled sharply in astonishment.

Commander of the Imperial Guards was no ceremonial title — and it was being handed to her just like that?

“Also, return Biqiong to me,” Li Bingsheng continued. “I haven’t seen her in too long — I’ve been missing her a bit. Your household has plenty of people anyway. You won’t miss one.”

An Emperor will never offer an apology.

But when an Emperor feels regret, the compensation tends to be extraordinarily generous.

Chen Baoxiang had arrived without any great expectations, yet she staggered out of the imperial study under the weight of all the rewards she was trying to carry.

It seemed she had not bet wrongly after all.

A person who was willing to stand in a humble teahouse, dressed in all their finery, and speak reason with her face to face — that person would never let pride stop them from standing by her.

After a brief spell of darkness, dawn was drawing near.