Yu Ling Xi sat beside Ning Yin, glancing at the memorial being burned in the charcoal brazier, and asked with a smile: “How did Censor Sun offend you?”

The Censorate was filled with Ning Yin’s people; as long as they didn’t do anything too outrageous, they always followed Ning Yin’s lead.

Ning Yin opened one arm, drawing her into his embrace and leisurely massaging her, saying coldly: “An old bag of bones won’t know his weight until he hits a wall.”

Though Ning Yin didn’t elaborate, Yu Ling Xi could guess.

She had vaguely heard Censor Sun mention “the late Emperor has been gone for nearly a year,” relating to the mourning period, and involving Ning Yin himself—it could only be about the imperial family’s continuation.

Ning Yin was mercurial in his moods and “not fond of women,” so the officials certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to ask him to expand the harem. Moreover, the selection of consorts required the Empress’s approval, and since Yu Ling Xi had heard nothing about it, it couldn’t be related to selecting concubines.

So it could only be urging the Emperor to produce a child.

While she was analyzing the situation methodically, Ning Yin’s eyes grew increasingly deep.

“Smiling so happily,” Ning Yin curved his eyes, his gaze lazily drifting downward. “Why not let another mouth smile as well?”

As he spoke, he wrapped one arm around Yu Ling Xi’s waist, and pressed down with his hand, and her slender body fell backward, apricot eyes filled with shock.

The vermilion brush and memorials scattered across the floor, her lower back slightly pained from hitting the dragon desk.

Yu Ling Xi came to her senses and hurriedly pleaded in a low voice: “I was wrong, I was wrong! Ning Yin…”

Before long, her voice had already become gradually fragmented, indistinct, and unclear.

From time to time, the sound of things falling could be heard from the room, causing the palace attendants waiting outside to shrink their necks.

The Empress walked out slowly, apparently from kneeling too long, her walking posture somewhat unnatural, and the corners of her eyes still retained a faint redness from moisture, a sight that would evoke pity in anyone who saw it.

The palace attendants hurriedly came forward to offer assistance.

The Empress had pleaded for the remonstrating officials and angered the Emperor, surely she had been harshly scolded and became the target of his anger… Ah, how pitiful.

It snowed before New Year’s Eve.

The snow fell for an entire night, covering the palace walkways and flying eaves in a vast expanse of white, stretching as far as the eye could see like a jade-and-pearl fairyland, magnificent beyond measure.

Every winter, there were many snow disasters, and memorials were sent one after another to the Floating Light Palace.

Disaster relief sounded simple, but to do it well was as difficult as ascending to heaven. Because the disaster areas were far from the Emperor’s reach, there were countless cases of concealed or false reports, local officials colluding with merchants, and the embezzlement of relief grain for money was a persistent problem despite repeated prohibitions.

Ning Yin sat on the dragon throne in a dark robe, waiting until all the civil and military officials had argued enough, then lifted an eyelid and said: “Take all the old rice and grain from the public granaries, have Yu Huan Chen responsible for escorting it to the disaster areas, with Ministry of Revenue officials accompanying to distribute according to household size.”

He was too lazy to say another word, his voice as cold as the snowy weather outside: “If there are any discrepancies, you gentlemen won’t need to hang lanterns on New Year’s Eve—hang your heads instead.”

With that, he checked the time and left the court.

The officials were left looking at each other, then erupted into discussion.

“With corpses from starvation all over the disaster areas, His Majesty sends old rice and rotten grain that no one wants for disaster relief, which is lacking in benevolence and will make people throughout the land feel disheartened.”

“Our Emperor is excellent at killing and warfare, but when it comes to policies of benevolence… sigh!”

Amid this clamor, only Yu Huan Chen, who had been ordered to escort the relief grain, maintained a normal expression.

Because he had escorted relief grain before, he understood why the Emperor chose to use old rice for disaster relief. Although this young emperor was unpredictable and tyrannical, one had to admit that his vision always transcended that of ordinary people.

News of the Emperor’s disaster relief decree quickly reached Zhao Yun Palace.

At first, hearing that Ning Yin was using poor-tasting old rice for disaster relief, Yu Ling Xi was indeed a little surprised.

But soon, she understood the reasons behind it, and the corners of her mouth couldn’t help but curve into an appreciative smile.

“Your Majesty, why are you smiling?” Taking advantage of the empty hall, Hu Tao felt sorry for her mistress. “Since the disaster news came, you’ve been so worried that you haven’t slept well for several nights, fearing the Emperor would lose the people’s hearts. Now the court is using old rice for disaster relief, isn’t that an act that will lose the people’s hearts? All your efforts have been in vain.”

Hearing this, Yu Ling Xi’s eyes contained a smile as she explained: “You don’t understand. For the people in disaster areas, being able to fill their stomachs is already fortunate enough; they don’t have the energy to care whether they’re eating old rice or new rice.”

“Is it because the disaster victims don’t care that they can be deceived like this?” Hu Tao didn’t understand.

Young Lady had always been kind; this didn’t seem like her character!

“That’s not it. The Emperor using old rice for disaster relief is not targeting the disaster victims, but the local officials who want to profit from national calamity.”

Yu Ling Xi sat on the couch copying scriptures, her golden dress trailing to the ground, as she said softly, “Because old rice tastes bad, it’s hardly worth any money, so officials with malicious intentions won’t sell it for profit. And the price of one portion of new rice can be exchanged for five portions of old rice, which can save many more people.”

This was a method that achieved two goals at once—seemingly unsympathetic, but grasping human nature very accurately.

However, later she would have to have the people compose some folk rhymes to spread so that Ning Yin wouldn’t be misunderstood in vain.

Hu Tao suddenly understood, clicking her tongue in admiration: “Worthy of the Emperor… no, worthy of the person Your Majesty has chosen!”

Yu Ling Xi saw that she had included herself in the praise and couldn’t help but laugh lightly: “Since you’ve followed me into the palace, your mouth has become increasingly smooth-talking.”

In her previous life at the Regent’s mansion, she had been as honest as a quail.

“It’s all thanks to Your Majesty’s teaching,” Hu Tao put down the teacup, holding the tray and giggling.

In the evening, heavy clouds hung low, and palace servants and maids were busy clearing away the accumulated snow.

Because the old Emperor had been dead for less than a year, Ning Yin was too lazy to be superficially courteous with the court officials. This year, no palace banquet was held; only a few new lanterns were hung to mark the New Year.

He wore a dark black cloak, walking toward the Empress’s Zhao Yun Palace, like a stroke of heavy ink on the long palace path.

Today he had deliberately worn those deerskin boots, which made a creaking sound like crushing human bones when stepping on the accumulated snow. The inner attendants heard it and felt chills down their spines, not daring to make a sound, while he quite enjoyed it.

Just as he was passing the moon gate of the flower garden, he heard an exclamation.

A small palace maid stumbled out from behind the door, and the lantern in her hand rolled to Ning Yin’s feet and went out.

The small palace maid immediately lowered her head and knelt, saying nervously: “This servant Yun Xiang did not mean to offend Your Majesty, please forgive me!”

In this palace, there weren’t many who dared to identify themselves to the new Emperor.

Ning Yin’s face showed no emotion as he looked down with a lofty gaze, quite like an immortal.

His gaze swept over the tips of his boots, which had a barely noticeable splash of lamp oil.

Then he glanced at the plum tree in the corner, on which festive knots had been woven and several pretty little lanterns hung, looking quite novel.

“You made these?” The gentle voice came from above, carrying the cold of frost and snow.

“Yes.” After speaking, Yun Xiang bit her lip and looked up tremblingly, revealing a beautiful face that had been carefully adorned.

She was the concubine-born daughter in her family, sent to the palace on her father’s orders.

Now that the Emperor and Empress were deeply in love and the harem was virtually empty, all hopes of officials sending their daughters and sisters to become imperial consorts were dashed. So her father had taken an indirect approach, finding every means to have her become a palace maid, hoping she could get close to the Emperor and Empress to serve them and relay information to the family.

“Skilled hands.” Before Yun Xiang could feel happy, she heard that cold voice again: “Break them off.”

Yun Xiang froze, her face instantly turning deathly pale.

…

Ning Yin stood at the steps, suddenly stopping, and to the terrified gaze of the inner attendants, he bent down and carefully wiped the oil stain on the tip of his boot again and again.

The cold gloom between his brows intensified.

In Zhao Yun Palace, Yu Ling Xi still had one last page of scripture to copy.

Seeing the familiar figure appear in the dim light, she looked up with a smile: “Sit down, there’s tea warming for you on the table.”

As soon as Ning Yin came close, Yu Ling Xi sensed the bone-chilling coldness about him.

She hesitated for a moment, then put down her pen and said: “I’ve already heard about the disaster relief matter; you handled it extremely well. Among the many emperors of our dynasty, there’s no shortage of so-called sage rulers, but none of their methods are as practical as yours.”

Ning Yin had once said that he was a cold-hearted person, lacking empathy and that even mountains of corpses and seas of blood before his eyes wouldn’t evoke a bit of compassion from him.

But Yu Ling Xi knew that his unorthodox methods were far more useful than futile “empathy.”

Hearing this, Ning Yin laughed: “Does Sui Sui not get tired of finding different ways to praise people every day?”

Joking aside, the cold sharpness in his eyes had indeed dissipated considerably.

Yu Ling Xi also smiled: “Just speaking the truth, what’s there to be tired about?”

Ning Yin pulled the brush from her hand and pinched her waist: “Then shall we do something tiring?”

Recently, Yu Ling Xi had just finished her monthly cycle, and because she hadn’t been sleeping well due to the disaster relief matter, they hadn’t shared a bed for half a month.

With her waist point pressed, Yu Ling Xi’s body softened, but she quickly held his hand and changed the subject: “Don’t fool around, we still need to go back to the mansion to celebrate the New Year.”

She had planned early on to spend New Year with Ning Yin at Prince Jing’s residence.

Perhaps because of her previous life, she had quite a fondness for this place. Since the palace couldn’t host a banquet this year, it was just as well to return to the mansion with Ning Yin for some peace.

Moreover, this was the first New Year they were spending together since her rebirth.

Prince Jing’s residence had finally been adorned with new lanterns, warm light reflecting off white snow, and rivers of light flowing, finally giving it a somewhat homely warmth.

The outer chamber of the clean room was warm with floor heating, fragrant as spring.

Yu Ling Xi and Ning Yin sat shoulder to shoulder under the carved moon gate, enjoying the snow as they stayed up to welcome the New Year.

Beside them, the small stove was warming spiced tusu wine, and on the table were laid snacks and late-night food. Under the lamplight, the beauty wrapped in a thick rabbit-fur cape was stretching out her hand to catch the falling snow.

“I used to hear Mother say that if you catch a perfect snowflake on New Year’s Eve, and make a wish before it melts, it will come true in the coming year.”

As she spoke, she caught an extremely beautiful eight-pointed snowflake and immediately showed it happily to Ning Yin: “Quick, make a wish!”

But it was too late; the snowflake had already melted on her fingertips.

Just as Yu Ling Xi was feeling a bit disappointed, she saw Ning Yin lean over and take the water droplet from her fingertip with his lips.

His dark eyes looked up, holding Yu Ling Xi’s surprise and gentle smile.

He didn’t believe in ghosts and gods; his wish was right before his eyes.

As the midnight hour arrived, fireworks shot up from outside the mansion gates, blooming in the night sky like a cluster of wild roses.

The light points of the fireworks fell together with the snow fragments, making it impossible to tell which was more brilliant.

“It’s midnight,” Yu Ling Xi smiled slightly. “Happy New Year, Ning Yin.”

Just as the fireworks exploded, half the sky was rendered incredibly gorgeous. The light fell into Ning Yin’s eyes, flickering.

“Midnight has passed,” he said with a serious expression, leaning in to whisper something not so serious, “time for New Year’s pressing.”

The fireworks were extinguished.

When they lit up again, the snow fell like cotton, and the two had their lips pressed tightly together, cast as two silhouettes touching.

The warm mist in the clean room swirled, shattering a pool of ripples.

The heavy snow had stopped without their noticing, and the wine outside had grown completely cold. But the warm light of the floor lanterns inside remained lit until the third watch of the morning.