She pretended to be casual, slowly gathering her things and standing up. “I dropped something on the ground, Your Majesty.”

He stood with his hands behind his back, saying nothing but watching her, his expression calm yet his eyes exceptionally deep and inscrutable.

The sun overhead was blinding, and his gaze made her feel completely exposed.

Feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she glanced around and noticed two palace eunuchs standing not far away. Finding the situation inappropriate, she lowered her head and said, “If Your Majesty has no further instructions, please allow me to take my leave.”

His gaze fell on the registers in her hands, and it took just one glance for him to recognize what they were. His face showed a hint of understanding, but he merely asked, “Is there anything you wish to report?”

Her heart suddenly ached, yet she slightly clenched her teeth and shook her head.

He did not press her. Taking half a step forward, coming even closer to her, he reached into her sleeve pocket in broad daylight, pulled out several papers, held them between his fingers, and said in a low voice, “Since the Zhongshu Department rejected it, why didn’t you present it directly to me for approval?”

Afraid that others might see his gesture, she hastily stepped back several paces, looking down at her feet, and said softly, “If I were to seek Your Majesty’s intervention whenever the Zhongshu Department blocks my proposals, what would be the purpose of having Prime Ministers?” She paused, looked up at him, and pressed her lips together before saying, “Your Majesty need not worry, I can handle this.”

Well aware of her stubbornness, he slightly curved his lips and returned the papers to her. “During the morning court session, there was discussion about who should fill the vacant position of Chief Censor. You didn’t express your opinion then. Do you have anything to say now?”

Without hesitation, she replied, “I believe Censor Liao Congkuan should fill this position.”

On the day of His Majesty’s ascension to the throne in the twenty-fifth year of Qiande, he had dismissed the then-Chief Censor Xue Peng. Afterward, Left Chief Minister Zhou Biquan was appointed to concurrently serve as Chief Censor. Recently, Zhou Biquan retired due to illness, and officials throughout the court once again focused on this crucial position of the head of the Censorate.

The current situation was vastly different from before—previously, the Emperor had demoted Meng Tinghui and three members of the Eastern faction in one day, allowing the Western faction to conveniently claim the Chief Censor position. Now, with Meng Tinghui at the height of her influence and His Majesty intending to employ young talents, the senior officials of both Eastern and Western factions had no time to dwell on old grudges. They all feared that the Chief Censor position might be given to Cao Jing, who had previously served as Left Remonstrance Officer, Supervising Censor, Left Remonstrator, and Left Advisor, and who was quite close to Meng Tinghui. Therefore, during the morning court session, the two factions surprisingly did not compete against each other but merely stated that the Censorate was a matter of great importance and that His Majesty should not entrust this heavy responsibility to the young officials at court.

The senior officials were not fools. They knew that if the Eastern and Western factions fought for their interests now, His Majesty would have a legitimate reason to appoint someone outside both factions. But since the Censorate was the voice of remonstrance at court, how could they allow Meng’s faction to take advantage?

Gauging His Majesty’s intentions, the best choice would be an official not affiliated with either the Eastern or Western factions, nor close to Meng Tinghui’s circle, but with considerable seniority at court. Looking around the court, Liao Congkuan—born to a family of high officials, who had maintained relationships with both factions over the years—seemed the ideal candidate. However, during the previous examination reform debate, Liao Congkuan publicly supported Meng Tinghui’s proposal, causing the senior officials to have reservations. They feared he might become part of Meng’s faction in the future, so they had not mentioned his name during the morning court discussion about who should fill the Chief Censor position.

She had not expressed her opinion in court, mainly because she worried that if she suggested Liao Congkuan, the senior officials would consider her to have “ulterior motives.”

…Yet in truth, she did indeed have “ulterior motives.”

Back when she was investigating the Wang Qi case, she had visited the Liao residence at night, requesting Liao Congkuan to help her establish connections at the Censorate so she could smoothly enter the prison to investigate the case. At that time, she had promised Liao Congkuan that if she ever attained a prominent position, she would repay him for his assistance.

Moreover, Liao Congkuan had unexpectedly supported her in the examination reform matter, making her unconsciously indebted to him once more. Court politics were always complex; how could she repeatedly accept favors without reciprocating? Furthermore, the senior officials didn’t know about her private association with Liao Congkuan over the past two years. If Liao Congkuan could successfully be appointed as Chief Censor this time, she hoped to bring him to her side in one move. Once she could wield the remonstrance power of the Censorate, the influence of the Eastern and Western factions would inevitably decline. Besides, with Liao Congkuan’s family background of three generations of ministers, it wasn’t impossible that he might replace one of the current Prime Ministers in the future!

Her calculations were meticulous, and she had been patient, waiting for this moment when the Emperor would ask for her opinion. However, despite her belief in the perfection of her plan, she couldn’t determine the Emperor’s true intentions…

After a long silence, she couldn’t help but glance up at him briefly.

He wore a slight smile, yet it was inscrutable. “If Liao Congkuan is appointed Chief Censor, will he be grateful to me or you, Meng Tinghui?”

Her heart skipped a beat.

He couldn’t possibly be unaware of her recent actions, and his question was likely just a superficial probe. Even though they had romantic feelings for each other, he was ultimately her Emperor, and she was, at her core… his subject.

He gazed at her and slowly continued, “I also intend to appoint Liao Congkuan to the position of Chief Censor.” He paused, his lips curving slightly upward, and added, “…Consider it my contribution to your faction-building efforts, Meng Tinghui.”

She was so stunned that she wondered if she had misheard.

She had thought she understood him somewhat after all they had been through, but to her surprise, she had never truly comprehended him at all!

“Your Majesty…” After a long moment, she lowered her eyes and murmured, not knowing what to say.

She felt like a child who didn’t know better, willfully playing with fire, unaware that her smooth path had been due to his constant indulgence and protection.

He knew everything she feared, and he understood everything she wanted.

From the examination reform until now, in the balance between the senior officials of the Eastern and Western factions and her, he had handled everything with such skill that no one could find fault.

This simple statement was the ultimate imperial favor he could bestow upon her as an emperor, and she couldn’t help but feel ashamed of her earlier intentions.

In the corridor by the pond, koi fish splashed about, creating ripples that glistened brilliantly under the sun.

He suddenly called to her: “Meng Tinghui.”

She looked up at him, dazed.

He said, “After court tomorrow, I intend to have the palace guards perform horsemanship drills at the palace training grounds. You should come and observe, and take the opportunity to practice your riding skills.”

Confused, she looked at him uncertainly. “Your Majesty…”

Not waiting for her question, he continued, “I have just discussed with the Privy Council that this year’s Grand Archery and Horsemanship Ceremony will be held after the announcement of the jinshi examination results. Given your current position, surely you don’t want to embarrass yourself again?”

Her face immediately flushed red as she remembered that the Grand Archery and Horsemanship Ceremony following the new Emperor’s ascension would be held this year, and she recalled the incident at the Northern Park… With no alternative, she nodded and said, “I will respectfully comply with Your Majesty’s wishes.”

She thought he would leave, but unexpectedly, he leaned closer, his gaze penetrating her eyes, his voice slightly hoarse as he asked, “I’ve been too busy lately and haven’t summoned you for a private audience. Do you harbor any resentment?”