Chapter 17
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Chapter 17: Indulgence
The emperor’s expression remained unchanged, yet those who served closest to him were most adept at discerning his subtlest moods. Under the awe-inspiring weight of imperial authority, even the faintest displeasure could stir up a storm among his attendants.
Futai stood with his hands respectfully lowered, cautious to the extreme, not daring to breathe too deeply.
His heart was filled with trepidation, pondering how this matter might be resolved.
Imperial Physician Wang, standing nearby, was even more anxious and uneasy. According to the rules of the inner palace, the emperor could not casually favor any woman. The women of the harem were selected from thousands, passing through rigorous screenings and examinations; only after the Imperial Medical Bureau had recorded and stamped their medical dossiers could their names be entered onto the roster of eligible consorts, awaiting the emperor’s favor.
Now, the emperor had unexpectedly bestowed his favor upon this woman. Though she was free of ailments, she had once served another man and might even have borne a child, which was ultimately unsuitable.
In the Great Hui, a woman’s chastity was not held in utmost regard, and remarried women sometimes entered prominent families. But as the Son of Heaven, Emperor Jingxi was bound by standards that far surpassed those of ordinary men.
The atmosphere in the chamber was stifling and oppressive. All present held their breath, awaiting the emperor’s decision.
At last, Emperor Jingxi placed the medical dossier upon his desk and instructed, “You may withdraw for now.”
His voice was cool, betraying no emotion.
The tension eased, only to return anew.
Imperial Physician Wang lowered his head further, retreating with even greater deference, scarcely daring to breathe. Futai, however, was inwardly groaning—what did His Majesty mean by this? How was he to handle the matter of Lady Wu?
Emperor Jingxi’s expression remained inscrutable, his moods unreadable.
Futai waited in silent anxiety, beads of cold sweat forming on his brow.
As the supreme ruler of the land, what could the emperor not obtain if he so desired? For years, His Majesty had shown little interest in the women of his harem, even to the point of indifference. Now, he had finally taken a liking to one. Had she been untouched, even if from a modest family, she could have been easily welcomed into the palace, to everyone’s delight.
But… she had lain with another man? Perhaps even borne his child?
Such things might be tolerable for other men, but not for Emperor Jingxi.
He was fastidious—anything he used was absolutely off-limits to others. Once, he had grown accustomed to a velvet carpet, but when the empress accidentally stepped on it, he had it discarded.
Remembering this, Futai was at a loss.
Just then, Emperor Jingxi suddenly rose and strode into the inner garden.
Futai’s heart lurched in panic; he had no idea what his master intended, but he hurried after him all the same.
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Mountain mists curled in the dawn, the air was crisp and heavy with moisture. Charcoal braziers had been lit early in the emperor’s villa, warming the tranquil rooms. It was so peaceful that Emperor Jingxi fancied he could smell a gentle, sweet fragrance.
It was the scent of dragon musk incense, yet somehow more pleasing than usual.
He paused, realizing that nothing had truly changed—save for the presence of a soft, delicate young woman within these walls, unsettling his thoughts and filling him with unbidden desires.
A wry smile tugged at his lips, and he deliberately slowed his pace.
There was no need to hurry.
If this young woman was a rare delicacy, then he had both the right and the patience to savor her slowly. What was his would remain his.
On the small incense table by the window lattice stood a vase of vibrant yellow hollyhocks, their pale petals dazzling and bright.
Emperor Jingxi circled the boxwood and stone-faced screen, approaching the couch. After a brief hesitation, he lifted the brocade curtain.
There she was, asleep.
Last night, as he drifted to rest, a shadow of doubt had crossed his mind—perhaps it had all been a dream, a phantom meeting with a goddess atop Mount Wu.
Only now, seeing her again in the morning, did he truly believe—it was not a dream.
She was fast asleep, serene and sweet, her long, dark lashes resting quietly against her cheeks. The morning sun slanted in, casting a soft glow upon her face; her skin, dewy and tinged with rosy light, made her all the more lovable.
Emperor Jingxi gazed down at the young woman for a long while, his eyes finally settling upon her lips.
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Those rosy lips were as tender as ripe berries, giving the illusion that a mere touch would burst forth with fresh, sweet juice.
He was deeply enamored of her beauty. As the sovereign of Great Hui, he took it as his due that such rare loveliness should belong to him alone.
She was born for him, made for him.
Yet the imperial physician had said she had lain with another, perhaps even carried his child.
He did not know what he felt within.
In this world, no one could compete with him for what he desired; no one was worthy to contend.
Yet another had come before him.
Futai did not dare lift his eyes, but even so, he sensed the emperor’s faint displeasure radiating outward.
He sighed silently.
Emperor Jingxi continued to gaze down, for a long time, unable to restrain himself from finally reaching out.
His pale, elegant fingertip brushed lightly over her lips, caressing their softness.
He did not press hard, but it was enough to rouse the sleeping young woman.
Her delicate brows furrowed, and a soft sound slipped from her lips, gentle and ambiguous in the haze of sleep.
The emperor’s hand stilled, watching for her reaction.
Her eyelids were thin enough that the fine, pale veins beneath her snowy skin could be seen. Her lashes quivered, and the fragile lids fluttered faintly.
He bent down and, in a low voice beside her ear, murmured, “Do you wish to sleep longer?”
He was surprised at himself as the words left his lips.
Never in his life had he spoken in such a gentle tone.
Not to his empress, his consorts, nor even his children.
He had always maintained the dignity of an emperor above all else.
Even before his own mother, he was first the sovereign, then her son.
Awu, still drowsy and content in her slumber, was vexed by the disturbance. Irritated, she raised her hand to brush him away.
But as she waved, her wrist was caught.
Annoyed, she finally opened her eyes and muttered, “I want to sleep a bit more…”
As the words left her lips, she saw the man before her and was momentarily stunned.
Last night, they had lain together, but it had been night, the light dim and unclear. Now, in daylight, she saw that he was strikingly handsome, his presence commanding—a face both unfamiliar and yet strangely familiar, as if she had seen him somewhere before.
She gazed at him in confusion.
Emperor Jingxi allowed her scrutiny.
Even without the mantle of emperor, he was a fine-looking man. Though in his thirties, hardly young, there was nothing unseemly about being so closely observed by a young woman.
Unexpectedly, she spoke, puzzled, “Have we met before?”
Emperor Jingxi raised a brow. “What, after last night’s passion, you’ve forgotten everything by morning?”
Awu’s cheeks flushed instantly. She bit her lip. “That’s not what I meant. I’m asking… have we met before?”
The emperor replied flatly, “We have not.”
Such beauty—had he met her before, he would never have forgotten.
—Nor would he have let another man claim her first.
Awu remained doubtful. The more she looked, the more the man’s face seemed suspiciously familiar.
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But she could not place him and could only say, “Perhaps I’m mistaken.”
Emperor Jingxi held her slender wrist. “Get up; it’s time for breakfast.”
Futai watched the scene in disbelief.
The emperor had ascended the throne at fourteen, mature beyond his years, his emotions rarely visible on his face—so inscrutable that even those closest to him struggled to guess his thoughts.
As for the women of the harem, even when favored, he never lingered; his interest was fleeting at best.
By Futai’s reckoning, upon learning of this young woman’s past, the emperor would surely be displeased. A single night together, some casual reward, and she would be dismissed.
Yet now, though not pleased, Emperor Jingxi was restraining his nature and coaxing the young woman so gently!
When had the sovereign ever spoken so softly to anyone?
Even the most beloved Princess Dening had never been so coddled.
Futai could hardly believe it, and beneath his disbelief, a startling thought arose: after so many years of calm, the emperor’s harem was about to be overturned.
Yet the one being so gently coaxed remained oblivious to her good fortune, muttering drowsily, “Awu wants to sleep a little longer, may I?”
The emperor replied mildly, “No.”
Still listless, Awu drooped her head. “Just a little while, please? I haven’t had enough sleep.”
Emperor Jingxi looked at her pitiful, sleepy face, amused.
He had become a father early; when the crown prince was born, Emperor Jingxi was barely of age himself but already harbored great ambition, determined to raise his child well.
He required the prince to join him for morning exercises daily; the young heir had always obeyed, rising early, never daring to bargain for a few more moments of sleep.
He had never expected to encounter such a soft, lazy little thing—like a kitten that could not be roused, no matter how he tried.
Lowering his gaze, he cajoled her, “Breakfast is ready. Don’t you want to eat?”
Awu remained uninterested.
Emperor Jingxi glanced meaningfully at Futai.
Startled, Futai immediately understood and stepped forward, smiling respectfully. “Breakfast is prepared, all fresh and sumptuous from the mountain. This morning’s pastries are hot from the oven, with new-picked vegetables, fresh shrimp, ginseng shoots, and tender silver sprouts—all harvested at dawn. Even the soup is made with lotus seeds gathered early this morning. Would you like to have a look, my lady? Perhaps it will whet your appetite.”
Awu’s sleepy eyes instantly brightened.
She patted her stomach and nodded. “Then I’ll try some.”
She tried to rise, but after sleeping so long and the fatigue from the previous night, her legs gave way, nearly causing her to fall.
Emperor Jingxi’s strong arm caught her just in time.
She looked at him gratefully.
His large hand slid from her slender waist to her wrist, fingers gently encircling her soft hand. “Come.”
In the morning light, the pale hollyhocks gleamed, vibrant and splendid. The man before her wore a dark robe embroidered with birds and beasts, a peony-patterned sash at his waist, his posture tall and composed, an air of restrained authority radiating from him.
To be held by such a man—even if she knew it was an illusion—she could not help but feel safe and secure, as if he could shield her from all the storms of the world.
Her heart fluttered with uncertainty and wonder.
In appearance, this man was not as exquisitely beautiful as the crown prince, yet his commanding presence was enough to stir any woman’s heart to its core.
What kind of status could nurture such exceptional grace?