The night deepened into dusk, with lanterns flickering faintly.
December in the capital was colder than imagined, with winter snow falling in delicate strands. Even the accumulated snow at night glowed as bright as day.
Tonight, Vermilion Pavilion was unusually lively. The palace maids hurried back and forth, their steps brisk and cheerful, their expressions tinged with joy.
Where did this joy come from? Naturally, it was because His Majesty had arrived.
The harem was an extension of each family's political ambitions. The maids didn't care about the true feelings between the emperor and the empress.
They only cared whether their mistress was favored. The fortunes of servants were tied to their masters; if the mistress thrived in the harem, they too would enjoy better days.
"His Majesty has arrived!"
"This servant greets Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty!"
The palace maids knelt in welcome. The man on the imperial palanquin wore a yellow dragon robe. His features were sharp and distinguished, his appearance steady and handsome, his eyes brimming with boundless authority. With a beard framing his lips, he exuded maturity and gravitas. His gaze held a deep, unfathomable depth, his forehead broad and full, his posture proud and commanding, every gesture radiating majesty.
"Rise."
Ren's tone was calm and unperturbed. With a slight lift of his hand, he signaled the kneeling figures around him to stand. Without sparing a glance at the maids or eunuchs, he strode directly toward the brightly lit palace ahead.
To be honest, Ren didn't particularly want to see Mei, especially not to share a bed with her. Mei was too rigid and serious, meticulous in everything she did. Even in bed, she was so solemn that it felt less like marital pleasure and more like fulfilling some textbook duty of a wife.
Yet, three months had passed since his ascension, and whether he liked it or not, he had to spend a night with Mei. It was both tradition and a necessary political move.
Even if he had little patience for her, he couldn't entirely cast aside Mei, the nominal mother of the realm and the empress of Bright Hua.
The harem wasn't solely his domain. He couldn't act like a wealthy merchant or gentry, loving whom he pleased and relegating others to the shadows.
The continuation of court politics and its unseen rules played out within the harem.
If Yu represented his personal affection, she also symbolized the interests of the "commoner" class within the palace. The more he favored Yu, the more it signaled his trust in the "commoners." Unlike the tangled web of aristocratic factions, the commoners had no deep-rooted power bases. Their prosperity depended entirely on him, making them the least likely to betray him and the most loyal group, thus earning his trust.
Mei, on the other hand, represented the "literati" class's voice in the harem. Her father, Sheng, was a detached scholar who shunned worldly affairs and political debates, preferring to roam the mountains or retreat to write. Yet he remained a "teacher of the world," a great Confucian destined for the annals of history. His students filled the court, from cabinet ministers to local magistrates. Who hadn't benefited from his teachings or read his works?
Perhaps fewer than one in ten officials in Bright Hua hadn't.
Did Ren like these "literati"?
Not at all. If he could, he'd love to kick out every one of those verbose, sanctimonious old scholars who cluttered the court with memorials and impeachments. They leaned on their age and reputation, constantly pleading or weeping before him, this new emperor.
During the reign of the ruthless late emperor, they'd cowered under Ming's iron will, silent as puppets. But once Ming passed, they couldn't hold back, their loud complaints buzzing in his ears until he sometimes wished he could send a few of them packing back to their hometowns.
But that was just a fantasy. The machinery of Bright Hua relied on these pedantic scholars. Scholars might not rebel easily, but if they played the game of passive resistance, striking or resigning in protest, it'd be enough to give him a headache. He didn't fear them taking up arms; he feared them wailing, banging their heads on the ground, and quitting to denounce the court. Only Ming, that ruthless founder, could slaughter a few to silence the rest, leaving them too scared to speak out.
Ren didn't dare be so reckless. He'd once considered not making Mei empress, but the literati faction behind her forced his hand. He had to feign affection and favor her publicly.
This was what the literati wanted to see. If Mei bore a son, an imperial heir, it'd be ideal. The moment she gave birth, memorials to name the child crown prince would flood his desk from every corner.
Stepping into the inner hall, Mei, dressed in resplendent robes, lowered her eyes gently. Her face, still flawless as a young girl's, lacked its usual sternness, replaced by a shy, almost youthful blush.
"Your Majesty." Her voice was hesitant, tinged with embarrassment, her eyes like autumn waters, her cheeks blooming like peach blossoms.
She was like that girl he'd met years ago, during his youthful travels: a maiden by a pavilion, hiding her face with a painted fan, smiling shyly without showing her teeth, yet swaying with a grace that stirred his heart.
Even Ren, who inwardly tired of her, couldn't deny it. Facing this candlelit beauty, with the lanterns glowing and her loveliness like a spring breeze or a fleeting glimpse of perfection, he had to admit how much he'd once loved Mei. He'd sworn eternal vows, promising to grow old with her, to share a grave. Though time had dulled those feelings, this memory of his racing heart remained vivid, leaving him with a wistful sigh.
For the first time in a while, his heart stirred with heat. He quickened his pace, sitting before Mei. His throat bobbed, his eyes betraying a flicker of raw desire.
"Your Majesty..."
His burning gaze seemed to sear her face. Mei's unlined, still-beautiful features flushed deeper, whether from shyness or the dazzling candlelight, it was hard to tell.
"Let's retire."
His heart blazed, his lips dry despite licking them, the heat in his eyes growing more intense.
He stood, reaching for Mei's hand to lead her to the bed nearby.
"Wait!"
Her words doused his ardor like cold water, irritation flaring within him. Still, he restrained his temper and asked, "What is it, Empress?"
"I've read in ancient texts that the sage emperors of old harmonized yin and yang, dragon and phoenix in unison, and drank a cup of spring blessing wine..." Mei explained patiently.
"I?"
Hearing her refer to herself so formally, he bristled. He knew the empress's title differed from a concubine's, but this was the moment for intimacy, for the joys of husband and wife. And she was still playing the empress with him?
His desire soured into annoyance, but he held his tongue as Mei busied herself, taking a cup from a maid. Without the ceremonial crossing of arms or clinking of cups, he grabbed the ornate goblet, downed it in one gulp, and moved to embrace her.
"Your Majesty, not so fast..." Mei sipped her wine, her flushed cheeks even more alluring under the candlelight, her beauty like a divine maiden's. Seeing his impatience, she spoke again.
"What now?!"
This time, his voice rose, edged with anger, but the ever-cautious and rule-bound Mei didn't catch it, assuming he wasn't truly upset. She pressed on, citing old tales: "The Chronicles of the Ancient Emperors say the emperor and empress united at ten o'clock, their love entwined, the phoenix sang of joy, and a dragon son was born, later becoming the High Emperor."
"So? You want me to wait until ten o'clock?" His voice dropped, thick and hoarse.
Mei glanced at the timepiece on the wall. It was just past eight o'clock, half an hour shy of ten. She lowered her head demurely and replied, "Yes."
"You..."
He took a deep breath, his tone flattening. "Fine, half an hour then."
They sat across from each other. She kept her eyes down, her gaze drifting, while he stared out at the palace beyond.
Mei's heart fluttered with shy delight. He still saw her worth, willing to stay here with her.
She had to fulfill her duties as wife and mother of the realm, guiding him, helping him shed his flaws, and urging him to emulate the ancient sage kings. She dreamed of rekindling their love, raising a child together, a dragon son for him, living as devoted partners.
She imagined advising him in bed later, encouraging him to heed the old ministers' harsh truths over flattery. Should she make a sound during it? Would it please him, or would he think her too loose? No, too embarrassing, better to stay silent...
Her thoughts wandered, her eyes hazy with bashfulness.
But Ren, growing restless, shifted uneasily. He glanced at the bed, picturing Mei's shy, flushed expressions, wondering if she'd soften from her usual stiffness. Then he'd look outside, the wait and ticking time reminding him of Yu's charms. She always tended to him perfectly, submissive and attentive, playful and skilled, offering him unrestrained joy.
Time crawled by, the two silent.
Finally, ten o'clock arrived.
"Your Majesty, shall we retire?"
Her soft, timid voice stoked his pent-up heat. Whether it was the wine or her stunning beauty, he couldn't tell. After holding back so long, he eagerly pulled Mei to the bed.
She fell onto it, delicate and powerless, her face shy, her eyes brimming with spring. Her mature, graceful figure glowed under the candlelight, her body laid bare before him.
His heart raced, his breathing quickened. He spread his arms, expecting her to undress him like his yielding concubines.
But after a long wait, nothing. He looked closer. Mei's eyes were shut tight, her body stiff with tension, barely breathing. If not for the faint rise and fall of her full, snow-white breasts beneath her gown, he'd have thought her a corpse.
His passion shattered, the spark of desire snuffed out like leaves in an autumn wind, replaced by irritation and anger.
He was the ruler of the world, and she still faced him like this?
Feeling no warm hands or body after a while, Mei assumed he was undressing himself, something she should've done.
Her body shifted, torn between anticipation and nerves. Her perfect legs rubbed together, a faint itch and emptiness stirring in her secret garden. Even the ever-dignified Mei, a woman in her thirties, craved her husband's touch, yearning for him to fill her loneliness.
But her shyness held her back. She couldn't undress a man or take the lead, even her husband. After past encounters, she'd always risen to don plain robes before sleeping beside him.
Still, she vowed to rise tomorrow and personally dress him in his dragon robes, neat and pristine, for court.
"Your Majesty... please, extinguish the lights..."
The bright glow unsettled her usual decorum, filling her with unease. Her upbringing taught that intimacy should happen in darkness, a proper lady's way. To do it under candlelight was shameless, like a harlot's brazen display.
But his next words froze her blood, scattering her shy anticipation.
"Mei!"
"Are you waiting for me to serve you?!"
His voice cut like a winter gale, cold and sharp, his fury barely contained.
"Your Majesty, calm yourself!"
Mei scrambled off the bed, kneeling before him, her mouth opening but no words coming. Fear and confusion gripped her; she didn't know what she'd done wrong.
"I... I..."
She stammered, lost for words, unsure how she'd angered him.
Seeing her kneel there, mute and bewildered, his mood soured further. Exhaustion and deep distaste washed over him, the night now utterly dull.
"I'm tired. Rest early, Empress."
After a long silence, he spared his wife his temper, perhaps out of lingering affection or pity for their daughter.
With a sigh laced with irritation and rejection, he stepped over the threshold and left Vermilion Pavilion, striding onto the snow-covered corridor.
The maids waiting outside held their breath, prostrating themselves in the snow, heads buried, silent and still.
No one dared ask what happened or why the emperor left before midnight.
He crossed the corridor wordlessly, reached his palanquin, stepped over the snow, and sat, leaning back with eyes closed, feigning sleep.
The imperial palanquin always had attendants ready, whether he emerged tonight or tomorrow, through wind, rain, or snow, waiting silently to carry him.
Jian's expression flickered, but he quickly bowed and whispered, "Set off!"
The mute eunuchs and guards lifted the palanquin, moving slowly through the snowy night, away from Vermilion Pavilion.
Mei remained kneeling, dazed, until a single tear fell onto the lavish carpet, a quiet omen of her broken heart.