The inner attendants brought forth a golden basin for hand-washing, and A wu joined the emperor in the ritual, wiping her hands with a soft towel and rinsing her mouth with care.
The air was heavy with ceremony, though it carried the quiet intimacy of routine.
When they were done, Emperor Jingxi spoke, his voice calm yet commanding.
“Today is the winter solstice. We’ll keep it simple, just a family meal. You may all withdraw—no need to linger and serve.”
His words hung in the air, startling the attendants, who were accustomed to their usual duties.
A moment of hesitation passed before they bowed low, retreating like a silent tide, thoughtfully closing the doors behind them.
A wu, however, felt a pang of reluctance as they left.
If they were gone, would the court historian still record the emperor’s visit?
Would the Office of Rites note it in their ledgers?
If it wasn’t recorded, wouldn’t that mean her efforts went uncounted, her year-end evaluation diminished?
Her thoughts churned, and her gaze betrayed her unease.
Emperor Jingxi caught the flicker in her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his tone curious but edged with amusement.
A wu hesitated, then ventured cautiously, “Your Majesty, with everyone gone… will they still know you’ve favored A wu tonight?”
The emperor blinked, caught off guard.
“What?”
She stammered, her cheeks flushing.
“I mean… will it be written down? In the little book?”
Understanding dawned on his face, and a smile curved his lips.
“It’ll be recorded,” he assured her, his voice warm with indulgence.
“Every day, it’s noted for you.”
A wu’s eyes widened as she asked, “Even on days when we don’t… when we just have tea? That’s recorded too?”
He held her gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before turning away with a faint, “Let’s dine.”
His words were a gentle dismissal, a signal to leave such trifles behind.
A master of subtlety, the emperor never overexplained—you had to guess, to ponder.
“Let’s dine” meant, in no uncertain terms, ‘stop dwelling on nonsense’.
A wu, ever quick to read his moods, understood at once.
“Very well,” she said brightly, her voice masking her curiosity.
“A wu is starving.”Â
The emperor’s lips twitched into a refined smile, and he nodded with elegant poise.
A wu picked up her chopsticks, her eyes gleaming at the imperial spread before her.
The emperor’s meals were a feast for the senses, each dish a work of art that left her mouth watering.
Seeing her eagerness, Emperor Jingxi raised an eyebrow.
“So hungry?”Â
“Oh, yes!” she chirped, her enthusiasm bubbling over.
He personally served her a portion of egg custard, his movements deliberate.
“Try this,” he said, his tone inviting.
A wu eyed the dish curiously.
It was no ordinary egg, encased in its shell with a small hole at the top, through which a delicate silver spoon could be inserted.
She scooped out a bite and gasped, her eyes lighting up.
“This is delicious!”
The custard was smooth and tender, infused with the briny richness of the sea yet soft as a cloud.
The emperor explained, his voice calm and measured.
“The crab is steamed, its meat extracted, then mixed with egg whites, diced fresh mushrooms, and bits of ham. It’s steamed again inside the shell.”Â
“No wonder it’s extraordinary,” A wu marveled, already reaching for another bite.
Noticing her greed, the emperor signaled for warmed yellow wine to be brought, specifying it be heated.
A wu tilted her head.
“What’s that for?”Â
He rarely allowed her to drink, always cautioning against overindulgence.
“Your stomach is delicate, and crab is cooling,” he said smoothly.
“Since it’s the winter solstice, a little southern wine will not warm you. It’s only fitting.”
A wu nodded, conceding his logic.
“Your Majesty thinks of everything.”
He tilted his head, studying her as she savored each bite.
“Didn’t you eat enough at lunch?”Â
Her face fell, and she pouted.
“It wasn’t even enough to fill the gaps in my teeth!”
The emperor’s brow lifted in surprise.
“Oh?”Â
The consorts of the harem never dared complain of such things.
Were they all secretly starving?
His expression grew serious, as if he might inquire further, but A wu’s cheeks flushed, and she backtracked.
“Well… I was full, really. Just… greedy. I wanted more.”Â
He chuckled, understanding her at once, and said no more.
As emperor, his meals were a lavish affair—breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snacks, each a parade of dishes with fish prepared in endless varieties.
He sampled sparingly, but watching A wu eat with such relish stirred his own appetite.
Her joy in food was contagious, making him want to taste what delighted her.
He picked up his chopsticks, serving her choice morsels—chicken with mushrooms, fragrant shiitake, and rare delicacies unavailable beyond the palace walls.
“It’s the winter solstice,” he said warmly.
“Eat some dumplings and roasted lamb. They symbolize the birth of yang energy.”
A wu blinked, puzzled.
“The birth of yang energy?”
He quoted with ease, “The ‘Kezun Yunhui’ records: ‘The winter solstice is the shortest day, the longest shadow. It marks the extreme of yin, when yang begins to rise.’ ”Â
A wu’s heart skipped a beat, her mind racing.
‘What in the world is the Kezun Yunhui?’
She prayed he wouldn’t say, “A wu, I’ll have it sent to you—read it and find out.”Â
The emperor glanced at her, reading her thoughts with a knowing smile, but let it pass.
Poor thing—she trembled at the mere mention of books.
Holding his chopsticks, he paused, wondering if he’d been too strict with her studies.
A wu, sensing his contemplation, grew nervous.
But he only smiled and asked, “What did you eat at home during winter, A wu?”
“Fish and shrimp, always fresh,” she replied.
“When it gets colder and snow falls, we can roast some fish and shrimp,” he offered.
A wu’s enthusiasm dimmed.
Some foods tasted better depending on the company, and with the emperor… well, he never seemed to enjoy anything.
He sampled dishes with the same detached calm, his imperial composure unshaken.
‘Tch,’ she thought, ‘such regal restraint. It’s no fun at all.’
Just then, the emperor let out a soft laugh.
A wu’s eyes widened, startled, as she looked at him.
He regarded her, amused by her cautious, quail-like demeanor, and teased, “Did you attend your lessons today?”
She nodded, “Yes.”
“The tutor is a disciple of a great Confucian scholar,” he said.
“I’ve met Mistress Hu before—her conversation is remarkable, full of insight. You’d do well to learn from her.”
A wu murmured, “I know.”
She thought back to the day’s events.
Now would be the perfect time to complain, but she held her tongue.
She’d long decided to keep her head down in the harem, avoiding trouble with the Empress Dowager and Princess Dening—the emperor’s mother and daughter, untouchable figures she steered clear of at all costs.
Her goal was to climb the ranks quickly, perhaps to the rank of the Imperial Consort.
As dinner concluded, A wu eyed the lavish spread of untouched dishes.
“These leftovers,” she said, “could they be shared with the maids of Langhua Hall?”
She knew protocol dictated the emperor’s attendants receive such spoils, but she wanted to curry favor for her own maids.
The leftovers, barely touched, were a treasure to the servants, who might share them further, building goodwill.
The emperor nodded, “Very well.”
He ordered the surplus food and pastries distributed, including to Langhua Hall’s maids.
He even granted extra rewards to her attendants, who knelt outside, offering fervent thanks.
The emperor’s frequent visits to Langhua Hall brought generous gifts, and everyone knew it was because A wu was favored.
Her maids served her with growing devotion, and the emperor, in his subtle way, was ensuring their loyalty to her.
From the moment he’d taken A wu into his care, he’d resolved to mold her carefully.
No one else held his heart, not even his daughter, whom he knew he couldn’t shape like a bonsai.
But A wu—he wanted her entirely his, every inch of her measured and crafted by his hand.
Her attendants were chosen with care by his trusted aide Futai, simple and guileless to keep her free of bad habits.
Langhua Hall was his sanctuary, a world apart.
The attendants swiftly tidied the hall, bringing tea and fruit.
Though no one was hungry, the warmth of the brazier and the fragrance of tea created a cozy ambiance as the winter chill crept in.
The emperor’s slender fingers cradled a white porcelain teacup, steam curling in the air, lending him an air of refined grace.
A wu, however, was distracted, her thoughts fixed on the night ahead.
‘Come on, let’s get to it—three hundred rounds of passion!’Â
The emperor noticed her restlessness.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but probing.
“Oh, nothing,” she mumbled, feigning a yawn.
“I’m just tired and ready to rest.”
He smiled indulgently.
“Then rest, Noble Lady Ning. I won’t disturb you.” To her shock, he made to leave.
‘What?!’ A wu panicked, grabbing his sleeve.
“Don’t go!”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
Her eyes shimmered with longing, a hint of springtime in their depths.
The emperor paused, and the air in the chamber shifted, charged with unspoken tension.
A wu stepped closer, her delicate hands resting on his shoulders.
“Your Majesty,” she whispered, “won’t you stay with A wu tonight?”
His gaze remained steady.
“Eager to serve me?”
She nodded eagerly, the picture of obedience.
But his smile turned knowing, teasing.
“What’s your real scheme? Out with it.”
A wu froze, then deflated.
The emperor was harder to outwit than Princess Dening.
He waited, patient and amused, as she lowered her head.
“Your Majesty,” she said softly, “A wu doesn’t want to attend the tutor’s lessons. Can I stop?”
“Out of the question,” he said simply.
She clung to his arm, pleading.
“A wu listens to you. I memorize scriptures, practice the qin every day. Can’t I skip the lessons and focus on serving you?”
“Serving me,” he countered, his voice rich and low, “includes managing the harem’s affairs.”
“But I’m just a Noble Lady, and so young,” she protested.
“The other consorts are far wiser and more accomplished. Surely I don’t need to study?”
His lips curved, and he repeated, “Out of the question.”
A wu’s heart sank, her spirits plummeting.
How did it come to this?
Wasn’t she just a concubine—albeit an imperial one?
Why should a mere concubine be held to such lofty standards?
Her shoulders slumped, her dreams of ease crumbling under the weight of expectation.
Emperor Jingxi studied her, his gaze tinged with exasperation, as if she were iron refusing to be forged into steel.
The consorts of the harem had always conformed, yet here was A wu, scheming to shirk her duties.
With her head bowed and her expression forlorn, she resembled a listless cat, limp even when lifted by the scruff.Â
“Attending lessons isn’t riding into battle or mastering archery,” he said coolly.
“Is it really so difficult? If you keep defying me, I’ll have to spank you.”
His tone was half-teasing, half-stern, a warning wrapped in silk.
A wu let out a soft, petulant hum and, with a dramatic flourish, flopped onto the bed, sticking out her backside.
“Go ahead, spank me!” she challenged, her voice a mix of defiance and playfulness.
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