Chapter 53: The Debauched Old Emperor (2/2)

The emperor’s eyes darkened, a sudden heat flaring in them.

“You!” he growled, his voice thick with exasperation.

“Look at you—so utterly shameless.”

Her blend of innocence and allure was enough to drive any man to distraction, and she seemed blissfully unaware of the effect she had.

But A wu was undeterred, her small fists clenched with determination.

“I am ambitious!” she declared.

“I don’t want to stay a mere Noble Lady forever. I want to be the Imperial Consort, and even…”

Her voice faltered, the words too bold to speak aloud.

To voice such ambition in the palace was tantamount to treason.

The emperor’s fingers grazed her neck, a teasing reprimand in his touch as he chuckled.

“Lazy, gluttonous, and yet brimming with ambition. Quite the contradiction, aren’t you?”

A wu fell silent, her lips pressed tight.

Rising through the ranks was no small feat—she knew that now.

Without some extraordinary stroke of fortune, the other consorts had likely toiled for years to reach their positions.

She’d hoped for a shortcut, but the emperor wasn’t helping.

Outside the palace, he’d been insatiable, clinging to her day and night.

Now, he was restrained, almost ascetic, withdrawing just as her desires flared.

It felt deliberate, as if he were teaching her not to lose herself in him.

Her eyes reddened, and a wave of sorrow welled up.

Pushing him away, she buried herself in the silken quilts, her voice muffled with defeat.

“Fine. I’ll just stay a Noble Lady forever.”

The emperor’s expression flickered between amusement and frustration.

His other consorts never required such coddling, and his children were raised by capable governesses, leaving him free of worry.

Yet A wu demanded his constant attention, only to sulk and rebel when he gave it.

Still, seeing her curled up, whimpering into the bedding, he couldn’t help but soften.

He lifted his robe and sat beside her on the edge of the bed, his voice gentle.

“You’re still young, A wu. If I raised you to a higher rank too quickly, it would stir jealousy. I could protect you, but I’m occupied with court affairs—I can’t watch over you every moment.”

He leaned closer, his thumb brushing the tender skin behind her ear, his tone patient but firm.

“These past years, I’ve favored no one else in the harem, and I won’t in the future. Doesn’t that give you an advantage?”

A wu knew he spoke the truth—he visited only her now, a fact that soothed her wounded pride.

But she wanted more.

Scrambling up, she clung to his arm, her flushed face rubbing against him as she pleaded in a small voice, “Your Majesty dotes on A wu the most, don’t you? You said you’d give me anything I wanted.”

He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Oh?”

“I’ve read stories and heard operas,” she pressed, her voice sweet and plaintive.

“In every dynasty, the emperor’s favorite could have her heart’s desire. One word from Your Majesty, and I could be a consort. Please, help me…”

Her words were soft as honey, her demeanor both submissive and pitiful, begging for a promotion.

The emperor’s hand smoothed her hair, his touch tender, but his response was unyielding.

“No.”

A wu’s face fell.

“Why not?”

“There are rules in the harem,” he said, his voice calm but resolute.

“I aim to be a just ruler. The court and harem are governed equally—rewards and punishments must be fair. I won’t compromise my integrity for this.”

A wu froze, her hands stilling.

After a moment, she shoved his arm away and flung herself back into the quilts, her frustration boiling over.

‘A just ruler? Ha!’ she thought bitterly.

‘What kind of just ruler steals his son’s concubine and still cares about his reputation?’

Hypocrite!

But the emperor didn’t coax her this time.

Instead, he said, “In the palace, my favor doesn’t mean you can act recklessly. The tradition of scholarly lessons for the harem has endured for a century. It won’t be discarded because of your whims. Reflect on that.”

With that, he stood, adjusted his sleeves, and left.

A wu’s heart plummeted as she watched him go, his resolve unshaken.

How could he be so heartless, offering no compromise?

Men’s sweet words were all lies, nothing but empty promises!

As the emperor’s footsteps faded, her maid Yilan rushed in, her face pale.

“Noble Lady, Noble Lady, bad news!”

A wu, still sulking, muttered, “What’s wrong now?”

“His Majesty left Langhua Hall and went to Langqin Hall next door!” Yilan blurted.

A wu’s eyes widened.

Langqin Hall—Consort Hui’s residence?

Was the old emperor going to favor her?

Her heart twisted with indignation.

Though she liked Consort Hui, the thought of him with another woman stung.

After a whirlwind of emotions, she huffed, “Fine! Let him favor her. That debauched old emperor! So shameless at his age—he’ll probably keel over in a few years anyway!”

***

As evening settled in, Consort Hui finished her meal with little to occupy her.

She took out a newly received “Jiujiu Xiaohan” chart, a traditional winter calendar distributed by the Office of Rites to each palace hall.

She considered painting it later but, in the spirit of the solstice, decided to sketch a lamb instead, instructing her maids to prepare ink.

Before she could begin, an attendant hurried in, announcing the emperor’s arrival.

Startled, Consort Hui had no time to prepare.

She hastily adjusted her hair and robes, rushing to greet him.

Moments later, Langqin Hall was a sea of kneeling figures as she paid her respects and welcomed him inside.

Unprepared for the sudden visit, she offered what little she had—some fruit and tea she brewed herself.

The emperor waved it off.

“No need. I’ve just eaten. I was passing by and thought to speak with you.”

Consort Hui bowed respectfully.

“As you wish.”

Still, she served him tea.

He took it absently, exchanging a few pleasantries.

Consort Hui had been in the palace for a decade, an old hand by now.

In her youth, the emperor had admired her, but as he distanced himself from the harem, her chances to speak with him dwindled.

Resigned to her quiet life, she excelled in her studies, earning swift promotions through merit alone.

Now twenty-seven, she harbored no grand ambitions, content to live peacefully in her rank.

His unexpected visit sparked suspicion, but she remained composed.

After half a cup of tea and casual conversation, the emperor finally broached the subject.

“What did the Confucian scholar’s disciple teach today?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual.

Consort Hui paused, then recounted the day’s lessons carefully.

She couldn’t afford to speak ill of Princess Dening, but neither could she evade the emperor’s question.

When she finished, she glanced at him discreetly.

His face was unreadable, his emotions veiled.

Tentatively, she added, “Noble Lady Ning returned and cried for a while.”

The emperor’s gaze sharpened, locking onto her.

Encouraged, she continued, “I comforted her, and she stopped crying. Then she started calculating something, counting on her fingers.”

“Calculating what?” he asked, his voice low and curious.

Consort Hui hesitated, choosing her words with care.

“She was red-eyed, pitifully calculating—when she might rise to Noble Lady, to Imperial Consort, or even…”

She stole a glance at Emperor Jingxi, gauging his reaction before continuing.

“Noble Lady Ning hopes to serve you in the bedchamber, believing it will hasten her promotion.”

The emperor cleared his throat, a faint cough betraying his composure.

Consort Hui faltered, stealing a sidelong look.

His thin lips were pressed together, and a subtle flush crept across his face.

She instantly regretted her candor—perhaps she’d said too much.

Sipping his tea, Emperor Jingxi remarked lightly, “She still has much to learn about propriety.”

Consort Hui nodded, quick to smooth the moment.

“Indeed, Your Majesty. Noble Lady Ning’s innocence is quite charming, though. She’s endearing in her way.”

The emperor deftly shifted the conversation, praising the tea’s flavor and Consort Hui’s skill in brewing it.

Flattered but wary, she refilled his cup, exchanging polite pleasantries.

She’d assumed he wouldn’t care for her modest tea, far inferior to the imperial blends, but to her surprise, he drank slowly, lingering over small talk and showering her with compliments.

A suspicion dawned on her—perhaps he was uneasy, his thoughts exposed, and was prolonging the visit to mask his discomfort.

He even admired her calligraphy and paintings, and, on the subject of scholarly tools, gifted her a rare inkstone and a set of fine brushes from the latest tribute.

Consort Hui’s heart leapt with delight, and she thanked him profusely, her gratitude genuine.

The visit stretched on, consuming two full cups of tea before the emperor rose to leave.

As he departed, he instructed the Office of Rites to bestow the customary rewards.

It was an unspoken rule: whenever the emperor visited a consort’s chambers, it was deemed a favor, accompanied by gifts.

Only A wu, favored daily, had been spared the formality of such rewards.

Consort Hui knelt in gratitude, bidding him farewell.

As his entourage departed Langqin Hall, she exhaled, relieved.

His presence had weighed heavily on the hall, stifling the air.

Still… the rewards were generous, a rare boon.

As Emperor Jingxi stepped out of Langqin Hall, passing a narrow alley wall, his steps slowed.

Futai, his ever-attentive eunuch, murmured, “Your Majesty?”

The emperor gritted his teeth, his voice a low hiss.

“That troublesome little thing—she’s ruined my reputation entirely!”

Futai stifled a laugh, his face straining with the effort.

Clearing his throat, he offered, “Your Majesty, be patient with Noble Lady Ning. She’s new to the palace, and things aren’t easy for her.”

The emperor’s expression was a tangle of emotions, silent for a long moment before he let out a wry chuckle.

“Let her stew alone tonight!” he declared, though his tone lacked conviction.

Almost immediately, he summoned the day’s governess and her retinue, questioning them closely.

It was clear his little Noble Lady had been wronged, likely bullied, perhaps even driven to secret tears.

Thinking of her earlier machinations—her earnest, scheming ploys—his lips curved into a fond smile, tinged with pity.

He’d been reluctant to constrain her too tightly, allowing her some freedom in palace matters, but now he realized she’d been nursing this grievance in silence.

Was she too timid to speak?

For all her boldness, she was soft at heart, too wary to challenge Princess Dening and choosing instead to endure.

As for Dening’s behavior, the emperor’s reaction was measured, unsurprised.

He knew his daughter’s nature well.

Her mother, Consort Li, had once seemed docile, but pregnancy had emboldened her, her arrogance growing unbearable.

The emperor could scarcely stand to look at her, visiting only once a month for a perfunctory cup of tea to preserve her dignity for their daughter’s sake.

In Dening’s early years, he’d been consumed by the demands of a young reign, too overwhelmed to guide her.

By the time he could turn his attention to her, her temperament mirrored her mother’s—willful and unyielding.

He’d once hoped to correct her, but the divide between inner and outer courts, coupled with her growing age and the Empress Dowager’s indulgence, made it impossible.

Dening’s stubbornness had only deepened, and now she was meddling in his harem, acting with brazen audacity.

Against her, his little A wu was utterly defenseless.

After a moment’s thought, the emperor issued orders to the chief eunuch and his attendants, his voice clipped with purpose.

Then, without delay, he hastened to Shouchang Hall, where the Empress Dowager awaited.