In the Imperial Study,

  Minister of War Guo Zhenxiong and Capital Garrison Commander Chu Ang had been waiting for some time. When the emperor entered, they prepared to offer their greetings, only to hear a faint "Dispense with it."

  Guo Zhenxiong immediately straightened his back, stepped forward, and with a determined expression on his dark, weathered face, decred, “Your Majesty, please grant me leave—allow this minister to lead the expedition to the northwest!”

  Pei Yan sat behind the imperial desk, his face calm, “You may go to war, but you will not serve as commander-in-chief.”

  “Why?” Guo Zhenxiong grew anxious. Chu Ang quickly tugged his sleeve in warning, and Guo Zhenxiong realized his rudeness, then dropped to his knees with a loud thud, craning his neck toward the throne with urgency and deference.

  Chu Ang, having guessed some of the emperor’s intent, carefully probed, “Does Your Majesty perhaps intend to reinstate General Wen as commander?”

  “That must not happen!”

  Guo Zhenxiong’s eyes widened, his voice filled with anguish, “That Wen Huan is a treacherous wolf at heart! He’s repeatedly let the Xiqian bandit leaders escape, all to raise their strength and infte his own worth. If the northwest falls into chaos, Your Majesty will be forced to rely on him again!”

  Pei Yan tapped his fingers leisurely on the desk, “Precisely why I must send him out this time.”

  Guo Zhenxiong gnced around wildly, as if searching for a pilr to throw himself against.

  He was done for!

  Who said only civil officials could die in protest? He was ready to become a martyr today!

  But then—

  “I’m sending you with Wen Huan,” came Pei Yan’s serene voice, “so that when he lets the enemy go again, you’ll be there to behead him in front of the entire army.”

  Guo Zhenxiong froze in pce, abandoning any thought of self-sacrifice.

  He looked up in shock at the emperor, elegant and composed, his phoenix eyes tranquil and clear. But in that calm, Guo Zhenxiong felt the cold edge of the battlefield—killing intent hidden beneath refinement.

  He choked on his breath before stammering, “Though this minister believes Wen Huan to be a menace to the realm, deserving of death… he does possess a golden pardon from the te emperor, excusing him from execution three times, and there’s still the Empress Dowager… Your Majesty, out of filial piety, surely you wouldn’t—”

  “Once a general is on the field,” Pei Yan interrupted with a faint smile, “even the sovereign’s command is not absolute.”

  His gaze softened with amusement. “Minister Guo—must I be the one to teach you this principle?”

  ____

  Meanwhile, Jiang Shuyi had gone to Qianqing Pace only to find Pei Yan absent. She soon learned he was in the Imperial Study meeting with ministers.

  Cheng Lu, Cheng Shouzhong’s godson, was on duty. Seeing the emperor's favored consort about to wait outside, he hurried to curry favor and took the liberty of saying, “Your Highness, please wait inside. The spring chill lingers—if Your Highness were to catch cold, no punishment could atone for our negligence.”

  Jiang Shuyi, naturally, had no interest in needlessly suffering.

  She thanked him and entered, carrying a scroll of the Book of Songs.

  On the dragon-embellished desk in the outer hall y two tall stacks of memorials, just delivered, together reaching half a man’s height. In her previous life, Jiang Shuyi had been used to curling up beside Pei Yan as he reviewed these; instinctively, she started toward the desk. But just as her foot lifted, she remembered—she probably didn’t have the standing to be so presumptuous anymore.

  So annoying.

  Her expression darkened slightly. Turning, she walked over to the window-side couch, sat down, and id out the Book of Songs on the low table.

  She had already made up her mind: If Pei Yan intended to flip someone else’s namepte tonight, then she would cling to him under the pretense of studying—and not leave. Let’s see how he dares pick someone else while she’s watching.

  About half an hour ter, the sound of attendants announcing the emperor rang out, “Your Majesty.”

  Jiang Shuyi, who had started dozing over her book, immediately woke up.

  She meant to rise to greet him—

  But on a whim, she turned her head toward the window—and locked eyes with Pei Yan.

  The spring light shimmered gently, casting his tall silhouette onto the ground. The emperor, radiant in dragon-robed majesty, walked slowly, his face as refined as carved jade. His gaze briefly lingered on her before shifting away without pause, heading straight for the hall.

  Jiang Shuyi quickly slipped on her shoes and got off the couch. Just as she reached the doorway, Pei Yan was stepping inside.

  With her eyes curved into a bright smile, she bent her knees in greeting, “Your Majesty.”

  Pei Yan didn’t respond right away. His gaze swept toward Cheng Lu, who immediately felt his heart drop and lowered his head in panic.

  Cheng Shouzhong, gncing between them, instantly understood what had happened. This little rascal Cheng Lu had tried to curry favor with Jiang Fei while he was away, and ran headfirst into His Majesty’s bottom line.

  This was Qianqing Pace, of all pces. How dare he let someone in without permission? Clearly had no regard for his life.

  He shot Cheng Lu a dark look. Cheng Lu, catching the message, followed him out on trembling legs.

  Jiang Shuyi, hearing no response from Pei Yan for a while, looked up—just in time to see his gaze nd on the window-side couch where she had left her scroll.

  “That book—did you bring it?”

  His tone was gentle, though tinged with slight curiosity.

  Jiang Shuyi straightened and clutched his sleeve, replying in a sweetly coaxing tone, “Yes. I wanted to study with Your Majesty again.”

  “Oh?” Pei Yan turned toward her, lowering his eyes to gnce at her hand on his sleeve. He smiled.

  “Didn’t you say it was beneath your dignity, as a mother, to be taught like a student?”

  She had thought so before—how could a mother, especially one raising a prince, be seen being taught by his father? It did feel undignified.

  But now? What did that even matter?

  Jiang Shuyi sighed and leaned into him, “But being a mother is so tiring. I’ve been utterly exhausted these past six months. I still think I was happiest when I was just Your Majesty’s student.”

  Pei Yan chuckled and patted her back, “How improper. Stand up. I haven’t even changed clothes yet.”

  Jiang Shuyi ughed too. She let go and looked up at him, her eyes shining, “Then let me help Your Majesty dress.”

  There was no reason for Pei Yan to refuse.

  —

  Inside the bedchamber, Pei Yan stood still with arms open as Jiang Shuyi moved to assist him.

  With practiced ease, she removed his dragon robe embroidered with the Twelve Imperial Symbols and handed it to the waiting eunuch. Then she picked up the pale blue robe from the tray and dressed him in it.

  Her fair, delicate hands slid gently across him, lingering here and there.

  Pei Yan had never told her—she was terrible at dressing people.

  For instance, when it came to tying the waist sash, most consorts would kneel to adjust it properly. But Jiang Shuyi simply stood in front of him with her head down, fumbling casually.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t know better—he could tell she just liked to be indulged by him.

  Which wasn’t surprising. Her birth mother had passed early, and the main wife would never have treated her the same as her own daughter. Someone who had grown up watching others receive affection was bound to crave it deeply.

  Pei Yan never exposed her little tricks. Jiang Shuyi was spoiled by him, unable to handle even mild reprimands. If her schemes were pointed out, she’d probably burst into tears—and then refuse to ever help him dress again.

  Besides, he did indulge her. When it came to harmless little things like this, what harm was there in letting her have her way?

  Just as Jiang Shuyi was focused on straightening the pels of his robe, a muffled thwack echoed from outside, followed by the stifled groans of someone clearly gagged and in agony.

  Startled, she instinctively moved closer to Pei Yan, “Someone’s being beaten?”

  Pei Yan pulled her into his arms and replied with a calm “Mm.”

  Jiang Shuyi blinked, “Who?”

  “Cheng Lu.” Pei Yan lightly patted her back, his voice warm and even indulgent, “He let you into Qianqing Pace without permission. You both were in the wrong. I couldn’t bring myself to punish you, so I had to have him beaten to death instead. Let the sound be a lesson to you—next time, when I'm not here, you can't just go straight into the main hall, if you get tired of waiting for me, go to the side hall to rest intead.”