In Jiang Shuyi’s heart, Pei Yan had always been a gentle, kind emperor—almost excessively so.

  He would never kill a minister just because there was nothing left to reward him with—let alone one who was also his uncle.

  In her previous life, Wen Huan had only been executed because he had secretly released a bandit leader. Furious, the Minister of War, Guo Zhenxiong, beheaded him on the spot. Even then, Pei Yan had mourned deeply—until more of Wen Huan’s crimes came to light…

  Miao Wangshu didn’t know this. She mistakenly thought Pei Yan was a suspicious and cold ruler—clearly, she hadn’t been reborn.

  “You have a point,” Jiang Shuyi acknowledged.

  In truth, she wasn’t truly intent on killing Wen Yao—just saying it out loud brought her a strange sense of relief.

  She then angrily recounted how Wen Yao had made her feel sick earlier.

  After hearing her out, Miao Wangshu smiled meaningfully. “Your Highness, Wen Guiren will likely go compin about you to His Majesty.”

  —

  At Qianqing Pace.

  Wen Yao had already been standing outside the pace gates for nearly half an hour. The early spring breeze still carried a chill, and her limbs had grown stiff from the cold.

  “Please forgive us, Your Ladyship,” said Cheng Shouzhong with a smile, dust whisk in hand. “When His Majesty is attending to state affairs, he sees no one. Even Jiang Fei isn’t an exception. Perhaps you should return to your pace and wait until His Majesty is free.”

  Wen Yao lifted her gaze, tone indifferent. “What do you mean, ‘even Jiang Fei’? Is Jiang Fei so different from the rest of us? Is His Majesty especially fond of her?”

  Cheng Shouzhong blinked, clearly surprised. “You didn’t know? Her Highness Jiang Fei is the most favored woman in the entire pace!”

  Wen Yao’s expression turned colder. Her tone was almost accusatory. “Isn’t His Majesty supposed to treat all his consorts equally?”

  Cheng Shouzhong was instantly caught off guard, unable to respond.

  Wen Yao realized she had pushed too hard, but there was no need to pcate a servant.

  Cheng Shouzhong gave a stiff smile, quickly made an excuse to return to attend His Majesty, and left his godson, Cheng Fu, behind to deal with her.

  Another quarter hour passed before word came that His Majesty had finished his duties and would see her.

  Clenching her sleeves, Wen Yao stepped inside on aching legs.

  Inside Qianqing Pace, several eunuchs had just brought in a brazier filled with fine imperial-grade silver-threaded charcoal. It had only just been lit and hadn’t yet begun to emit warmth.

  Wen Yao gnced at the brazier, then at Pei Yan, who sat sipping tea at the imperial desk. Just as she was about to kneel, Pei Yan set his teacup down and cleared his throat.

  “No need for formalities. You’ve been standing in the wind for half an hour—you must be freezing. Go sit over there. I had the charcoal lit; the room will warm up soon.”

  That casual, gentle tone fell like a soft morning sun on Wen Yao’s frozen body, instantly melting away her icy exterior.

  She had always disdained women who wept easily, but at this moment, her eyes stung.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she murmured.

  Still, she bent her knees before moving to sit on the carved chair he indicated, her head lowered in silence.

  Pei Yan looked at her and asked mildly, “Was something urgent? Why insist on seeing me at this hour?”

  Wen Yao hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to put on a weepy act, so she said pinly, “Because of st night’s bedchamber matter, Jiang Fei gred at me during morning court. She even said that, due to her rank, she could hit me, and I would just have to endure it.”

  Pei Yan frowned and muttered, “Ridiculous.”

  Wen Yao raised her head slowly and asked, “Is it true what Jiang Fei said? That she’s above the w—that she can strike a fellow consort at will?”

  Pei Yan replied, “She’s just being willful. In this pace, I am the w, the heavens. If she really did such a thing, I would not tolerate it.”

  Wen Yao hadn’t expected that, even after such an outrageous comment from Jiang Fei, Pei Yan would dismiss it so lightly, as mere petunce.

  If it were back home, and one of her father’s concubines dared speak to her like that, she would present the offense to him, and her father would severely punish the woman to avenge her.

  Her heart sank. Her voice trembled. “Can’t Your Majesty punish Jiang Fei once, just to teach her a lesson?”

  Pei Yan gently turned his cedon teacup and gave her a helpless look. “Wen Guiren, though I am the Emperor, I am still only human. When a consort serves me well, I cannot be too harsh with her. For something like a sharp word, I’ll scold her privately the next time I see her.”

  Wen Yao froze.

  The soft indulgence in his eyes when he spoke of Jiang Fei made her feel like knives were slicing through her chest.

  She could accept Pei Yan being a gentle, generous emperor. But she couldn’t accept that he would hold private favoritism—especially not toward someone who wasn’t her.

  Jealousy surged in her chest, tearing at her heart. She couldn’t help but stare straight at Pei Yan and say, “If Your Majesty could treat me the way you treat Jiang Fei, I would gdly serve in bed.”

  Cheng Shouzhong, eavesdropping outside, twitched.

  Excuse me—what, now the Emperor has to beg to sleep with you?

  Pei Yan, however, remained calm. He even teased lightly, “Didn’t Wen Guiren say she wanted a faithful, devoted husband? As Emperor, I fear I cannot fulfill that wish.”

  Wen Yao’s eyes flickered with inner conflict.

  Of course, she wanted to be his only favored one—and she believed she was worthy.

  Jiang Fei was undeniably beautiful, yet she appeared shallow and flirty, always trying to win favor. Such allure cannot endure. Ultimately, the most significant factor is the connection of minds.

  She, Wen Yao, was noble-born, graceful in all arts—truly someone who could speak heart to heart with the emperor.

  But if she gave herself too easily, it would lose its worth.

  Her father’s favorite concubine had once been a disgraced noble girl bought from a brothel. She was breathtakingly beautiful but proud and untouchable. Even after her first night, she refused to serve again, only pying a single zither piece—Moonlight Over the Spring River.

  Her father, infatuated, kept spending fortunes to visit her. Knowing she loved music, he had men scour the empire for rare instruments and compositions. After a full year, she finally gave in—and remained his favorite ever since.

  Wen Yao had learned from that.

  If a man wins too easily, he won’t cherish the prize.

  Still, she couldn’t help remembering how, earlier that day, Rou Pin had scoffed that one night in bed didn’t make her “favored.” That stung.

  If she withheld herself, would others see her as unwanted and look down on her?

  After much inner conflict, she finally gave a little ground. Lips pursed, she said, “This concubine’s heart will not change. But Your Majesty may do as st night—reciting poetry with me during the summons…”

  Cheng Shouzhong, still listening, broke out in goosebumps.

  He peeked at the emperor—ah yes, truly the Son of Heaven. Even now, he could smile and reply—

  “Very well,” Pei Yan said with a chuckle. “I’ll wait for the day you best me in verse.”