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  Of course, Guifei didn’t believe her.

  In this era, women were conditioned to think that nearing thirty meant they were already past their prime—that they no longer had the qualifications to compete with younger women.

  Even the romantic poets stopped praising their beauty once they reached that age.

  But the truth was, Guifei was stunning. Mature, elegant, and rich in allure—like a crimson peony in full bloom.

  Compared to her, Xian Fei of the same age didn’t shine nearly as brightly, and Rong Fei cked her composure and grace.

  If Guifei weren’t a rival, and Wumian weren’t the Empress, Wumian might’ve wanted to be friends with such a beautiful woman.

  Unfortunately, even if she wanted to, the feeling wouldn’t be mutual.

  “Your Majesty ftters me too much. You are the true radiance of the moon,” Guifei replied with a soft, polished smile.

  Wumian knew it was a hollow compliment, so she said no more and didn’t push the praise any further.

  When the Emperor arrived, the first person his eyes found was Wumian.

  Naturally, she hadn’t dressed in full finery like this in quite some time.

  In fact, Ying Qionglou thought the Empress had never looked quite this dazzling, not even during their earlier years together.

  He didn’t realize that a change in spirit could transform the entire person—same face, different soul.

  The inner self had a way of reshaping the outward presence. And Wumian now was no longer who she used to be.

  As he approached, Ying Qionglou said, “You should dress like this more often. You look wonderful.”

  He was dressed in a narrow-sleeved robe of silver-white silk with golden borders. His chest, back, shoulders, and hem were embroidered with clusters of five-cwed golden dragons against auspicious clouds. A crimson belt inid with white jade cinched his waist, and he wore bck ceremonial boots.

  A golden crown bound his hair, secured with a dragon-headed gold pin. From each side, strands of bright yellow ribbon hung beside his ears.

  The ensemble made him appear even more upright and regal. Wumian pced her hand in his, and they walked out of the hall together.

  Outside, an altar for the Moon Goddess had already been set up.

  The worship of the Moon Goddess has ancient roots, with this ritual being observed every Mid-Autumn Festival. Last year, however, the Empress had been gravely ill and unable to participate. As a result, the Emperor completed the rites alone. No matter how ill the Empress may be, such a sacred ritual cannot be substituted by a mere consort.

  It was a solemn prayer for an abundant harvest and peace across the realm.

  As the ceremonial official intoned the chants, Wumian followed his cues—kneeling, rising, lighting incense, and making offerings with precision.

  Only after the Emperor and Empress completed their rites did the rest take their turns, entering in groups.

  Once everyone had offered their respects, it was time for the grand banquet to begin.

  As expected for such a night, the feast was lively and extravagant, held in the Xuanzheng Hall of Taiji Pace.

  At the highest seat, in the very center, sat the Empress Dowager. To her left and right were the Emperor and Empress.

  To the left of the Empress Dowager sat His Majesty’s unmarried sons and the te emperor’s unmarried princes.

  Those who had already married were seated farther down, arranged as couples at their own tables, with their children and concubines seated behind them.

  To the right were the officials, seated in order of rank. Each had brought their families and children. Naturally, there wasn’t enough space on the right side alone, so additional seating for lower-ranking officials was arranged further behind on the left as well.

  On an occasion like this, Wumian’s natal family was also present. The Zhao family was now officially kin to the imperial household.

  Their seats were retively close to the front.

  As the feast began, dancers and musicians took the stage. The scene was one of grand celebration and prosperous elegance.

  The opening performance by the South Pace’s court dancers was especially eborate, their choreography clearly polished and practiced. It was a feast for the eyes.

  The jug before Wumian was filled with floral syrup, which was to be expected.

  There were too many toasts coming her way—if she drank wine every time, she’d surely end up drunk.

  So everything had been switched to flower-infused drinks for the night.

  Whenever someone toasted her, she would take a small sip. The wine cup was tiny, made of fine white jade.

  The delicate drink matched it perfectly, making for a lovely presentation.

  Although Mid-Autumn gifts had already been distributed in advance to ensure they'd arrive in time for the festival, the Emperor still gave out additional rewards during the banquet.

  Meritorious ministers, favored consorts—not everyone received something, but a select few did.

  Naturally, Wumian was among those rewarded. Regardless of how favored the Empress might be, the Emperor was obligated to show her due respect.

  And due to her rank, what she received was abundant.

  This year’s rewards were especially rare and exquisite.

  The Zhao family also received generous gifts.

  This Mid-Autumn Festival was particurly festive. As the banquet neared its end, the Emperor led everyone outside to admire the moon.

  A few literary ministers composed poems and verses aloud, praising the Emperor and Empress for their deep affection, for their filial piety.

  And so, in a chorus of joy and harmony, the grand Mid-Autumn banquet of the eighth year of Xihe came to an end.

  By the time the ministers had been seen off and the Empress Dowager escorted back to her pace, it was already the second half of the hour of the Boar ( ~10:30 PM), nearly midnight.

  Naturally, the Emperor was to stay with the Empress that night. The two rode back to Fengyi Pace in a shared panquin, too tired to exchange more than a few words.

  As Wumian stepped down at the gates of Fengyi Pace, she genuinely felt lightheaded.

  Ying Qionglou looked at her slumped posture and asked, “Didn’t you avoid drinking?”

  “I’m exhausted,” Wumian sighed. “Isn’t Your Majesty tired?”

  He was tired, too, but he had to save face. “I’m fine. Come.”

  He reached for her hand and led her inside.

  The moment they entered the main hall, Wumian made a beeline for the inner room. “Quick, get these hair ornaments off me!”

  She couldn’t bear even one more minute under their weight.

  Linshui and Zhaohua quickly stepped forward and removed the gold accessories, leaving just the gold csp to hold her hairstyle in pce.

  Even that brought some relief.

  After changing into a lightweight silk gown, Wumian stepped back out. Ying Qionglou had also changed into a simple robe and had undone his crown, tying his hair with a pin ribbon.

  Clearly, he found it all heavy too.

  “Shall we have the kitchen send something up?” Wumian asked.

  Given the hour, it didn’t matter anymore. Earlier, she had already granted the consorts a three-day break—no greetings, no obligations, nothing to disturb her rest.

  It wasn’t entirely her own idea either—the Emperor had given the court a three-day break too.

  As for the princes studying their lessons, they were given five days.

  So at this hour, staying up a little longer or going to bed right away made no difference. It was better to eat first.

  Ying Qionglou was hungry as well. It was nearly impossible to eat properly during a banquet.

  But now, faced with the idea of ptes and dishes, he felt a bit reluctant, though he didn’t say it aloud. He simply nodded. “Whatever you decide.”

  Wumian had Linshui go make arrangements, and before long, a modest meal was brought in.

  “It’s te, so we’re not going to make a fuss. I hope Your Majesty doesn’t mind,” she said.

  Ying Qionglou’s attention, however, was caught by the small brass hotpot on the table. That itself wasn’t unusual, but what was inside wasn’t meat. Instead… it was cabbage, tofu, and simir ingredients?

  “Please try it, Your Majesty,” Wumian said, having someone dle the broth into his bowl.

  “The base is pork bone soup—I had the kitchen prepare it this afternoon. It’s boiled with napa cabbage, tofu, yam, winter melon, and a few other ingredients. There’s a charcoal fme beneath to keep it hot. Once the broth is mostly gone, we’ll add these hand-pulled noodles at the end.”

  She pointed to the table’s ptters of hand-sliced beef and filleted fish. “I thought we’d still want a bit of protein, so I had them prepare some meat on the side.”

  There were also six accompanying side dishes. No matter how simple a supper, the Emperor couldn’t be served just a pot.

  Still, with the midnight chill creeping in, eating like this felt incredibly cozy.