Chapter 3

Upon hearing these words, Nie Qinglin raised her head slightly to glance at the cold and stern expression on Wei Lenghou’s face.

Unable to discern the underlying meaning in his words, she cautiously replied, “Since childhood, my health has been poor, and I started studying in the royal study later than my other brothers. My late mother once scolded me for lacking proper etiquette in dealing with others. If I have acted inappropriately in public, please, Marquis Wei, do not hesitate to point it out, regardless of the etiquette between ruler and subject. I will take care to correct myself in the future.”

For some reason, the young emperor’s voice carried a slight hoarseness, mingling with the sweet tone of youth.

The somewhat forceful Beijing accent, after rolling around in the child’s mouth a few times, came out with a soft, delicate quality reminiscent of the gentle Wu dialect of the Jiangnan region.

It was so soothing that it seemed to tickle the eardrums.

Wei Lenghou frowned slightly.

The Nie imperial family had always been known for producing tall, robust men.

Take the late emperor, for example—thick eyebrows, a heavy beard, and a strong, tiger-like build.

Yet, this fourteenth prince’s appearance and demeanor took after his mother, the beautiful Consort Li from Jiangnan.

Moreover, he was born with a congenital defect, lacking the typical male characteristics, such as an Adam’s apple.

Listening to this unique voice, it was hard to tell whether it belonged to a boy or a girl.

Initially, Wei Lenghou had thought that this young emperor might be somewhat cunning, and installing him on the throne could lead to future troubles.

However, the murderous intent that had just risen in the Grand Tutor’s heart was extinguished by the soft, gentle voice.

Such an ambiguous, weak figure, even if placed on the imperial throne, would never command respect.

With this thought, Wei Lenghou lost interest in wasting more words on this soon-to-be-dead, useless child.

He sat upright in the spacious imperial carriage, slightly narrowing his eyes, lost in deep, inscrutable thoughts.

Nie Qinglin, huddled in a corner of the carriage, reflected on her lack of nervousness and decided to shrink herself further, adopting a more submissive posture.

As expected, after mustering twelve parts of caution, the ancestral worship ceremony proceeded smoothly.

Usually, after the ceremony, the court officials would enthusiastically divide and pack the sacrificial meat offerings to take home.

Sharing in the royal family’s blessings had always been a highlight of the ancestral worship.

By observing the size of the meat portions and the number of dessert plates in the food boxes, one could easily tell who among the officials was currently favored and who was falling out of grace.

However, today, after the etiquette between ruler and subject was performed, the officials scattered like birds and beasts.

The ink on the portrait of the late emperor, who had died a tragic death, was not yet dry!

The sacrificial offerings placed before him seemed to carry a heavy aura of resentment.

It was likely that consuming them would not bring blessings but rather misfortune for at least half a lifetime.

The new emperor, however, was not bothered by such superstitions.

She had long been eyeing the large, glistening piece of roasted meat.

As soon as the ceremony ended, she instructed the young eunuch beside her to bring the freshly cooked meat dishes back to her palace.

It must be noted that the new emperor’s meals had been rather bland these past few days.

The chefs in the imperial kitchen seemed to be mourning the late emperor, as their grief had affected their cooking.

The dishes had been consistently off in flavor and timing.

For several meals in a row, the vegetables had only the occasional shy piece of meat clinging to the chopsticks.

Even with the most patient chewing, the meat was quickly swallowed, leaving Nie Qinglin to sigh.

Being the emperor was not as satisfying as being a neglected prince.

During the years when her mother was ill, Nie Qinglin’s life had improved somewhat.

Her mother, having lost the will to compete for favor, had allowed her to live more freely.

In a small courtyard deep within the palace, Nie Qinglin had even built a small stove.

It was convenient for brewing her mother’s medicine, sparing her from the disdainful looks of the servants who only respected those in power.

Additionally, she could cook her own meals.

An Qiao’er, who had accompanied Consort Li from her maternal home, was a skilled cook.

Consort Li, who came from a merchant family, had several well-known restaurants in Jiangnan.

During her time of favor, her meals had been exquisite.

However, after falling out of favor, while she could endure other hardships, she could not compromise on food.

Nie Qinglin did not inherit her mother’s temperament, but she did inherit her delicate palate.

Moreover, since she had to disguise herself as a boy, Consort Li had always restricted her to half-full meals to prevent her from developing feminine curves.

Since quantity was limited, quality became all the more important.

Although Nie Qinglin was not naturally inclined toward melancholy, she was well aware that her life was hanging by a thread.

If her short life were measured in meals, even a year could feel as long as a stretch of tender, elastic noodles.

The young emperor, knowing she lacked Wei Lenghou’s manipulative skills, resolved to eat each meal with care to maintain the strength needed to play her role as a puppet.

The emperor’s bedchamber was not as well-equipped as the Guang’en Palace, and most importantly, it lacked a small stove.

Fortunately, winter was approaching, and the eunuchs had delivered charcoal braziers.

With some modifications, they could be used to heat meals conveniently.

The day after the ancestral worship, the first snow of early winter fell.

Nie Qinglin had risen early, dressed, and tied her hair, waiting for the imperial carriage to take her to the morning court.

However, after much preparation, the carriage from the Office of Imperial Carriages did not arrive.

Later, An Qiao’er sent a young eunuch to hurry them along, but only a lazy senior eunuch came to deliver a message from the Grand Tutor: “The roads are slippery due to the cold weather, and the emperor’s health is not stable. There is no need for him to attend the morning court in person.”

This was a clear sign of disrespect toward the new emperor! If this had been one of the late emperor’s favored sons, he would have been deeply distressed and would have cursed the Grand Tutor’s treacherous ambitions.

However, Nie Qinglin remained calm.

She changed out of her court attire, put on a slightly worn padded jacket, and sat by the charcoal brazier to read some leisure books.

As she read about a talented scholar and a beautiful lady sharing mooncakes and osmanthus wine under the moonlight, and then retiring to a soft bed with creaking boards, she suddenly looked up and realized that the sun had already set.

Feeling a bit hungry, she called for An Qiao’er to slice the leftover sacrificial meat into thin pieces, marinate them in a pot of aged wine from the ceremony, and sandwich them between thin slices of steamed buns.

She then placed the buns on a copper plate over the charcoal fire to lightly toast them.

When both sides turned golden brown, the buns were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with the rich wine ensuring that the meat juices soaked into the buns.

Taking a small bite, she found that the meat, far from being dry, had a fresh, tantalizing flavor.

Just as she was about to enjoy her meal, a young eunuch at the door suddenly called out in a trembling voice, “Grand Tutor Wei requests an audience!”

Before the words had fully left his mouth, a tall man lifted the door curtain and entered the inner chamber.

Outside, the snow was falling heavily.

The man wore a black fur cloak, his shoulders dusted with thick snow, and his entire body exuded a chilling aura.

His handsome face seemed to carry a frosty expression.

The Grand Tutor, having just vented his anger in the morning court, had come to take out his frustrations on the young emperor.

He had expected the boy to be anxiously waiting in his chamber after being excluded from the court session.

However, upon entering, he was met with an entirely different scene.

The luxurious furnishings that had once adorned the chamber had been removed by the perceptive eunuchs, leaving the room stark and devoid of the extravagance of the late emperor’s reign.

Even the charcoal brazier used for warmth was not the refined white charcoal typically used in the palace but the smoky, pungent black kind.

Yet, the little puppet emperor seemed perfectly content.

She was sitting on a soft couch by the bed, wrapped in a quilt, with a brazier at her feet.

Above the brazier was a makeshift chimney made from a few sections of a copper vase, directing the thick black smoke out the window.

On the small tea table beside the couch was a plate of fruits scavenged from the sacrificial altar the previous day.

The slender figure was dressed in a slightly worn satin-padded jacket and a pair of smoke-colored trousers, with white rabbit-fur slippers half-hanging from her feet, revealing ankles as white as jade, almost dazzlingly so.

There was no sign of anxiety—only peace and leisure.

The sacrificial offerings indeed carried an ominous aura! No sooner had they been consumed than they summoned the deadly King of Hell.

Nie Qinglin, not expecting Wei Lenghou’s sudden intrusion, quickly pulled the quilt over her chest, adjusted her breathing, and smiled at the Grand Tutor.

“Marquis Wei, have you eaten?”

Wei Lenghou removed his cloak, ignoring the emperor’s casual greeting, and strode to the couch.

He looked down coldly at the half-reclining emperor and said in a measured tone, “Your Majesty seems quite at ease. It would be good for your cousin, the Prince of Anxi, to see how well I have treated you.”

With that, he flung a memorial in Nie Qinglin’s face.

The slap stung slightly.

Nie Qinglin slowly sat up, got off the couch, tightened her jacket, and picked up the memorial.

After scanning a few lines, she quickly understood the gist.

The Prince of Anxi, Nie Pu, was the eldest son of the late emperor’s fifth brother and had inherited his father’s title.

Among the feudal lords, he controlled the largest territory and commanded the strongest army.

Nie Qinglin had met him a few times during previous family gatherings, though it was unlikely that the Prince of Anxi would remember her.

Yet, in this memorial, it seemed as though the new emperor and the Prince of Anxi were the closest of friends.

The general idea was that the new emperor had secretly written to his cousin, complaining about the Grand Tutor’s tyranny and expressing hope that the princes would soon cleanse the court of corrupt officials and rescue the emperor from his dire situation.

After reading just a few lines, Nie Qinglin’s eyelids began to twitch.

“Cousin, we share the same surname, Nie. Why must you be so harsh?”

The excuse was so flimsy that even if she had the desire to seek external support to restore the Nie dynasty’s authority, the palace had already fallen under Wei Lenghou’s control.

Not even a letter, let alone a breath of the emperor’s dragon aura, could escape the palace walls.

This Nie Pu, relying on his strong military and knowing that Wei Lenghou could not yet move against the feudal lords, had used the excuse of caring for his young cousin to refuse to pay tribute.

He had even beaten the court officials sent to collect the annual tribute half to death and thrown them outside the city walls.

This was a clear challenge to Wei Lenghou, a message that he would not be easily exploited.

Wei Lenghou was well aware of Nie Pu’s scheming and knew that the useless emperor had nothing to do with it.

However, with Nie Pu setting this precedent, other feudal lords would surely follow suit.

If the annual tribute was not collected, the soldiers stationed at the capital’s borders would go hungry.

The vast empire had already been severely weakened by the previous emperor’s incompetence.

The remaining broken pieces of the empire would be difficult to manage without a capable, albeit treacherous, minister.

It was no easy task to navigate this deadlock.

Thinking back, Wei Lenghou regretted not inflicting more wounds on the late emperor before killing him.

He should not have allowed him to die so easily.

Having walked slowly through the palace for half a day after the morning court, Wei Lenghou had already devised a plan.

As he approached the emperor’s bedchamber, the lingering anger toward the late emperor found a convenient target in his unfortunate son.

Nie Qinglin, having understood the situation and observing Wei Lenghou’s expression, knew that today would not be easy.

As Wei Lenghou sat on the couch where she had been lying, she cautiously asked again, “Grand Tutor, are you hungry? Would you like to try the freshly roasted meat buns?”