Chapter 7

Because it was placed in haste, when Nie Qinglin sat down, she didn’t notice that the hardened, expired item had propped up.

Adding to that, the overly intense gaze she had just directed at the Grand Tutor—what kind of lecherous scene was this supposed to be?

Nie Qinglin was still rather pure, and her first reaction was: Oh no, did I just expose myself?

She immediately jumped up, grabbed a nearby jacket to cover her lower body, and forced herself to remain calm as she declared, “I need to change clothes.”

Without another word, she rushed into the side chamber’s lavatory.

An Qiao’er also turned pale, following closely behind the young emperor.

Seeing a few passing eunuchs and palace maids, she couldn’t say anything and could only wait anxiously outside.

Inside the lavatory, Nie Qinglin broke into a cold sweat.

She quickly adjusted the troublesome object, ensuring it was securely in place, then took the outer robe An Qiao’er handed over, put it on, and sat on the clean chamber pot to collect herself.

Although the shape just now was strange, the Grand Tutor probably wouldn’t ask about it, right? After all, that was a private matter.

Surely, a minister wouldn’t object to the emperor being well-endowed?

He wouldn’t actually demand to check her pants, would he? Nie Qinglin felt that didn’t match Wei Lenghou’s character.

After spending some time “learning” under the Grand Tutor, she had figured out a bit about him—though he was a scheming and ruthless man with great political foresight, he was usually too lazy to care about trivial matters.

Thinking this over, she felt more at ease.

By the time she exited the lavatory, she looked as if she had just finished relieving herself—completely at ease and refreshed.

Back in the inner chamber, she saw that the Grand Tutor had indeed left, leaving only the tailor waiting patiently.

Nie Qinglin immediately let out a long sigh of relief and beckoned the tailor to continue taking measurements.

What she didn’t know was that, at that very moment, the Grand Tutor, who was heading toward Chuyun Palace, was not thinking about serious matters like usurping the throne.

Instead, his mind was occupied with the little incident in the emperor’s lower half.

The cool air outside sobered him up quite a bit.

With furrowed brows and narrowed phoenix eyes, he mulled over the situation—judging from what he had seen, the young emperor was clearly not physically deformed.

The issue wasn’t that he lacked the necessary parts.

It seemed that he simply didn’t react to women, but when he stared at him… ‘things happened’.

How ironic.

The lecherous former emperor had left behind a son who fancied men instead! The chaotic history of the Nie imperial family truly lacked nothing.

And this little emperor—he really was audacious.

He dared to lust after a man of such high status and power like himself.

Who knew what kind of fantasies that little scoundrel had while warming his bed the last time?

His features were rather delicate, his brows and eyes increasingly pleasing to look at.

It was just a shame—he wasn’t a dainty, charming beauty… As these thoughts wandered, the effects of alcohol surged again, and his mind drifted to places unknown.

By the time he arrived at Chuyun Palace, Consort Yun was already waiting at the entrance.

Her jet-black hair was styled into an elegant high bun, adorned with tasteful and understated hairpins.

She wore a red robe that made her fair skin appear even more luminous.

Upon seeing Wei Lenghou, she revealed a perfectly measured, delicate shyness.

In the past, Wei Lenghou had greatly admired this refined and elegant demeanor of Shang Yunchu.

But no matter how delicious a dish once was, if someone else had already taken a bite and it had sat out overnight, it inevitably lost its appeal.

Unaware of his thoughts, Consort Yun had been deeply uneasy ever since the palace coup.

She still remembered the time when Wei Lenghou returned from guarding the border and attended a banquet held by the late emperor.

By then, she was already the emperor’s favored consort, and watching her former lover bow and pay respects to her beside the emperor had been an indescribable moment of mixed emotions.

She had hoped to see something—be it love or resentment—in Wei Lenghou’s eyes.

But whether it was affection or hatred, those beautiful phoenix eyes remained utterly indifferent.

The years of exile at the border had transformed a once-gentle scholar into a man of undeniable masculinity.

The moment she saw him again, her suppressed love for him surged uncontrollably, and she bitterly resented her mother’s short-sightedness.

As the daughter of a concubine in the Shang family, her mother had no sons and had staked everything on her marriage.

When Wei Lenghou fell from grace and was sent to the border, she had been willing to endure hardship with him.

But her mother had threatened suicide, and with her reputation as a celebrated “talented woman,” she had caught the late emperor’s eye.

Despite being of concubine birth, she had been selected for the palace, her fate sealed.

Fate had played a cruel joke, separating her from the man she loved.

When Wei Lenghou eventually rose through the ranks and seized power in a coup, her hatred toward her mother’s short-sightedness burned even deeper.

Yet, while all the other consorts were thrown into the cold palace, she alone remained in Chuyun Palace, living even more luxuriously than before.

True, it was partly due to her brother’s influence, but it also showed that Wei Lenghou did not truly despise her.

To this day, the Grand Tutor’s residence had no official wife.

Could that mean he still harbored feelings for her?

Now that he had finally come to see her, it must mean that his resentment had faded.

She only wished to rekindle their old love—even if she could only be his concubine, she would have no regrets.

With that in mind, she put on a demure smile and stepped forward, waving off the palace maids.

She personally unfastened Wei Lenghou’s fox fur cloak and softly said, “The weather is cold outside, my lord. Please come into the warm chamber to rest.”

She guided the Grand Tutor into the inner chamber, then took the teacup from a nearby maid and personally presented it to him.

He accepted the cup and took a sip—premium Lushan Yunwu tea.

Yet, as soon as the bitter taste spread across his tongue, he frowned.

He had never been fond of bitterness.

Back when he first met this woman, he had indulged her taste, ordering Lushan Yunwu tea every time.

It seemed that Shang Yunchu had assumed he enjoyed it as well.

He merely took one sip before setting the cup down.

His gaze shifted sideways to the woman drawing close, the overwhelming scent of rouge filling his nose.

Her face, though still carrying a touch of seductive charm, had long lost its youthful elegance.

“Slender hands break the willow, lost in the woods;
A thousand songs on the flute, yet none can cross the pass…”

She recited softly, her voice trembling.

“Wei Lang, when you left the border back then, you left me behind. I… I suffered so much…”

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down uncontrollably.

Wei Lenghou frowned.

That verse—Shang Yunchu had written it in the final letter she sent him after he left the border.

Not a single word in that letter had mentioned how her mother had forced her into the palace.

Yet, as soon as he turned away, she entered the harem.

Back then, he had still been young, too inexperienced to truly understand women.

What use was literary talent? Exhausted from court affairs, was he still expected to compose poetry with a lover?

At this moment, after an entire afternoon of work, all he wanted was a warm meal and a soft-spoken voice murmuring in his ear.

Who had the patience to console a weeping beauty drenching his robe?

Clearly, this woman had learned nothing from her years in the palace.

Her ability to read a man’s mood and serve him was not even on par with that damned cut-sleeve emperor! No wonder she had fallen out of favor within a year!

His irritation surged, and whatever drunken warmth had lingered in his blood dissipated completely.

Even though she and Shang Ningxuan, the Vice Minister of War, were not full siblings, she was still a daughter of the Shang family.

Some courtesy had to be maintained.

If indulging for a moment of pleasure meant inviting an unwanted entanglement, it was not worth the trouble.

No matter how beautiful she was, she had already been touched by that old emperor—just the thought of it soured his stomach.

With that, the cold-hearted Grand Tutor reined himself in.

He pushed the woman in his arms aside and said indifferently, “Shang Ningxuan asked me to check on Your Highness. Seeing that you are in good health puts my mind at ease. I still have matters to attend to in the court. I will not linger in the harem.”

Without bothering to put his cloak back on, he rose and strode out of the warm chamber.

With his tall frame and long legs, he was out the door in a few steps.

Even if Shang Yunchu wanted to chase after him, she had no chance of catching up.

Her tears flowed even more freely, completely ruining the makeup she had spent the entire morning perfecting.

Outside, Eunuch Ruan picked up his discarded cloak and hurried after him, draping it over his shoulders.

Stealing a glance at the Grand Tutor’s unreadable expression, he cautiously asked, “Does the Grand Tutor wish to leave the palace? Shall I have a carriage prepared?”

Wei Lenghou waved him off, then, after a moment’s thought, said, “Take me to the Emperor’s quarters. I have a few words to instruct His Majesty.”

Eunuch Ruan immediately bowed and obeyed, but inwardly, he sighed.

Here we go again—he’s in a foul mood and is off to vent his temper on that unfortunate little emperor!

By the time Wei Lenghou returned to the Emperor’s residence, the eunuch at the gate had just taken a deep breath to announce his arrival—only to freeze under the piercing glare of his phoenix eyes, swallowing his words in terror.

Like a silent panther, the tall man slipped into the inner chamber without a sound.

Through the gauzy curtains, he saw that little rascal enjoying himself as expected!

The young emperor had changed into a deep blue tunic trimmed with rabbit fur, making his chin look even more delicate and pointed.

The sleeves were slightly short, exposing slender wrists.

He was deftly turning pieces of roasted sweet potato over the brazier with iron tongs while idly popping salted melon seeds into his mouth.

“Qiao’er, bring some white sugar, and a bowl of rock sugar pear soup too—sweet potatoes make the mouth dry!” he called out.

But no response came.

He turned around—and there, standing at the entrance, was the devil himself.

Instantly, the emperor tucked away his carefree demeanor, cautiously testing, “Grand Tutor, what a coincidence! These sweet potatoes just finished roasting—would you like to try one?”

Wei Lenghou said nothing, merely unfastening his cloak before lazily reclining on the emperor’s favorite soft couch.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy, realizing he was being ignored, start bustling around again.

Before long, a sweet potato sprinkled with sugar was presented before him.

He lazily accepted the tongs and took a bite.

He had to admit—after years of fine cuisine, this simple countryside treat was surprisingly good.

Soon, An Qiao’er entered with two steaming bowls of rock sugar pear soup.

Wei Lenghou watched as the young emperor, just like last time, plucked out the pits from honey dates before dropping them into the soup and offering the bowl to him.

“Why add dates?” Wei Lenghou asked.

The last time, he had assumed it was a coincidence, but now, even in an already sweet soup, the emperor still insisted on adding them.

Caught off guard by the question, Nie Qinglin hesitated.

“Does the Grand Tutor not like them? The year those hibiscus phoenix flowers bloomed in the imperial garden, I saw you add dates to your hangover soup at the flower banquet. I tried it myself, and it was delicious. If you don’t like it, I can have another bowl prepared.”

He turned to call for An Qiao’er to replace the drink.

But before he could utter a word, a strong, iron-like hand clamped onto his wrist.

Wei Lenghou’s eyes gleamed with an unreadable expression.

“The flower banquet?” he murmured.

“That was three years ago, wasn’t it? Your Majesty was paying attention to me even then?”