Chapter 18

(T/N:My laptop’s officially joined the afterlife..huhu… I’m stuck using my tablet for now, which is like trying to translate a novel with a potato. So, updates might be a little…delayed…sorryyyy. Think of it as a bonus waiting period for maximum suspense!..hehe…Don’t worry, I’ll wrangle this tiny screen and get back to normal ASAP. Wish me luck (and maybe send some digital sympathy)! 😊)

An Qiao’er watched with bated breath, her heart pounding in terror, yet she dared not make a sound to intervene.

She could only stand helplessly as the Grand Tutor found a seemingly legitimate excuse to embrace and fondle the Emperor.

Finally, after the last of the bamboo arrows had been shot and scattered across the ground, the sovereign and his minister returned to the palace.

The palace furnishings had since been completely replaced by the eunuchs.

The narrow daybed was gone, replaced by a fragrant sandalwood couch with a small side table—perfect for reclining while reading or snacking.

After wiping his face with a hot towel, the Grand Tutor laid out the pastries from his food box on the small table beside the couch.

“Yufang Pavillion, the famous Jiangnan confectionery, has opened a branch in the capital. I thought Your Majesty might not have had the chance to taste their honeyed fruits, so I brought some for you to try,” said the Grand Tutor as he removed his outer robe, reclined on the couch, and dismissed all the attending maids before addressing the little dragon pearl seated beside him.

These novel treats were indeed ones Nie Qinglin had never tasted before.

Being of royal blood came with its own sorrows—the Imperial Kitchen was staffed by cunning old foxes who knew better than to present anything too exotic or seasonal to the palace.

What if the Emperor, on a sudden whim, demanded lychees in winter like the legendary Consort Yang—only for the kitchen to fail in procuring them? That would be a death sentence for the entire staff.

Thus, the snacks the Grand Tutor had brought from outside the palace were all novelties to Nie Qinglin.

Picking up a honeyed fruit and popping it into her mouth, the Emperor found it delightfully sweet and tangy.

For days, the servants had strictly followed the Grand Tutor’s orders, daring not to offer the Emperor any snacks to satisfy her cravings.

Now, faced with a whole box of treats, even if they were laced with arsenic, she would have gladly tasted them first.

For a while, the little Emperor ate with unbridled joy.

But before she could indulge in more, the Grand Tutor suddenly pulled her into his arms, saying with feigned concern, “Your Majesty must be exhausted from drawing the bow earlier. Rest here, and allow your servant to attend to you.”

With that, he picked up a honey-soaked jujube and gently pressed it against the Emperor’s lips.

Nie Qinglin, slightly flustered, parted her lips to accept the fruit, but the Grand Tutor’s long fingers deliberately rolled the jujube along the plump, cherry-like mouth without letting it enter.

After a few teasing strokes, the juice from the jujube glistened on the Emperor’s tender lips, their sweetness tantalizing enough to make one yearn for a deep, savoring kiss.

The Grand Tutor’s eyes darkened with desire, and he was just about to lean in and taste the honeyed fruit himself when—

CRASH!

A loud noise from outside shattered the sweet moment.

Nie Qinglin, who had already sensed the precariousness of the situation but lacked a graceful escape, seized the opportunity to wriggle free from the Grand Tutor’s grasp.

“What happened out there?” she called toward the door.

An Qiao’er’s trembling voice replied, “This lowly servant was clumsy and dropped a teacup.”

Nie Qinglin’s heart skipped a beat. An Qiao’er was not one to be careless—why would she make such a mistake today, of all days, with the god of plague himself in the imperial chambers?

She turned to gauge the Grand Tutor’s expression—only to find his face dark with murderous intent, clearly on the verge of ordering An Qiao’er dragged out and beaten to death.

Before the Grand Tutor could act, the Emperor swiftly intervened, raising her voice in rare fury:

“Stupid servant! Go to the courtyard and slap yourself at once!”

The little Emperor seldom displayed such imperial wrath, and Wei Lenghou couldn’t help but remark drily,

“Your Majesty’s dragon-like fury bears some resemblance to Emperor Gaozu’s commanding presence.”

The insinuation in those words was far from benign.

Nie Qinglin licked the honey from her lips and blinked innocently.

The sight of that pink tongue sent another surge of heat through the Grand Tutor.

But before he could pull the Emperor back into his arms, the little dragon pearl had already risen from the couch and bowed respectfully.

“Grand Tutor, please rest. This Emperor’s stomach aches—I must excuse myself.”

With that, she clutched her imperial belly and hurried to the privy.

Nie Qinglin lingered in the lavatory for a long time. When she finally emerged, the Grand Tutor was gone, and she let out a long sigh of relief.

An Qiao’er soon entered the inner chamber, her cheeks flushed red—evidently, she had not held back in punishing herself.

Nie Qinglin dismissed the other attendants and took An Qiao’er’s hand, her heart aching.

“I told you to slap yourself, but why so hard? A light tap would have sufficed!”

An Qiao’er whispered, “The Grand Tutor’s guards were watching in the courtyard. How could I fake it? I couldn’t risk implicating you further, so I had to strike properly.”

Nie Qinglin sighed deeply, looking at the maid who had served her since childhood.

She retrieved a box of medicinal ointment from the bedside drawer and, ignoring An Qiao’er’s protests, gently applied a thin layer to her swollen cheeks.

Once done, she finally voiced his confusion:

“Why were you so careless today? Why break a cup right in front of him?”

An Qiao’er tensed, recalling what she had glimpsed through the door crack.

fter a hesitant pause, she asked, “Your Majesty… did the Grand Tutor… do anything to you?”

Nie Qinglin narrowed her large eyes slightly and smiled.

“The Grand Tutor is a man of immense power—his moods are as unpredictable as the weather. But it’s not so bad. Aside from the occasional scolding when he’s displeased, he’s generally… tolerable.”

Her answer left An Qiao’er at a loss.

How could two unmarried young women—especially when one had spent her life disguised as a boy—dare to discuss such matters openly?

If the Grand Tutor truly had dishonorable intentions toward the Emperor… then the famously dashing Wei Lenghou must have been a cut-sleeve!

An Qiao’er wanted to warn the Emperor, but Nie Qinglin gently cut her off:

“Enough. There’s no point dwelling on this. Even if the Grand Tutor did do something to us, what could we do? I know what I must do. But never again act so recklessly as you did today. If anything happened to you, Qiao’er, would you really abandon me to face this treacherous palace alone?”

At these words, An Qiao’er finally understood.

Others might underestimate the young Emperor, but she knew better—her master was far more perceptive than anyone realized.

If Nie Qinglin chose not to acknowledge the situation outright, she must have his reasons.

Pressing the matter would only embarrass her.

Tears welling in her eyes, she nodded in obedience.

After helping the Emperor wash up and change, she withdrew.

Alone in bed, Nie Qinglin stared blankly at the small bow hanging on the wall.

When the Grand Tutor had been keeping his distance earlier, Nie Qinglin had felt a measure of safety.

She had thought that by behaving prudently and biding her time, she might prolong her survival.

But now, things had taken a turn for the worse.

The Grand Tutor’s unspeakable desires had fixated on her—a lone, parentless, and seemingly powerless young Emperor.

Though perceptive, Nie Qinglin could hardly fathom the twisted depths of the Grand Tutor’s mind.

The romantic tales of scholars and beauties might seem enchanting in books, but in reality, how many young women who secretly met their lovers behind their parents’ backs ever met a happy end?

And this was no mere illicit affair—it was a violation of the sacred bond between sovereign and subject!

Never mind whether the Grand Tutor truly fancied men—the concubines in his residence were no mere decorations.

Take his Fourth Madam: young, beautiful, nobly born, and once favored—yet where was she now?

Men were fickle by nature, and those entrenched in power even more so.

Nie Qinglin had never fancied herself a beauty, and the terrifying Grand Tutor was certainly no tenderhearted romantic.

If Nie Qinglin were truly male, she might have gritted her teeth and endured the humiliation of playing along. But she was no true prince—what if the Grand Tutor, in the heat of passion, discovered the disappointing truth?

Even if the Grand Tutor swung both ways, the revelation that the Emperor was an impostor could spell disaster.

If political enemies seized upon this, it could undermine Wei Lenghou’s grand designs.

And the ruthless Grand Tutor, ever decisive, would surely eliminate any loose ends—root and branch.

One thing was certain: the Grand Tutor had not uncovered Nie Qinglin’s secret.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be idly toying with her like a pet.

For a man like Wei Lenghou—ambitious, calculating, and power-hungry—the choice between beauty and the throne was no dilemma at all.

Even Nie Qinglin’s debauched father, given the choice, would have forsaken any woman to secure his reign.

After all, from the lofty seat of power, what beauty was beyond reach?

Ah… who would have thought the Grand Tutor harbored such unspeakable proclivities? Truly, he surpasses even Father in degeneracy!

Nie Qinglin was not one to dwell on worries.

Though An Qiao’er’s concerns had briefly unsettled her, her energy soon waned, and sleep overtook her.

As she drifted off, one thought lingered:

A hunting trip? A chance to leave the palace… that might not be so bad.

An Qiao’er had feared the Grand Tutor would return to harass the Emperor, but in the days that followed, he was conspicuously absent.

For a shocking development had rocked the court—

In a single night, Wei Lenghou had quietly crushed the supposedly mighty Pingxi region.

A master of lightning warfare, the Grand Tutor had infiltrated the entourage escorting a jade bed as a gift to the Prince of Anxi.

During the wedding of the Prince’s nephew, his operatives struck, assassinating the Prince in one swift blow.

Simultaneously, the elite Black Banner Army—personally trained by the Grand Tutor—launched their assault.

The Prince’s loyalists, though leaderless, refused to surrender.

As they held the city gates, they sent messenger pigeons to the neighboring Princes of Yubei and Lingnan, pleading for reinforcements.

But when the allied forces of Yubei and Lingnan reached Pingchuan, they found their path blocked.

The garrison there, citing the absence of the ailing Prince of Pingchuan (who had gone to the capital for medical treatment), refused them passage.

When the allied armies tried to force their way through, they were met with a bloodthirsty, sickle-wielding force that cut down their cavalry like reapers scything wheat.

These howling, savage warriors bore no resemblance to the sickly Prince of Pingchuan’s troops—they were clearly Wei Lenghou’s elite soldiers in disguise!

Before they could even reach Pingxi, the allied forces had been halved.

The Prince of Yubei, like the Prince of Anxi, was hotheaded and reckless.

Close friends with the fallen Prince, he stubbornly pressed on.

But the Prince of Lingnan, a shrewd man, recognized the futility of their mission.

Wei Lenghou’s trap had been laid too well—Pingxi was already lost.

Survival demanded retreat.

He withdrew his forces, leaving the Prince of Yubei to curse his cowardice—to no avail.

By the time Yubei’s battered remnants broke through the blockade, the battle for Pingxi was already over.

The returning Wei forces effortlessly mopped up the exhausted survivors, even capturing the Prince of Yubei himself, who was hauled back to the capital in a wooden cage alongside the Prince of Anxi’s family and retainers.

For two days, urgent missives flew between government offices, and the dust on the couriers’ roads never settled.

By the time the factions had pieced together what had happened, the Wei army was already marching home in triumph.

On the day of their victorious return, the capital’s streets thronged with citizens eager to catch a glimpse of the legendary, monstrous-faced Black Banner Army.

Wei Lenghou personally escorted the young Emperor to the city gates to commend the troops, while the Minister of War was sent miles beyond the walls to greet them.

When the Minister saw the Black Banner Army’s gleaming new weapons—forged by the Imperial Armory—the pieces fell into place.

Wei Lenghou’s machinations ran deeper than anyone had imagined…

Shang Ningxuan broke out in a cold sweat.

For some reason, he felt as though the ground had vanished beneath his feet.

The common folk, oblivious to the court’s intrigues, cared only for the spectacle.

Though the Emperor’s carriage was heavily veiled, denying them a glimpse of the imperial visage, the Grand Tutor was another matter!

Wei Lenghou rode atop a towering steed, clad in gleaming silver armor, his sharp brows and piercing gaze setting every woman’s heart in the capital aflutter.