4397-chapter-19
Chapter 19
As they arrived at the foot of the city tower, the young emperor alighted from the imperial carriage and immediately saw the Grand Tutor waiting below.
The Grand Tutor stretched out his long arm, ready to assist His Majesty in descending.
To be fair, the Grand Tutor looked far more suited to military attire.
The cold armor of war intensified the stern and murderous aura in his brows and eyes—something no stage performer, no matter how skilled, could ever replicate.
That was a temperament forged from real blood and blades, not stagecraft.
No wonder all the young ladies and married women in the city were enamored by the Grand Tutor’s cold armor and icy demeanor.
Just as Nie Qinglin was lost in thought, the Grand Tutor had already spoken: “The steps of the tower are steep. Your Majesty, be careful as you ascend.”
The young emperor was clearly dressed with care today.
All the summoned were military generals—broad-shouldered and burly.
According to Eunuch Ruan, the emperor had specially ordered the eunuchs at dawn to bring him a taller ceremonial crown, and thick insoles were placed inside his boots—all to ensure he wouldn’t lose his imperial majesty standing among a crowd of valiant warriors.
However, this kind of childish thinking naturally missed some considerations.
The oversized ceremonial crown sat awkwardly on his small face, and the long jade beads hanging down like a beaded curtain clashed noisily before his eyes.
Focused entirely on avoiding the beads hitting his face, he failed to pay attention to his footing.
A stumble nearly made him fall.
Wei Lenghou found it amusing.
Watching the little emperor regain his balance, still looking absent-minded, he couldn’t help but speak up.
Nie Qinglin quickly smiled and thanked the Grand Tutor for his reminder.
With a young eunuch supporting her, she finally stood atop the high city gate.
Looking down from the top, Assistant Minister of War Shang Ningxuan had already led the Black Banner Army to the gate below.
The leading generals looked familiar—they should be the same ones who followed the Grand Tutor in the late-night raid on the palace.
Clad in black, gleaming armor, they exuded awe-inspiring power.
In stark contrast were her royal relatives bearing the surname Nie.
A glance across the prisoner carts showed mostly familiar faces.
The Prince of Yubei had been cursing nonstop all the way and had his mouth stuffed with rags before reaching the gate.
The Consort of the Prince of Anxi and several of his sons—faces she used to see in the Empress Dowager’s quarters—were also there.
Back then, they were clad in brocade, exuding noble grandeur.
Now, dressed in prison garb and locked in carts, their eyes were swollen from crying.
Not a trace of imperial dignity remained.
Seeing them like this, Nie Qinglin couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow, a kind of grief for those of the same kind.
But before the breath of melancholy could be fully released, she caught the Grand Tutor’s gaze upon her.
When Nie Qinglin looked up again, her face bore only reverence.
“Grand Tutor, the Black Banner Army is truly valiant. I was trembling with fear just watching from the city tower!”
Wei Lenghou, familiar with Nie Qinglin’s unfeeling temperament, found it funny to see the little emperor hiding behind a curtain of beads, pretending to be reverent.
He said lightly, “So even His Majesty gets scared—how rare indeed!”
At that moment, Lu Yuda and the others had already dismounted.
Behind them, the soldiers knelt in unison and shouted, “Long live the Emperor! Ten thousand years!”
Then, with renewed vigor and louder voices, they shouted, “Marquis of Dingguo! A thousand years, ten thousand years!”
The thunderous cries pierced the heavens.
The civil and military officials behind the little emperor trembled inside, feeling as if dark clouds churned above the capital, and somewhere in those clouds, a demon-flood dragon was about to sprout horns and become a true dragon…
Nie Qinglin figured the soldiers must be parched after shouting so loudly.
After receiving a nod from the Grand Tutor, she granted them wine—her ceremonial duties complete.
Once the Black Banner Army had been personally welcomed, it was time to return to the palace for the celebration banquet.
Sitting atop the lofty dragon throne, the emperor truly began to feel terrified.
By now, she had realized that while the Grand Tutor was wise, brave, and coldly elegant—his alcohol tolerance was poor.
The previous time he got drunk with those generals and stormed the palace was still fresh in her mind.
Today, the Grand Tutor had finally crushed the arrogance of those prideful feudal lords.
With his long-harbored fury now released, if he let himself go drinking again and threw another drunken fit… her fate could very well be worse than that of her imprisoned royal kin.
So, she subtly craned her neck to glance at the Grand Tutor’s table beside her.
Sure enough, the wine cup there was huge, and the heady fragrance of alcohol wafted over.
After clinking cups and downing drinks with the generals, Wei Lenghou returned to the hall and sat beside the young emperor.
Smiling, he said, “Your Majesty has been eyeing my wine cup all this while—are you craving a taste of this wine?”
Nie Qinglin had always had low alcohol tolerance.
At the Grand Tutor’s teasing, she quickly shook her beaded veil and replied, “I’ve never been able to handle wine since I was young. One sip and I’d vomit endlessly… I only noticed, Grand Preceptor, that you hadn’t eaten much yet already drank so heavily. I fear it’ll harm your stomach. It’s better if you drink less.”
Hearing that the emperor even noticed such details about his drinking, the Grand Preceptor’s heart softened. He had intended to drink through the night without returning sober, but the emperor’s hoarse, gentle voice made him change his mind.
“If Your Majesty and I remain here in the hall, I fear the generals may not be able to drink freely. Why not let us both retire early and give them space to enjoy themselves?”
The Grand Tutor’s suggestion was exactly what Nie Qinglin had hoped for—staying far away from a bunch of drunkards was the wise choice.
She eagerly agreed.
Once the Grand Tutor had exchanged the necessary pleasantries with the generals, he led her out of the hall.
Nie Qinglin had intended to hurry back to her sleeping quarters.
After all, her face had been whipped by those jade beads all day and was likely red and sore by now.
So when the Grand Tutor invited her to leave the hall, she obediently followed behind.
Once out of the main hall, Nie Qinglin remarked that it was getting late and expressed her wish to return to her quarters to rest.
But the Grand Tutor reached out and stopped her, speaking gently: “You’ve just eaten so much, and now Your Majesty is going to lie down? Aren’t you afraid of indigestion?” As he spoke, he led her all the way to a warm pavilion in the imperial garden.
This warm pavilion was newly built—not long ago, it was the last construction decree issued by the late Emperor Wei Mingdi during his reign, which ordered the construction of this very warm pavilion.
The floor of the pavilion was raised quite high, and beneath it ran an entire stretch of heated floor channels.
Once charcoal was lit, the pavilion floor would be filled with a gentle warmth.
Inside, layers of gauzy curtains hung down, and delicately embroidered round cushions were laid out, but there were no beds or chairs—once one sat down on the floor, one could feel the steam-like heat rising from beneath.
Upon entering the pavilion, Wei Lenghou couldn’t help but sigh at how, in terms of indulgence, that foolish emperor truly was a rare genius of the century.
In the biting cold of winter, even with warm braziers and thick curtains in the hall, there would still be chills here and there.
Playing with concubines while rolling about in embroidered blankets would eventually dull the fun.
But entering this small warm pavilion was something else entirely.
Though the space wasn’t large, it was intensely warm, making one want to strip off everything.
To bring a favored concubine into this place, watching her, clothes clinging with fragrant sweat, slowly peel them off one by one—coupled with the fact that the pavilion was surrounded by water and blanketed in snow, silent and desolate—it truly did feel like the thrill of a clandestine affair in the wild.
When the moon rose at dusk, it really did evoke the imagery of “fragrant streets, precious horses neighing under the waning moon; a beauty weeping in the warm pavilion at dawn’s breeze.”
As for why the beauty wept—well, that was something only to be felt, not spoken aloud.
This kind of decadent warm pavilion, the Grand Tutor had originally intended to dismantle.
But today, he changed his mind.
Especially when he saw the little Dragon Pearl entering the pavilion, a fine layer of sweat blooming on her snow-white cheeks, flushed like a water-dappled peach—it was a rare moment when he shared the late emperor’s sentiments, and even praised the pavilion’s “ingenious craftsmanship.”
Dragged into the pavilion by the Grand Tutor, Nie Qinglin inwardly cried out that this was bad.
The eunuchs and palace maids behind her were kept far away outside the thick doors.
Inside, the heat hit her in the face.
Before long, the cotton-padded jacket on her body turned damp and clung to her skin.
The Grand Tutor, having just drunk wine, was sweating even more freely.
As soon as he entered, he removed his outer robe, revealing the sturdy chest muscles beneath his inner garments.
“So much sweat—Your Majesty should take off some layers too.”
He spoke as he loosened his own robes, addressing the Emperor.
Nie Qinglin had seen the Grand Tutor’s generals swimming bare-armed in winter before, and naturally could compare: though they were all warriors, the Grand Tutor’s figure was clearly far superior to those men with chests full of hair.
That strong physique was indeed a feast for the eyes, but the Grand Tutor’s clear implication was: “To come and not reciprocate is impolite.”
Since he had stripped down with such ease, then as the emperor, she too should remove her garments without reserve.
Sweat began to bead more heavily at Nie Qinglin’s temples.
Father Emperor, you built this warm pavilion just to roast your child until she’s crispy on the outside and tender within?
If it were two men, flushed from drink, drenched in sweat, loosening their clothes to cool off—that would be normal enough.
But as the emperor, she really couldn’t be this unguarded before a close minister.
When the Grand Tutor’s long fingers reached over, about to undo her collar, Nie Qinglin knew: the next step was either to strip completely, or to face King Yama and confess everything. Since that was the case, she had no choice but to risk it all, steadying her nerves before suddenly asking, “Does the Grand Tutor perhaps have a fondness for Longyang?”
This “fondness for Longyang” comes from the Strategies of Wei.
The King of Wei and Lord Longyang were very close, sharing the same bed and deep affection.
One day, while fishing on a boat, Lord Longyang caught over a dozen fish but suddenly burst into tears.
When asked why, he said: People are happy when they first catch a fish, but if they later catch a bigger one, they discard the first. The world holds more beauties than there are fish in the lake—he feared that once the King found another, he’d be cast aside. The King, moved, swore a heavenly oath: I shall never forsake thee!
So now, when Nie Qinglin asked this, she was asking whether the Grand Tutor truly had a cut sleeve preference.
Upon hearing this, the Grand Tutor narrowed his phoenix eyes, and seeing the rare seriousness on the emperor’s little face, assumed he was worried about being the fish cast away.
He smiled and replied: “Though there are many fish in the water, this Marquis favors only you, little fish.”
The Grand Tutor’s words sent Nie Qinglin’s heart plummeting to rock bottom.
She calmed herself and stared straight into Wei Lenghou’s eyes: “Though the Grand Tutor may have the sincerity of the King of Wei, I am not the sentimental Longyang… Though I was born with shortcomings, I still yearn more to share harmonious strings of zither and harp with a woman I favor…”
Wei Lenghou’s smile froze in his eyes.
Hooking his lips, he asked, “Is Your Majesty speaking from the heart?”
Nie Qinglin drew her slightly parted collar closed and continued softly: “I was raised by my Consort Mother since childhood, and was never close to my elder brothers or uncles. But in my heart, I’ve always admired older men. Grand Tutor, you are like an uncle to me—worthy of deep respect, but nothing more…”
These soft, delicate words instantly dispelled all lingering warmth and sweetness in the pavilion.
Wei Lenghou—what sort of proud man was he?
Though born of commoners, his family had long engaged in overseas trade for generations, traveling north and south.
Though obscure in name, they were exceptionally wealthy.
Such a background nurtured a commoner’s son as refined as any noble heir, with a wild and unruly temperament.
From youth, blessed with exceptional looks, he had always held himself in high esteem and never took the initiative in matters of love.
Even back when Shang Yunchu was famed for her beauty and talent, it was only after she first showed favor that he began corresponding with her.
The Marquis never needed—nor had reason—to curry favor with women.
Beautiful women were always prepared for him by others, or willingly flung themselves into his arms.
So even someone like Shang Yunchu, whom he had once felt drawn to—when she changed heart and entered the palace, all he felt was a chill.
He treated her like a withered leaf fallen on his shoulder—just brush it off.
When they met again, she was already a stranger.
Why would he feel anger or hatred for her?
Even this time, when he inexplicably developed feelings for this little dragon pearl, it was under the assumption that the Grand Tutor believed the emperor had feelings for him.
He even thought he was merely taking pity on the child, feeling a deep sense of compassion, and was just bestowing him with a little affection.
Who would have thought that this show of compassion would instead become the means by which the child humiliated him!
A man as proud as the Grand Tutor—when had he ever suffered the shame of having his affection rejected to his face?
For the first time in his life, he felt romantic affection toward a man, only to be mistaken as an older uncle with a fondness for “splitting the peach and cutting the sleeve”…
(T/N: “sharing the peach” symbolizing deep affection between two men. While ” cutting sleeve” is from the story of Emperor Ai of Han and his lover Dong Xian: One afternoon, Dong Xian fell asleep on the emperor’s sleeve. Rather than wake him, the emperor cut off his sleeve so Dong Xian could sleep undisturbed.)
He coldly interrupted the emperor’s words: “This humble official is of common birth, and the age difference is vast. I dare not have the honor of being an uncle to someone as noble as Your Majesty. Earlier at the banquet, this humble official drank quite a lot. If anything inappropriate was said under the influence of alcohol, I ask Your Majesty to be forgiving and tolerant.”
After saying that, the Grand Tutor didn’t even bother to put on his clothes—he stormed out with his chest bare and burning with fury, kicking the door of the warm pavilion into splinters with a single blow, hot steam rising from his head as he strode out of the imperial garden with swift steps.
Nie Qinglin slowly exhaled, then plopped down onto the floor cushion of the warm pavilion.
An Qiao’er had told the young eunuchs to wait outside, and now she hurried in, crouched beside the emperor, and asked in a low voice, “Your Majesty… are you all right?”
Nie Qinglin took the handkerchief she offered and wiped the sweat from her forehead, smiling bitterly as she said, “Qiao’er, when we return to the palace later, stock up plenty of food and charcoal. Today I’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest—life in this palace won’t be easy from now on.”
