Chapter 23

The Grand Tutor was unaware of the old man’s muttering under his breath.

All he knew was that the phrase “a short-lived fate” grated on his ears particularly harshly.

Yet, whether the old man truly had some skill or not, he couldn’t help but feel that each word had struck a nerve.

Was it not indeed a short-lived fate? By the time he overturned the imperial court, would it truly mark the end of this little one’s life?

The thought of his hands being stained with the child’s warm blood made an unfamiliar emotion brew in the Grand Tutor’s heart.

On the way back to the palace, the Grand Tutor did not return to the carriage.

Instead, he seized a guard’s steed and rode ahead of the carriage.

The jolting of the journey went without saying, but with the man no longer in the carriage, the young emperor could finally toss and turn to her heart’s content.

After riding for a while, the Grand Tutor gradually slowed his pace.

He, Wei Lenghou, the illustrious Grand Tutor of Great Wei, who dominated the imperial court—if he wished to spare the life of a mere child, which King of Hell would dare claim it?

It was that dragon pearl himself who lacked ambition.

When he had carried him across the muddy pit earlier, he noticed the child’s weight had hardly increased.

A mere bout of fever some time ago had nearly taken half his life—clearly, he needed careful nourishment…

The day after returning to the palace, Nie Qinglin was deep in slumber when faint murmurs outside her bedchamber roused her.

Lazily rising, she inquired and learned that the Bureau of Inner Service had delivered another batch of tonics.

This time, century-old ginseng was piled up like autumn cabbage, and the finest donkey-hide gelatin was stacked high.

Various other unknown supplements were arranged in precious boxes of all sizes.

When An Qiao’er asked the eunuch in charge what had gotten into them, the eunuch honestly replied that it was by the Grand Tutor’s decree—His Majesty needed careful nourishment…

Nie Qinglin stared at the mountain of tonics with silent dismay, thinking that the Grand Tutor’s methods of killing without bloodshed were truly relentless!

In recent days, the city gates of the capital had been bustling with activity.

As the Lantern Festival approached, the families of various feudal lords and high-ranking officials flocked to the capital, and luxurious caravans frequently passed through the gates.

The Ministry of Rites had initially assumed that since the Prince of Anxi had led the resistance against the imperial decree, not many of his household would come to the capital, so preparations had been modest.

Unexpectedly, after the Pingxi campaign, even the elderly feudal lords in their seventies and eighties, who had long avoided the capital, scrambled to send their sons and grandsons.

With so many distinguished guests arriving all at once, the ministry was caught off guard and hastily mobilized additional manpower to accommodate them.

On the day of the Lantern Festival, the long streets were adorned with colorful lanterns.

The imperial garden was also decorated with lights and festoons.

Early in the morning, eunuchs delivered pre-made lanterns with blank surfaces to the emperor, asking him to inscribe riddles personally.

These would be hung along the garden’s corridors alongside those of other royal family members for guests to admire during the festivities.

Nie Qinglin picked up the brush, pondered for a moment, then swiftly wrote out the riddle with elegant strokes.

Since those who guessed correctly could claim a reward from the riddle’s creator, she thought again and signed it with a fictitious name—Xuan Rui.

She couldn’t be blamed for being stingy.

After all, she was arguably the most impoverished emperor in Great Wei’s history.

Though the Bureau On Inner Service had delivered red-enveloped reward money, if someone of high status guessed her riddle and demanded a gift, and she had nothing suitable to offer, wouldn’t that invite ridicule? Better to err on the side of caution.

Once finished, she had a eunuch take the dried lantern away.

Meanwhile, An Qiao’er had prepared her attire for the day.

Since it was a royal family banquet, informal robes were chosen—a bright yellow brocade lined with white sable fur, paired with a golden crown inlaid with pearls, making her look every bit the dashing young lord.

From dawn, relatives from across the land began entering the palace.

The noon banquet was held in the Tairen Hall.

As it was a family gathering, Grand Tutor Wei did not attend, much to the disappointment of Nie Qinglin’s lavishly dressed cousins.

After answering the umpteenth roundabout inquiry from a royal sister-in-law about whether the Grand Tutor would attend, Nie Qinglin nearly blurted out that the Grand Tutor had plenty of concubines and relatives himself—his social calendar was likely even more packed than the emperor’s.

It was perfectly normal for him to be too busy to attend.

After the banquet, the afternoon was reserved for garden strolls.

The imperial garden was dotted with flameless warming basins, ensuring that despite the outdoor setting, no chill could be felt.

With many young princes and princesses among the guests, the activities were lively—ring toss, arrow throwing into vases, and performers on stage working hard to entertain, all to make the royal relatives feel at home.

In theory, the emperor should have been the center of attention at the garden party.

Yet this year, she was thoroughly neglected.

Once it was confirmed the Grand Tutor wouldn’t come, no one bothered to pay their respects or speak to her.

Only Prince Pingchuan’s son, the young uncle Nie Zhong, innocent and carefree, approached the emperor.

Having played with him in the palace before, he chattered excitedly about the fun games he’d tried earlier.

As night fell and the palace lanterns were lit, the grand finale was the lighting of the towering centerpiece lantern, standing over twenty zhang tall.

Even those who had seen it before couldn’t help but gasp in awe when its radiance illuminated the sky.

Amid the palace’s kaleidoscope of lights, Grand Tutor Wei quietly entered the palace.

The Grand Tutor’s residence had been exceptionally lively that day.

The heavy threshold nearly buckled under the constant stream of visitors, and his concubines had dressed to the nines, hoping to win the favor of the man who had long neglected them.

Yet, surrounded by a bevy of charming and understanding flowers, the Grand Tutor found himself utterly disinterested.

He had risen to prominence early—achieving the top rank in the imperial examinations at just eighteen, instantly becoming a household name.

Now, at twenty-eight, a full decade in office, he stood at the pinnacle of Great Wei’s court, equal to the Son of Heaven himself.

It was an opportunity any man would envy.

But standing at the summit, he wondered—who could possibly stand beside him as his equal?

For some reason, that serene, delicate little face flashed through his mind again.

He chuckled wryly to himself—anyone but him.

The Grand Tutor wasn’t ignorant of his own improper thoughts about the child.

They were unfit for daylight, only to be privately entertained in idle moments.

Moreover, it was a case of “The flower has intention, the flowing water has no emotion.”

(T/N: This idiom is about an unrequited love or one-sided affection. The “flower” represents the person who has feelings, and the “flowing water” represents the person who is indifferent or doesn’t reciprocate those feelings.)

Though the feudal lords’ rebellion had temporarily subsided, the southern barbarians and northern Xiongnu were still pressing concerns.

He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Don’t take it seriously, don’t take it seriously…

After a few drinks, the young and accomplished Grand Tutor felt another wave of restlessness.

He boarded his carriage, circled the capital a few times, then ordered his driver to the palace, slipping in through a side gate.

With the noble guests gathered to watch the grand lantern’s lighting, the long corridors were deserted except for the occasional eunuch on duty.

With nothing better to do, the Grand Tutor strolled along, examining the riddles on the lanterns.

Suddenly, one caught his eye—a cat-faced lantern.

He had seen it before in the emperor’s chambers.

The child had whimsically insisted on modeling it after his beloved cat, Rongqiu, resulting in this awkward, half-cat-half-tiger monstrosity crafted by the eunuchs.

Stepping closer, he noticed the calligraphy on the lantern was surprisingly refined, with a strength that belied its creator’s youth.

He hadn’t expected the little good-for-nothing’s handwriting to rival that of seasoned masters.

Only the unfamiliar signature gave him pause… Amused by the dragon pearl’s stinginess, he shook his head.

Then he read the riddle inscribed:

“Heaven and earth stand divided, vast and desolate,
Tears gather as light, cast unto the sky.
Hearing echoes but no shadow behind,
A blaze of fire and silver flowers—all emptiness in the end.”

The answer wasn’t hard to guess, but the sorrow underlying each line brought back the fortune-teller’s words with startling clarity.

Reaching out, he plucked the lantern from its hook and carried it toward the front hall.

Before he reached it, he spotted a figure in bright yellow robes standing alone on a nearby pavilion, gazing up at the fireworks bursting across the sky with a distant expression.

The Grand Tutor ascended the pavilion quietly, dismissing An Qiao’er and the others with a wave, then stood silently behind the young emperor.

Nie Qinglin, unaware of his presence, sighed as she watched the dazzling display.

“Qiao’er, why must such beauty be so fleeting?”

When no reply came, she turned—only to find the tall figure of the Grand Tutor looming behind her.

Flustered, she forced a smile.

“Grand Tutor… what brings you here?”

The flickering light from the sky played across the man’s sharp features, deepening the shadows in his phoenix eyes, making his gaze unreadable.

“Your subject has come to claim his reward,” he said, lifting the cat lantern.

Nie Qinglin groaned inwardly.

Of all the luck—for the Grand Tutor to appear tonight, of all nights, and to have found her lantern!

It was the pinnacle of misfortune.

The penniless emperor could only tuck her hands into her sleeves and smile helplessly.

“Grand Tutor, your household surely lacks for nothing. What could you possibly want from me?”

The Grand Tutor didn’t answer.

As the fireworks faded, the shadows on his face grew darker.

Suddenly, he seized the emperor’s wrist, yanking her into the pavilion’s inner chamber.

In the glow of the next firework’s ascent, he captured those long-coveted soft lips in a fierce kiss, swallowing the child’s startled gasp along with the lingering sweetness of honeyed dates…

The palace revelers were too absorbed in the spectacle overhead to notice the trembling figure pinned between the wall and a broad chest in a nearby tower, helplessly submitting to a kiss hotter than flame.

When the suffocating embrace finally ended, Nie Qinglin panted lightly as the man’s low voice murmured by her ear:

“You will not be my fleeting firework…”

(T/N:Ugh, seriously, this chapter is killing me! It’s like, the hardest one I’ve had to translate so far… because…I’m practically dying to just kick this delulu.. tsundere..big-headed Wei guy in the head, you know? Huhu… Like, how dare he just go and kiss the poor little cute dragon pearl?!)