(T/N:hehehe…Okay…so, some of you have been hitting me up through the contact form for novel translations, which is awesome! But, because there are quite a few requests, I’ll probably only be able to update The Perilous Palace Dream novel one chapter a day… so…

Just a heads-up, at Novellumina.com, we do take translation requests for FREE! yup… we will do it for free for our dearest reader but… There are just a few things we need from you:

1. Could you send us the link to the original text or at least the original title?
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5. We’re open to any genre (BL,SHONEN, SHOUJO,XIANXIA,MODERN…etc…), as long as the novel is super engaging and interesting!

So yeah, if you’ve got a novel you’d love to see translated, feel free to use the contact form. Our Novellumina genie will do their best to check it out, and if it ticks all the boxes, we’ll get to translate it for you! 😊..Yeayyy)

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Chapter 41

This cherry wine, though smooth and mellow on the tongue, packed a serious punch.

In no time at all, Nie Qinglin felt her whole body go weak and limp.

She collapsed onto the couch, barely managing to raise her delicate jade-like hand to press against the Grand Tutor’s chest—only to find that the solid skin beneath her palm was burning hot, as if he’d been drinking some fiery aged liquor himself.

The Grand Tutor lowered his head, sizing up the enchanting figure beneath him—soft and tempting like a honey fruit soaked in wine.

Just one glance and it was enough to make a man’s mouth water.

The more he looked, the more restless he grew down below, his long-dormant desire from months of restraint threatening to boil over and devour the little thing under him in a single gulp.

Ever since getting entangled with this Dragon Pearl, he’d somehow picked up this brat’s picky mouth too.

The concubines back home were easy enough on the eyes, sure—but not one of them could spark his interest.

Even his Fifth Madam, who had been brought into the manor for quite some time now, hadn’t once set foot in his rooms.

Starving for so long, and the only one who suited his taste was a dish that could only be looked at but not eaten!

Looking at the Dragon Pearl’s drunken, dazed expression, the Grand Tutor mused, “Wonder who gave her the nickname ‘Guo’er’—‘Little Fruit’? Hmph. Really does live up to the name. A green fruit, still clueless about love.”

If he had to starve, why should she get to enjoy her little ignorant bliss for free?

With that thought, he dropped the curtains over her half-dressed, priceless form and called out for Eunuch Ruan waiting outside to bring in that newly acquired Mandarin Duck Eight Pleasures Box.

He picked out only the book inside, then slipped back behind the curtains and unfolded the picture album to enjoy it with emperor.

Nie Qinglin was nestled in his arms, head tilted, eyes squinting toward the open album.

In the blink of an eye, her face flushed as red as an overripe fruit.

The artist behind this album was truly something else—his brushwork rivaled even the Grand Tutor’s!

The characters in the pictures, whether half-dressed or completely bare, were rendered with lifelike precision.

The secret scenes of rustling bedboards behind curtains, usually hidden in steamy storybooks, were suddenly laid bare in vivid, three-dimensional clarity.

To say a sixteen-year-old girl wasn’t curious about these private matters of the boudoir—now that’d be a lie.

But things meant to be secretly admired alone were now blatantly paraded before her by a tall, imposing man—his scent of rare musk tickling her senses with every breath, his large hand even pointing out this or that tender part of the painted bodies.

Heat seemed to puff right beside her ear…

The Grand Tutor was obviously toying with the little fruit in his arms, just about to plant a kiss and tease her with a “Well? Do you like this book?” when he suddenly felt a bit of dampness on his arm.

Frowning, he looked down…

On the very day the new Emperor of Great Wei celebrated her coming-of-age ceremony, she—while looking at the Mandarin Duck Eight Pleasures book—unexpectedly… dropped red.

That tiny nose of hers had started bleeding bright red blood.

No wonder Nie Qinglin couldn’t hold back that trace of dragon blood.

The meals these past few days had been full of rich nourishment.

Physician Wei, aiming for miraculous seven-month results, even dragged over a ewe he’d been raising on herbs.

Every morning, he made sure to squeeze out a steaming-hot, thick bowl of sheep’s milk for the emperor  to drink.

And today, with some extra fruit wine in her belly, all that built-up heat added up.

That lewd-as-hell album turned into the final fuse—boom! One blast of dragon blood sprayed right out.

That single nostrilful of dragon blood threw the entire bedchamber into chaos.

Physician Wei, who was drinking contentedly in the side hall, came rushing over all flustered.

When he stepped into the inner palace, thick curtains hung heavily, and a pale hand draped in gauze reached out through the folds.

After taking her pulse, Physician Wei frowned.

Just days ago, this pulse was cold—why’s it burning up now?

He was about to ask the Grand Tutor, who sat beside him with a grim face, just what exactly had transpired between him and the young lady inside the curtain, when the man narrowed his eyes with clear impatience.

Physician Wei shrank his neck back, murmured something about internal heat, stopped the bleeding, prescribed a dietary change… and just as he was about to leave, couldn’t quite suppress the benevolence of a healer’s heart.

He turned back and muttered, “Grand Tutor, you also seem a bit flushed—too much liver heat, and nowhere for your essence to go. Perhaps you could drink the same tonic I gave the young lady…”

Nie Qinglin’s delicate constitution had its use.

That dramatic “dropping of red” gave quite a scare.

At the very least, after her birthday, the Grand Tutor seemed to think that just looking but not tasting was too much torture.

Though they still met daily, he no longer teased her the way he used to.

Nie Qinglin could tell that now the Grand Tutor was more deliberate than ever about keeping her distant from the ministers.

Except for the required court ceremony at the start of each month, she rarely showed up in the audience hall.

But some occasions simply couldn’t be avoided—like today, when though the Spring Examinations were long over, the official appointments for the new top scholars still hadn’t been finalized.

The Grand Tutor valued practical ability in his appointees, so none of the scholars hanging high on the imperial list knew there was still a final test waiting.

As they stepped into the hall to see the Emperor, the Grand Tutor announced: all new scholars must write an essay on critiquing current issues—within the time it took for one stick of incense to burn.

Once again, Nie Qinglin was reduced to mere decoration, idly watching the scholars below.

Right away, she spotted that handsome young man who’d stared openly at her during her birthday banquet.

He was there too, scribbling away with fierce determination.

Before long, the surprise exam was over.

Nie Qinglin followed the Grand Tutor back to the study, waiting to dine together once he finished grading the papers.

When the imperial results were released, Nie Qinglin was enjoying a leisurely life in Huaxi Village.

Naturally, she had no clue who this new crop of national pillars was.

Later, when she was summoned by the Grand Tutor to grind ink and pour water, she happened to spot the names of the new scholars on the desk.

One name jumped out at her—Ge Qingyuan.

According to the original ranking list, Ge Qingyuan had been right at the top—prime zhuangyuan material.

But for some reason, the Grand Tutor had taken a bold stroke and circled his name to the very end.

Based on this new order, the childhood friend she’d once grown up with would now be exiled to some distant borderland to serve as a minor local official.

Nie Qinglin shook her head and sighed quietly.

With nothing better to do while the Grand Tutor scolded his ministers, she picked up the stack of essays just submitted in the exam and began leafing through them.

These writings on state affairs would determine the scholars’ placements, if nothing unexpected happened.

She pulled out Ge Qingyuan’s essay and gave it a read.

It was excellent—broad, bold, filled with the strategy and vision of both brush and sword.

A talent like that should have won the Grand Tutor’s favor.

But paired with his aristocratic background, it was also his fatal flaw.

As Nie Qinglin looked over the roster, she caught onto the Grand Tutor’s true intent: all the top scorers were poor scholars from humble beginnings.

Every single aristocratic heir was ranked further down.

The Grand Tutor was cultivating new blood for a new dynasty.

When regimes change, there are always those who must be sacrificed.

Ge Qingyuan was one of them.

No matter how brilliant his mind, his lineage meant he was fated to vanish into the far reaches of the empire.

Nie Qinglin gently placed the exam paper back down.

After some thought, she picked up a vermillion brush and a blank sheet of paper, and began practicing her calligraphy.

She wasn’t writing poems or prose—just copying fragments of the inscription on the screen by the desk, pulling random lines like:

“Clouds rise, winds surge… Go forth to send him off… Three men burn with brilliance… Let it be, and make it so…”

Once she was done writing, the red ink soaked through the thin paper and left a mark on Ge Qingyuan’s exam paper.

Nie Qinglin was quite pleased and called out in a sweet voice,“Grand Tutor! Come look at the new style of script We have been practicing…”

Just then, the Grand Tutor was turning around to approach.

The little emperor was holding up her sheet of paper, brimming with excitement as she came to show off the ancient-style characters she had just learned.

But the emperor’s wide sleeve couldn’t be dodged—it brushed right over the inkstone with a loud clang, splashing red ink all over the freshly collected exam papers.

Even the young emperor was stunned for a moment.

Flustered, she quickly called for Eunuch Ruan to clean up the desk, then lowered her head and muttered like a dog with its tail between its legs,“Grand Tutor, you carry on with your work… We a little tired now. We must return to my chambers to rest. The Imperial Physician said We mustn’t let the emotions stir these days, and We absolutely can’t get upset…”

With that said, she didn’t wait for the Grand Tutor’s scolding.

Sleeves stained red with vermillion ink, she slipped out of the imperial study like a guilty cat.

The Grand Tutor glared coldly at the dragon-robed troublemaker’s retreating back and let out a sharp snort.

He walked over to the desk, looked at the exam papers that were more than half ruined, and frowned as he instructed:

“It’s getting late. There’s no time for them to silently recite and rewrite. Eunuch Ruan, hand the papers back. Go tell the candidates waiting at the palace gate to copy them out again. They have half an incense stick’s time. Then collect them.”

These new scholars had thought the eunuch came out to announce the rankings, but to their surprise, they were told to recopy everything.

Some were about to grumble, but when they saw the ink stains were vermillion, they swallowed their complaints on the spot.

All they could do was strain their eyes to make out the smeared characters and copy it all again from memory as quickly as they could.

Ge Qingyuan also received his exam paper back.

Thankfully, his only had some ink marks on it.

But… those strokes looked oddly deliberate in their crookedness, strangely like the handwriting of a certain little child he was familiar with…

A hunch flashed through his mind.

He quickly broke apart the shapes of the smeared characters, and before long, he pieced together two words: “Grand Canal.”

The students’ papers were quickly collected again.

The Grand Tutor picked them up one by one and read through them.

One essay in particular caught his eye.

This one didn’t talk about the usual grandiose topics like the northern seas or southern frontiers.

Instead, it focused on the canals outside the capital and discussed how to manage the waterways.

Though the topic lacked a certain grandeur, the suggestions were practical and right on point: weaving bamboo mats to stabilize embankments, planting greenwood trees, using bamboo rafts in shallow waters instead of deep-hulled boats… all thoughtful recommendations.

Such an essay might not show off literary flair or military strategy, but it spoke directly to the livelihood of Great Wei and the welfare of its people.

The Grand Tutor looked down at the name written at the end: Ge Qingyuan.

Him? The Grand Tutor raised a brow.

The Ge family had once been a prestigious clan at court.

By the time it reached Lord Ge’s generation, though he was upright and clean in office, he valued his career a bit too much.

Back then, when his beloved wife had an affair with the late emperor—something the whole capital knew about—he still managed to sit in court like nothing had happened, green hat and all, completely unfazed.

A man like that… he’s either made for great things, or he’s completely gutless.

And judging by this man’s years of rule-following, he seemed more like the latter.

Still… who would’ve thought the young master from such a clan would be so grounded, with a solid, hardworking air to him?

After the palace exam that day, the rankings were posted.

Several scholars from humble backgrounds were appointed to pleasing posts, while most of the noble-born were sent out of the capital to serve in remote regions so bleak they could kill a man’s hopes.

Only that Ge family’s young master didn’t leave the capital.

But he was assigned to the Ministry of Works—a post with no oil or water, no way to climb up, and no juicy connections.

His close friends didn’t know whether to congratulate him or offer their condolences.

Yet Ge Qingyuan himself looked calm and composed, as if he was quite satisfied with this imperial edict.