The Perilous Palace Dream - Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Arriving in front of the command tent, the Grand Tutor swung down from his horse, reached out, and dragged the Emperor off the saddle. He barked at the guards stationed at the entrance, “His Majesty is unwell and needs to rest inside the tent. No one is to be let in.”
Once inside, he tossed the Emperor onto the couch padded with soft lambswool.
Nie Qinglin rolled over once before finally coming to a stop.
Turning back to look at the Grand Tutor’s murderous air, Nie Qinglin shrank back in fear and whispered, “Grand Tutor, I am not unwell…”
The Grand Tutor unfastened his belt and flung it aside with force, his voice hoarse as he said, “This minister deserves death for lying before the imperial presence. In truth, it is this humble servant who isn’t feeling well. I beg Your Majesty’s mercy—please help set this humble one right.”
As he spoke, he rudely began loosening his own robes, then climbed onto the couch as well, reaching out to undo Nie Qinglin’s clothing.
The young Emperor was cornered by her subject with nowhere to run.
All she could do was lie face-down on the mat, clutching fistfuls of lambswool, stubbornly refusing to turn over.
“If the Grand Tutor dares lay a hand on me,” she cried, “I’ll shout loud enough for the whole horse camp to hear exactly what you’re forcing me to do!”
Nie Qinglin wasn’t bluffing.
Though the tent was made of three layers of cured cowhide, its soundproofing was nowhere near that of wooden walls.
If she raised her voice just a bit more, the guards outside really might catch wind of something.
But how could the Grand Tutor take such threats to heart? Looking at the small figure burying his face while his hips were slightly raised, he reached out to touch the very spot that had been bumping and jolting against him all the way on horseback—soft to the touch, like well-fermented dough.
However, he knew in his heart that the child was ultimately unwilling to accept him.
If he truly forced the issue, it would lose its meaning.
But now, he just couldn’t bear it any longer; even a gentleman couldn’t pretend too thoroughly.
He simply pressed his entire body against Nie Qinglin, grasped her delicate, boneless hand, and nibbled on her small earlobe as he whispered, “Since Your Majesty does not wish for this subject to serve you, then please allow Your Majesty to take liberties with this subject instead…”
“……”
The guards outside the tent were all stationed three zhang away.
Aside from a few faint, high-pitched cries from the Emperor that slipped through the tent flaps at the start, the next hour or so was utterly quiet.
Eunuch Ruan had also come along to the horse camp to attend His Majesty.
By his calculation, the Emperor and the Grand Tutor should’ve been taking their meal by now.
Just yesterday, the soldiers in the main camp had hunted a fine spotted deer and presented it to the Grand Tutor.
The choicest, most tender cut had been sliced by the chef’s masterful knife into meat slivers thin as cicada wings—laid out neatly on a golden platter, waiting to be plunged into a pot of piping-hot chicken-fat broth at mealtime, bursting with flavor, just right for an outdoor camp setting.
But without any word from the Grand Tutor, he dared not enter.
He could only wait outside.
It was nearly half an hour later when the Grand Tutor finally spoke lazily, allowing Eunuch Ruan to enter the tent and serve.
Balancing a small tea tray, Eunuch Ruan stepped in alone.
The moment he lifted the flap, the scent common to the inner palace wafted out and hit him head-on, making the heart of this old eunuch give a tremble.
The young Emperor, likely exhausted, lay still beneath a thin blanket, face and head covered, fast asleep without so much as a twitch.
Lord Grand Tutor sat by the couch, his chest half-bared, revealing well-defined muscles.
A blanket was casually draped over his waist.
He took the teacup and sipped lightly, then said, “Go fetch a change of clothes for this marquis.”
Since this was an outing to the countryside, the attendants had prepared spare clothing in small travel chests placed in each lord’s tent—just in case.
Eunuch Ruan bent low, head down, stepping over a pair of dampened trousers and a few crumpled, soiled handkerchiefs by the bed, then reached the chest.
He opened it and retrieved the Grand Tutor’s undergarments and outer robe, set them by the bed, and quietly withdrew.
After a while more, the Emperor finally woke, stretching lazily as he sat up.
Save for a slight tear at the collar, his robes were still neat.
He merely asked for a basin of clean water, then began slowly and meticulously scrubbing his hands with soapberry rose oil paste, rubbing away for what felt like half a day.
When it was time to serve the meal, Eunuch Ruan suddenly noticed that the Emperor’s hand, which held the ivory chopsticks, was trembling ever so slightly.
Several times, he had just managed to pick up a freshly laid slice of meat, only to helplessly watch it fall to the floor by his feet.
In the end, it was the Grand Tutor who couldn’t bear to watch anymore.
He personally picked up the meat slices and, half-coaxing, half-persuading, fed them to the Emperor bite by bite.
By the time they returned to the palace, dusk had already fallen and the lamps were being lit.
Nie Qinglin’s hands still felt sore and limp, too weak to exert any force.
An Qiao’er, who hadn’t been able to join them that day, quietly asked one of the young eunuchs who had gone along, “How long did His Majesty ride today? How did he end up this sore?”
The eunuchs in the palace these days had all been carefully chosen and trained by Eunuch Ruan.
Every one of them had a mouth rustier than the next.
No matter how she asked, she couldn’t get a straight answer.
In the end, having no other way to get to the bottom of it—and after her young master had spilled another cup of tea onto the bed quilt—she couldn’t help but grumble: “What happened today? That Grand Tutor actually let His Majesty get worn out like this? Just how long did he ride? How tight was he holding the reins for his hands to be shaking like that?”
Nie Qinglin gave a bitter smile, stared absentmindedly at the trail of incense smoke curling beside the table, and sighed, “Ah… such a long, thick ‘rein’…”
In truth, the reason the Grand Tutor had gifted the Emperor a pony wasn’t just to patch things up after smashing a table in front of His Majesty—it was mostly because the annual Spring Horse Race was around the corner.
All court officials of second rank or higher could bring their womenfolk to join the Emperor and the imperial concubines in watching the races and reveling in wine and amusement by Swallow Lake.
It was the most joyful time of year for the noble ladies, who had been cooped up all winter.
These past few days, every time the Grand Tutor came to seek an audience, he was met with a door closed in neither a soft nor harsh way—but closed all the same.
The little Emperor didn’t even bother putting on a smile for him.
Had this been in the past, the Grand Tutor would’ve long since lost his temper—he might’ve smashed another few tea tables.
But this time, he was surprisingly patient.
No matter how sullen the young Emperor looked, his lordship’s handsome face remained as pleasant as spring water.
When the day of the Horse Race arrived, the entire Swallow Lake area had been cordoned off early.
For a hundred li around, yellow silk screens had been set up to block the area.
A grand viewing platform had already been erected beside the lake.
Besides the Emperor, first-rank officials and key ministers of the court could bring their families to watch the full race from there.
Since the Emperor had no consorts of his own, a few of the late Emperor’s concubines—those not yet banished to the cold palace—were summoned to accompany him, just to maintain appearances for the imperial harem.
Consort Yun, long silent in the palace, finally showed her face today.
But she no longer carried her old charm.
Her pale face, paired with a smoky-gray gown, was steeped in a kind of unspeakable duskiness.
Nie Qinglin cast her a glance, discreet and brief, and sighed inwardly.
What did it matter if they hadn’t been thrown into the cold palace? Not one of the late Emperor’s concubines had even been granted the title of Dowager Consort.
Even when some offended officials petitioned the Grand Tutor, their requests were flatly rejected.
The Grand Tutor had played a fine hand.
He clearly intended to erase all traces of the late Emperor.
Now that Wei Lenghou was running the court, the state was governed anew.
He had even abolished five years of corvée labor for the common folk.
Compared to the former foolish monarch, he was as different as cloud from mud.
Among the people of Great Wei, those who knew of Wei Lenghou were countless, while those who knew the new Emperor were few and far between.
According to Physician Zhang’s idle chat during a consultation, there was even a rumor going around the land: that Emperor Wei Ming was in fact a baleful star fallen from the heavens to wreak havoc upon the world—a born tyrant. He’d allegedly altered the divine decree while still a prince, forced the crown prince to his death, and seized the throne through treachery. But the Grand Tutor? He was said to be the Martial Star incarnate, sent down to set the world right and save the people of Wei from fire and water.
When Nie Qinglin heard that, she’d grown curious and asked Physician Zhang, “So if that’s the case, which star would I be?”
The honest, dim-witted physician just stared blankly at the Emperor’s bright-eyed, handsome face and gave an honest answer: “In that story… there’s no mention of Your Majesty at all…”
To the Grand Tutor, she was probably no more than the dust on the dragon throne—something to be blown away with a puff of breath.
Why bother assigning her a heavenly star?
Casting a glance at the concubines left behind by that baleful star of a father, Nie Qinglin slowly shifted her gaze to the Martial Star basking in springtime glory.
Today, the Grand Tutor had brought quite the entourage of beauties.
Aside from his Fourth Madam, Shang Yunxiang, there was also a charming new concubine.
It was said to be the daughter of Minister Dong of the Ministry of Revenue—Dong Miaoyin.
Not only was she lovely in face, she was tender in age too—not even sixteen yet.
Rumor had it that she’d received much favor from the moment she entered the Grand Tutor’s residence, with every sign pointing to her being promoted to official wife.
The Grand Tutor watched the races from afar, while Miaoyin attentively poured him grape wine from the Western Regions into a white jade cup and offered it to his lips with her delicate hand.
The Grand Tutor, deeply engrossed in the scene, drank directly from that slender hand, then casually wrapped an arm around her fragrant shoulders and laughed heartily with the officials nearby.
In his embrace, the Fifth Madam’s face was aglow with the shyness of favored love.
But the Fourth Madam, sitting alone and gnawing her white teeth while twisting a handkerchief, wore the same dreary pallor as her illegitimate sister.
How long had it been? The favored bed still warm, the face still alluring—yet already she had fallen from grace.
If one day the Martial Star officially ascended the imperial throne and reopened the rear palace… the battles between rouge and powder would be bloody indeed.
After a round of races concluded, the Grand Tutor released the beauty in his arms and instructed her to mingle with the other officials’ wives.
Then he rose and came to the Emperor’s side, speaking in a low voice: “The afternoon sun is strong. Let Your Majesty return to the tent with this subject to rest awhile.”
Nie Qinglin believed herself to have gained some enlightenment under the Grand Tutor’s “guidance.”
At the very least, those peculiar sounds behind the curtain in idle books, the creaking and squeaking of wooden boards, now held some meaning for her.
No wonder her father had been so enamored—there really were so many tricks!
And the Grand Tutor before her? He was like the Star of Lust reincarnated.
Any maiden who fell into his hands, even if her skirts remained tied and her trousers untouched, would have her purity more than half ruined.
At that thought, the young Emperor smiled and said, “The spring sun is just right. We like to bask a little longer. Since the Grand Tutor brought your family, why not take them back to the tent for a proper rest?”
When the Grand Tutor heard this, he first furrowed his brows—but then smoothed them out again.
Ever since that horseback outing, this little dragon pearl had been giving him the cold shoulder.
It was his own fault for being too hasty.
Ever since falling into the spell of that child, he hadn’t even touched any of the concubines at home.
Even the newly taken Fifth Madam had not once been graced.
His desire had built and built, until it spilled over.
He’d lost control, seized the imperial hand, and did what he did without pause—each wave higher than the last.
No wonder he’d scared that innocent, clueless little dragon pearl half to death.
So in recent days, he’d been extremely patient with all of His Majesty’s petty moods.
But now, with so many officials around, no matter how unrestrained he was, was it possible he’d truly drag the Emperor into the tent for ‘that’? Did he really need to be treated like a venomous snake?
At once, the Grand Tutor’s already small capacity for patience began to wear thin.
But upon hearing the second half of the Emperor’s words, he suddenly understood, and inwardly chuckled: So my precious little dragon pearl, delicate as a woman, has already learned how to get jealous and pout like one too? He really is turning into a proper little wife.
At that, he narrowed his phoenix eyes, his tone now tinged with chill: “This subject believes that it is unwise for Your Majesty to remain long under the sun. Please return to the tent with me at once.”
Nie Qinglin saw that the Grand Tutor really seemed to be getting angry, and immediately put down the half-eaten mung bean and jujube pastry in her hand.
She didn’t even bother to wipe away the crumbs at the corners of her lips, and obediently followed him into the tent.
As soon as they entered, before she could even sit down properly, she heard the Grand Tutor coldly ask,
“Is Your Majesty pulling a long face at me?”
Nie Qinglin very much wanted to cry out to him, “Beloved minister, you’ve already left the imperial family of the Nie clan not a scrap of face—there’s no face left for me to pull!”
But on the surface, she answered respectfully, “The pastry was too delicious just now, We couldn’t bear to part with it for a moment. We know We was wrong. Grand Tutor, please don’t be angry.”
The Grand Tutor knew full well this child’s apologies were never anything more than lip service, never truly from the heart.
Though he was still simmering with annoyance, when he saw the little one still licking the pastry crumbs at the corner of his mouth with his tongue, it was both irritating and amusing.
His stern expression eased slightly, and he narrowed his phoenix eyes and said:
“As the ruler of a nation, half of Your Majesty’s thoughts are buried in food—and yet no matter how much you eat, you never seem to put on any weight. Just look at yourself, is there even a trace of imperial bearing left?”
This time, Nie Qinglin truly felt that the Grand Tutor spoke the truth.
Perhaps she really was some Star of Hunger sent down from the heavens, destined to devour the shattered remnants of her tyrant father’s fallen kingdom and lend the Martial Star a helping hand.
She could only wonder: when the stars returned to their heavenly palaces, would this ever-faithful glutton be granted a heavenly reward from the celestial Martial Star?
“We behaved without decorum before the officials and didn’t even realize it. Thankfully the Grand Tutor reminded Me. Your guidance is truly my good fortune, the pillar of the state—”
Unfortunately, her string of flattery hadn’t even reached its climax when she was abruptly pulled into the Grand Tutor’s arms.
“This minister’s loyalty to Your Majesty is as plain as the sun and moon,” he said coldly, “but Your Majesty must understand that there is a distinction between men and women. Even if I regard Your Majesty as a priceless treasure, the rightful mistress of my household must still be a woman. Your Majesty must not act like a jealous wife, endlessly sulking over a few little girls—that only demeans your own status.”
The little emperor blinked, finally catching the meaning behind the Grand Tutor’s words.
As expected of someone destined for greatness—so domineering!
She had half a mind to explain that she really hadn’t fallen so low as to be jealous of the harem in his estate, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt such a claim might come off as denying the Grand Tutor’s irresistible charm to both sexes.
That wouldn’t do.
So she swiftly changed tack and said:
“We understand. From now on, the Grand Tutor may marry and take concubines as he pleases—this emperor will never meddle in your household affairs… but if the Grand Tutor dares to cradle a delicate young lad in front of me, petting his head and holding his hand—then We will scratch up that little dlut’s face!”
The phrase “little Slut” was something the emperor had picked up just yesterday from a newly acquired racy street novel.
Just four words, but bold and powerful, they rang out like a slap on stone.
She had even practiced saying it in the tone of a market shrew several times.
Who knew it’d come in handy so soon?
Learning truly does have its uses!
This display of “profound knowledge” instantly changed the Grand Tutor’s expression.
The icy aloofness vanished, replaced by a sharp glare from his phoenix eyes.
His lips parted slightly as he gritted out through clenched teeth:
“Where did you learn such vulgar, filthy language?!”
H
In all of the things that have happened he is worried about one four letter word. Thank you for the updates!