"I am overwhelmed and unworthy. How could I dare accept such a courtesy from Your Majesty?" Schor Lu was genuinely flustered at this moment.

  "Master Lu possesses both integrity and learning beyond compare. Just consider me a humble woman who admires schors," Wumian said with a gentle smile. "At this moment, let us set aside titles and ranks. After all, when I was still in the inner chambers, I had already read your esteemed works."

  "Your Majesty…" Schor Lu was visibly moved. "You are truly blessed with both beauty and wisdom, the very model of an empress and mother of the nation."

  Whether his sentiment was sincere or simply good manners, at least in this moment, it appeared heartfelt.

  This meeting left both of them with a favorable impression of the other.

  Schor Lu did not leave afterward; he remained at the Zhao residence.

  Wumian instructed her eldest brother, third brother, and fifth brother to accompany and attend to him.

  At the main residence, a luncheon was prepared. Naturally, Wumian sat in the seat of honor, with only her grandmother and the two madams accompanying her.

  In the afternoon, Wumian gave another order, asking her eldest sister-in-w, Madam Hu, to follow the old madam and begin learning the responsibilities of managing the household.

  Ordinarily, this would have fallen to her mother or grandmother, as her sister-in-w was still young and the household had elders. However, Wumian’s mother, Madam Qian, was known for her soft-heartedness and ck of decisiveness—truth be told, both her parents were of that temperament.

  Her eldest brother was simirly honest and dull-witted, whereas Madam Hu, though from a humble family, was capable, sharp, and dignified.

  Once these matters were settled, Wumian prepared to return to the pace. After all, she was the Empress; it would not be proper to remain outside the pace until nightfall.

  Upon her return, Wumian ordered rewards to be distributed to the guards who had accompanied her on this trip—all of them handsomely rewarded.

  "Your Majesty," Jinbo came in to report, "His Majesty sent word that he will come by shortly."

  "Very well. I’ll change my clothes first. Has anything happened in the pace today?"

  "Nothing of importance," Jinbo replied. "Only that today, Rong Fei visited Taiji Pace to deliver some pastries she made herself. She stayed with His Majesty for two hours and left without staying for lunch."

  Wumian nodded, signaling she understood.

  After she finished changing, she ordered supper to be prepared. She hadn’t eaten properly at noon and was quite hungry. "Tell them to bring a soup as well."

  Everyone in the small kitchen knew the Empress loved soup, so there was always a fresh pot ready.

  Just as the servants moved to carry out her order, the Emperor arrived.

  That day, he wore a deep purple robe embroidered subtly with dragon patterns, his hair bound with a golden crown. Two bright yellow silk cords trailed at his ears, and in his hand, he held a folding fan.

  The moment Wumian saw him, she smiled and said teasingly, "I was unaware such a fine young gentleman would be visiting today—so handsome, so dignified. And yet, how did you end up here, in my humble quarters? I am but a married woman. It would not be proper to share a room with you."

  The words had barely left her lips when Wumian clearly saw Ying Qionglou pause, momentarily caught off guard.

  Though the Emperor quickly recovered and smiled, it was clear that he had, indeed, been momentarily caught off guard.

  Wumian couldn’t help but find it amusing and let out a soft ugh.

  "It seems the Empress is in excellent spirits after visiting her family—so lively today," Ying Qionglou remarked as he walked over and took a seat.

  "Exactly so, young master," Wumian replied sweetly, her smile bright.

  "You are quite mischievous, Empress," Ying Qionglou said, smiling faintly at her.

  "Has Your Majesty been busy all day? I’ve already instructed them to prepare the evening meal—it should be ready soon."

  "Good. Is your family well?"

  "All is well. I thank Your Majesty for your concern. Now that I’ve seen them, I can rest easy. If there’s anything in the future, I’ll simply have my mother and the others send word rather than me making the trip."

  "If you wish to visit again, go ahead. On days like today, when there’s nothing pressing, there’s no need to restrain yourself." Others might not be permitted such freedom, but for the Empress, exceptions could always be made.

  "The next time I wish to return, I’ll be sure to inform Your Majesty."

  As they spoke, the evening meal was brought in. Everything had been prepared with precise timing—since Wumian’s return, the kitchen had begun their work in earnest.

  Tonight’s main dish was a white mushroom chicken soup, something Ying Qionglou had never tasted before.

  "Your Majesty should try this," Wumian said as she personally dled a bowl for him. "These white mushrooms are tender and smooth. Cooked in chicken broth, the fvor is light and fresh—perfect for summer, without being too rich."

  Ying Qionglou took a sip and nodded. "Indeed, it is quite good."

  He picked up a piece of mushroom and found it pleasantly soft and refreshing.

  "Does the Empress favor light fvors?"

  "In summer, soups like this are easier to stomach. If it were only chicken broth, it would be too heavy. When winter comes, we can add bamboo shoots and such," Wumian expined.

  "Mm." Ying Qionglou made a mental note to try it again when winter arrived.

  After they finished eating, it was still too early to retire for the night.

  As usual, Ying Qionglou had his memorials and reports brought to Fengyi Pace. Wumian, not wanting to disturb him, took her attendants to the back room to check on the second batch of ink sticks she’d made days prior.

  This batch was slightly different—she had reduced the amount of deer horn glue compared to the first attempt. Last time, she had been inexperienced and used too much. This time, she’d also added a bit of borneol, making the scent far more pleasant.

  (Transtor Xiaobai: Borneol is valued for its woody, camphor-like aroma.)

  "These should be ready. Pack them away," Wumian instructed.

  These ink sticks were crafted far more delicately. She’d used a mold to shape them into small, slender bars. She preferred smaller ones that could be used up entirely; the thicker, heavier ones were always wasteful.

  When she returned, Ying Qionglou looked up. "May I try your test treasure?"

  Wumian handed him a stick and prepared the inkstone.

  Ying Qionglou took up a fresh sheet of paper and wrote a few characters, nodding in approval. "Not bad. It’s better than the st batch."

  "I’m gd it pleases Your Majesty." Wumian continued grinding ink, thinking she might write something herself in a while.

  And so, the two of them spent their evening at the rge writing desk, quietly passing the time.

  At one point, Ying Qionglou’s expression darkened as he read through one of the memorials. He gave an annoyed snort, tossed aside his brush, and spped the table. "Utter nonsense!"

  Across from him, the Empress merely gnced up at him, her hand not pausing as she finished the st few characters on her paper.

  Only when she was done did she set down her brush and ask calmly, "What could possibly make Your Majesty so angry?"

  Ying Qionglou found himself a little embarrassed.

  After all, he’d smmed the table hard enough to startle the servants into kneeling—yet his Empress had been entirely unfazed, calmly finishing her writing before addressing him. He wasn’t angry at her, but there was a strange feeling of… being left out.

  In the end, curiosity overtook his annoyance. "What were you writing?"

  He rose and walked around the desk, only to find something he never expected: the Empress had been copying passages he wouldn’t have imagined her to read.

  …To linger in one’s thoughts without taking meaningful action is ultimately unproductive; it is far more valuable to engage in learning and growth. Those who possess wisdom navigate the complexities of life with crity, the kind-hearted remain calm and composed in the face of difficulties, and the brave confront their fears head-on without hesitation. Speaking without a foundation of integrity and acting with trivial cleverness is an exhausting burden that weighs heavily on the soul. Love awakens a deep desire for others to flourish and thrive, while hatred fosters destructive intentions and a wish for their undoing. It is essential to respond to grievances with a sense of justice, bancing the scales fairly, and to return acts of kindness with simir goodwill, nurturing a cycle of virtue.

  "You… actually read this?" Ying Qionglou was genuinely surprised.

  "It’s enlightening, like a refreshing spsh of cold water to the face. A truly uplifting read," Wumian replied, setting aside her brush.

  "Those who possess wisdom navigate the complexities of life with crity, the kind-hearted remain calm and composed in the face of difficulties, and the brave confront their fears head-on without hesitation.’ How many people in this world can actually achieve this?" Ying Qionglou sighed.

  "Those are the words of sages—ideals meant to guide, not standards to be perfectly achieved. Even the sages themselves might not have fully lived up to them, but the direction is clear. In truth, I believe these lines can also be understood in reverse: the wiser one is, the more troubled; the more benevolent, the more anxious; the more courageous, the more afraid."

  "Oh?" Ying Qionglou’s interest was piqued. "And how do you mean?"

  Wumian gnced at him, regretting slightly that she had spoken so freely. Inwardly, she thought: I really should have remembered I’m supposed to be just a pretty vase…