“‘The white-haired pace maids remain, idly chatting of Emperor Xuanzong.’ If someone has to spend their whole life surviving in the same pce, how could they dare rebel so easily?”

  (Transtor Xiaobai: The phrase “‘The white-haired pace maids remain, idly chatting of Emperor Xuanzong’” is a reference to an old Chinese saying that reflects the long and often uneventful lives of pace servants. It means that even after emperors have come and gone, the aging pace maids who served them remain, growing old within the pace walls and reminiscing about past rulers.)

  Wumian’s voice was light, almost indifferent, as she continued, “If this matter hadn’t come up at all, it wouldn’t be much of anything. But the fact is—it did come up. And if the servants end up receiving nothing despite that, won’t they feel bitter? After all, I said it was green bean soup to be supplied daily, not money. So now, they’ll receive neither silver nor soup. How disappointing is that?”

  She spoke with calm detachment, as though she didn’t particurly care.

  But Linshui understood—she understood very well. To the lower-ranking maids and attendants in the pace, even one bowl of cool green bean soup a day was something to look forward to.

  Her mistress hadn’t truly wanted to do anything—she’d simply forced Guifei into a position where she had to act.

  If Guifei had outright refused, the servants would resent her for not providing. But if she complied and the stewards failed to distribute the funds properly, she’d still be bmed for being careless.

  The only way to avoid bme would be for Guifei to carry out the Empress’s request exactly as proposed. But in that case, wouldn’t everyone recognize that it was the Empress’s initiative?

  So… how much of the credit would ever fall to Guifei?

  Linshui understood.

  “You understand now?” Wumian asked her.

  “Your Majesty is brilliant. This servant was truly too dull,” Linshui replied with sincerity.

  Wumian only let out a soft sigh. “This is exactly why those who get things done rarely earn gratitude. Helping others is difficult—undoing things is easy. That’s why it’s hard to be in charge. Trivial matters, daily annoyances… with over ten thousand people in this pace, how could it be easy to govern? Guifei… she’s capable, no doubt. But when someone like her is too capable, what use is there for an Empress?”

  She was referring to the roles of Guifei and the Empress, not to Zhao Wumian and Qi Yuhuan as individuals. She had always recognized that what was being opposed was the status, not the person themselves. It was simply the helplessness of living in this pce.

  “Let’s not talk about that anymore. The heat hasn’t become unbearable yet—let’s take a walk.” Just hearing others going out made her restless. Holding it in was uncomfortable.

  ____

  Ying Qionglou was busy. There had been flooding in the south recently. It happened every few years, and this time wasn’t especially severe.

  The people along the riverbanks had been relocated, and the court issued silver and grain as disaster relief. The Emperor had worked nonstop for ten days, rising early and retiring te, and he had noticeably lost weight.

  Yet he looked more spirited than ever—like a tall, upright pine.

  During those ten days, the inner pace had remained quiet. Even the usually willful Li Fei hadn’t disturbed the Emperor, only sending him soup twice.

  It was all quite routine.

  Now that the rush had passed, it was time for the Emperor to return to the harem.

  In the past, he would’ve gone straight to Li Fei without hesitation. But now...

  “How has Li Fei been these past few days?”

  Lu Zhong replied, “The imperial physicians say it’s nothing serious. Her Highness just needs to rest.”

  “Send word that I’ll be having supper with Li Fei tonight.”

  Lu Zhong remained standing, waiting for further instructions, but the Emperor only waved his hand.

  Just supper? Lu Zhong wondered. Li Fei can’t attend to him in bed, but if His Majesty is giving advance notice... is it really just for supper?

  Li Fei, on the other hand, was too happy to think deeply. She was simply overjoyed.

  When Wumian heard the Emperor had gone to Li Fei’s pace, she didn’t react. She merely said, “Let’s have cold noodles for dinner. It’s really hot today.”

  “Should we bring out another block of ice?” Zhaohua asked.

  “No need. It’s not too hot when sleeping. With a calm mind, the body feels cooler. It’s just mealtimes that are unbearable.”

  “Then during supper, shall I have them fan more?”

  Wumian nodded. “You all go eat first. Tell the small kitchen to make extra mung bean soup. Everyone in our pace can have some.”

  Mung beans were wonderful—Emperor, Empress, Dowager Empress, all the way down to the maids—everyone could benefit.

  When supper was served, there were two sauces for the cold noodles: one with shredded chicken and assorted vegetables, and one with garlic, vinegar, and sesame.

  Wumian had them mix both. The cold shredded chicken was fvorful, not greasy, and easy to enjoy.

  After a satisfying meal, Linshui brought fragrant tea to help with digestion after the rich fvors.

  Wumian sighed, “This is truly a fine thing. The Imperial Medical Bureau really put effort into it. A shame it wasn’t passed down.”

  That’s why people in ter generations still reeked of garlic the next day.

  Just as she was about to have her hair let down to write for a bit before bed, she heard a stir outside.

  The Emperor had arrived.

  Wumian was slightly surprised and rose to greet him.

  As Ying Qionglou entered, he caught the faint, elegant scent of incense—one Wumian had lit earlier. “Burning incense at night? The Empress is in an artistic mood.”

  “I was preparing to write a bit. Your Majesty came just in time,” Wumian replied. Of course, she didn’t ask, Why are you here if you already went to Li Fei’s?

  What, did something go wrong in Li Fei’s silken web?

  “What are you pnning to write? Shall I keep you company?”

  “Sure, but please wait a moment. I need to undo my hair—it’s a bit uncomfortable,” Wumian said.

  Ying Qionglou nodded and sat down to watch her. “What has the Empress been doing tely? I’ve been too busy to visit.”

  “Oh, just the usual. Has the flooding in the south been resolved? Your Majesty must be exhausted—you look thinner.” In truth, Wumian hadn’t really noticed. It was night, and not as easy to see clearly.

  But that was the safest way to ask.

  If he had lost weight, she’d seem caring for noticing. If not, but he looked a little weary, it would still sound thoughtful. And even if he looked neither thin nor tired—well, at least it showed she was concerned. In her eyes, he was someone who could tire easily.

  “It’s nothing. Just haven’t been sleeping enough these days,” Ying Qionglou replied.

  “The weather’s hot. If Your Majesty has burdens on your mind, poor sleep is to be expected,” Wumian said with a sigh. “There’s nothing special here today, only some mung bean soup. Would Your Majesty like a bowl?”

  “Sure. Bring it up,” Ying Qionglou agreed readily.

  Li Fei was pregnant, and her condition was unstable. Her diet had become incredibly strict.

  He hadn’t wanted to insist on his own preferences, so he’d been eating overly bnd, gentle meals—not satisfying at all.

  He wasn’t starving, but a chilled bowl of mung bean soup sounded perfect.

  “I didn’t dare disturb Your Majesty, but I had been thinking that if you were still so busy after another few days, I’d come check on you. Now that you’re here, it means things have settled down.” Wumian smiled at him, then turned to Zhaohua. “Braid it up.”

  It was too hot to leave her hair down, and it wasn’t convenient for writing either.

  Once her hair was done, Wumian and the Emperor went to the study together.

  The Fengyi Pace had a rge study, and the attendants had already prepared brushes, ink, and paper.

  “Writing calms the mind. When the heat becomes agitating, I find it helps,” said Wumian.

  Ying Qionglou flipped through the papers on the desk, noticing her neat and intricate brushwork. “These ornate small characters must be tiring to write. Why do you like them?”

  “I couldn’t say exactly why,” Wumian replied with a smile, pulling out a new sheet. “I can write rger ones too.”