Chapter Thirty: The Young Emperor’s Petition

Yu Yuan had just finished half a cup of tribute tea when Jiang Lan emerged. She wore a pale green robe, as if she had stepped out of a landscape painting. It was just a pity that her face was all too ordinary—so unremarkable that she would blend into any crowd. Her features were not unattractive, just plain, lacking any distinguishing charm when put together.

She truly seemed to have inherited none of the strengths of either the heir apparent or the princess consort.

“Eunuch Yu, Eunuch Yu…”

Yu Yuan returned to himself and smiled lightly. “Young Lord.”

“Let’s be off, then.”

“Yes, Young Lord, please.”

Jiang Lan boarded the carriage sent by the palace. Eight proud horses marched ahead, their heads held high, clearing the broad street with all the majesty of the imperial family.

The carriage was spacious, not only equipped with a small stove to keep water hot for tea but also attended by four or five palace maids. Their hair was adorned with golden ornaments, faces radiant, moving with elegant grace, veils and shawls trailing faint perfume.

Thankfully, she was not truly a man; otherwise, who knows what mischief she might have been tempted to commit.

Once within the palace walls, the carriage soon came to a halt. At the door, the chief eunuch Yu Yuan bowed low. “Young Lord, the rest of the way must be walked. I must trouble you to alight.”

Two palace maids lifted the curtain. Jiang Lan, still in her pale green robe, stepped down.

“Young Lord, this way please.”

Jiang Lan nodded, straightened her collar, placed her left hand behind her back, held a fan in her right, and walked on with poise and grace.

Yu Yuan caught sight of a splash of crimson and, smiling slightly, glanced back into the carriage, where the leading maid shook her head, a faint frown between her brows.

Before Jiang Lan reached the Empress Dowager’s Hall of Morning Clouds, she encountered the young emperor, who had just finished his morning court and was passing through the imperial gardens.

Clad in bright yellow robes and ornate crown, lips red and teeth white, he resembled a lotus blooming atop a snowy peak: pure, aloof, wreathed in mists—a beauty so ethereal it took one’s breath away.

“Cousin, what brings you here?” he asked.

Jiang Lan was not given to being swayed by appearances, yet even she was momentarily stunned into silence by his beauty.

Yu Yuan, ever the clever one, replied, “Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager was missing the Young Lord and so sent your humble servant to invite him in for a private conversation.”

“Oh? I see.” Chen Qing’s eyes suddenly lit up, mischief glinting like a clever little fox—adorable, yes, that was the word.

“Why don’t I accompany Cousin as well?”

He looked to Jiang Lan, as if seeking her opinion.

“This…” Yu Yuan seemed troubled. “Your Majesty’s studies…”

Chen Qing’s face clouded with worry, and Jiang Lan, feeling for the beautiful youth, thought that being emperor was no easy task—though surely less taxing than ruling the entire demon realm.

“My tutor caught a cold yesterday and had Young Master Gu take his place. But Young Master Gu claimed he was frightened on the street and is not coming today, telling me to rest instead. I’ll explain to Mother Empress later; she won’t be upset. Eunuch Yu, don’t spoil my mood.”

His reasoning was clear, his bearing regal, brooking no doubt. Jiang Lan lowered her eyes. Indeed, in this palace, even the most beautiful things were laced with poison. Those lovely maids in the carriage—what were they meant to suggest? Temptation?

Suddenly, the dazzling palace seemed full of hidden dangers and traps at every turn.

“If that is so, Your Majesty, please lead the way.”

It was unheard of for the chief eunuch of the Empress Dowager’s palace to speak thus to the reigning emperor. Was there discord between mother and son? Was Jiang Lan thus aligned with the Empress Dowager or the young emperor?

Jiang Lan shivered. She should have asked that innkeeper more questions.

On the way to the Hall of Morning Clouds, Chen Qing, gentle and refined, chatted about everything—from distant palaces to nearby flowers, from street anecdotes to court ministers—leaving nothing unsaid.

Jiang Lan remained cautious, barely responding, only offering the faintest of smiles for fear of making a misstep.

Just as they neared the hall, a junior eunuch hurried over, slowed his steps at the last moment, and tidied his garments before whispering something in the young emperor’s ear, causing a shadow of worry to pass over his brow.

Jiang Lan looked away, feigning interest in the scenery.

Chen Qing hesitated, then looked apologetically at Jiang Lan. “Cousin, something has come up…”

Jiang Lan bowed. “Your Majesty should put the affairs of state first.”

Suddenly, Chen Qing leaned in close, and Jiang Lan felt her ears burn.

“Yesterday…the scholarly young man on the street—do you truly fancy him, Cousin?”

“Ah?” The exclamation burst out before she could stop herself. All eyes turned her way, and she felt her face flush as if on fire. Watching the emperor’s light, cheerful steps, recalling that mesmerizing, low voice, Jiang Lan tugged at her collar.

“Young Lord, this way please,” prompted Yu Yuan.

Jiang Lan nodded slightly to Yu Yuan. “Thank you.”

Yu Yuan’s lips curled in a knowing smile. With a glance, the attending maids and eunuchs behind them slowed their steps, widening the distance.

“You handled yourself very well, Young Lord.”

“Hmm?” Jiang Lan was taken aback. What did he mean by that? Noticing the attendants were now far behind, it seemed the eunuch had something to say to her. Was it his own business, or orders from her aunt, the Empress Dowager?

Catching that look of knowing amusement on his face, Jiang Lan could only return a faint smile, cursing inwardly: What on earth is this damned eunuch playing at?

Finally, at the Hall of Morning Clouds, Jiang Lan’s heart leapt into her throat.

The Empress Dowager was indeed a beauty, her features sharing a striking resemblance to the emperor—both were uncommonly lovely. But where the emperor’s beauty was pure and innocent, the Empress Dowager’s was like a flower wrought of flame—just as beautiful, but dangerous.

When Jiang Lan arrived, the Empress Dowager, Jiang Ke, was holding a bright yellow memorial. At the sight of Jiang Lan, she set it aside with unusual warmth.

“Lan’er, you’re here! Come, come, let your aunt have a good look at you.”

“Aunt,” Jiang Lan greeted her, then sat down at the Empress Dowager’s feet, nestling close to her. In this half hour within the palace, she’d gathered that Jiang Lan was indeed part of the Dowager’s faction, or if not, at least the most favored of her relatives.

A show of intimacy was exactly right.

“You were injured recently. Did you take the tonic I sent? It’s very good for you.”

Jiang Lan nodded. “The matron brings it to me every night before bed, Aunt, and I’ve taken it all. It’s just a bit bitter.”

Seeing that small, earnest face, Jiang Ke relaxed—yes, still just a child.

“Here, try this—a specialty from Xing Ke’s hometown. If you like it, you can take some back.”

The plate held strips of something yellow and translucent. Jiang Lan took one and chewed thoughtfully.

“Aunt, this is truly delicious.”

Jiang Ke smiled, pressing the plate into Jiang Lan’s hands. “If you like it, have some more.” She then instructed a nearby maid, “Bring this and the cloud cakes sent as tribute the other day.”

Watching the child at her feet, delighting in treats, Jiang Ke gently stroked Jiang Lan’s hair, reading in her smile the memory of another person.

Until Jiang Lan left the palace, the Empress Dowager never once asked about the events of the previous day.