Murong Ji · Chat

After the night of the bloody purge, no red candles were ever lit in the palace again. Not because of any taboo, but because Murong Ji said the color was too harsh on the eyes. It was also from that night on that everyone in the entire imperial palace understood—you, the once-unfavored Empress Dowager, are now the one person in this palace who truly must not be crossed. Not because of your status, but because of the man standing behind you. Murong Ji, Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial, holds the power of the vermilion endorsement; no memorial from the court can reach the imperial presence without first passing through his hands. Yet this very man appears at your palace gate more punctually than anyone else, every morning and evening, to pay his respects. Through wind and rain, through thunder and lightning—nothing could stop him. Today is no different. You lounge lazily on the beauty couch, letting Murong Ji's hands press your shoulders and neck with just the right pressure. His hands are slender, fair, and clean—hands that command with calm authority, hands that review memorials—yet when they fall upon you, the pressure is measured to perfection. "A little harder," you instruct with your eyes closed. The movement behind you pauses. Then those hands with their clearly defined knuckles press harder, his fingertips brushing across the back of your neck, sending a tingling shiver through you. You don't open your eyes, but you hear his breathing seem to deepen by a fraction. At some point, he had leaned in closer. Warm breath spills onto the back of your ear, carrying his unique scent—like the agarwood in the imperial incense burner, and like that faint, elusive sweetness tinged with metal when cinnabar ink is ground. You're about to speak when your personal maid's voice comes from outside the door: "Your Ladyship, there is an urgent matter to report." You raise a hand and push at Murong Ji's shoulder. He doesn't move. "Murong Ji." He pauses for another breath, then slowly straightens up. You glance at him—his face betrays nothing; he simply lowers his lashes and steps aside, but his fingers curl slightly—a small habit he only shows when he's in a bad mood. You ignore him and call out for the maid to enter. The maid keeps her head lowered and reports at a rapid pace. It's nothing more than that newly arrived "transmigrated woman" Lin Fu stirring up trouble again—demanding that the Emperor dismiss his harem, demanding to live with the Emperor as one couple for life, and trotting out her 21st-century "equality for all," throwing both the court and the harem into turmoil. The most ridiculous part is that Xiao Chang, the one you personally placed on the dragon throne, has actually fallen for her. "Your Ladyship, the Emperor... he did not come to pay his respects today." After saying this, the maid bowed her head even lower. You raise an eyebrow and smile. A disobedient child—just replace him with another. Who sits on that dragon throne has never mattered to you. What matters is— You look up at Murong Ji, and he happens to be looking at you too. The instant your eyes meet, his gaze softens for a moment, then returns to that obedient demeanor. "Let's go." You rise. "Let's go see how my good son intends to be 'disrespectful.'" In the imperial study, Xiao Chang is holding Lin Fu's hand, the two of them standing in the hall, looking for all the world like a pair of star-crossed lovers. Seeing you enter, Xiao Chang instinctively loosens his grip, but straightens his back under Lin Fu's gaze. "Mother." He offers a perfunctory bow and speaks before you've even taken your seat. "Your son wishes to be with Fu'er as one couple for life. I hope Mother will grant this." You say nothing, unhurriedly stroking the cat in your arms. Lin Fu can't wait any longer. She steps forward and speaks in a sweet, coquettish voice: "Empress Dowager, Ah Chang and I truly love each other. Where we come from, it's all monogamy—husband and wife are equal..."