Chapter Forty-One: The Meaning Behind the Imperial Edict

After the incident with Cao Xingyu, the palace once again returned to a semblance of quiet, at least on the surface.

Attendant Qi had been placed under a kind of house arrest and, for the past few days, had not been seen wandering about. She remained in her own quarters, studying the court’s etiquette. The concubines of the various palaces did not visit one another, as if invisible boundaries had been drawn between them.

Xuexue was content with the peace and idleness, though she knew such tranquility in this vast palace would not last for long. It was impossible for such calm to persist in a place as grand and deep as the royal palace.

Yet, just as the harem had settled, a single edict from Ji Wuqing sent shockwaves rippling through the court.

The imperial decree to establish the Eastern Palace Queen was issued despite opposition. The news, sensational as a wildfire, spread to every corner of the palace in an instant.

At that moment, Xuexue held the decree in her hand, her mind heavy. There had been no warning, no sign—what was Ji Wuqing doing? Was this his promise, binding her with such a title, or was this his way of declaring his affection for her to the world?

"Congratulations, Your Majesty!" the attendants called out, their joy for their mistress unfeigned. This was an honor and favor of the highest order. Although the queens of the eastern and western palaces held the same title, there was a clear distinction: the Eastern Queen was always the king’s true beloved, her position unshakable in both the court and the king’s heart.

Xuexue’s feelings were mixed and complex, impossible to name. She felt no joy—rather, she was somewhat alarmed.

After some thought, she took the decree and resolved to seek out Ji Wuqing for answers.

She went to the King’s study, but he was not there, having retired to his own chambers to rest. Upon hearing this, Xuexue felt a wave of relief. She had come in haste, not considering what she would say to Ji Wuqing. Now that she thought about it, she realized she didn’t know how to face him at all.

Holding the decree, she stepped into the courtyard of the study. The guards at the gate did not stop her, as if the study itself belonged to the queen.

The garden was in full bloom with caidie flowers—lush green leaves and vibrant blossoms, a rare sight. She strolled along the path paved with round stones; the uneven stones pressed through her shoes, making her feet ache.

This discomfort brought her clarity, and she suddenly recalled her previous life, that distant era.

In her former life, she too had been detached, letting nothing touch her heart. Born to the Guantao family, she bore burdens not meant for her. Perhaps because of this, she became little more than a machine.

Perhaps because she showed nothing outwardly, others thought her unafraid of being hurt.

By some twist of fate, she had crossed into this world and was given another chance—to live for herself, at least. Yet, things had not gone as she wished; her nature remained unchanged, drifting with the current, content to spend her days as they came in the palace of Ji.

But this was not what she truly desired. Why, after being given a second chance at life, should she follow the old path once more?

This vast palace seemed, to her, no bigger than a cage; she was trapped within its confines, no different from her life with the Guantao family.

She lifted her head. The sky was an endless blue, vast and free. Though she could not see it, she knew her own heart. Wasn’t it this very freedom, as blue as the sky, that she had always yearned for—even now, she still longed for it.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” came a voice. Miao Jian, dressed in deep-colored court robes, approached. His attire, though that of a eunuch, carried a unique dignity and grace.

To be fair, he was strikingly handsome—tall and straight, with a high nose and thin lips pressed together, his features so vivid they caught the eye.

“Miao Jian, is it? Where is the King?” she asked, tilting her head in mild confusion.

Miao Jian was Ji Wuqing’s chief attendant, always by his side.

“His Majesty ordered me to escort you, Your Majesty. Are you ready to leave?” Miao Jian bowed his head respectfully.

“If the King summons me, I cannot refuse,” she replied, nodding.

The palanquin was already waiting at the gate. The two of them kept a proper distance, with Xuexue still holding the scroll, its black shaft gripped gently in her palm.

“Please, Your Majesty,” Miao Jian said, bowing slightly.

“Have you served the King since childhood, Miao Jian?” Xuexue paused and asked, her voice gentle and probing.

“No, Your Majesty, it has not been so long. I entered the palace at the age of eleven,” he answered, his tone flat and inscrutable.

He was so impeccably respectful, answering whatever was asked, yet impossible to read.

Xuexue nodded and entered the palanquin. Seated, she rested her hand on the window, leaning her head as if to gaze at the passing scenery.

Before long, they arrived at the Dragon’s Rest Palace, where Ji Wuqing was. Xuexue entered to find him still reclining on his couch, his gaze following the young woman in blue as she entered.

She still held the decree, moving with a light, graceful step. Though blind, she was nimble rather than awkward.

“Your Majesty?” Xuexue stepped forward, sensing nothing of his presence. But she knew he was there, perhaps watching her, ready to play tricks.

Ji Wuqing lay silently on his couch, his striking face calm and still, half-shadowed like an unfinished painting.

“I know you are here, Your Majesty. I do not wish to disturb your rest, but this decree came so suddenly that I am deeply unsettled,” she said, standing tall and unflinching, her tone steady and resolute.

Silence was her only answer—it felt as though she were speaking to the air itself.

“Come to me, then,” the king finally spoke, breaking the stillness.

Xuexue paused, then followed his voice, stopping less than a foot from his couch.

“Closer,” Ji Wuqing said, frowning at the distance between them.

“Can you not hear me from here, Your Majesty?” she asked. She felt she was already quite near.

“Yes, but my hearing is poor today,” he replied, a hint of mischief in his tone.

Speechless, she obliged, drawing nearer. But as she did, he pulled the decree sharply from her hand. She had been holding it tightly, and the sudden force nearly sent her tumbling into his arms. She managed to let go of the decree just in time and regained her balance.

“What a pity—Xue’er almost threw herself into my embrace,” Ji Wuqing remarked with feigned regret, his eyes glinting with playful cunning. He tossed the decree aside, never truly interested in it.

His intentions were clearly elsewhere.

“Your Majesty, could you be serious for once…” Xuexue tried to admonish him, but he struck again, lightly grasping her hand and pulling her closer.

“Now I’ve caught you,” he said triumphantly, wrapping his arm around her waist, his dark brows arching in satisfaction.

“Your Majesty…” she sighed helplessly, at a loss for words before his teasing.

“I asked you to be my wife, but you don’t seem happy, Xue’er.” Suddenly, the king turned serious, adjusting their positions as he cradled her on the couch, his body looming over hers.

It was a posture that would have made anyone blush.

Fortunately, Xuexue could not see, though she could feel his breath gently brushing her cheek. Their closeness was odd and intimate.

“I am simply overwhelmed, Your Majesty. The suddenness of your decree leaves me at a loss,” she said. She wasn’t sure why she had come seeking him, nor what she hoped to ask.

He was the king—his will alone decided everything.

“You’re avoiding the question, Xue’er. Don’t try to be clever with me; it will only hurt me,” he said, staring intently at her empty gaze.

The girl lay obedient and gentle on the couch, her bangs pushed aside to reveal a smooth, fair forehead, her vacant eyes seeming clearer than before.

Moved by her delicate appearance, he couldn’t resist brushing her hair aside, his broad palm gently caressing her cheek.

Her face was so small that his hand almost covered it entirely, the touch as soft as he’d imagined.

“So what is Your Majesty plotting now? Or is there something you wish me to do for you?” Xuexue asked, suddenly annoyed. All power rested in his hands, and she didn’t know why she felt such irritation. Was it the fear that his decree came not from true feeling, but from cold calculation?

“Ah, are you afraid I’m using you?” Ji Wuqing realized, his expression shifting oddly—half anger, half delight.

“That is not what I mean,” she replied, keeping her emotions carefully hidden behind a mask of indifference.

“Rest easy, Xue’er. I wish only for one person’s heart, so that others may lose hope of vying for it,” the king said with a smile at her stubbornness. “Besides, do you know what I meant by what I said earlier?”

“Please, Your Majesty, do not toy with me…” She felt embarrassed, as though she had come to demand an explanation on her own behalf.

He chuckled. “Do you remember the Autumn Pavilion I took you to a few days ago? Have you so soon forgotten what I said to you there?” Ji Wuqing continued, “I told you then—I’m very fond of you. So, is there anything else you wish to ask?”

Because he liked her, he granted her this high status. Because he liked her, he wished her always at his side, sharing in the beauty of the world with him.