Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Hidden Beauty

Emperor Jingxi held Awu's hand, leading her into his own palace. Though he called it a palace, it was, in truth, merely a modest villa—a secluded retreat where he occasionally stole a few moments of leisure. For that reason, he had little concern for secrecy here.

He possessed enough patience and interest to indulge this young woman, so he took his time, first settling her in these quiet quarters.

Upon entering, Awu's eyes were immediately drawn to the creeping vines blanketing the walls, with a neat row of sword lilies and pines at the base, and rue planted by the steps. In their verdant abundance, the place exuded a quiet elegance.

"This place is rather simple for you," said Emperor Jingxi. "I’m afraid it’s a little beneath your station."

Awu quickly replied, "You jest, my lord. I do not feel the least bit wronged."

As she spoke, she followed him up the stairs and into the rooms. Before she could take in her surroundings, the man at her side said, "You’ll rest here for now."

Hearing this, Awu realized something. "And you? Where will you be?"

The emperor did not answer. Instead, with a simple gesture, a male attendant hurried in.

Awu was momentarily surprised. She had not expected a manservant; in the Crown Prince’s residence, she had never seen any men. The Crown Prince had never permitted outsiders to lay eyes on her.

Instinctively, she looked to Emperor Jingxi for help.

He sensed the reliance in her gaze—a young woman, brought to an unfamiliar place, startled by the sight of a man, could only turn to him.

"Awu, this is Futai," the emperor explained. "If you need anything, just tell him."

Awu was bewildered, not understanding the situation, but she nodded.

Emperor Jingxi instructed Futai, "See that you look after Lady Fifth."

Lady Fifth? Awu was puzzled by this sudden title, but said nothing.

Futai grinned broadly. "Yes, sir, as you command." He turned to Awu, bowing respectfully. "Lady Fifth, my name is Futai. If you require anything, just let me know."

Futai's voice was somewhat shrill, reminding Awu of the duck her family kept when she was a child—almost endearing in its way.

She nodded softly. "Thank you for your trouble."

Emperor Jingxi took his leave.

Awu leaned against the window lattice, watching his retreating figure—graceful as a crane, dignified and commanding, with every step both confident and unhurried.

She knew he was no ordinary man; it seemed she had found a protector.

Yet he left without a backward glance, and an inexplicable ache of abandonment rose in her heart, as though she were once again cast aside.

Her father and brothers had sailed away, the boy next door was gone, her mother had passed, Lu Yunjian was treacherous, the Crown Prince fickle, Nie San covetous—so many came and went, all eventually leaving her behind.

But she quickly told herself it mattered little. He was only a man.

A man for a single night, even if he had used her body—so what? The pleasure between a man and a woman was nothing but a fleeting encounter, leaving no mark upon her heart.

At the very least, this man offered shelter for now, with meals and warmth.

It was, after all, an exchange.

Just then, Emperor Jingxi suddenly paused, turned, and looked back.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and Awu’s heart skipped a beat.

She turned away, refusing to look at him again.

It wasn’t her intention, but perhaps, in his eyes, she seemed to be watching him with reluctant longing.

Emperor Jingxi’s lips curled in a subtle smile. With silent words, he mouthed, "Tomorrow, I’ll come see you."

***********

The man left at last, leaving Awu’s heart fluttering with that elusive smile he’d given her at the door.

She sensed, indistinctly, that he already regarded her as a treasure to be locked away—a rare prize he now possessed.

Futai, meanwhile, was exceedingly attentive, smiling as he gave her a brief tour of the villa.

Awu listened in confusion, finding both the place and Futai’s voice suspicious. His ingratiating smile made her wonder if she had stumbled into a brothel, with Futai as its keeper.

Surely not…

As she pondered this, a pair of physicians arrived, trailed by three young female medics and several maids, who stepped forward to assist her in undressing.

At first, Awu didn’t understand, but as her fine white silk robe was half undone, realization dawned—the physicians would not only take her pulse, but examine her entire body.

Startled, she clutched at her clothes, the sumptuous layers unable to conceal her pale skin.

Yet there was no room for protest. Futai chuckled reassuringly, "Lady Fifth, this is just procedure. Don’t worry, the staff are gentle and will not overstep."

Dazed, Awu’s grip slackened, and her elaborate gold-brocaded skirt slipped away. She lay back on the couch, the yellow canopy shielding her from outside eyes, as the maids and female medics began their careful ministrations.

She winced at the discomfort, frowning, letting out a low cry.

The two medics, startled by her fragile voice, faltered, their faces flushing.

They were accustomed to the palace, routinely examining the women of the harem. Some delicate ladies would cry out and shy away at the slightest touch—a routine they secretly found tiresome.

But this girl inspired only pity.

They had never seen anyone so tender, so flawless—each inch of skin like translucent jade. When she whimpered softly, even these seasoned medics felt their hearts quicken and a pang of reluctance to proceed.

But this was the emperor’s favored consort for the night; they dared not be careless and steeled themselves for a thorough exam, questioning Awu closely.

Awu was full of suspicion. Years ago, when Lu Yunjian had tried to deliver her to the Crown Prince, physicians had also been summoned to examine and prepare her. Was this man, who seemed so noble, thinking the same way?

She dared not ask further and answered their questions as best she could.

When the medics inquired about pregnancy, she concealed her past entirely.

As the examination concluded, they treated the scratches and bruises on her body, massaging the acupoints on her back.

She did not know what technique they used, but their gentle kneading sent waves of soreness and tingling through her, nearly making her cry out. Embarrassed, she bit her lip, forcing herself to endure.

At last, a slow warmth began to flow from her body.

Awu grasped the brocade tightly, knowing it was the man’s doing—he wished to ensure she would not bear his child.

He seemed considerate, but in truth was wary—after all, theirs was a chance encounter, a fleeting affair, a man’s passing indulgence.

When at last the maids and medics departed, Awu lay weakly on her side beneath the brocade canopy.

She felt uneasy, as if everything around her was insubstantial, a world ready to vanish at the slightest movement, leaving her to fall from the clouds.

Eyes open, she stared into the dimness. She did not know how long she lay there before exhaustion overtook her and she drifted into sleep.

Even then, her dreams were uneasy—a phantasmagoria where she was pursued by Lu Yunjian, coaxed and cajoled by the Crown Prince, menaced by the fierce deities of a Daoist temple, and haunted in turn by the Crown Princess, the Empress, Song Linguan—all flitting by like ghosts.

Frightened nearly out of her wits, she fled again and again until, in her panic, she missed a step and tumbled from a cliff.

Her feet kicked out in terror, and she woke abruptly, eyes opening to the sight of silk curtains embroidered with gold-threaded plum blossoms.

The gauzy curtain swayed in the lamplight, the golden patterns shimmering like a dream.

Outside, a faint fragrance drifted through the air, cool and refined.

As she stirred, two waiting maids hurried over, speaking in soft tones, "Lady Fifth, do you have any instructions?"

Awu stared for a moment before shaking her head, motioning them away.

She was tired, not wanting to speak—only to lie quietly for a while.

Soon, she slipped back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*************

The next morning, Emperor Jingxi rose early. After a brief wash, he practiced martial arts in the mountains.

The Great Hui dynasty had been won on horseback. The founding emperor was skilled in many arts and left strict instructions that his descendants must all be trained in martial skills—riding, archery, swordplay, firearms—none to be neglected.

Emperor Jingxi had been strong since childhood, and his mastery of the martial arts was exceptional.

The southern peaks of Nanqiong soared into the clouds, dense forests surrounding them. In the fresh morning air, Emperor Jingxi performed a set of boxing forms amid the mist and bamboo, his movements vigorous and swift, scattering birds and stirring the grass.

Accompanying him was Fang Yue, a commander in the Imperial Guard, just twenty-three, tall and robust. That day, he wore a lacquered gold cap and martial attire, sparring with the emperor.

After dozens of rounds, both men were breathing heavily, sweat beading their foreheads.

At that moment, Futai gave Fang Yue a discreet signal.

Fang Yue immediately understood. As commander of the Imperial Guard, even though he was not on duty the previous night, a matter of such importance could not be ignored. He had already led a team to investigate, and was fully aware of the events at the hot springs.

Futai’s look was perfectly clear. The emperor’s health was paramount, especially outside the palace. An unexpected night spent with a woman—perhaps several times—could be exhausting, and had also delayed his rest.

Though the emperor appeared energetic this morning, his attendants could not afford the slightest negligence.

So, at the close of their bout, Fang Yue feigned a misstep, retreating in defeat.

He bowed with a smile, "Your Majesty’s skills grow ever more refined. I am ashamed of my own inadequacy."

Emperor Jingxi finished, accepting a sweat cloth from an attendant.

He wiped his brow carelessly, then laughed, "Fang Yue, you are thoughtful today."

Fang Yue flushed, realizing the emperor had seen through his intentions. He replied with a smile, "Your Majesty, I did not rest well last night—that is why I am weak today."

The emperor let it pass. He knew his attendants’ concerns, and if their caution did no harm, he saw no need to correct them.

In truth, after last night’s indulgence, perhaps because the release had been so complete, he had slept better than ever and awakened feeling even more refreshed.

But such intimate matters were not to be shared.

His thoughts drifted back to the night before—the girl’s sorrowful, beguiling eyes, their allure lingering in his mind.

At that moment, the attendant Fuirui, ever observant, noticed the emperor’s brooding expression and grew uneasy, standing by in anxious silence.

Emperor Jingxi ignored Futai, calmly finishing his ablutions before tossing the cloth to another attendant.

Fuirui quickly presented a cup of tea, which the emperor sipped slowly.

The autumn air was heavy, the ground damp with white dew; the tea was cool and sweet.

After a moment, Fang Yue stepped forward to receive any orders. Having worked up a sweat, he had tidied himself before returning to the emperor’s presence.

Born to a humble family, chosen for the Imperial Guard at twelve, and personally selected by Emperor Jingxi at fifteen, Fang Yue had risen steadily over eight years, now privileged to stand at the emperor’s side, ready for any command, whether at court or in private.

As the emperor drank his tea, Fang Yue took the opportunity to mention the importance of breathing techniques in the autumn morning air.

In the Great Hui’s inner court, much attention was paid to health—imperial physicians, Daoist masters, and imperial chefs all had their roles, from diet and herbal supplements to massage, daily exercise, and breathing techniques.

The emperor’s well-being was considered the fortune of all his people, and no effort was spared by those who served him.

Emperor Jingxi now practiced the Daoist method of breathing, following the teachings of Zhuangzi.

After a round of breath exercises, he offered Fang Yue a cup of tea. The commander accepted with deep respect, covering the cup with his sleeve as he drank.

Then he said, "Though I have trained since childhood, I have heard the ancients say: Spring tea is bitter, summer tea astringent, but in autumn, drink white dew."

The emperor replied, "White dew is a fine thing—collected in shallow dishes, brewed like syrup. It sustains and nourishes, staving off hunger. At this time of year, the autumn dew is at its best."

He instructed Fuirui, "Have some of the white dew tea sent up from the south for Commander Fang."

Fuirui immediately assented, and Fang Yue knelt to thank him.

White dew tea was a seasonal delicacy. Though available in the markets, the tribute sent to the palace from the south was of a different caliber.

Emperor Jingxi was generous with his attendants, often rewarding them with gifts—a mark of imperial favor.

To mention at home that one had received a gift from the emperor was a point of great pride.

At last, Emperor Jingxi said, "Speak."

He had not raised his eyes to Fuirui, but the attendant understood the command was for him.

Having waited so long, Fuirui hurried to report, "The chief lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty the Empress, Xiangyin, requests an audience with Your Majesty—she says she bears an urgent matter for your attention."