Ying Qionglou looked over. Wumian had written: “The fish dwells near the shoal, or hides in the depths. It delights in its garden, where there are sandalwood trees and fertile valleys. Stones from other mountains may be used to polish jade.”

  “It must be polished—why insist on such structure? A little roundness means less suffering,” he commented.

  Wumian tossed her paper aside. “Jade may have spirit, but that doesn’t mean it’s willing to be polished.”

  “Those words of yours, Empress… are we feeling a bit resentful?” Ying Qionglou teased.

  By then, they had walked to the side, where pace maids had brought in warm water. Wumian personally helped wash the ink off the Emperor’s hands.

  His hands were bony and firm, with distinct joints—handsome hands, really.

  She gently cleaned the traces of ink from his fingers. “Not quite resentment… I just think everything in the world ought to retain its original form. Those stones soaked in water, smoothed by years of flowing streams—they may be round and glossy, but what use are they? Nothing more than pavement underfoot. The more they’re stepped on, the less edge they have.”

  Ying Qionglou reached into the basin, csped her hand in return, and began washing it with her. “I never knew the Empress had such a unique perspective.”

  Wumian smiled faintly. Once their hands were clean, Ying Qionglou ordered the memorials taken away.

  It was time to rest.

  On the bed, Wumian y down willingly against his chest and murmured, “Your Majesty, could you be gentler tonight? Don’t just think of yourself.”

  Her words gave Ying Qionglou pause. “So the Empress is harboring some compints after all.”

  Wumian nodded, not even trying to deny it. “If Your Majesty is referring to that matter, then yes—I do have some compints. We’re husband and wife, aren’t we? Isn’t it supposed to be enjoyable for both of us? I didn’t dare speak up before, but now that I’ve thought it through… I’m already married. You’re the one closest to me in this world. If I can’t even speak the truth with you, wouldn’t that be truly sad?”

  As she spoke, her fingers slid into his inner robe, brushing lightly across his chest. “Especially since you’re older than me, Your Majesty. Shouldn’t you cherish me a little more? Husband… isn’t that so?”

  “You’ve said so much—if I don’t respond, wouldn’t that ‘husband’ title you just called me go to waste?” Ying Qionglou replied with a smirk. He had so many women in the pace—none had ever dared compin about his conduct in bed.

  Besides, he was the Emperor. Of course he did as he pleased.

  And now, this woman had the audacity to compin?

  Pinned beneath him, Wumian wrapped her arms around his neck. “A good man doesn’t torment his wife in bed.”

  That made Ying Qionglou snort with ughter. He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not that crude.”

  Wumian quickly soothed his mood. “Your Majesty, at a time like this, you truly look the image of a noble dragon.”

  He hovered over her, gaze intent. “And this is the time you choose to say that?”

  Wumian blushed. “Your Majesty is strong and fierce… Very majestic.”

  Ying Qionglou gave a low chuckle and pulled open her robes.

  At first, Wumian was still calm, but soon, she realized something was wrong.

  This damned man!

  Fine, he wasn’t tormenting her in bed… but he sure wasn’t pying fair either.

  Every few minutes, he’d stop and ask, “Does the Empress like it like this? Is this to your satisfaction?”

  Was this man serious?

  Dragging her along like this—who would’ve thought such a tall, imposing emperor could be so… petty!

  Wumian simply indulged herself. Whenever he asked, she answered. And when he asked again, she said, “It was starting to feel good, but the moment you asked—it wasn’t anymore.”

  In the end, it was hard to say whether the Emperor and Empress were satisfied or not that night.

  But one thing was certain—after their bath, Wumian gave the Emperor a light kick to the calf when they got back in bed. It wasn’t hard, but the displeasure behind it was clear.

  Ying Qionglou didn’t respond. He simply went to sleep as usual. Come morning, he even had the audacity to wake Wumian and make her serve him.

  She stared at him with sleep-deprived eyes, silent. But in her gaze was one very loud sentence: Your Majesty, you really are something else.

  Since she was already up, it wasn’t long until the rest of the concubines would arrive to greet her. Luckily, the Emperor wasn’t attending court today—if he had woken her up in the middle of the night just to leave early, she might’ve genuinely gotten angry.

  “Would Your Majesty like breakfast?” Wumian asked, her tone ft and lifeless.

  He hadn’t pnned on it—but seeing her like this, he changed his mind. “Mm.”

  Wumian waved her hand. “Prepare breakfast,” she ordered vaguely. She didn’t even bother with pleasantries like ‘bring His Majesty’s favorite dishes.’ She didn’t even change or apply makeup—just swept her hair up with a single gold hairpin, washed her face, and sat down to eat with him.

  Ying Qionglou took a sip of tea. “Every time I leave, you’re still asleep. And today, even this te, you still look tired?”

  “I was ill. My body’s still weak,” Wumian replied.

  “You say that like it was so serious. But st night,” he said with a smirk, “I recall you still had plenty of strength.” His back had the scratch marks to prove it.

  Wumian didn’t argue. She just gnced at him.

  Too tired, she barely touched her breakfast. Ying Qionglou frowned. “You’re eating too little.”

  Wumian gave a sleepy hum. “I’ll have some snacks ter. I’ll eat more at lunch and dinner.”

  “That’s not healthy,” he said sternly.

  Wumian sighed. “I understand. I’ll change. It’s just today I’m sleepy. I’ll follow Your Majesty’s advice: a full breakfast, a good lunch, and a light dinner.”

  “Good,” he nodded. “As long as the Empress understands.”

  After their meal, Wumian personally walked him to the door. “Take care, Your Majesty.”

  Ying Qionglou nodded. He couldn’t help but recall how, in the past, she used to ask him, ‘When will Your Majesty visit again?’ or ‘Shall I prepare something special for dinner?’ and so on.

  But now, she was obediently quiet. Not a word.

  After the Emperor left, Wumian had no time to nap. While Zhaohua was doing her hair, Linshui brought in a bowl of bird’s nest soup. “Your Majesty ate too little. Please have some to refresh yourself.”

  Wumian accepted it, eating slowly as Zhaohua continued her hairstyling. “Have any visitors arrived? If so, let them wait in the main hall. No need to make them stand outside.”

  In the past, Wumian used to leave them waiting outside—an easy way to offend people.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Right away.”

  By the time Wumian was nearly ready, everyone had arrived.

  After allowing them to rise, she addressed the group. “Fu Meiren’s injuries are quite serious. She won’t be joining us for a while.”

  “Yes, I sent someone to visit yesterday,” said Guifei. “Her injuries do seem severe. Clearly, the servants in Jinhua Pavilion are incompetent.”

  “Incompetent, are they?” Li Fei said pointedly. “Then, Elder Sister, have you punished them? If they failed to serve their mistress properly, they ought to be disciplined.”

  The Emperor and Empress had both visited Fu Meiren yesterday. Neither had said a word about punishment—would Guifei really dare?

  Guifei gave Li Fei a cold gnce. “Let’s wait until Fu Meiren recovers before addressing that. If we punish her servants now, she’ll be left without anyone familiar to care for her—it’ll only make things worse.”

  “My, how understanding of you, Elder Sister,” Li Fei sneered. “Here I thought you only liked punishing my servants. Turns out you do pick and choose who deserves ‘compassion.’”

  Last winter, one of Li Fei’s maids had made a mistake under Guifei’s supervision and was flogged twenty times.