"Very well, stay behind after court," Wumian said with a smile.

  Hu Meiren gnced at Lin Baolin and couldn’t help starting up again. “You’re still just a Baolin. Even the newly entered girls have higher ranks than you now.”

  Lin Baolin shot her a gre. “I’m not favored because I ck skill. If my rank is low, then so be it. It’s not such a big deal.”

  “Rare to see such a peaceful heart, Sister Lin,” Yang Jieyu remarked with a smile.

  The small talk came to a close, and Wumian spoke, “There’s nothing else today. Li Liangyi is pregnant, so we should all be a little more mindful. Competing for favor or holding grudges—anyone would have such thoughts. But remember: if any harm comes to the imperial heir, the consequences will be yours to bear. That’s all—dismissed.”

  Everyone rose and took their leave.

  Lin Baolin’s embroidery was indeed lovely, and she eagerly showed it to Wumian, who gave her genuine praise.

  “Your Majesty, Jinbo and the others said they’re working on the ash. Would you like to take a look?” Feixu asked.

  Wumian took Lin Baolin along. “Come, let’s go see.”

  When they arrived, the ash paste was ready and was now being pounded—a process that needed time and effort.

  Lin Baolin asked about it and was stunned to learn it was for making ink sticks.

  “I’ll send you a few when they’re ready.”

  “Ah… I—I don’t know how to read…” Lin Baolin said, flustered.

  Wumian turned her head sharply. “You don’t?”

  Lin Baolin flushed. “My father said… girls only need to know how to embroider.”

  Wumian pressed a hand to her forehead. “Then why not learn now?”

  “Really? I’d love to! I always admired my cousin—she writes beautifully and paints too. Whenever Mother took me to visit, I’d just sit and watch her write. But my father insisted girls shouldn’t study, so my mother didn’t push me.”

  “You don’t have to read the Four Books and Five Cssics, but if you don’t even know characters, how will you manage a household account book? Your family has a sixth-rank post, doesn’t it? If you hadn’t entered the pace, you’d have been the wife of a proper household. Wouldn’t you be in charge of managing the estate?”

  “Father said we’d just bring a stewardess.”

  Wumian sighed. No wonder this silly girl trusted her so fully—no matter how badly she was used, she never seemed to notice. She’d been raised to be useless.

  “Learn it. Knowing how to read is the best way to pass the time ter on.”

  “Alright! I’ll do as you say, Your Majesty!” Lin Baolin said cheerfully.

  She stayed quite a while before leaving.

  After she was gone, Yanming came to report, “Your Majesty, Guifei sent bird’s nest to Li Liangyi.”

  At her current rank, Li Liangyi wasn’t entitled to delicacies like bird’s nest—only because she was pregnant did she receive special treatment.

  “So generous?” Wumian raised a brow but didn’t dwell on it.

  “Yes, she’s always been looked after. Now that she’s pregnant, Guifei is even more attentive. Likely, she’s thinking ahead—if Li Liangyi gives birth, it’s uncertain whether she’ll be promoted. Guifei might be eyeing the child.”

  Technically, one didn’t have to be of high rank to raise an imperial child, but it was common for consorts of higher status to raise the children of lower-ranked ones—especially if the mother passed away.

  “Doesn’t seem like being the first to conceive gives you much of a lead,” Wumian muttered as she stood. “Let’s go eat. If she wants to give, let her. She’s the one managing the harem. If it were me, I wouldn’t be meddling in so much.”

  “Your Majesty, it’s one thing not to fight, but letting Guifei hold onto control of the harem long-term won’t be good for you,” Linshui warned.

  “I know the reasoning. But patience—things given to you are better than things you fight for.”

  “As long as Your Majesty has a pn.”

  “If I could peacefully live as a figurehead empress, I’d be gd not to scheme at all. But in this world, no such luck. Relinquishing power temporarily is fine—lose it forever, and you’re done for.”

  Before the Dragon Boat Festival, Wumian had two ink sticks from her new batch sent to the emperor.

  She looked at them and was satisfied. “Not bad. These write quite well.”

  “They’re as good as tribute ink,” said Linshui. “And you added some medicinal herbs too—smells a little bitter, but it has a distinct charm.”

  “Mm. It’s darker than the usual ones. I like it.”

  Ying Qionglou received the two smooth, round ink sticks with mild speechlessness.

  Most ink sticks these days were rectangur or square, embellished with gold or silver inys and inscriptions. These two—pin and simply rolled into shape—looked rather rustic.

  “Well, since they’re here, grind one for me to try. The Empress put her heart into this—I should see what it’s like.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Lu Zhong answered, grinding a piece. “Smells different… has a faint medicinal scent—bitter, but not unpleasant.”

  Ying Qionglou walked over, dipped his brush, and wrote a few characters. The ink was rich and smooth, bcker than his usual ink, with a pleasant consistency.

  “Mm. It’s excellent. Likely good for painting too,” he nodded in approval.

  “Her Majesty also sent over the steps for how it’s made.”

  He read through it and nodded. “She put in effort. Take this to the Hall of Ceremonial Affairs. Tell them this is from the Empress—have them produce some in batches.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Once he finished writing, Ying Qionglou set down his brush and said, “Someone—prepare my robes.”

  Not long after, Ying Qionglou changed into fresh robes and made his way to the Empress’s pace.

  As he entered Fengyi Pace, a maid quickly announced his arrival. Wumian stepped out to greet him. “Your Majesty has come.”

  “I just used some of your ink to write a few characters,” he said as they walked inside. “It’s quite good. You really went through some effort—where did you learn to make it?”

  “From a book, I think. I’ve forgotten exactly where I saw it—just a sudden whim,” Wumian replied. The day was hot, and the interior was far more comfortable than the sun-drenched courtyard outside.

  “I also sent a couple of sticks to the Empress Dowager’s pace earlier,” she added.

  “She’s not fond of these things,” Ying Qionglou remarked, knowing well that the Empress Dowager had little interest in poetry, calligraphy, or schorly pursuits.

  “Even so, I sent them along. I don’t have much else to offer her,” Wumian said casually.

  “The Empress is thoughtful,” he acknowledged.

  As the two conversed, a maid from Fengyi Pace stepped in and bowed. “Your Majesty, Your Majesty the Empress—someone from Li Liangyi’s quarters is requesting an audience at the gates.”

  “Oh?” Wumian raised a brow. “What’s the matter? She’s carrying a child—we can’t afford to be negligent. Go see what it is.”

  Feixu went personally.

  A short while ter, she returned. “Your Majesty, the maidservant from Li Liangyi’s side said she’s feeling a little unwell and hopes His Majesty might come see her. But when I asked further, she had no other details.”

  Wumian was speechless. So they were trying to lure him away—in broad daylight, no less?

  “If she’s unwell, summon the imperial physician,” Ying Qionglou said, his brow furrowed. “Tell Li Liangyi: if she doesn’t understand proper conduct, she had better start learning.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Feixu answered quickly before hurrying off.

  The attendants from Li Liangyi’s quarters, finding themselves turned away at the Empress’s pace, dared not linger. Embarrassed and chastened, they retreated in silence.