Chapter 44: Darkness Beneath the Lamp (Part One)

The rain drizzled and pattered all day, finally stopping only before supper. Daidai slipped quietly into the water, catching loaches for half a day and digging up half a bucket of lotus roots, covering herself in mud. Poor Qiuyun and the others suffered for it; when Daidai returned to the rear hall to bathe and change, they discovered her fingertips filled with dirt and hurried to fetch fine silver needles to clean them bit by bit.

“My lady, you mustn’t do this again. Look at yourself—like a mud figurine. If His Majesty saw you, we maids wouldn’t know how to answer for it,” Chunmo grumbled.

“Even if we suffer a little, we’d accept it. What we most fear is never being able to serve you again,” Qiuyun said gently, smiling.

“Exactly,” Chunmo chimed in, laughing.

“You two, stop dawdling. Help the lady finish her hair properly,” Dongcang urged, ever intolerant of untidy attire.

Daidai loved watching their banter, stretching her hands out and letting them fuss over her.

“My lady, Meng Chonyuan is causing trouble in the Imperial Kitchens. Her rank is high, and I thought only you could suppress her,” Xiaji entered hurriedly, face grim.

“That ill-tempered, unloved Meng Chonyuan?” Qiuyun asked.

“Who else? You don’t know how fierce she and her people are. If I’d arrived a bit later, she might have smashed the kitchens entirely. We’d all be left hungry tonight. It infuriates me.”

“She’s a second-rank consort. You, a junior maid, mean nothing to her,” Chunmo snorted, glancing at Daidai. “My lady, it’s time for you to show your authority. I’ve been thinking how best to make them obey—now the opportunity has come right to your door. You must firmly quell their arrogance, so they know who truly rules the harem.”

Qiuyun considered and nodded in agreement, “Chunmo is right, my lady. It’s time to establish your power. For years, the Imperial and Virtuous Consorts have managed palace affairs, and the departments and bureaus have never respected you. Take this chance to show both strength and kindness. Only then can you slowly reclaim real control.”

“Yes, and it’s best to replace those placed in key positions by the Imperial and Virtuous Consorts; otherwise they’ll continue their hypocrisy,” Chunmo said coolly.

“Enough chatter, let’s go,” Daidai said, thinking at this hour he was likely still reviewing memorials—finding some other amusement would be worthwhile.

As Daidai and her entourage left, Li Fuquan received the news and, during a pause while Ji Ye sipped tea, reported the situation briefly.

“The kitchens dared to withhold dishes from Meng Chonyuan? They’re bold. What does the Empress say?”

“Wang Cheng just reported, the Empress has already gone to handle it.”

Ji Ye didn’t even lift his eyelids, set down his teacup, and continued writing with his jade brush, “All matters of the harem are her responsibility. For trifling things like this, you needn’t report to me anymore.”

Li Fuquan nodded quickly, thinking though the Empress seemed youthful and mischievous, her four attendant maidens were each formidable. His worries eased, and he quietly ground the ink.

Soon, the rain outside resumed, bringing a chill breeze and a mournful, ancient melody played on the xun.

That haunting tune easily drew one into a distant dream.

Holding the jade brush, he could no longer write.

He knew who played the xun, and could hear the helpless forgiveness woven into that ancient melody.

Li Fuquan thought, “She’s here.”

The Virtuous Consort—the Emperor’s beloved. She had finally lowered her head to seek favor; the Empress would surely lose his affection now.

No one knew more of Ji Ye and the Virtuous Consort’s love than he. Only when she went astray did Ji Ye’s heart grow cold, allowing the Empress to seize her chance.

Watching His Majesty, Li Fuquan sensed he was about to turn pretense into reality; the Virtuous Consort had grown desperate.

He savored the subtlety, privately hoping she might reclaim the Emperor’s heart. He felt she could at least earn Ji Ye’s love, but the Empress’s influence was unpredictable—there was a streak of wildness in her, liable to erupt at any time. Yet, how could such instability be tolerated near the throne? It was too dangerous.

“Your Majesty, you must be weary. Why not take a walk?” Li Fuquan ventured.

“Li Fuquan, do you think things of the past can ever be reclaimed, returned to their origin?”

Li Fuquan grinned awkwardly, staying silent.

Ji Ye’s lips curled in a sardonic smile, but he rose slowly and walked outside.

“In this world, all things and people change—even myself, even her. But there is one fool who stands still, wandering the same ground for a thousand years, stubborn as a rotting tree.”

“Your Majesty speaks so profoundly, I can hardly grasp it,” Li Fuquan replied, smiling sheepishly.

Following the melody, Ji Ye found, beneath a deep red rose trellis, the Virtuous Consort, bathed in rain and sitting alone, playing the xun. She wore the rose hairpin he had crafted for her, her face streaked with tears. Seeing him, she pressed her lips into a smile—stubborn, forgiving, and so beautiful.

Just as they met in the beginning: he, disguised as a poor scholar; she, shunned by all the noble ladies of Yanjing, sat alone beneath the flowers, playing the xun and quietly weeping, soothing her sorrow with neither jealousy nor hatred.

Her tears remained as beautiful as ever, her gentle demeanor stirring the heart.

For a fleeting moment, he saw her as the official’s daughter who dared elope with him, the “poor scholar,” who nestled tenderly in his arms and said, “I only wish to be with you, no matter your station.”

“A Ye.”

Who knew how long she had been sitting there? Her hair and dress were soaked, her whole figure bedraggled, yet her spirit was irresistibly radiant.

“A Ye.”

Her voice broke, her music faltered.

Suddenly, summoning all her courage, she flung herself forward, embracing him tightly.

“A Ye, I just want to be with you. Why is it so hard? Even my own father forces women upon you. A Ye, is it only by not loving you that my heart won’t ache so?”

Li Fuquan silently gave Virtuous Consort a thumbs-up, quietly retreating to keep watch. He truly feared the unruly lady might spoil the moment.

“A Ye, I’m so cold. Hold me.”

Images flashed through his mind, overlapping and muddled—a little creature always pleaded: “Hold me, kiss me, eat from my lips.”

So shameless in desire, so willful, so charming; arrogant, she was unstoppable—“I am a thousand-year-old demon!”

She was a demon, a little tyrant of the Flower Valley.

Once carefree, then forever drunk, her days and nights reversed, her world dimmed.

Who stole her freedom and joy?

It was heartbreakingly cruel.

He said aloud, “Yu Ying, tonight I’ll come to you.”

He smiled, feeling at last he had found the right attitude in this life. The guilt vanished, but pain began, as if a shard of colored glass were buried deep in his heart—every touch of emotion brought a fresh ache.

Author’s Note: On the 26th.

Though this draw was infuriating, it remains an irreplaceable part of the web novel world—a paradise for those who truly love writing.

So, keep loving it without hesitation.

Dashan continues to write diligently...

Also: Dashan is struggling to write amidst bouts of dizziness...