Chapter Eight: The Inspection Tour

The weather in June was not yet oppressive, but already bore the signs of summer. Feng Qiuji, resigned to her fate, had no choice but to ask Ling Zexin to occasionally bring her some ice, while she busied herself in the Cold Palace with concocting all sorts of fresh fruit juices.

Early in the morning, Eunuch Sun arrived to deliver an imperial edict: the Emperor was to travel incognito, and she had been specially chosen to accompany him. Feng Qiuji was utterly bewildered. After all, the Emperor had never seemed to take notice of her before—why, then, would he bring her along now? Still, since Ling Zetian had summoned her, she followed willingly and with delight. She had been cooped up in the Cold Palace for too long, never once glimpsing the world outside.

Upon boarding the carriage, Feng Qiuji discovered that besides Ling Zetian, there was another passenger: Anuo. After some discreet inquiry, she learned his full name was Ling Shunuo—no matter how one heard it, it sounded rather like a girl’s name! The atmosphere in the carriage was stiflingly quiet; both Ling Zetian and Anuo were silent, leaving Feng Qiuji feeling as though she were sitting on pins and needles. She was, by nature, talkative, and such enforced silence was pure torment.

After a moment’s thought, she leaned over and patted Anuo on the head. “Anuo, your hairstyle looks wonderful today. Who did it for you? And my, your skin is lovely! What kind of skincare do you use?”

Anuo raised his arm and brusquely knocked her hand from his head, snapping coldly, “Don’t touch me.”

In truth, Anuo had disliked females since childhood, whether little girls, beauties, or old women. Thus, at the Splendid Palace, Ling Zetian had arranged only a few maidservants to attend him; the rest were eunuchs and guards.

Feng Qiuji’s embarrassed smile froze on her face, a surge of anger rising within her. This little brat—she had never met a child so impenetrable! How on earth had Ling Zetian raised him? Watching his frosty expression, Feng Qiuji felt an urge to give him a sound beating. She glanced at Ling Zetian, who sat with eyes closed, leaning in the corner as if asleep.

Without further hesitation, Feng Qiuji seized Anuo, pinching his cheeks fiercely as she scolded, “Little rascal, do your parents know how rude you are outside?”

Anuo grimaced under her assault, baring his teeth. “You wicked woman, let me go… or I won’t be polite!”

Feng Qiuji paid him no mind. Just then, a strong, intoxicating scent of flowers suddenly filled the air. She rubbed her nose and was about to wonder where it came from when a scorching heat surged through her body.

Seeing her like this, Anuo immediately broke free and scrambled to the corner of the carriage, chubby finger pointing at Ling Zetian. “There’s a big block of ice over there.”

In fact, the drug at play was called Sinking Fragrance—a name only, for its true purpose was to induce hallucinations. The victim would experience visions shaped by their own subconscious or by cues from onlookers.

Now, before Feng Qiuji’s eyes stretched a vast green meadow, and on it—a great block of ice. She began to hurriedly shed her clothes and lunged toward it.

This was no sight for children; Anuo sensibly covered his eyes and crouched in the corner.

Feng Qiuji’s leap, however, landed her squarely on Ling Zetian, causing him real pain. He opened his eyes with a frown to find her sitting uninvited on his lap, her blouse half removed, hands tugging at his clothes, her body pressing against him.

“Anuo, not your tricks again. Where’s the antidote?” Ling Zetian caught Feng Qiuji’s hand just as she was about to undress him, casting a sharp glance at Anuo in the corner.

“Father, I left the antidote at the palace,” Anuo answered, unconcerned. He was intent on watching that woman make a fool of herself.

Feng Qiuji’s fair arms had already wrapped around Ling Zetian’s neck; she nuzzled and caressed his chest, inflaming a desire in Ling Zetian to toss her right out the window.

“Oh… mmm… so comfortable…” Feng Qiuji grew more and more fervent, her eyes clouded, face flushed, soft moans escaping her lips. Ling Zetian’s temple throbbed.

With one arm, he held Feng Qiuji; with the other, he lifted Anuo, calling out, “Yufan, catch!” Anuo was promptly tossed from the carriage.

Yufan, the bodyguard, caught Anuo and set him on his horse, ruffling his hair. “Anuo, what are you up to now?”

Anuo, smug, gripped the reins with his small, fair hands, nestled in Yufan’s arms. “Brother Yufan, people who bully Anuo are bad, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” Yufan chuckled. As the chief imperial bodyguard, he had watched Anuo grow up. He knew how much Ling Zetian cherished this son—who would dare bully him? More likely, it was Anuo who did the bullying.

“Anuo’s doing a good thing, you know.”

Indeed, he had done a good deed. Inside the carriage, Ling Zetian’s face grew darker as Feng Qiuji’s soft moans continued. In her state, he could not let Anuo see her, so he had thrown the boy out. Now, holding Feng Qiuji in his arms—her delicate brows, fair and tender skin, and the intimate exposure—Ling Zetian felt a rare surge of irritation.

Calloused though his hand was, it stroked her cheek, feeling its smoothness.

For Feng Qiuji, his hand was a rare touch of coolness. She nuzzled his face, lips brushing his warm mouth, her tongue seeking entrance, her low moans unceasing.

Ling Zetian hesitated only a moment before capturing her lips, entering her mouth without resistance, entwining with her. The sweet fragrance of her breath and the delicate sounds she made were intoxicating. As he stroked the softness of her chest, Ling Zetian tightened his embrace, deepening the kiss.

The carriage rolled along the broad, even highway, flanked by verdant hills and clear waters, the sky blue and clouds white—a scene to lift anyone’s spirits.

But inside, Ling Zetian’s large hand had already slipped to Feng Qiuji’s waist, ready to undo her belt, when he suddenly realized what he was doing.

Feng Qiuji was only behaving this way because of the drug—how could he allow himself to lose control?

With that thought, Ling Zetian let her go, pressed a point to render her unconscious, then covered her with the scattered garments and held her quietly.

He lifted the curtain; outside, a cool breeze blew in, soothing and pleasant. Ling Zetian glanced at Feng Qiuji, lying in his arms.

She was his Empress, his woman, yet this was the first time he had truly looked at her with such care. The world was filled with beauties for his taking, but he had never been moved by any of them. Was it because his heart already belonged to someone, leaving no room for another?

He was ten years old when he first met Yan Wuying in the imperial garden.

That man, always in his beloved blue robe, was the youngest general in the Ling Dynasty. Yet, unlike other generals, he never dressed in martial attire or acted brashly. His face bore a faint, serene smile, seeming detached from worldly cares, like an immortal unfettered by mortal troubles.

Yan Wuying, versed in poetry and the classics by age three, skilled in military strategy by five, went to war with his father at thirteen, and was made a general at sixteen, creating legendary feats for the Ling Dynasty—tales that became the stuff of legend.

From that time, Ling Zetian resolved to surpass him, that genius among men.

At eleven, Ling Zetian was captured while leading troops to suppress a rebellion—still just a child. Yan Wuying, upon hearing this, infiltrated the rebel stronghold alone that very night. When he found Ling Zetian, he bore more than a dozen knife wounds; his clothes were in disarray, but his bearing was as graceful as ever.

He still wore that faint smile. “Your Highness, Wuying has come to save you.”

From then on, Ling Zetian entered his sect, becoming his junior disciple.

At that time, Yan Wuying said earnestly, “Your Highness, you are clever and courageous; you are surely the future sovereign. The Ling family has shown Wuying great kindness—my life is pledged to repay that debt. When you ascend the throne, I will remain by your side, sworn to keep the dynasty safe.”

At thirteen, Ling Zetian saw Yan Wuying, now twenty, finally marry. His wife, the eldest daughter of the Deputy Minister of Rites, was both beautiful and talented, gentle and virtuous—a match made in heaven.

Ling Zetian brought his father’s decree and gifts to congratulate Yan Wuying at the general’s residence.

To Ling Zetian, Yan Wuying was not only a subject, a senior disciple, and a friend, but also an exceptional teacher—he had learned much from him; they were brothers in all but blood.

That day, Ling Zetian met Qin Ruyan—Yan Wuying’s wife’s fifth younger sister. As the daughter of a concubine, she had never been favored. She stood quietly to one side, smiling as her sister married into the general’s household, while she herself remained behind, enduring the scorn of her siblings and the indifference of her mother.

Qin Ruyan’s mother had been a famed courtesan in her youth, men willing to spend fortunes for a single meeting. But the pleasure quarters were, in the end, a world of fleeting beauty. No matter how stunning, she was but a woman of the dust. She met Lord Qin, the Deputy Minister of Rites, became pregnant after a night of his drunken affection. At the time, Lord Qin was so besotted he defied his wife’s objections, ransomed the courtesan, and took her as a concubine.

Qin Ruyan’s mother was naive and uncalculating; after entering the household, she suffered constant bullying. In the first two years, Lord Qin still protected her, but as his interest faded, she and her daughter were forced to live in a separate courtyard, keeping to themselves and meeting no outsiders. Qin Ruyan grew up in this neglected environment, never truly accepted.

Yan Wuying’s wife, born of the principal wife, was greatly favored by her father. She was kind-hearted and often helped Qin Ruyan and her mother, to whom Qin Ruyan became deeply attached.

Thereafter, Qin Ruyan often visited the general’s residence, as did Ling Zetian. Over time, the two became acquainted.

—A brief aside—Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas! Haha~