Chapter Thirteen: The Inner Palace

A single stone set off waves upon waves; in an instant, the entire court was thrown into turmoil by the words of Prince Changwu and Minister Mingde of the Board of Revenue.

Below the dais, Lu Jue gazed quietly at Feng Yewu through the screen, his eyes full of conflicting emotions.

Perhaps sensing his thoughts, a gentle breeze began to stir, and just as the clamor among the ministers grew louder, the sheer curtain between Feng Yewu and Lu Jue was lightly lifted.

The sense of uncertainty, of gain and loss, mirrored precisely the state of Lu Jue’s heart at that moment.

For days, though people had discussed the matter, it had never been brought to the fore. Lu Jue, accustomed to moving about the palace, could hardly have failed to hear the whispers.

Though mere rumors, they carried a different flavor for Lu Jue—who can claim to be free of selfish thoughts? Even if words were few between them, to spend every day at her side was its own kind of satisfaction.

Yet Lu Jue’s feelings remained unknown to Feng Yewu.

“I believe that His Majesty, being in the prime of youth, should consider establishing the imperial harem—a matter of utmost importance,” someone declared.

Feng Yewu looked at the group of ministers debating before her; though her face betrayed nothing, the loathing in her eyes had begun to rise.

Chen Sinian, standing nearby, noticed Feng Yewu’s silence and assumed she was acquiescing. After all, most of the officials were in agreement; seasoned courtiers as they were, they understood the true intent behind these proposals.

After a long silence, Feng Yewu spoke at last: “Thank you for your concern, Prince Changwu. May I ask if any among you has a candidate in mind?”

At her words, Minister Mingde’s eyes lit up, and Prince Changwu beside him showed a hint of joy as well.

“Since ancient times, emperors have chosen consorts and rebuilt their harems from among the noble houses. Now, the heirs of these families are all of similar age to Your Majesty. What do you think?”

The minister spoke as if seeking the sovereign’s opinion, but already he withdrew a scroll from his sleeve, clearly prepared in advance.

“It seems the minister has been ready for this moment,” Feng Yewu remarked.

She watched as Minister Mingde produced the scroll; she knew well enough what it contained.

At a signal from Feng Yewu, Han Yue promptly stepped forward, respectfully taking the scroll from the minister’s hands and presenting it to Feng Yewu.

As Feng Yewu examined the list, Lu Jue behind her felt a surge of frustration.

He could not help but mock himself—what was he, after all? The son of a disgraced official from the previous dynasty, living under the shadow of punishment, condemned to servitude.

Now that Feng Yewu was to rebuild the harem, his origins surely offered no hope. The thought made him even more despondent, yet he dared not reveal a trace of sorrow.

“The matter of rebuilding the harem cannot be decided so hastily. I will keep this list and consider it for a few days before making a decision,” Feng Yewu announced.

Though the list contained the names of heirs from noble families, Feng Yewu knew well it was merely a means for them to tighten their control over her, using the expansion of the harem as an excuse to plant more spies.

She understood, yet could not refuse.

For in recent days, she and Lu Jue, coming and going together, had likely become the subject of these people’s scrutiny. The reason they had not yet raised the issue was because they awaited her response.

If she truly refused, they would surely implicate Lu Jue.

Thinking of this, Feng Yewu caught the mocking smile in Chen Sinian’s eyes—he was waiting for her to decline.

In that brief moment, Feng Yewu made her decision: the matter of the harem could proceed as they wished, but she would not let it become a point of contention today.

After court was dismissed, Feng Yewu returned to her chambers as usual, accompanied by Lu Jue. Yet she sensed, however faintly, that he was avoiding her.

“What are your thoughts on their proposal to select consorts for me today?”

After washing and changing, Feng Yewu sat quietly on her couch, a light veil draped about her. She held the list in her hand with a hint of amusement and casually addressed Lu Jue, who stood by the door.

“Is Your Majesty asking me?”

At some point, Han Yue had dismissed the attendants and maids, leaving only the two of them in the chamber.

Lu Jue stood straight outside the rosewood threshold, his expression blank, his eyes complex. Upon hearing Feng Yewu’s question, he felt his throat tighten, unable to turn and meet her gaze, and replied in a daze.

“Is there anyone else here besides you?”

Feng Yewu’s tone grew colder, a touch of anger in her heart—she could not understand why Lu Jue suddenly behaved so distant.

“May Your Majesty’s anger be soothed.”

Sensing Feng Yewu’s mood, Lu Jue quickly turned, kneeling before her, pressing his face to the cold floor.

“Enough, I haven’t the energy to be angry with you. Just tell me your opinion.”

Feng Yewu looked at Lu Jue kneeling before her and felt a weariness settle in her heart; she waved her hand to indicate he should rise.

Lu Jue lifted his head slightly and saw the fatigue on Feng Yewu’s face, mistakenly believing she was tired of him, feeling as though all hope had died.

He stood, but remained respectfully bowed.

His actions made it clear that a distance had grown between them, leaving Feng Yewu surprised and somewhat disheartened.