Chapter 15 — Old Dreams on the Dragon Bed

Emperor Zhao was growing old as well. For the longest time, he refused to acknowledge the encroaching shadows of his age. Late at night, when exhaustion weighed heavily upon him while reviewing endless streams of memorial reports, he would summon his attendants to warm a cup of steaming deer blood wine. Though the imperial physicians repeatedly urged him to moderate his consumption, he simply turned a deaf ear to their cautions. Yet, once a mortal reaches a certain phase in life, no amount of potent restorative wine can ever recapture the boundless vigor of youth. Following the tragic downfall of Prince Su, the imperial court was left with a multitude of vacant, highly influential positions.

He began bringing young Prince Thuy into the grand study, allowing the boy to observe and handle less critical administrative petitions. Whenever Thuy offered a brilliant insight, the emperor would beam with approval. If the boy made a misjudgment, Zhao harbored no anger; instead, he would gently lift a vermilion brush and patiently guide him toward the correct perspective. The more the young prince listened, the brighter his eyes would burn with ambition, invariably concluding his lessons with a humble sigh.

Your humble son is truly dull-witted, possessing barely a fraction or two of my imperial father's profound wisdom.

Yet during the quiet hours of evening study, when I sifted through the abandoned drafts of his political essays, I discovered prose of astonishing eloquence that fearlessly laid bare the festering corruptions of the current era. At merely fifteen years of age, he possessed a terrifying talent for concealing his sharp edges far better than anyone else.

Not long after, his eldest maternal cousin stationed far away in Wuwei was appointed to oversee the vital salt administration circuit in Jiangnan. Though not the loftiest title on paper, it was undeniably one of the most lucrative and coveted posts in the entire realm. Salt taxes sustained the imperial treasury, while Jiangnan controlled the lifeblood of national wealth. By this point, there was scarcely anyone in the imperial court blind to the shifting tides. Even though the once-prominent Lan clan had long since withered into history, a towering figure stood firmly behind young Thuy—none other than the Son of Heaven himself. The coveted position of the Crown Prince was already safely secured within the boy's grasp, an inevitable certainty.

The winter of this year arrived with an unseasonably early snowfall. Emperor Zhao was in remarkably high spirits, indulging in an extra couple of cups of wine during dinner. Once the meal concluded, I gently massaged his temples to ease the tension. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and gazed at me in a prolonged silence.

I am growing old.

Yet when I look at you, you remain precisely as you were on the day you first entered the inner palace.

The flickering warm glow of the hearth cast dancing shadows across his features, softening the sharp, intimidating edge of his youth and replacing it with an inexpressible, profound weariness. I offered a gentle, reassuring smile.

For Your Majesty to speak thus brings this concubine a strange sense of comfort.

For a woman dwelling within the deep confines of the inner court, the most terrifying fate is not the inevitable fading of one's physical beauty, but rather the quiet moment when Your Majesty begins to perceive her as old.

Amused by my candid remark, the emperor let out a low chuckle, though a fleeting, haunted mist clouded his eyes.

Whenever I gaze upon you, a recurring thought inevitably crosses my mind—had she lived, she would likely resemble you quite closely by now.

My fingers continued their steady, soothing rhythm across his temples as I listened to him muse aloud.

If she were still alive today, she naturally would have been considerably older than you.

Yet whenever memories of her surface in my mind, the images that endure are invariably those letters sent from Shaozhou.

Every single character radiated an unyielding, fierce defiance.

At the time, I even found myself thinking that the author of those words, should she ever stand before my throne, would surely be the very last person on earth willing to bow her head.

He slowly raised his gaze to study the vibrantly alluring woman sitting before him. Her eyes still retained the luminous innocence of youth, spiced with a hint of mischievous stubbornness that swore never to completely surrender. In the past, when he looked at her, he merely regarded her as a delicate young maiden sheltered by the Lan family. Though tender in years, her audacity was boundless. When they first crossed paths within the Phoenix Hall, she would perform her formal courtesies with absolute obedience, only to instantly raise her head with a radiant, dazzling smile and address him affectionately as her paternal uncle-in-law. Later on, within the solemn expanse of the Hall of Supreme Purity, she would brazenly exploit her youth to reach out and snatch a red bean pastry directly from the imperial desk. Caught red-handed by the emperor himself, she felt not a shred of terror, merely blinking playfully as she defended herself.

This humble maiden is merely tasting a single piece; surely Your Majesty will not haggle with a mere junior, will you?

Back then, Emperor Zhao could only perceive her as a creature overflowing with relentless vitality. It was not until much later that the long-buried judicial case of Shaozhou was gradually unearthed, piece by agonizing piece. On an old portrait, a young woman stared back with impossibly clear eyes, the corners of her lips curved into a faint, distant smile. As Emperor Zhao lingered over that visage for hours, a sudden realization struck him, reminding him intensely of the cheeky young girl who used to frequent the Phoenix Hall. They bore an astonishing seven-part resemblance. Even more remarkably coincidental was the fact that the very day after the tragic demise of the former lady of Lan, a newborn infant girl entered the world within the Lan household. In that single, suspended heartbeat, a profound thought took root in Emperor Zhao's mind. Fate had played a cruel trick on him once before, blinding him with a mistaken identity and causing him to misplace his entire devotion for decades. Perhaps the heavens, witnessing his unflagging diligence and unwavering focus throughout all these grueling years, decided to grant his old dream a brand-new vessel, returning her gently to his side.

Reflecting upon this, he looked tenderly at the smiling woman before him.

Back then, I took you into the palace purely to save your life.

And yet, you stubbornly refused to appreciate my intentions, weeping and screaming through the entire night, creating a din loud enough to shatter my skull.

I could not help but laugh along with him.

This concubine was simply ignorant back then, utterly failing to comprehend Your Majesty's profound intentions.

It was only after I finally understood that I realized I had long been standing precariously at the edge of a bottomless abyss, repeatedly pulled back to safety by Your Majesty's own hands.

I leaned my head affectionately against his pillow, my tone carrying a deliberate touch of coquettish vulnerability.

Therefore, Your Majesty must promise to protect this concubine for a very long time.

This concubine is naturally timid and still prone to faltering in many tasks.

Furthermore, young Thuy is still tender in years and cannot possibly dispense with the personal tutelage of his imperial father.

He reached out and grasped my hand, though his grip lacked the powerful firmness of his younger days.

Very well, I shall protect both you and our son.

No matter how intensely an absolute monarch might yearn for immortality and eternal youth, he ultimately remained powerless against the inexorable decrees of heaven. The imperial physicians practically relocated their quarters directly into the Hall of Supreme Purity, tending to roaring medicinal cauldrons that blazed from dawn until deep into the night. Yet the natural cycle of birth, aging, illness, and death can never be halted by a mere draught of medicine. Having squandered an immense amount of mental fortitude in his youth, followed by the exhausting turmoil of deposing a crown prince and crushing Prince Su in his later years, his physical shell had long since been worn threadbare. I never lifted a finger against him, nor was there ever any necessity to do so.