Chapter Twenty-Four: Damn It, You Think I Can't Handle It?

Feng Xiaoli suddenly spat out the water in her mouth, utterly caught off guard by the shocking words that had just tumbled from Yue Wanqing's lips. The Right Prime Minister—what sort of position was that? It was a place of power second only to the emperor himself, standing equal to the Left Prime Minister, both pillars of the court. It was unimaginable that the Right Prime Minister could be such a young man, not like the Left Prime Minister, whose face was already deeply etched with the marks of age and experience.

Shen Yuchen had expected precisely this reaction from Feng Xiaoli. Who would believe that among all the ministers, there was one so young? Yet, despite his youth, his abilities were extraordinary, surpassing many elder statesmen. With his chiseled, jade-like features, he had won the admiration of countless young women.

Feng Xiaoli, unfamiliar with the court’s inner circle, naturally did not recognize Shen Yuchen.

Though Yue Wanqing had a childlike temperament, she was no fool. She understood well enough that Shen Yuchen was not to be trifled with. The Right Prime Minister and Prince Chun’s household had always remained separate, but for the Left Prime Minister, Shen Yuchen was a constant stumbling block—an obstacle that could neither be avoided nor overcome, forever lying squarely in his path.

Any proposal from the Left Prime Minister would invariably be met with Shen Yuchen’s perfectly reasoned rebuttal, leaving the Left Prime Minister utterly speechless. The Emperor of Qianqing placed great trust in him, entrusting him with numerous affairs, both great and small. The Left Prime Minister, no matter how vexed, had no alternative but to acquiesce.

However, Shen Yuchen was a man who, when uninterested, would defer all matters to the Left Prime Minister, enjoying a life of ease and freedom.

When Yue Wanqing caught sight of Shen Yuchen’s handsome face, her gaze darkened and her expression grew grave. She could not fathom his intentions—why, with a seat reserved for him, would he choose to sit opposite Feng Xiaoli? What could his purpose be? Had she not returned early, who knew what unknown things Shen Yuchen might have done to Feng Xiaoli?

At his core, his soul was surely up to no good.

Feng Xiaoli did not dwell on it as much as she did. Beyond the water she had just sprayed, she simply accepted the handkerchief Jin Ning offered, allowing Jin Ning to soothe her cough and gently pat her back. Once she felt better, she looked at Shen Yuchen in puzzlement and asked, “I wonder, sir, since you have your own seat, why do you insist on sitting here?”

Shen Yuchen replied with a smile as gentle as a spring breeze in March, tinged with a hint of distance: “The view is clearer from here.” His words were teasingly ambiguous, leaving unsaid exactly what could be seen more clearly. After Yue Wanqing had revealed his identity, his demeanor was no longer as relaxed as before; now, he spoke with considered gravity.

Yue Wanqing plopped herself carelessly down beside Feng Xiaoli, ignoring Shen Yuchen entirely. If he wished to sit there and dine with them, so be it—so long as he didn’t interfere. Still, she reminded Feng Xiaoli to be cautious and avoid provoking him in the future. Judging from Feng Xiaoli’s earlier reaction, she had likely already attracted his attention before Yue Wanqing’s arrival. No matter; she would keep her distance in the days to come.

She had rushed back from the outskirts of the city to the palace for one reason: to attend the Emperor’s birthday banquet. The Left Prime Minister had urged her repeatedly not to miss it, though Yue Wanqing was reluctant. What was the point of such a banquet? It was little more than an exchange of gifts among foreign envoys, a few perfunctory words of thanks from the Emperor, and then the feast began.

She had learned enough from her experiences to know the routine.

Feng Xiaoli, oblivious to the world, asked Yue Wanqing where she had been these past days. Yue Wanqing, after all, had left for Feng Xiaoli’s sake. She had to return to Xuewu Mountain to keep up appearances. When their master inquired after Feng Xiaoli, Yue Wanqing would say she was in seclusion. Since Feng Xiaoli was rarely seen throughout the year, their master believed her. The other senior disciples, however, were not so easily deceived; Yue Wanqing had to admit she’d secretly gone to Huai Jing for some fun and ended up living under another’s identity. They had been worried and wanted to visit Feng Xiaoli, but Yue Wanqing dissuaded them, fearing their master’s suspicions. If their master descended the mountain, Feng Xiaoli would surely be kept under strict watch forever after. Her senior brothers and sisters saw the sense in this and dropped the idea.

Upon hearing Yue Wanqing’s account, Feng Xiaoli felt both happy and anxious. Happy, because her senior brothers and sisters cared for her and urged Yue Wanqing to look after her; anxious, because she feared their master’s discovery. Despite his kindly appearance, their master was far from gentle—his punishments were terrifying. Having experienced it once, Feng Xiaoli never wished to recall it again.

She brushed aside her worries. Since she was here, there was no point in fretting.

Yue Wanqing recounted how she had hurried back, arriving in Huai Jing only moments before. Feng Xiaoli told her of her own troubles—confined for seven days at home, only to be let out for a trip to the palace. They chatted for a long while, as if Yue Wanqing were a long-lost relative. Feng Xiaoli relied on Yue Wanqing, telling her everything at the first opportunity.

Shen Yuchen listened impassively to their conversation. If he could hear it, then there was nothing secret in their words—just the daily chatter of two young women. Of course, it was rather improper for a man to share a table with two women, but who would dare criticize this favored minister? At most, people would grumble in private. Mostly, the public gossiped about Feng Xiaoli.

Feng Xiaoli was bewildered—since when had the people started spreading rumors about her? She hadn’t done anything scandalous. Yue Wanqing recounted the rumors she’d overheard in the streets: Feng Xiaoli was shameless, only securing the position of Crown Princess by disgracing herself. Some even claimed that the day she was examined at Prince Chun’s mansion, it was discovered she was no longer a maiden, forcing her to marry the Crown Prince. The rumors grew uglier with every retelling, too vile to repeat.

In the end, Yue Wanqing summed it up in one sentence: “Ali, there must be a reason you were confined at home!”

“That wretched old man—how could he have known I wouldn’t be able to bear it?”

Yet Feng Xiaoli nodded, a strange new feeling arising in her heart—one directed at Prince Chun. After observing him these past days, she realized he was not a man of many words; he expressed his feelings through actions. Such men, she now understood, were far superior to those who spoke sweetly but did nothing.

Yes, had Yue Wanqing not explained so much to her, she would never have grasped the old man’s good intentions.

But now, Feng Xiaoli felt as if all eyes were upon her. She glanced around, only to find that she was right. In that hazy moment, she seemed to hear someone calling her name. With a bewildered expression, she looked at those around her, clueless as to what was happening.

Then, Empress Yuan Min smiled and said, “I wonder what sort of gift Ali has prepared!”

——

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