She draped the robe over her arm, her hands tucked beneath its hem, and spoke softly, "Your Highness, forgive my offense. I did not mean it."
Since he had already labeled her as audacious, wouldn't she be undeserving of that reputation if she didn't act boldly? Especially when she heard his words laced with mockery and sarcasm, the stubbornness in her bones flared up, refusing to let her show weakness.
He stiffened, unable to speak.
If she claimed it was unintentional, how could he punish her?
She wasn't a palace maid assigned to serve him. As a Hanlin Academy Compiler, if word got out that she had come to the Eastern Palace to help him undress, whose reputation would suffer?
Seeing that he remained silent, she quickly lowered her head, gathered his robes, and prepared to leave. But as soon as she turned around, his voice called out from behind, "Meng Tinghui."
She stopped and turned back to look at him.
His voice carried no anger but was cold: "That day outside Chongzhou, did you already recognize me?"
She paused briefly, then nodded, "I only recognized Your Highness as the noble who saved me back then, but I did not know you were the Crown Prince."
He asked again, "Why did you break the rules during the provincial examination?"
She vaguely sensed a deeper meaning in his question, and her heart tightened. Unwilling to let him glimpse her true feelings, she replied calmly, "Your Highness, if someone were to enter now and see you standing beside me without your robes, what do you think they would assume?"
He fell silent for a moment before saying, "Do you truly believe I can do nothing to you?"
Gazing at his expressionless face, she actually smiled. "Your Highness has forgotten—our dynasty does not execute scholar-officials. I am now a person of rank."
He said, "Even if I cannot kill you, I can still demote you."
She nodded, still smiling. "Your Highness certainly can demote me, but what charge would you assign? Failing to serve you properly?"
It wasn't the first time she had talked back to him.
No one in the entire court dared to treat him this way, yet when she spoke disrespectfully, he didn't feel anger. Each question was meant to confirm his suspicions, but she was clearly guarded against him.
Because he knew she was different, he wanted to delve deeper into her heart—an impulse he had never felt before.
When she asked him for a charge, she must have seen through his intentions, knowing he was merely testing her rather than genuinely reprimanding her.
When had the court's laws ever defined a crime for such behavior?
Historically, it was only when an emperor favored a courtier for their looks that rumors of favoritism arose. Even during his mother's reign, the court only heard of her preference for male beauty, never of men offending her.
In the end, if this matter were to spread, she would at most be accused of seizing an opportunity, while he would be seen as the one obsessed with beauty and desire.
Her gaze was calm, but deep within it lingered something else—unconcealed, as always.
He was no fool.
She was clever, different, bold and audacious, harboring intentions toward him, yet she could also be of use to him.
Meeting her gaze, his expression softened slightly as he spoke deliberately, "Meng Tinghui, if you make any mistake in your role as Hanlin Academy Compiler, no one in the court will be able to protect you."
Though his words sounded like a warning, she merely gave a faint smile and whispered, "I understand."
Once again, she piqued his curiosity.
She wasn't afraid of him.
Not in the slightest.She turned to put away the clothes, lowering her eyes and taking a deep breath.
No matter how cold and stern his words were, she would not fear him.
On that cold, rainy night ten years ago, in the dilapidated temple shed, that handsome young man had held her so gently, softly coaxing her to sleep, and told her what his mother had said to him.
The abolition of temples and nunneries beyond the imperial quota in Chaoan North Circuit was not meant to leave them homeless, but to prohibit the unauthorized ordination of monks and nuns, forbid acts of self-mutilation such as cutting off limbs, burning fingers, hanging lanterns, or wearing iron clamps—practices that delude the common folk.
Back then, she was shivering with tears in her eyes, unable to understand his words. She only knew that many bronze statues of Buddhas from temples and nunneries had been confiscated by the authorities to mint coins. But how could Buddha statues be used to mint coins?
The young man then told her that his mother had once said: "The Buddha teaches people with the path of goodness. If one aspires to goodness, then one is already honoring the Buddha. Are those bronze statues truly the Buddha? Moreover, I have heard that the Buddha exists to benefit others, even willing to sacrifice his own head and eyes for charity. If my body could save the people, I would not hesitate to offer it."
The young girl still did not understand, only staring blankly at him and snuggling deeper into his embrace.
He held her tighter and whispered to her again, "If my body could save the people, I would not hesitate."
It was only after all these years that she finally understood what those words truly meant.
During the palace examination in the Hall of Preserved Harmony, the moment she saw him seated high behind the gilded dragon desk, she knew he would become the wisest ruler of the Great Peace Dynasty.
Gazing at his frost-covered face and his eyes as cold as an abyss, all she could recall was that gentle, handsome youth from all those years ago.
How could she possibly fear him?
If it were not the act of an enlightened ruler, he would never do it.
Before long, a palace attendant entered, lit the palace candles on the high desk in the corner of the outer hall, prepared ink, brushes, and paper, and spread a brocade cushion on the stool—all with swift efficiency.
He entered the inner hall with his hands clasped behind his back, brought over the memorials submitted from the Inner Capital Hall that day, and piled them on the desk. He said to her, "Those from the circuits outside the capital—the Pacification Office has sorted them for my review. Those from the six ministries and three offices in the capital—report them to me according to their urgency. Those rejected by the Chancellery—refute them all again." Then he looked at her and asked, "Any questions?"
She shook her head gently, turned, and walked around behind the desk, beginning to grind the ink with a slight bow.
He watched her for a while before returning to the inner hall, instructing the attendants to bring water for his bath.
His robe was damp with cold sweat but seemed to carry a faint, subtle fragrance from her, making him feel uneasy all over.
Her calm tone and gentle movements were so vividly imprinted in his mind, just like her bold and audacious actions, unforgettable at the slightest touch.
This feeling suddenly made him somewhat uncomfortable.
·
The night watch drum outside the imperial city echoed from afar, faint and distant.
The night had deepened, and the reports on the desk remained unfinished. His shoulders and neck ached unbearably.
He threw the brush onto the desk, leaned back, and stretched his neck, his gaze involuntarily drifting toward her in the outer hall.
Through several layers of curtains, her figure appeared hazy in the dim candlelight, as if she had fallen asleep at the desk.
For hours, she had not disturbed him. Aside from mealtimes, she had quietly carried out the tasks he assigned at the desk.
Her "docility" surprised him somewhat.
He watched her like this—her body slumped over the desk seemed so soft, suddenly reminding him of the sensation when she had pressed against him that day.It was soft, fragrant—a woman’s body.
Her gaze, her words, her tone, her fearless demeanor—all of it was undeniably alluring.
After all, he was a young man in the prime of his vigor.
He had experienced intimacy and knew the sensations between a man and a woman.
But what about her?
He reached out to grasp the teacup on the table, his mind once again flooded with the sensation of her accidentally brushing against his lower body earlier.
The tea was scalding, so hot it made his fingertips tingle.
In the deep stillness of the night, recalling these thoughts felt like a clamor in his very bones. A simmering heat surged within him, stirring a faint restlessness.
She was fast asleep.
Yet he found it hard to remain still. The mere sight of her made his mind uncontrollably conjure lewd images…
His hand drifted involuntarily downward.
He imagined her not leaning against the hard desk but atop him, her calm eyes gazing at him, her eloquent lips slightly parted, her restless slender fingers encircling and kneading him, coaxing a low, pleasured sigh from his lips.
So depraved.
She would be his subordinate. He had treated her with such coldness, yet here he was, doing such things to her in his mind.
But the more depraved, the more exhilarated he felt.
A different kind of thrill…
A low, hoarse sound escaped his throat. His palm was damp with sweat, and it took him a long moment to gather his scattered thoughts and open his eyes.
As he lifted his gaze, the curtains billowed in the wind. She had awakened at some point and was now sitting upright behind the desk, a faint smile on her lips, watching his every move intently.
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