BEGW C86

Chapter 86

The three characters for “spring palace illustration” lodged in Jiang Yuxun’s throat like a fishbone.

He instinctively took half a step back—until his shoulder struck the door with a muted thud, leaving him no room to retreat.

He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder, briefly debating whether to bolt.

Unfortunately… the doors of Xianyou Palace opened inward, and Ying Changchuan was currently standing in the doorway. Even if he wanted to escape, he couldn’t.

…Maybe he could try his old tactic again?

Just as Jiang Yuxun grit his teeth and raised a hand toward his own neck—

Ying Changchuan, as though reading his mind, suddenly seized both wrists.

Jiang Yuxun tried to struggle, but the Emperor had already pinned his arms high against the window lattice—rendering him completely immobile.

Only the door behind him trembled with the motion, giving a soft, ambiguous rattle.

A disaster in every possible way.

His wide sleeves slid down his forearms—

Revealing a stretch of pale skin.

He had worn short sleeves every summer in his previous life, yet right now, that small exposure felt unbearably vulnerable.

He turned his face aside, refusing to meet Ying Changchuan’s eyes. “A… spring… palace illustration.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but the side chamber was so silent the fall of a needle could be heard. Those three shameful words rang clearly in the air.

Silence descended again.

All Jiang Yuxun could hear was the faint quiver of his own breath.

His cheeks burned hotter and hotter.

He felt like a criminal strapped to a torture rack, being interrogated without mercy.

Ying Changchuan’s fingers brushed lightly across his wrist.

Jiang Yuxun shuddered violently.

With his head turned away, he couldn’t see the Emperor’s expression—but Ying Changchuan’s voice dipped low beside his ear, slow and deliberate:

“My beloved minister, what did you say? I did not hear clearly.”

…How had he never realized before today that Ying Changchuan could be this shameless?

He was lying through his teeth—without even blinking.

Since he had already disgraced himself, he lifted his chin, spun around, and shouted directly into the Emperor’s ear:

“SPRING PALACE ILLUSTRATION!”

Their gazes collided.

Ying Changchuan, however, was far from finished. “Where is it?”

He narrowed his eyes, the faintest hint of amusement flickering within them.

“U-under… under the bed…” Jiang Yuxun forced out, voice strained.

The Emperor’s hand paused. At last, he released him.

…

Seated at the bedside, Ying Changchuan slowly opened the booklet—

His expression perfectly calm, as if he were reading an official memorial.

Jiang Yuxun stood by the door with his head lowered, hands clenched, awaiting judgment like a schoolboy caught misbehaving.

Time trickled past.

The Emperor did not toss the thing aside as Jiang Yuxun desperately hoped. He turned page after page with all the seriousness of an imperial auditor.

Sensing imminent doom, Jiang Yuxun could bear it no longer. “…Such things are unfit to remain in Xianyou Palace,” he said, stepping forward to snatch it away. “It would be best to dispose of it immediately.”

But the Emperor lifted his hand and easily avoided him. “How could I waste His Highness Ruo’gu’s thoughtful gift?”

He tightened his hold on Jiang Yuxun’s wrist again.

Jiang Yuxun’s eyes flew wide. He reached desperately toward the booklet with his fingertips. “If Your Majesty doesn’t let go, I—I’ll—”

He abruptly cut himself off, swallowing the rest of the sentence.

Childish.

Utterly childish.

How could such a ridiculous threat come to mind?!

His lips snapped shut—but the Emperor, who had been reading with lowered eyes, now tilted his head toward him.

Filtered sunlight slipped through the silk window screens, hazy and indistinct.

In the dim light, Ying Changchuan’s gaze gleamed with interest. “You will what?”

“…I will bite your hand.”

Regret crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Did a grown man say such things?!

A soft tap reached his ears—

Ying Changchuan had set the booklet aside on the desk.

Jiang Yuxun barely had time to exhale in relief when the Emperor murmured:

“Very well.”

…Very well?

What did that mean?

Stunned, Jiang Yuxun opened his eyes.

He instinctively tried to withdraw—

But Ying Changchuan still held him firmly, preventing escape.

The bed curtains swayed with their slight struggle.

The Emperor, one hand locked around his wrist, raised the other and pressed a fingertip to Jiang Yuxun’s lips.

Then he slowly traced along their curve—

As though testing their softness.

Jiang Yuxun jerked instinctively, but a quiet voice breathed against his ear:

“What is it? Has my beloved minister lost his courage?”

…

The gluttonous-beast–carved screen split Liuyun Hall into two worlds.

Outside the screen, ministers reported recent affairs of the capital.

Inside, the Emperor stood before a map, brush in hand, listening as he sketched terrain.

Xing Zhi flourished in the north, even expanding his taverns into Zefang Commandery.

The people of Zherou could not resist good liquor.

Merchants carried it deeper and deeper into foreign lands.

And the blank spaces on the northern map slowly filled—

mountains, deserts, grasslands, water sources, pastures… nothing escaped the brush.

“Along both banks of the Yi River, new cotton has been sown. When the seedlings emerge, farmers will need water,” an official reported softly. “The irrigation canals built parallel to the river are nearly complete. Watering will not be a problem.”

“Mm.” Ying Changchuan set down his brush.

He stepped back to observe the map.

Not far away, Jiang Yuxun felt a hint of relief—

Only for the Emperor to lift his arm again and correct more details.

His sleeve slid down.

A stretch of firm wrist bone—

and the faint bite mark upon it—

was suddenly exposed.

Good heavens…

Jiang Yuxun clutched his chest in despair and turned away.

Before today he had never known he was capable of such reckless audacity.

In the side chamber, when Ying Changchuan had asked whether he dared—

He had blurted out, “I dare.”

Everything had unraveled from there.

Now the Emperor bore the evidence on his wrist—and had the gall to display it while drafting state maps.

If he could sew his mouth shut, he would.

…

Behind the Emperor, a young maid holding a fan snuck a peek at his hand.

Her expression twisted into something peculiar.

The look was so obvious that Eunuch Sang coughed twice in warning.

The maid jumped and lowered her eyes at once.

But Eunuch Sang couldn’t help glancing between Jiang Yuxun and the Emperor’s wrist.

So the rumors were true—

Lord Jiang and His Majesty were indeed very close!

He hid a smile and bowed his head.

…

The situation in Zherou tugged at the nerves of the entire empire.

The capital remained calm—

but only on the surface.

Officials flowed constantly through Liuyun Hall.

Even Gu Yejio, stationed with the Fulin Army, sent a special report.

—In recent days, certain shamans from the Lingtiantai had secretly contacted alchemists involved in gunpowder research.

Those alchemists, now freed from slavery, lived peacefully near Xianyou Palace and owned their own fields.

Most had severed ties with Lingtiantai—

But not all could cast aside a lifetime of indoctrination.

Some accepted their overtures.

The Imperial Seal Bureau did not act rashly. They tightened surveillance.

After testing the waters, the shamans finally revealed their intent:

They wanted firearms.

…

The attendants had long been dismissed from Liuyun Hall.

Only the Emperor and Jiang Yuxun remained.

The slanting sunlight filtered through carved window panels and shimmered across the hem of Jiang Yuxun’s robe like shifting embroidery.

Ying Changchuan set down the report and looked toward him. “What does my beloved minister think is Lingtiantai’s objective?”

“Lingtiantai does not want the court to win,” Jiang Yuxun said softly. “They prefer the dying, half-collapsed regime of the former dynasty.”

They wanted neither victory nor defeat—

Only endless chaos.

“So long as the world prospers and the people live well,” Jiang Yuxun continued, eyes drifting to the nearby map, “the common folk have no need to pray to Xuantian.”

“And they know His Majesty will not allow Lingtiantai to continue acting with impunity. Once Zherou is settled, Your Majesty will turn to them. Instead of waiting for death, they choose to gamble one last time…”

His quiet voice echoed through the hall.

Great Zhou had changed too much too quickly in recent years. Even Shangyou could no longer sit still.

The Emperor laughed softly and looked out the window. “Correct.”

Though the Imperial Seal Bureau already held all their movements in its grasp—

The Emperor was in no hurry.

Lingtiantai had walked straight into the net.

Why catch a few fish

when he could capture the entire sea?

※

The Fulin Army reached Zefang Commandery in only two and a half days.

Reports from the north arrived one after another.

—King Qiuqi had already sent envoys to seek aid from the other two kings.

Jiang Yuxun guessed:

The day the envoys returned empty-handed—

would be the day war began.

The White Calamity had devastated the land; even internal roads were barely passable.

After the envoys departed, the north fell quiet.

A brief calm before the storm.

…

Xianyou Palace, Anhe Hall.

The hall, though not large, was packed with desks. Lord of Grain Administration, Zhuang Yue, and his officials were deep in tax ledgers and population records.

Dark circles bloomed under every eye.

Zhuang Yue, once plump, now looked noticeably thinner.

Zhuang Youli, who had been assisting his father daily, finally seemed somewhat reliable.

“…Your Majesty, the accounting of farmland throughout the realm is complete,” he said nervously. “When summer taxes are collected in the sixth month, they can now be accurately levied according to each household’s cultivated acreage. Corvée labor and other old levies will also be folded into this system.” *

Though his voice trembled, his report was fairly clear.

As they walked, Zhuang Yue added, “The greatest difference is that the court will no longer collect grain or goods—but currency directly.”

He looked visibly uneasy.

Ying Changchuan flipped through the ledgers. “The second change need not be rushed. Allow several years of transition.”

Zhuang Yue sagged in relief.

After Jiang Yuxun’s earlier reminders, he, too, believed the first reform was necessary.

But converting all taxes from goods to money…

was simply too large a shock for the people.

Thankfully, the Emperor was not pressing the matter.

Jiang Yuxun added, “We could adopt a transitional method—summer taxes collected in coin, autumn taxes in grain.” *

After the autumn harvest, families had more stored grain, making the arrangement practical.

The Emperor nodded.

“Excellent!” Zhuang Yue immediately wrote it down.

Anhe Hall was small. Soon, they reached the far end.

The Emperor sat at the upper seat to review the tax ledgers.

Though everyone trembled with nervousness, they kept diligently to their tasks.

Silence descended.

The Emperor had seen most of this before.

After a while, he casually asked about preparations for this year’s tax collection.

Zhuang Yue straightened and answered carefully.

Ying Changchuan lifted his brush and began writing notes.

Numbers had never been Jiang Yuxun’s forte.

After listening for a while, drowsiness crept over him.

Seated beside the Emperor, he stifled a small yawn.

He pinched himself lightly, hoping to stay awake—

But just then, an unfamiliar booklet appeared in front of him.

…Was there a problem?

He opened it—

And froze.

What in the world?!

Inside the tax booklet was a single line:

“Is my beloved minister sleepy?”

Zhuang Yue continued reporting at full speed.

For the first time in his life, Jiang Yuxun realized—

Ying Changchuan could be unreliable.

Since the Emperor hadn’t asked for an answer, Jiang Yuxun didn’t have to be honest.

He glanced cautiously around.

Seeing no one paying attention, he wrote:

“Your Majesty should focus on work. Do not get distracted.”

He closed the booklet and returned it solemnly to the Emperor.

The brief exchange had completely cleared his earlier drowsiness.

He rubbed his eyes and returned to reading—

Until a faint poke at his back nearly made him jump.

Ying Changchuan was tapping him with the same tax booklet.

Then he pushed it forward again.

Now written upon it:

“Do not worry. I am listening.”

Jiang Yuxun: “…”

Are you?? Because I don’t believe you??

As if sensing his thoughts—

At that moment, the Emperor suddenly interrupted Zhuang Yue’s report, plucking out a mistake:

“Summer taxes are collected no later than the sixth month.”

Zhuang Yue paused. “Ah—yes! The sixth month, not the seventh!”

He had misspoken out of habit.

He braced himself for reprimand—

But Ying Changchuan simply smiled faintly down at the booklet.

…What in heavens was happening?

Still, the Emperor wasn’t angry, so Zhuang Yue continued.

The shuffling of pages sounded steadily.

Ying Changchuan leaned back, wrote something, and sent the booklet to Jiang Yuxun again.

Inside:

“If you do not wish to write, I shall simply ask directly.”

After a moment of resigned silence, Jiang Yuxun picked up his brush and drew a large circle—

Around the words “sleepy”.

The Emperor’s lips curved.

His gaze softened.

When Zhuang Yue finally finished, he looked up anxiously.

The Emperor closed the booklet and nodded. “That will do for today.”

Zhuang Yue exhaled so hard his knees nearly buckled.

He escorted the Emperor out of the hall—

Unaware that behind him, two people were engaged in suspicious movements.

Ying Changchuan glanced at the booklet in Jiang Yuxun’s hands.

Jiang Yuxun quickly muttered, “This can’t be left lying around.”

He clutched it tightly—

But the Emperor simply took it from him, intending to read it again.

Unlike Jiang Yuxun, who kept glancing nervously at Zhuang Yue’s back—

Ying Changchuan was the picture of calm.

Which was why Zhuang Yue, hearing a faint rustle behind him, slowed and glanced back—

And nearly jumped out of his skin.

T-The Emperor—was holding a tax booklet?!

Why?

Was something wrong?

Had he made a mistake?

Had he doomed himself?

A thousand horrifying thoughts flashed through his head.

Then—

Something truly shocking happened.

Jiang Yuxun whispered something to the Emperor.

And Ying Changchuan—

Pinched Jiang Yuxun’s cheek.

Right there in the open.

A faint red mark appeared instantly.

Jiang Yuxun dodged aside, covering his cheek and muttering something with an embarrassed expression.

Thunder roared in Zhuang Yue’s mind.

The Emperor pinched a minister’s cheek?!

He froze.

Turned slowly.

Stared.

Jiang Yuxun looked up at that moment—and their eyes met.

Zhuang Yue stood rigid and pale as chalk.

Jiang Yuxun called weakly, “Uncle?”

Zhuang Yue jolted as if awakened by lightning. “You—you—ah—you and His Majesty? No—that’s not—”

He stammered, unable to form a single coherent sentence.

But the horror and disbelief on his face were unmistakable:

Jiang Yuxun—

confess at once—

just what exactly is going on between you and His Majesty?!

Author’s Note:

Jiang Yuxun: Listen to my excuses! I swear it was an accident…

1. Spring Palace Illustration (春宮圖) — Traditional erotic art/books.