Forty-five Imperial Verses

“So it seems the Emperor of Que truly has feelings for Lady Chuxue,” Mingyue murmured softly.

Qinshi nodded and asked, “How much do you know about the current Emperor of Que?”

Mingyue lowered her head, counting on her fingers, and shook it. “Not much, really. The current Emperor of Que has always been quite low-key. Though his strength ranks second among the Four Emperors, he’s consistently more reserved than the other three. There aren’t many anecdotes or rumors about him among the people. I suppose the most widely known is how, after ascending the throne, he greatly expanded the territory of Que. Right after his succession, he wiped out the Zhao Kingdom in one swift move, annexing it along with the northern tribal lands. Then came Chu, followed by Shu four years ago, and two years back he split Qi with the Emperor of Luo. Although they called it a division, anyone with sense knows Que took the lion’s share. Such achievements are no small feat for an emperor, and he’s still so young! The Emperor of Luo is competent, too, but lacks Que’s audacity—he rarely dares to wage war on other nations. Of course, part of that is because Luo itself is unstable, with several powerful clans acting as wild cards. But to be honest, that’s also because the Emperor of Luo never truly cracks down. Look at Que: they have noble families too, yet they’re utterly obedient to the Emperor. They’ve never opposed his policies, and always give their full support.

“For the past two years, Que has focused on recuperation, and the surrounding small nations are nearly wiped out. Who knows, when they’re all gone, can the Four Emperors truly coexist in peace?”

Mingyue rambled on, not caring whether Qinshi was actually listening.

After a while, the Emperor of Que, now dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, approached Luoxue Palace, accompanied by an attendant. As he neared, he suddenly lifted his gaze toward their pavilion. Mingyue hadn’t yet realized what was happening when Qinshi abruptly pulled her down. Caught off guard, Mingyue lost her balance and toppled over, tumbling right onto Qinshi.

She blinked once, then again, silently asking what was going on.

Qinshi lowered his voice. “The Emperor of Que just looked this way.”

Mingyue’s eyes widened. She grabbed Qinshi’s collar, intending to rise and discuss what to do, but he pulled her again. This time, she fell harder, her lips crashing directly onto his. The taste of blood spread faintly. Mingyue, stunned, extended her tongue to lick it away. Qinshi’s eyes darkened. Frowning, Mingyue stood up and glanced down—the Emperor of Que had already vanished from the path below.

About an hour later, Zihua came to fetch them for a meal.

Chuxue said quietly, “I’m sorry you two have to endure this.”

“It’s nothing, truly. When would you like to begin?” Mingyue asked, squeezing the question in between bites.

Chuxue shook her head. “We must wait a few more days. Lately, he’s been watching too closely.”

Mingyue nodded, and as she looked up, caught sight of the jade hairpin nestled in Chuxue’s hair. She couldn’t help but praise, “That hairpin suits you perfectly.”

“It was once my favorite,” Chuxue replied with a bittersweet smile, her hand unconsciously touching the pin. “But how could one’s fondness ever last? That holds true for people, all the more so for things.”

Mingyue’s hand, poised to pick up another dish, paused. That strange, stifling feeling crept over her again. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of it, but the sensation only tightened, until she felt she could hardly breathe. At that moment, Qinshi reached over, his gentle voice by her ear: “What’s wrong? Are you unwell?”

Mingyue shook her head and, to prevent further questions, forced herself to eat a little more before stopping.

Later, Zihua brought two sets of clothes. “Miss said, if you don’t mind, you can pretend to be palace maids and inner attendants from Luoxue Palace these next few days. Just say you’re newly transferred from Listening Tide Pavilion—his Majesty will find it easier to accept.”

Mingyue didn’t mind at all, though Qinshi’s expression darkened. But faced with Mingyue’s persuasion, he relented and changed. Thus, the two openly accompanied Zihua and stayed near Chuxue.

Since it wasn’t convenient to question Chuxue directly, Mingyue instead pestered Zihua whenever she had a moment, hoping to extract something useful.

“Zihua, what’s really going on between Lady Chuxue and the Emperor of Que? He clearly cares deeply for her.”

Zihua’s expression didn’t change. “Perhaps His Majesty does care for her—but it’s too late. What she cannot accept isn’t his affection, but all the lies and wounds of the past.”

With that, Zihua left, leaving Mingyue to stare helplessly at Qinshi.

“What does that mean? He lied to her, and she can’t forgive that?”

Qinshi turned away, speaking quietly. “Perhaps it’s not such a simple deception. What can drive a person nearly to despair is never a trivial lie.”

Mingyue pouted, unconvinced. “I think you and Zihua really are a pair—neither of you bothers with facial expressions.”

Chuxue hardly needed Mingyue’s care, so Mingyue took to hiding in the palace library. The vast collection included not only volumes about Qi but also about the Emperor of Que. Suddenly, Mingyue remembered seeing Chuxue’s bridal sedan for the first time in the street—noble consort, Noble Consort of Qi… a woman of Qi! Glancing at the shelves crowded with books on Qi—some of which had all but vanished among the common folk—Mingyue belatedly realized Chuxue was from Qi. No wonder communication between her and the Emperor of Que was so difficult; it was a hatred akin to that between Jun Xiao and Qingyi, born of war between nations.

Scanning the shelves, Mingyue noticed a handwritten notebook in the corner. All the surrounding books were dust-laden, but this one remained clean. Its cover was worn from frequent handling. Mingyue’s curiosity was piqued. Taking it to a quiet spot, she began to read. Page after page, her expression grew more animated, until a cold, low voice broke the silence: “Who gave you permission to be here?”

Startled, Mingyue dropped the notebook. She knelt in panic. “It was the noble consort—no, Her Ladyship—who sent me, saying she wanted a book to pass the time.”

“Is that so?”

“I would never dare to deceive you.” Mingyue bowed her head, not daring to look up, only to see the Emperor of Que stoop down, pick up the notebook, and grip the pages so tightly his knuckles whitened and the paper crumpled. In that moment, she realized the owner of the notebook was none other than the Emperor himself.

“This is not something you should touch. Get out and await your punishment.”

Mingyue hurried out and ran straight back to Luoxue Palace to concoct a story for Chuxue. As for the notebook, Mingyue deliberately left it out—she thought if Chuxue ever learned the Emperor of Que had been secretly reading her notebook all these years, it would only deepen the rift between them. For some reason, Mingyue couldn’t bear to see that happen. As for the punishment, Chuxue dealt with it discreetly.

Not long after, the Emperor of Que came by with several books. Mingyue, hidden behind a curtain, watched as the Emperor selected one and read it aloud to Chuxue. Despite Chuxue’s continued coldness, the Emperor’s voice was gentle and filled with tenderness—a far cry from the man in the library. Mingyue thought the root of their troubles must be recorded in that notebook; she’d have to find a chance to finish reading it. But when she finally had the opportunity, the notebook was gone. She knew perfectly well who had taken it but searched again and again regardless, only to give up in the end.

The notebook began with warmth and joy—Mingyue herself couldn’t help but smile and chase after that person alongside Chuxue.

How could such a beginning lead to this end?

Of course, the notebook recorded something else Mingyue hadn’t expected: Chuxue was the most beloved princess of the King of Qi.

And Que had coveted Qi’s vast lands for generations, ever since the previous Emperor.

By rights, such a beginning should never have led her to fall in love with him, to depend on him.

By rights, she should never have been so innocent and carefree, so genuine in laughter and anger.

By rights, she and he should never have met with a backward glance on a bustling street…