Chapter 278: The Fuse

Time passed.

Before they knew it, the Mid-Autumn Festival was upon them.

Although Xiang Zhijie had been transferred from the Ministry of Revenue to the Ministry of Works, he didn't act the least bit dejected or self-pitying. He picked up the ropes fast, putting special effort into the Cining Palace renovation.

After the Ministry of Works finished the gold leaf work, he personally checked every detail, acting as a dutiful grandson, and even tracked down the golden amber incense the Grand Empress Dowager had loved, burning it in the hall.

When Xiang Zheng set foot in Cining Palace, he saw the halls looking brand new but still keeping their old charm, every corner oozing luxury, while the furniture was just as it had been in his mother's day—not a speck of dust anywhere, clearly the result of meticulous care. He felt a surge of joy.

Earlier, he had repeatedly emphasized to Mao Rui, the Minister of Works, that the late Grand Empress Dowager had always hated showing off gold and jade, and that the decor must be plain and classy, with the furniture left just as it was.

But Mao Rui's take? "Are you kidding me?"

The emperor can talk about plain and low-key, but do I actually dare do it?

If I truly turned Cining Palace into a bare, empty shell, I'd be in hot water just for walking into Zhaoming Hall the wrong way.

Xiang Zheng stood in the hall for a long while, when a faint, subtle scent drifted to his nose.

Though he didn't know what incense the Grand Empress Dowager had liked when she was alive, he instantly recognized it as his mother's scent, and it hit him even harder.

He praised Xiang Zhijie: "You've done this job with real care—it shows true devotion to your grandmother."

Xiang Zhijie responded softly: "Though I didn't spend much time with Grandmother when I was young, I loved her warm, peaceful presence. This time, I asked the Imperial Manufactory to dig up the old incense recipes and had new incense made from them as an offering. As for fixing up the palace rooms, that was all thanks to Aunt Chongqing. She drew the palace layout herself, and I just set things up the way she drew them."

Xiang Zheng already knew about that.

The Chongqing Grand Princess—the one who used to play that pebble game with Le Wuya and got tricked out of all her stuff—had gotten married a while back, to a fifth-rank Hanlin lecturer.

Dayu princesses always married for character, not status.

Chongqing Grand Princess was the Grand Empress Dowager's youngest daughter, born late in life. Though her elder brother was the emperor, he'd never been one to treat his siblings like real family.

Since the Grand Empress Dowager's death, no one had bothered to arrange her marriage.

After marrying, she became just another lonely, forgotten wife stuck in the back courtyard. Her husband had no real power and no family clout, and she wasn't close to her in-laws. She didn't want to use her own land and shops to support them, so she just shut her doors and lived on what she had, her days passing by, dull and uneventful.

Out of the blue, Xiang Zhijie came to see her, asking her to help recreate the Grand Empress Dowager's old home.

She agreed without a second thought, staying up all night drawing the plans. As she recalled her childhood memories, the past came flooding back, and grief welled up out of nowhere.

It hit her then: she'd been a motherless orphan for years now.

She cried at her desk for a while, and in all that grief, the numbness she'd carried for years finally started to fade.

By the time she gave the drawings to Xiang Zhijie, she looked at him warmly instead of coldly.

Before he left, she even wrapped up some good tea for him to take.

She wasn't well-off—this tea was from last year.

Xiang Zhijie, who was just as broke, took it with perfect politeness.

Xiang Zheng didn't care about such small stuff.

All he knew was that everything Xiang Zhijie had described lined up perfectly with what the Changmen Guard had reported to him.

This kid was honest, sincere, and good-hearted.

Xiang Zheng shook his head and smiled: "Palace renovation is the Ministry of Works' job, after all. You could have taken all the credit for yourself—why share it with others?"

Xiang Zhijie answered honestly: "I never had the luck to serve Grandmother. I don't know much about how Cining Palace was set up inside, so I just followed Aunt's instructions. I really can't take the credit. Besides, Aunt is family, not a stranger—it's only fair she gets credit."

Xiang Zheng patted his head: "You, now—too honest for your own good!"

Finally, he let out a soft sigh: "Youning's had a pretty rough time, after all."

Xiang Zhijie: "Yeah. The tea Aunt gave me was already last year's batch."

With his mother's death anniversary coming up, Xiang Zheng finally remembered this sister he'd forgotten about for ages. After thinking for a moment, he said: "Alright then. Have the Directorate of Ceremonial put together a gift list—give Chongqing Grand Princess five hundred taels of silver, ten bolts of cloud-pattern brocade, and ten pieces each of gold and silver vessels, as a way to honor the Grand Empress Dowager's memory."

Xiang Zhijie immediately straightened his robes and knelt: "Your Majesty is wise and just."

As he knelt there, though, other thoughts were running through Xiang Zhijie's mind.

The Ministry of Works was a mess of random tasks and petty details, but it had two upsides:

First, everyone there worked like their lives depended on it—one slip and you were in trouble—which made people practical and straight-talking.

Second, the Ministry dealt with the royal family a lot.

Which meant plenty of chances to win favors.

Though Le Wuya hadn't expected Xiang Zhijie to get shipped off to the Ministry of Works right when he was starting to shine, he'd already cooked up a plan.

In the letter Er Ya brought, he wrote plainly that their emperor was heaven's favorite, the most self-satisfied man in the world.

And nothing pissed him off more than other people being just as "self-satisfied."

By noticing Xiang Zhijie's interest in the "Ghost Head Shake," Xiang Zheng had picked up on his ambition, and so first knocked him down a peg, then waited to see how things developed.

Le Wuya asked in his letter: With a ruler like that, how do you handle yourself?

—Just do your job and give it your all.

Acting all meek and timid all the time wouldn't fit what Xiang Zheng secretly and complicatedly expected, and it wouldn't be true to who Xiang Zhijie was either.

If he could write "Caressing Light," how could he be someone who just wanted to blend in?

...

After the Mid-Autumn family dinner at Cining Palace, Xiang Zheng felt oddly down.

He was now the same age his mother had been when she died. This big memorial and palace fix-up was both to honor the dead and to make himself feel better.

Xiang Zheng was getting old. After drinking some osmanthus wine, he felt a little dizzy, but not enough to need help.

He left the party early, sent his guards away, and took just Xue Jie for a walk to sober up.

Cining Palace wasn't far from Rongming Palace, where Empress Rong used to live.

Back then, the Grand Empress Dowager didn't know about the bad blood and complications between Xiang Zheng and Rong Wan, and she used to scold him while the Empress was alive: even if the emperor and empress didn't love each other, you still had to show respect—why hold such a grudge?

Xiang Zheng never bought that.

He replied stiffly, "I've already shown the Rong family every courtesy and respect—food, clothing, charcoal, and ceremonial vessels have never been lacking. Please, Mother, don't dwell on things or say more—just rest and take care of yourself."

At this moment, Xiang Zheng stood on the terrace of Cining Palace, lost in old memories. As he gazed into the distance, his gaze suddenly sharpened.

—He caught sight of Zhuang Lantai, dressed in blazing red robes, holding a pure vase, slowly walking circles around Rong Wan's Renming Palace.

At the Mid-Autumn family banquet, she'd claimed she was sick and skipped it.

Xiang Zheng figured it was probably an excuse but didn't call her out on it.

...He still had feelings for Zhuang Lantai—and guilt too.

That whole mess back then started with Empress Rong's raving madness.

Lantai had always had a pure, clear heart; her later hatred of him was all Rong Wan's fault.

But what was he supposed to do? The Rongs had cooked up such a filthy scheme, and Xiang Zheng couldn't speak of it openly, so he'd had no choice but to keep her confined.

Lantai, who didn't know the real story, spent her days crying and fighting—which was understandable, all things considered.

Even on her deathbed, Empress Rong wouldn't behave herself—she flat-out urged Lantai to kill herself.

In Xiang Zheng's mind, Lantai had indeed tried to kill herself, but not because of Rong Wan.

After ascending the throne, anxious to patch things up with Lantai, he'd given Xiaoliu to her to raise, hoping she'd see he still loved her just as much as he had back in the Eastern Palace days.

But Lantai was good to Xiaoliu while staying just as cold to him as always.

Out of options, Xiang Zheng had come up with the idea of taking her and Xiaoliu out on a pleasure boat together.

But when Xiaoliu fell into the water, she just looked away and went back inside the cabin.

Moments later, her maid came stumbling out in a panic, white as a sheet, too scared to even speak.

Xiang Zheng charged into the cabin and saw something he'd never forget—

The cabin was soaked in blood.

Zhuang Lantai had stabbed a knife into her own wrist—a brutal act of self-harm.

In Xiang Zheng's eyes, she hadn't begged him for anything, and that fierce stubbornness only proved that his using their son as leverage was what had really broken her.

She didn't care about Xiaoliu's life, but she cared about him—enough to die over it.

Filled with regret, Xiang Zheng frantically called for the imperial physicians to treat her.

But in his rush to get to her, he'd forgotten to give one order, and the servants on the boat, too terrified of his wrath, didn't dare pull the Sixth Prince out of the water.

If Le Wuya hadn't happened to pass by, Xiaoliu's health might have been ruined then.

Xiang Zheng later punished the eunuchs and maids on that boat and made countless amends, but he could never thaw Zhuang Lantai's heart.

As time passed, he'd sometimes get frustrated and bitter, calling her cold-hearted, but whenever he saw her, he couldn't help remembering how deeply he'd once loved her.

...What a tangled fate.

With this thought, Xiang Zheng descended the terrace and walked toward the long-abandoned Renming Palace, calling out to Zhuang Lantai: "Consort, didn't you say you were feeling unwell? Why are you wandering around here?"

Zhuang Lantai halted, calmly offering a bow: "I dreamed of someone from the past and came to pay my respects."

After years shut away in the palace, her skin was paler than most people's.

But since she'd never had children, her face looked younger than her age, and with a touch of makeup and old clothes, she still carried a trace of her old elegance.

It wasn't hard to guess who the "someone from the past" was.

Xiang Zheng knew the two had been like sisters back in the prince's mansion years ago, and even though it stung like a thorn in his heart, he kept up a warm front: "What did you dream of?"

Zhuang Lantai replied, "Awan has been reborn, and I've come to see her off."

Xiang Zheng frowned slightly: "What?"

Zhuang Lantai's voice was ethereal: "Since yesterday, I've had a low fever and been stuck in a long dream. In the dream, I saw a pure, clear yang energy. I followed it, and it turned into Awan's form."

"She said she'd stayed in this world because she couldn't find the Crown Prince's soul. Yesterday, the Crown Prince came back from his travels, and the two of them finally left together."

"When I woke up, I was so sad that I wanted to see her off and wish her peace and happiness in her next life."

In the past, Xiang Zheng would've nodded along on the surface while thinking it was nonsense.

But now, he suddenly recalled Wen Renyue in the court.

That familiar, smiling, handsome face made his contempt fade a little.

And the late Xiang Zhiming really had once said he wanted to travel the famous mountains and rivers, taking in all the beauty of the world.

Seeing her speak with such conviction, Xiang Zheng could not help but waver slightly:

Could it be that reincarnation truly exists?

Zhuang Lantai then turned her gaze back to Xiang Zheng's sagging face and said expressionlessly, "Your Majesty, I did not attend the Mid-Autumn banquet for fear of missing Awan's final send-off. I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness."

Xiang Zheng's voice softened: "You are exceptionally loyal to your bonds—that is a good thing."

Hearing this, Zhuang Lantai shed a single tear.

"I am not loyal," she said softly. "I simply feel that if Awan suffered, and Your Majesty is resentful, then how could I live too freely? In the end, I am selfish."

Xiang Zheng's throat tightened, and he reached out to embrace her shoulders, his chest swelling with excitement that made his throat tingle.

An iceberg melting, a stubborn stone nodding, a beauty repenting.

Scenes he had dreamed of countless times were now unfolding before his eyes.

A thousand words condensed into a sigh tinged with a smile: "...You."

As Zhuang Lantai leaned against Xiang Zheng, weeping, she pondered what she should do next.

Waiting for those outside the palace to act was too inconvenient.

She was no longer the young consort who thought, "I might as well die with Xiaoliu."

Xiaoliu was out there, toiling and striving for the throne—she, too, should do her part.