An Investigation Report on Zi Liuhui (male, 19), King of Caiyun Kingdom
(Written by Xiu Li)
1. Family Background
Zi Liuhui’s early life is shadowed by tragedy. His mother, the queen, died young. Eight years ago, his father—the former king, celebrated for wisdom—fell gravely ill and passed away a year ago. Six months ago, Liuhui ascended the throne. He is the sixth and youngest son. Among his five older brothers, four perished in a power struggle sparked by their father’s infirmity. The second prince had been exiled to a remote frontier for criminal acts long ago, leaving Liuhui as the sole heir. As the saying goes, “survivors of great trials may still find fortune.”
2. Governance
He shows absolutely no interest in ruling. Court meetings go unattended; all state affairs are left in the hands of his ministers.
3. Personal Life
Rumor says he spends every night summoning new attendants and wanders freely by day, his whereabouts unknown. He has taken no concubines—except the Red Concubine.
“...I can’t believe it.”
Xiu Li stared at the reports she had compiled over five days, her expression frozen.
“...This… this is our ruler.”
She felt as though she might collapse onto her desk and weep. No matter how far she probed, the evidence all led to the same bleak conclusion.
“...No wonder he’s willing to pay five hundred taels of gold…”
She remembered the moment when she, left alone, held only her trembling hands. The anxious expression on her face mirrored that of Grand Tutor Xiao, exhausted and despairing.
“Please, please, please!! Please restore His Majesty to normalcy—”
That desperate plea echoed in her mind still.
“...It’s true… He neglects his rule and indulges in men… He’s become a tyrant.”
If things continue this way, the kingdom and his household could collapse at any moment—the consequences unimaginable.
“He’s been silent these six months since ascending. Think how difficult it must have been for Grand Tutor Xiao and the ministers.”
Xiu Li sighed helplessly. Then she heard footsteps at the door.
“—Empress Hong.”
She hastily slid the documents into the desk drawer. At her entrance came a delicate girl of thirteen or fourteen, trembling, and she dropped to her knees.
“I—I brought your tea.”
“Thank you,” Xiu Li said with a gentle smile. The girl, cheeks reddened, approached. But in her nervousness she tripped over her skirt hem. Xiu Li leapt aside to avoid the teacup; half the tea splashed onto her shoulder. Though startled, she reached to steady the girl as she nearly fell.
“Are you alright?”
The girl opened her mouth to nod, but her face turned white. Realizing her mistake, she collapsed, trembling.
“I—I deserve this… please forgive me, Concubine Hong…”
The girl’s agitation almost drove her to pull her hairpin to hurt herself. Xiu Li’s heart tightened but she held her composure, speaking with the calm voice of a noblewoman.
“Xiangling, calm yourself. I’m fine.”
“My servant… my servant…”
At that moment, a tall court lady hurried in, alarmed by the crash of the teacup. Relief washed over Xiu Li’s face.
“Cuizhu!” she called.
The court lady, around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, took in the situation in one glance and looked to Xiu Li in concern.
“Empress Xiu Li, are you unharmed?”
“It’s all right—just my clothes are wet.”
Xiu Li patted Xiangling’s trembling back, her eyes blinking rapidly.
“Please don’t blame Xiangling. Help her calm down.”
Cuizhu nodded. “Understood. Xiangling, come here.”
Xiangling, sobbing, clutched Cuizhu’s hand and rose. Pale, she gazed at Xiu Li, who offered a reassuring smile.
“When you’re steady, bring me a cup of scented tea, Xiangling.”
Understanding, Xiangling nodded repeatedly, tears glistening.
Once alone in the room, Xiu Li sank onto the bench and exhaled wearily. The cold dampness on her shoulders pricked her skin, and she looked around for something warm to wear. At that moment, Cuizhu returned with a towel.
“How is Xiangling now?”
“Much calmer. She keeps saying she wants to serve you forever,” Cuizhu replied.
Xiu Li rubbed her forehead, and Cuizhu offered her a handkerchief with a small, bittersweet smile.
“Empress Xiu Li, your standing in the harem is rising by the day—but you look exceedingly tired.”
“...I am indeed tired...”
Xiu Li accepted the handkerchief. The embroidery was exquisite—enough to sustain someone for a month—yet here it was, merely used to blot her skin.
“I still can’t believe I’m now a noble consort. I have neither Xiangling’s upbringing nor wealth. I feel like nothing more than a placeholder.”
“Don’t say that! In terms of birth and pedigree, Xiangling cannot compare at all. You descend from the Hong family—a prestige few can rival,” Cuizhu said quietly.
She was the only one in the harem whom Grand Tutor Xiao had secretly placed to serve Xiu Li, and she knew Xiu Li’s true situation. “Beyond pedigree, your character, poise, intelligence, and composure show you are the perfect princess. As head lady-in-chief, I guarantee you. Rest assured.”
Though Xiu Li lacked social polish and her family had fallen on hard times, her parents had instilled strict manners—especially her mother, who prized etiquette above all. Even Cuizhu had praised Xiu Li’s performance: “You embody the bearing of a noble lady who never leaves the house or does anything heavier than a needle.”
(Alas… all to supplement the family income.)
One of the most lucrative side jobs is serving as a temporary maid for wealthy households—performing at banquets or events. Though brief, the pay is generous, and strict etiquette is expected. Xiu Li, always skilled, had excelled—and now it had become her steady livelihood. It turned out that mastering etiquette could bring income. Thank you, mother, for teaching me.
“And remember: your father heads the treasury. Although high in rank, he doesn’t meddle in state affairs. He has no factions or relatives to exploit his office. Empress Xiu Li can act freely, uninfluenced by political currents. You are the ideal Imperial Concubine… aren’t you?”
“Grand Tutor Xiao told me the same.”
The old man had even wept.
“Really, I can only count on you! After consulting Master Shao Ke, I resolved: after scanning the entire city, you are the perfect candidate! Noble birth alone isn’t enough—you must understand the city, have education, initiative, and loyalty to His Majesty!”
Had Xiu Li declined, he might have pressed harder, as though to force her silence.
“There is a deadline, a salary, and your food, clothing, shelter all arranged. If the man is a madman, there is no fear in intimacy. The role includes guidance and correction of deviant behavior…”
Considering carefully, Xiu Li decided the offer was not unreasonable. She would treat it as a long-term side mission with a strange aim (a comforting thought to herself).
Moreover, she was curious about the king—that curiosity had driven her to accept.
“Since I’ve agreed, I must give it my all.”
She might not curb his indulgences directly, but she could strive to draw him into ruling. That would be her mission within the harem.
“...But how can I meet His Majesty?”
Five days had passed since she entered the palace—and still no meeting.
Xiu Li rubbed her cheek and sighed softly. “—Five days!”
In a chamber within the palace, Grand Tutor Xiao counted on his fingers to two colleagues.
“Your Majesty still hasn’t visited Empress Xiu Li.”
“If they don’t meet, there is no show.”
The stern speaker was Grand Tutor Song, one of the three imperial tutors.
“Hmm… true…”
The kindly-faced court advisor—one of the so-called Tea Guardians—frowned in agreement.
Though now honorary, these three had once been central ministers under the late king—powerful and deeply respected. Their influence over civil and military officials was still profound.
“No way! Even if we must tear old bones apart, we must find a way!”
Xiao’s bold words made the others wince.
He snatched pen and paper. “First, make them meet. Miss Xiu Li will handle the rest. But finding our wayward Majesty will require effort.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“We cannot expect the monarch to move first.”
“That’s right. Then we’ll engineer a fated meeting.”
The two veteran ministers frowned. A “fated meeting”?
Where could one stage it? Xiao paused to plan, scratching characters on paper: Plum Grove, Plum Tea, Plum Buns.
“Stop it!”
Grand Tutor Song snatched the pen. “Your 'fateful meeting' sounds like an old folks’ tea party. It must have drama.”
Xiao’s suggestion was dismissed. They debated till dawn.
Because of their heated plotting, no court lady dared bring tea uninterrupted—a “fated meeting” was on everyone’s lips.
The next morning, Xiu Li carried extra buns toward the treasury.
She was used to multitasking her thoughts while working—thinking while doing saves time. If she could even earn extra income, so much the better. But in the harem, side jobs were forbidden, so last night she had secretly led Cuizhu into the kitchens to make steamed buns. Lost in thought, she made too many. (No matter—there will always be someone to eat them.)
Her father, Shao Ke, dotes on her and loves sweets. He often brings her homemade buns to work, even asking her to make more because his colleagues enjoy them.
“Ah! Someone’s here today!”
Xiu Li peered into the treasury and, seeing no one, raised her brows.
Though a concubine should never enter the outer court, her father (treasury director) had mapped safe routes and times when officials would be absent. Usually the treasury would be busy, but this early morning it was nearly empty. Even her father was nowhere to be found—probably buried in scrolls in his office.
(…So many books here—I could lose myself in them instead of worldly affairs.)
She set up tea utensils, boiled water, and brewed a fragrant pot. Just as she opened the tea canister, the scent of cherry blossoms drifted through the open window.
The blossoms had bloomed early.
Xiu Li packed tea utensils and the canister into a bamboo basket and left the treasury.
“Ah, you’re free now, Jiangyou.”
In a nearby warehouse office, Lan Qiuying rested her cheek, staring into the courtyard.
Li Jiangyou, addressed, looked up startled but remained silent, engrossed in a book.
Qiuying sighed: “I was assigned to protect His Majesty, but Grand Tutor Xiao transferred you to be his personal guard—and yet you still haven’t met him?”
Jiangyou’s temples twitched.
“With nothing to do, nowhere to go... I never imagined you’d become a mere figurehead. We were once destined for greatness.”
Qiuying’s teasing tone rattled Jiangyou. Few knew that the scholar known for rational composure had a short fuse. His longtime friend, Qiu Ying, enjoyed playing the role of provocateur.
“You—the youngest top scholar ever—now sitting idle in the treasury? Is the court at peace—or simply neglectful? Serving as His Majesty’s guard feels like a demotion.”
“Shut your mouth,” Jiangyou roared—and a thick book flew toward her. Qiuying easily dodged it and caught it with one hand, whistling.
“Beautiful! You’d suit the Yulin Army. Why not switch to that?”
“You ask me to protect that tyrant emperor? I’ll kill you!”
Jiangyou slammed the table.
“Enough talk—what are you doing here? Go find someplace else to pass time!”
“Because it’s easiest here with you,” Qiuying murmured.
“—Has it been a month now?”
“More than a month. I have nothing to do!!”
“Don’t worry—think of this as a rare leave of absence.”
“He wouldn’t do that. Clearly he’s upset with me.”
Jiangyou’s superior, calm and cunning, replied: “I’ve already decided. You can’t refuse. ‘Everything is experience—work hard’—even if you can’t find the tyrant emperor. If you have guts, complain to the Minister of Personnel yourself.”
Qiuying’s words silenced Jiangyou. He was powerless before his superior. Bound by circumstances, he had been lent to Grand Tutor Xiao. The result: this stillness and frustration.
“It doesn’t matter. Tutor Xiao has a plan.”
“—And that plan is to find a wife for His Majesty!?”
Jiangyou’s expression bristled like a startled cat. Qiuying sighed.
“You still can’t stand women. What a shame—you could rival me in beauty. Many men would envy you. You’ve wasted half your life.”
“Fine! Then do it yourself! Women bring nothing but trouble! I don’t understand your fascination with them!!”
“A moment of love is worth a thousand gold. If you don’t see that, you’re unworthy to be a man.”
As he spoke, Qiu Ying glanced toward the corridor’s open window—then his eyes sharpened.
“—Oh! That’s…”
“Qiuying—?” Jiangyou began.
Qiu Ying’s voice paused. A figure walked past outside.
“Yes, he just joined the Yulin Army as an exception a few days ago,” Qiuying said with a wry smile. The man was already a general-level—at age twenty-four, a meteoric rise.
“He’s skilled in martial arts. I don’t understand why he’s still unknown. His name is Zi Jinglan.”
Zi Jinglan — that name tugged at Jiangyou’s memory.
“He was recommended by Grand Tutor Jing Xiao—he comes from the household of the new Concubine Hong. A few days ago I visited her with him.”
Jiangyou’s eyes widened; he grabbed Qiu Ying’s collar.
“Have you… made a move on her?!”
“Haha, if she weren’t Lord Shao Ke’s daughter, maybe,” Qiu Ying chuckled.
“Shao Ke’s daughter…!?”
“Yes—the daughter of one of your respected elders,” Qiu Ying smiled.
“I’m interested in her—she’s on my list.”
(Can’t reach… can’t reach…)
Xiu Li hopped toward the cherry blossom branch nearest her. The blossoms seemed within reach, yet never quite close enough. Frustrated, she stretched.
“Do you wish to pick flowers?”
A man’s voice behind her startled her. Just then a strong wind blew.
She closed her eyes. Leaves rustled; her hair fluttered. Cherry petals drifted like snow. The scene felt dreamlike. She regretted the blossoms’ fall before full bloom. Then she remembered the mysterious figure behind her.
Xiu Li turned. Her eyes widened. Tall, handsome, with strong features—equal, perhaps, to Jinglan himself. His robes were plain, hair loosely tied, but his belt was undoubtedly fine. She chastised herself for judging by appearances.
Who was he? He held a broken branch.
“You broke the branch!?” she exclaimed.
“I—I didn’t mean to. I was startled by the wind.”
He looked at the branch, then at Xiu Li, and awkwardly offered it.
“Do you want it?”
“I planned to pick blossoms for tea.”
Xiu Li smiled gently, opened her tea basket, and glanced at the snapped branch.
“Thank you. The blossoms are beautiful. I’ll decorate my room.”
Her genuine smile made the man blink. Then he looked away, uneasy.
Xiu Li placed a petal in the brewed tea. She set steamed buns on a sheet of white paper.
“Here—some tea and snacks.”
The man nodded and slowly picked a bun, taking a large bite. After chewing, his eyes widened. He looked at the bun, then at Xiu Li.
“…Are you… Shao Ke’s daughter?”
“Huh? Yes—how did you know?”
“Because this bun tastes exactly like the ones Shao Ke always brings.”
Xiu Li felt a spark of surprise—so her father had baked these for him too.
“…This is the best bun I’ve ever had.”
He praised openly. Xiu Li’s lips curved in delight.
“Thank you. I am Hong Xiu Li. May I ask your name?”
“...Name?”
He fell silent, fingers touching his chin, caught off guard. After a long pause, he whispered weakly:
“...My surname is Lan...”
“From the Lan family?”
“Yes... my name is Lan Qiu Ying.”
Xiu Li froze. Lan Qiu Ying? She had just heard the name—met him.
“—Are you the Red Concubine?”
The youth Jinglan had brought—who appeared to be her superior—was impressive, in many ways.
He smiled politely but did not kneel. His gaze seemed to appraise her like a proud, untamed creature. His questions, though soft, were probing; answering required care. Someone leaving such a lasting impression could not be forgotten.
Xiu Li cupped her cheek and glanced at him—Lan Qiu Ying.
“Oh… your name is Lan Qiu Ying,” she said.
He muttered, shifting his gaze, continuing to eat his bun, seeking to change the subject.
“…Why is Shao Ke’s daughter here?”
Xiu Li paused.
“...Uh, I’m entering the palace… as a maid…”
“Maid? Doesn’t your father oppose?”
“He probably deems it unnecessary.”
Cold sweat broke across Xiu Li’s brow. As a noble consort, she certainly shouldn’t claim to be a maid in the outer court.
“Shao Ke’s daughter…”
He fixed his eyes on her. She felt his gaze, but could only stare at the blossoms beyond.
“…The cherry blossoms are splendid.”
Her eyes narrowed with bittersweet longing. Then a finger grazed her cheek.
“Huh? What are you doing?”
His fingers brushed her hair, gently stroking her temples. Xiu Li’s face flushed.
He withdrew. On his fingertip, a cherry blossom petal clung.
“Do you like it? Or hate it?” he asked quietly.
Xiu Li’s eyes widened. He stared at the cherry tree—and in a flash she understood.
“...I love cherry blossoms—truly. But my tree is dead, and for a moment… perhaps I let myself be sentimental.”
“Dead…?”
“Yes… more than just the blossoms…”
She trailed off. He reached for a sixth bun. Alarmed, she slapped the back of his hand.
“No! How many are you going to eat? That’s already the sixth! Didn’t we have breakfast this morning? I’ll wrap these—then you can enjoy them later.”
He withdrew obediently, watching her hand with surprise.
“Hey—are you hurt?” she asked, concerned.
“No… just startled.”
Xiu Li wrapped the bun and glanced up at the man. His expression didn’t change — not cold, not distant, just… unreadable. It was as if his eyes were fixed on something far away that no one else could see.
What a strange person, Xiu Li thought to herself.
Just then, the man looked at her with unexpected seriousness.
“But I haven’t had breakfast yet,” he said. “Could I have… another bun?”
“What?” Xiu Li blinked, caught off guard.
“How can you skip breakfast? That’s when people are the most useless!” she scolded half-jokingly, though her voice carried a touch of real concern. With a sigh, she pulled another bun from the paper bag and handed it over.
“Here,” she said, “and have some tea. Too many sweets will make you queasy.”
The delicate scent of cherry blossoms rose from the cup as she poured. Petals drifted lazily atop the surface, glowing faintly in the light. The man took a cautious sip, then muttered with mild surprise,
“Shao Ke’s tea is always bitter… I didn’t know tea could be this fragrant.”
Xiu Li felt drained just hearing that. So even tea has to be miserable for him, she thought. Poor man.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “My father’s tea can be… difficult. You knew it was bitter, but you still drank it. You’re very kind. Thank you.”
The man looked away, unsure how to answer her gentle smile.
“Also,” she said with a small laugh, “you’ve got a bit of filling on the corner of your mouth. You look just like a child.”
Reaching out, she brushed a crumb of red bean from his lip.
“And look at the floor—bun crumbs everywhere.”
“I’m nineteen,” he protested, cheeks faintly flushed. “Not a child.”
“Oh, really? That’s the same age as His Majesty!”
Lan Qiuying’s gaze flickered again, uncertain. Xiu Li hesitated, then ventured,
“…I wonder how I could ever get the chance to see His Majesty.”
The man frowned slightly. “You want to see His Majesty?”
“Yes.”
“And what would you say to him?”
“…I’d like to talk with him,” she replied softly.
Xiu Li sensed the distance between them grow — not hostility, but the weight of unspoken truths. “I should go,” she said at last, standing. “I can’t stay much longer, especially while my father’s away.”
As she turned, the man suddenly caught her wrist.
“Eh? What’s wrong?” she asked, startled.
“I…” He froze, looking from her face to the hand he was holding, as if unsure why he’d reached out at all. His voice dropped to a murmur.
“…I know His Majesty very well. If there’s something you wish to say, I can deliver it for you.”
“—Jinglan!”
Jinglan, who had been searching for the king, turned sharply toward the sound. She froze at the sight of an officer peeking out from behind one of the treasury doors.
“General Lan—Lan Zuo!?”
“Come here.”
Before she could respond, the officer tugged her inside. Jinglan’s eyes widened. Another young man stood within — refined in bearing, a jade pendant gleaming at his waist — unmistakably a civil servant of high standing.
“This is your first time meeting Jiangyou, isn’t it?” the officer said with a grin. “My old friend, Li Jiangyou, currently serving in the Ministry of Personnel.”
“Old friend? You flatter yourself,” Jiangyou scoffed, his tone sharp. “If anything, I’ve made a poor choice of companions.”
Jinglan blinked. “Wait—Minister Li!?”
“Ah, so even you’ve heard of him,” the officer teased.
Li Jiangyou — the name alone carried weight throughout the capital. At sixteen, he had topped the imperial examinations, the youngest in history. Now, at twenty-two, he stood as Vice Minister of Personnel — second only to the minister himself — and rumored to be a prime minister in the making. A scholar of unmatched brilliance, both admired and feared in equal measure.
“But the Ministry of Personnel should be busy this morning,” Jinglan said lightly. “What brings you to the treasury?”
The vein on Jiangyou’s temple twitched. Qiu Ying burst out laughing.
“Of course I’m here on business,” Jiangyou said through clenched teeth. “There’s something I need to ask.”
He prided himself on being as rational and unbending as iron, yet it was clear that patience was not his strongest virtue.
“I heard you’re from Concubine Hong’s residence?”
“Ah—yes…” Jinglan stammered, glaring daggers at Qiu Ying, who only feigned innocence.
“Then is it true?” Jiangyou pressed. “She’s really Lord Shao Ke’s daughter?”
“Yes,” Jinglan replied, puzzled. “Are you acquainted with Lord Shao Ke?”
It surprised her. Lord Shao Ke was well-respected but held no real power — hardly someone who mingled with the court’s brightest stars.
Jiangyou nodded curtly. “I’ve been assigned to the treasury for some time. Lord Shao Ke has shown me much kindness. I also wished to ask about the new concubine who entered the palace.”
Before Jinglan could respond, Qiu Ying, who had been peering out the window, suddenly gasped.
“—Jiangyou! Look! The person you’ve been hunting for over a month—he’s right there!”
Jiangyou spun around, gripping the window sill so hard it creaked under his fingers.
“Is that him? That tyrant emperor! Neglecting state affairs every day, and now—now he’s loitering around here?!”
He cursed under his breath, fury trembling through his shoulders. Qiu Ying raised a brow, amused.
“What’s this? The infamous libertine king, actually spending time with a woman? Oh—wait, that girl…”
Jinglan’s lips parted. “Miss… Miss!”
Jiangyou froze mid-outburst.
Outside, Xiu Li bowed slightly. “I should return to the concubine’s quarters now. But I’m glad I’ve found another tea companion besides my father. Jinglan’s been busy lately, so I often come here around this time. If you’re free, perhaps we can share tea again.”
“…Don’t you have something to say to His Majesty?”
“Yes,” she replied gently. “But what’s the point, if I can’t say it to his face?”
“……”
“Are you free at this time every day?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes brightened, though he didn’t seem to notice.
“Then—see you tomorrow.”
She turned to leave. But when footsteps followed behind her, she paused.
“Is something wrong?”
“…I’ll walk you back to your quarters.”
She blinked, startled. It wasn’t proper for a man to escort a concubine to her chambers.
“I know the way,” she said softly. “You don’t need to worry.”
At her polite refusal, something flickered across his handsome features — a look faintly wounded, like a puppy left behind in the rain. Still, he said nothing more, only nodding quietly.
“Hmm…”
Half-hidden behind a row of bushes, Grand Tutor Xiao finally couldn’t hold his tongue.
“…They’ve met already? We wasted weeks planning this ‘fateful encounter!’”
“The one who insisted on fewer meddling servants was you, Xiao,” Tea Master muttered dryly.
“And you’re the one who kept pushing for a ‘chance meeting at sword practice!’”
Tea Master sipped his plum tea as Song Taifu, once the chief guard of the former king and a battle-hardened general, stuffed a plum bun into his mouth in embarrassment.
“This scene is quite something,” Song said at last. “A man and a woman meeting in such a place—it’s easy to mistake a flicker of nervousness for love.”
Tea Master rolled his eyes. “Only a swordsman like you could say something that naive.”
“It’s still better than your bitter plum tea, old fool!”
“You’re no spring chicken yourself!”
“Stop bickering, you pair of relics,” Tea Master snapped, his tone sharper than his tea.
Song turned aside with a grumble. “Li Jiangyou and Lan Qiuying are there too… and that new military officer?”
“Oh, yes! From Empress Xiu Li’s residence,” Xiao said proudly. “I’m recommending him to the Yulin Army.”
Song ignored him. “Jiangyou looks like he’s ready to strangle His Majesty. And Qiuying—still as indifferent as ever.”
“…Do you think placing those two around His Majesty will work?” Tea Master asked.
Xiao shrugged. “Who knows?”
Song’s gaze fell to the daphne carvings on his sword hilt.
“The real question is—will His Majesty offer them ‘flowers’?”
“Even if he does,” Tea Master replied, “they’d probably just laugh and refuse.”
“That’s unlikely,” Song said grimly. “His Majesty won’t let them near him.”
Tea Master sighed. “Lord Jiangyou isn’t pleased. He handpicked that man, yet His Majesty ignores him. Xiao, if you’re not careful, Jiangyou might just assassinate you one day.”
Xiao burst into laughter. “Hah! What’s one more hotheaded genius angry at me?”
His colleagues shot him cold stares, but he only smirked.
“Well then,” he said, lifting his cup in amusement, “it’s all up to Empress Xiu Li now.”
Starting the very next day, Xiu Li and “Lan Qiuying” met at the treasury each morning to brew tea together.
Though it was still early, the man always arrived first. He would appear the instant Xiu Li entered—cautious, almost shy—like a large, well-behaved puppy seeking attention. His expression was usually calm, but whenever Xiu Li brought handmade treats, his eyes lit up with such boyish delight that she could no longer deny the resemblance.
Shao Ke, the treasury’s manager, was taken aback to see the two together but said nothing. Instead, he joined them briefly for tea, exchanged a few light words, then slipped away to his work—leaving the pair alone for the rest of the morning. Thus began their quiet, daily ritual.
Xiu Li would speak of trivial things, meandering from one topic to another. The man mostly listened, answering softly, his gaze intent, as if each of her words mattered.
After five such days, he appeared from behind the bookcase, visibly uneasy.
“...You are the Red Concubine.”
Xiu Li’s composure did not falter. She had long prepared herself for this revelation—though she hadn’t expected it so soon.
“Oh, you know?”
She continued to pour tea, graceful and unbothered, while the man took his seat across from her, a mooncake in hand, his eyes fixed upon her. Before he could speak again, Xiu Li smiled faintly.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you. You must have imagined the Imperial Concubine to be stunningly beautiful, right?”
He nodded with disarming honesty. Xiu Li froze mid-pour. Even if she had said it herself, how could he just nod? Still, knowing her looks were plain, she only sighed inwardly.
“...I’m not disappointed, actually.”
The words were spoken so quietly they never reached her ears.
“I heard Grand Tutor Xiao invited you here,” she said.
“That’s right.”
“The purpose is to persuade His Majesty to return to court and govern?”
“Oh, you know that quite well.”
Xiu Li smiled. “It’s a lovely day. Would you care to join me for cherry blossom viewing and tea again?”
“I’d like to tell you the story of the cherry blossoms,” Xiu Li said.
Deep in the grove, by a wide pond, they sat side by side. A cool spring breeze stirred the petals, scattering them like drifting snow.
“My family,” Xiu Li began softly, “was very poor.”
She brushed a stray petal from her nose.
“Though my father was of the Hong family, he had been cast out and came to live in Zizhou. He wasn’t skilled at making a living... and my mother was not worldly either. After she passed, we were left destitute. Only Jinglan remained with us.”
The man lifted his head slightly. “Jinglan?”
Xiu Li smiled at his surprise.
“You may have seen him. He’s recently been promoted to the Left Wing Guards—His Majesty’s bodyguard. He spends most of his time in the Central Palace.”
She turned her hands over. They were rough, scarred, and cracked—hands that had labored far too long.
“I work hard every day, and these hands... they’re not the hands of a noblewoman. They’re ugly, aren’t they? But as long as my father, Jinglan, and I can survive, I don’t mind.”
She paused, eyes unfocused. “Life has been hard for so long. A few dishes on the table, endless work from dawn to dusk—and still, poverty clings to us. I’m used to being poor, but I’ve always prayed never to relive that terrible time again.”
Her voice quieted.
“It was during the struggle for the throne... eight years ago.”
The man’s gaze dropped to her. Cherry blossoms swirled around her shoulders like pale rain.
“When the late king fell ill, chaos followed. The court’s power struggle plunged the city into misery. Honest officials could no longer help us. Corrupt ones thrived. Disasters came one after another, prices soared. Jinglan and I worked endlessly, yet we could afford only thin porridge once a day. That was our life... for years.”
It was a life the man had never known.
“If you didn’t work, you didn’t eat. Simple as that. But that year, no matter how much we worked, we still couldn’t eat enough. My father never sought rank or wealth. Instead, he studied crops and irrigation—how to keep people alive. But it was too late, and we could do little. Maybe... the garden helped most.”
She smiled faintly—though her eyes were heavy with sorrow.
“There was a pond, and fruit trees. We shared what we had with the townsfolk. But one day, there were no fish left in the pond. The trees stopped bearing fruit. Even the petals were eaten. The branches stood bare, lifeless.”
The man looked at her—at the way her eyes lingered on the blossoms overhead. That look was not admiration. It was mourning.
“The struggle for the throne began the same year the fish vanished from our pond,” she continued. “People starved before our gates. My father gave away the last of our garden to feed them. The nobles hid behind their walls. Dead bodies piled outside. Jinglan fetched water, my father planted, I worked in the clinic. I nearly fainted every day, but I kept going. My hands trembled as I played the erhu at night, my tears long dried. Living felt like dying.”
Her voice thinned to a whisper.
“I was so afraid my father or Jinglan would die. Every night I dreamed they did. I prayed and prayed—don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me...”
The man’s expression twisted; the plea echoed something deep within him.
Xiu Li’s tone brightened suddenly, forcing the air lighter. “Looking back, those days were unbearably tense.”
The man wiped the sweat from his brow as she rose, smiling gently.
“That’s why I agreed to enter the palace.”
“...What?”
“I didn’t want to live like that again. So when Grand Tutor Xiao made his request, I accepted.”
The cherry blossoms fell in slow, graceful waves.
“They represent sorrow, yes—but also peace.”
“I’ve endured so much pain. I never want to feel that helplessness again. This time, if I can act, I will.”
Eight years ago, she had lost too much—things too precious for words.
“I don’t expect perfection,” she said. “I don’t expect the king to make everyone happy. Happiness isn’t a gift—it’s something you fight for.”
The man blinked, startled by her conviction.
“Happiness and misfortune are personal. The king can’t decide them. I only wish for everyone to live their own chosen life. That’s all.”
Xiu Li smiled at his puzzled look.
“Life is yours to shape. The world is unfair—nine times out of ten, things go wrong. But there’s always a choice. Even in pain, we choose how to move forward.”
Her eyes softened.
“Still, sometimes there is no choice. When disaster strikes—when all you’ve built is washed away—survival itself becomes the only goal. At those times, there’s no happiness or misfortune... only endurance.”
She looked down. “If it’s a natural disaster, we can only accept it. But a man-made one—like eight years ago—must be prevented.”
The man understood. He had seen it all himself—within the palace, beside his father’s bed.
“But man-made disasters can be stopped, can’t they?” he murmured.
“Yes,” Xiu Li said, her gaze unwavering. “That’s why I entered the palace—because some things can be changed.”
Her voice, clear and steady, seemed to echo in his heart.
“I’m not blaming the king for everything. But there are duties only a ruler can fulfill. If he doesn’t, who will?”
The man was silent. Each word she spoke struck him like truth long forgotten.
“I don’t think being king is easy,” Xiu Li went on. “Every move affects countless lives. The weight of it must be unbearable.”
Her gaze met his.
“I don’t know why His Majesty neglects state affairs. But now that he’s ascended the throne, he should face his duty. I’ll remind him—and I’ll stand beside him.”
“—What...?”
“Maybe he’s still young and untrained. Then I’ll learn with him. I’ll support him when he’s overwhelmed, stand beside him when he’s afraid, listen when he needs to speak, and cry when he must. I’m not here as a decoration or a scold. I’m here to help him become a ruler worthy of his crown.”
—I will accompany you.
The man’s eyes widened; his composure faltered.
“I have only one request,” Xiu Li said softly. “Please, do everything you can to prevent another storm like before. Let people live freely, make their own choices. That’s the only dignity they possess.”
She rose, brushed off her robes, and looked down at him.
“That’s all I wanted to tell His Majesty.”
“……”
“So,” she added with a light smile, “since you know His Majesty so well, could you please pass along my words?”
She turned to leave. “And if His Majesty wishes, I’ll be waiting at the treasury this afternoon—do tell him that.”
On her way back, Xiu Li spotted a figure hiding beneath a tree’s shade.
“Jinglan! What are you doing here!?”
He hesitated. Ever since that day, Jiang You and Qiu Ying had forced him to spy on her and His Majesty.
“...Miss, about that young man’s identity...”
“I already knew,” Xiu Li sighed.
“When I first asked his name, do you know what he said? He paused forever, then claimed he was Lan Qiuying.”
“...That’s...”
“He’s terrible at lying,” she said with amusement. “Not used to it at all. He even blurted out his age—and said he was very familiar with His Majesty. Wandering the palace in that casual coat... how could anyone not notice?”
“So...?”
“Anyway,” Xiu Li smiled faintly, “I’ve declared war. Now it depends on whether he shows up this afternoon.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll find another way. We’ll catch him. I’ll need your help, Jinglan.”
Jinglan said nothing, wisely holding his tongue.
Cherry blossoms drifted around them.
“He must have understood what I meant,” Xiu Li murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“At first, I thought he was a hopeless ruler,” she said softly. “But after meeting him, I realized he’s straightforward—childish, maybe—but not arrogant or cruel. He listens. That alone means he can be reasoned with.”
For five days, she had studied him closely—his words, his gestures, his reactions. He had waited patiently for her to uncover the truth.
“Not as bad as I imagined,” she whispered. “No... he could become a good king.”
A blank slate. Untainted. Young, unformed—but promising.
Jinglan smiled and nodded. “I think so.”
“Jinglan, you’ve always favored His Majesty,” Xiu Li teased, “but... now I can see why.”
His Majesty often gazed into the distance—but when he looked at her, it was always directly.
Why did he neglect state affairs? She still didn’t know.
A young prince — utterly unprepared for the throne — found himself suddenly crowned one day, a crown heavier than his spirit could bear. He had neither the awareness nor the guidance to rule; no one had ever forced him to learn. His father, the only anchor in his fragile world, lay bedridden.
He had not joined the vicious struggle for power, and thus, had escaped it unscathed — but also forgotten. Between the end of that conflict and his unexpected ascension six months ago, the ministers were consumed by rebuilding the nation and tending to the late king’s illness.
What must it have felt like to be left behind, alone in the shadow of duty?
If only he hadn’t given up… there might still be hope.
When adversity strikes, one must not yield — one must endure, and rise again.
That was why Xiu Li was here.
“—I will do my best,” she said, forcing a smile. “If my efforts fail, then I shall simply pack my things and return home.”
“Don’t worry, my lady,” Jinglan reassured her softly. “His Majesty himself will come this afternoon.”
“That would be for the best.” Xiu Li smiled again, though it trembled faintly at the corners.
“I think we should ask Master Xiao to help us find a capable teacher soon,” she added. “I must first learn before I can teach. I know nothing of court affairs.”
Her companion chuckled quietly. “You’ve spent so long as a teacher, my lady, that you’ve forgotten what it feels like to be a student.”
“That’s true,” Xiu Li said wistfully. “It was because of His Majesty that I once opened a private school. Back then, I didn’t know women were forbidden from taking the national examination. I studied day and night with Father, dreaming that one day I’d serve as an official — to assist the king, to help build a peaceful and prosperous realm.”
Jinglan’s expression softened. “Every day you’d recite, ‘Once I pass the civil service exam, I’ll become prime minister, and Jinglan will rise through the military ranks. Together, we’ll build a golden age!’ Then you’d stay up, studying beneath the moonlight.”
“That’s right!” Xiu Li laughed through the ache in her chest. “And I longed to see the Fairy Cave Palace. I swore that one day I’d enter the royal city… yes…”
When she learned she could never take the exam, Xiu Li had opened her own school — one that charged no tuition. If she could not become a minister herself, she decided, then she would cultivate those who could. It was her way of still serving the dream she’d once shared with her father.
Jinglan gently wrapped her arms around her. Xiu Li trembled, biting her lip.
“…Miss… you’ve done more than enough.”
Tears slipped silently down Xiu Li’s cheeks.
Eight years had passed, yet the pain felt as raw as yesterday. The scars carved into her heart had never fully healed. Jinglan had watched her weep through countless midnights, gazing out at the cold courtyard where spring never seemed to arrive.
For Xiu Li to smile again — to speak of those memories without breaking — took immense courage. It took a kind of strength only those who have survived loss could ever understand.
As Jinglan gently pried open her clenched fist, blood welled from her palm. Still, Xiu Li did not stop speaking.
She was here not for glory or favor, but to protect something she refused to lose again.
Her quiet sobs filled the room. Jinglan could only pat her back in silence.
Two pairs of eyes watched them from the grass outside.
“…That imperial concubine is remarkable, isn’t she, Jiangyou?” murmured Qiu Ying.
Jiangyou brushed a leaf from his hair, his expression calm but his tone edged with thought.
“Eight years ago…”
Neither of them had held rank then. They had passed the imperial exams six years ago and entered the political stage four years ago — just as the battle for succession ended and Grand Tutor Xiao began reshaping the court.
“Perhaps His Majesty might truly change after this,” Qiu Ying said quietly.
“It’s hard to say,” Jiangyou replied.
“But if he does…” Qiu Ying’s lips curled into a smile. “Then maybe I’ll consider pledging allegiance to him.”
There was humor in his tone, but also sincerity. Hei Yaoshi, the Grand General of the Left Winged Guards, had once joked that “Convincing Lan Qiuying to serve sincerely would be harder than ascending to heaven.”
But with that girl by the young king’s side… perhaps heaven was no longer so far away.
Watching Xiu Li depart, Qiu Ying sighed in mock regret.
“What a pity. I’d been planning to recruit her myself — who would’ve thought she’d end up as someone else’s concubine?”
“Why do you care so much?” Jiangyou muttered.
Qiu Ying smirked. “Don’t you admire her too?”
Jiangyou said nothing — but he didn’t deny it either. His face hardened with resolve.
“Let’s wait and see if His Majesty actually appears this afternoon,” he said. “If he does, I can finally get to work.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll be his teacher,” Jiangyou declared. “From this day forth, I’ll train him rigorously. No mercy. The student will learn the workings of state — or perish under the weight of my lessons. Come, back to the treasury. We’ll need textbooks.”
Qiu Ying laughed. “You still can’t find your way, can you? The treasury’s that way, not there.”
Jiangyou froze mid-step, facing the wrong direction. Qiu Ying clapped him on the shoulder.
“You haven’t changed since our exam days! Remember how you got lost on your way to the restroom? I had to drag you back to your seat. You’re a genius, Jiangyou, but tragically… consistent.”
A dagger whistled through the air — Jiangyou’s swift response to teasing.
That afternoon, Xiu Li saw him — the young man entering the treasury with quiet steps, face unreadable. He said nothing as he sat down.
“…I am Zi Liu Hui.”
“Yes,” she replied.
“My friend sent me a message.”
The seriousness in his tone almost made her laugh, but she coughed lightly instead. “Is that so? And what’s your answer?”
His old hesitation was gone. His voice was steady now.
“…I’ve decided to return to court. To rule.”
“—Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Her smile in that moment was radiant — like sunlight after years of rain.
“Your Majesty, please work hard. You won’t face this alone. I’ll study with you.”
Drawn in by her warmth, Liu Hui reached out, fingers brushing along her cheek, her jaw, tracing down the back of her neck.
Before she realized it, she was in his arms. His hand combed gently through her hair, caressing her back.
What—what is happening?!
Startled, Xiu Li pushed him away with surprising strength.
“…Can I ask you a question?”
“What is it?”
“You—you… don’t you like men?”
Liu Hui blinked, trying to process her flustered tone. After a pause, he answered with the only reply she seemed to want.
“…Yes. That’s right.”
“Oh, good! That’s… good.” She exhaled in visible relief. “Though that might cause problems with heirs later… never mind, we’ll deal with that later.”
Standing up briskly, she smoothed her robe.
“Now then, allow me to introduce your teacher — the most talented scholar in court!”
Liu Hui frowned slightly. The most talented…?
A voice rang out, sharp and unyielding.
“It’s a true honor to finally meet you today, Your Majesty.”
The tone was polite, but the venom underneath unmistakable. Even a king could feel its sting.
Jiangyou’s smile was handsome — and dangerously thin.
“From this day forward, I’ll teach you thoroughly. Be prepared.”
A mountain of books landed before the throne with a thud. Liu Hui looked over the stack and muttered,
“…Jiangyou, how do you even manage to find your way here?”
Behind him, Qiu Ying burst out laughing. Xiu Li, watching them, could only smile helplessly.
A vein twitched on Jiangyou’s temple.
“—Your Majesty, please remain silent!”
It seemed the lessons ahead would be… a long and merciless ordeal.
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