TSNCWEM Chapter 91

When Song Yunzhao welcomed the Emperor, she immediately sensed that his mood was off.

He was the type who never showed his displeasure outright, but she had observed him carefully over time.

Whenever the Emperor was in a bad mood, his eyes became noticeably colder than usual.

It was the kind of chill that words couldn’t quite capture, but could be understood through instinct.

Like now.

She could see it instantly, yet he still wore a smile, unwilling to let anyone notice his gloom.

Now that was tricky.

Song Yunzhao pretended to know nothing, keeping up her cheerful demeanor as she led him inside.

She feigned curiosity, asking brightly, “Your Majesty, may I ask you something?”

Feng Yi tilted his head, observing her.

She seemed particularly joyful today—her eyes were so bright that they could practically ignite a flame.

Intrigued, he asked, “What is it? Speak.”

Tch, still putting on airs!

Song Yunzhao leaned in slightly, deliberately lowering her voice, “Your Majesty, will you be attending the Qixi Festival banquet in the harem?”

Feng Yi paused, his brow lifting slightly.

“Why would my beloved concubine ask such a question?”

Song Yunzhao couldn’t help but recall a well-known phrase from the modern era—

When a man likes you, he calls you his Little Sweetie.

When he doesn’t, he calls you Mrs Niu.[mfn]A reference to a chinese movie. It expresses the change in a person’s attitude towards another person. It can be said that someone once regarded you as his white moonlight, but now treats you like a grain of rice.[/mfn]

This damned Emperor—in bed, he whispered her name with passion, yet once dressed, he acted detached, referring to her as “beloved concubine”.

Tch!

She let her gaze soften, eyes teasing, “What do you think?”

Feng Yi: “…”

One look at her expression, and he immediately knew she was up to something.

They had spent enough time together for him to recognize the signs.

This smirk, this tone, she was planning trouble.

Without hesitation, he responded, “During the festival, one must celebrate with all.”

Song Yunzhao kept her smile, her tone filled with meaning as she murmured,

“I understand now.”

Feng Yi narrowed his eyes, watching her closely—understand what, exactly?

But Song Yunzhao had no intention of explaining.

Now that she had her answer, she swiftly shifted topics.

It didn’t take long before the Emperor was laughing and within minutes, he had pulled her into the bedchamber.

Gaining favor from the Emperor was no easy task.

Song Yunzhao knew winning him over completely was too risky and unlikely.

Instead she focused on maintaining harmony, using her youth and beauty to stabilize their relationship.

Her best bet was to bear a son and secure a firm foothold before gradually maxing out his affection.

That way even when beauty faded, their unique bond would keep her standing.

Falling in love with the Emperor was one thing, but hoping for a lifelong, exclusive romance?

She wasn’t sure she had the persistence or ambition for that battle.

The next morning, Feng Yi awoke early, not waiting for Meng Jiuchang to call him.

He steadied himself, then turned to look at Song Yunzhao, still sleeping peacefully beside him.

A strange feeling lingered.

Last night Song Yunzhao had seemed different.

Yet he couldn’t pinpoint what had changed.

Her smile was just as bright, her affection just as warm, her clinginess just as persistent.

And yet something felt off.

But he couldn’t figure out what.

Perhaps he was overthinking, because the court had been chaotic lately.

His insistence on granting the Minister of Judicial Review full authority over disaster relief, with Song Nanzhen as deputy, had led to uneasy cooperation between the Left and Right Prime Ministers.

The old rivalry between them now seemed to be shifting toward an alliance.

Recently, he had been studying the memorials submitted during the late Emperor’s reign.

Before ascending the throne, he had never dealt with such matters.

Now, as an inexperienced prince suddenly thrust into power, he had been swamped by the responsibilities of ruling.

There had been no one to teach him statecraft, he had no mentor, no guide for handling the court.

The officials had assumed he was easy to manipulate, scheming to strip him of his power.

So he had learned step by step, burning countless candles, enduring sleepless nights.

Only he knew how much effort it had taken.

As a child, he had been ignored by his father, bullied by his father’s favored concubines and sons.

Even now, surrounded by courtiers and consorts, every one of them harbored their own agendas.

His sensitivity toward people had become razor-sharp.

So as he looked at Song Yunzhao, he felt something was different, yet she seemed exactly the same.

And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

Feng Yi’s gaze lingered on Song Yunzhao, watching her peacefully sleeping face, cheeks tinged rosy and soft.

Right now she was as docile as ever.

“Your Majesty, it’s time to rise.”

Meng Jiuchang’s morning call pulled Feng Yi back to reality.

He snapped out of his thoughts, withdrew his gaze from Song Yunzhao, then slowly sat up.

The moment his eyes left her, Song Yunzhao exhaled deeply in relief.

His stare had been too sharp, too penetrating, so much so that she hadn’t dared to move.

She didn’t even want him to realize she was already awake.

After a brief mental reset, she feigned drowsiness, as if stirred from sleep by Meng Jiuchang’s call.

Following the Emperor’s lead, she sat up, draping a robe over her shoulders, covering her lips with her hand as she yawned deliberately before speaking in a soft, sleepy voice,

“Your Majesty, allow me to assist you in dressing.”

Feng Yi watched her endless yawning, his lips curling into a smile.

He pressed her back down gently,

“With your clumsy hands, it’s better if you just rest.”

Song Yunzhao pouted, sitting back up with determined defiance, her bright, watery eyes flashing with protest.

“If I practice a few more times, I’ll be skilled at it!”

Feng Yi glanced sideways, observing her closely.

At a glance, she looked the same as always.

Yet something felt off.

Song Yunzhao felt his intense stare, making her instinctively uneasy.

She had to admit that he truly fit the role of a male lead.

Had he even noticed her slight hint of disengagement last night?!

Internally, she was panicked, but outwardly her expression remained firm, refusing to let him pick up on anything.

She slipped off the bed barefoot, quickly dressing, then stepped out of the sleeping quarters, retrieving the dragon robe from Meng Jiuchang’s hands.

Feng Yi, watching her puffed-up attitude, thought she looked exactly like a little blowfish.

It amused him instantly.

Song Yunzhao could feel him laughing at her.

Of course, she knew she wasn’t particularly skilled in assisting with his layers upon layers of robes.

But was it her fault?

She had never dressed anyone in a dragon robe before!

Her expression was so tense that Feng Yi felt he may have teased her a bit too much.

He stepped forward, gently taking her hand, his voice softening, “Why trouble yourself with such tasks? Isn’t that what Meng Jiuchang and the others are here for?”

Meng Jiuchang: “…”

He hadn’t done a thing, yet somehow a massive burden had fallen from the sky onto him.

Now, he truly understood what it meant to be showered in imperial favor—if Song Jieyu so much as furrowed her brows, the Emperor was ready to smooth them out.

Best not to offend her.

Absolutely must not offend her—at least, not right now.

“Your Majesty is right. Jieyu, gracious as she is, has spared us a way forward. Otherwise, how could we servants continue serving before the imperial presence?”

Meng Jiuchang’s smile was practically overflowing.

Ever since His Majesty ascended, he had never smiled so subserviently at anyone other than the Emperor himself.

Song Yunzhao had the distinct feeling that Meng Jiuchang was indirectly mocking her, but she had no proof.

Feng Yi caught her puzzled gaze, watching as she stared at Meng Jiuchang.

And at that moment he couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

Song Yunzhao: “…”

Meng Jiuchang: “…”

What, exactly, was so funny?