Song Yunzhao couldn’t recall the details about the Minister of Judicial Review, so she decided to take things step by step. However, she made sure to keep this matter in mind.
The next few days in the palace were peaceful. Despite her newly acquired rank, Song Yunzhao had no intention of parading around.
She spent her time in Wangyou Palace, enjoying her storybooks.
Recalling her previous plan, she decided to write a few short stories—the kind the Emperor would enjoy.
So, over the next few days, she stayed up late, quickly finishing two volumes, then had Anshun deliver them to Xie Linlang.
By now, the name “Wanderer without return” had gained some recognition in the capital.
As soon as news broke that she had a new story, Yuquan Tower instantly filled with reservations.
Zhang Maoquan had been keeping an eye on this matter.
The Emperor had given explicit orders—whenever Yuquan Tower released a new book, copies were to be purchased and delivered to the palace.
As soon as Yuquan Tower showed movement, Zhang Maoquan sent someone over.
This time, Song Yunzhao had written a lighthearted romance—a proper love story.
A gentleman and a lady, equal in family status, appearance, and talent, meet while offering incense at a temple.
The gentleman falls in love at first sight, and the lady takes an interest in him.
The plot follows how the gentleman pursues the lady, winning her heart and ultimately marrying her.
Key takeaway: how to court a woman.
Feng Yi read the book but didn’t think much of it.
He set it aside, dismissing love as an absurd concept—especially in the imperial family, where true feelings were nonexistent.
After finishing his official documents, he glanced at the book again on his desk.
Originally, he thought to have Zhang Maoquan send it back to Wangyou Palace, but then he changed his mind.
What if Song Yunzhao tried learning from it?
Feng Yi had no time to entertain romantic notions with concubines.
So, he casually shoved the book into a drawer.
Meng Jiuchang noticed His Majesty’s displeased expression.
After a moment of thought, he stepped forward, smiling. “Your Majesty, the Bureau of Rites has prepared a new dance performance. Shall I summon them to relieve Your Majesty’s boredom?”
Feng Yi lifted his gaze to Meng Jiuchang.
Meng Jiuchang maintained his smile, though cold sweat had begun forming in his palm.
“No need.” Feng Yi rose and walked out. If Meng Jiuchang was bringing it up, the so-called dance performance was likely just an excuse to present him with women.
Meng Jiuchang quickly followed His Majesty outside, feeling a subtle relief—at least the Emperor didn’t probe further.
Since this plan failed, he’d have to return the bribes—a pity.
Feng Yi exited Taiji Palace, strolling leisurely down the palace pathway.
Summer filled the palace with blooming flowers, lush greenery, and soft breezes carrying petals across the ground, dyeing them golden-red under the sunset—a stunning sight.
But Feng Yi’s expression remained tense, his brows furrowed, the cold edge in his gaze deepening.
“Your Majesty, it’s getting late—you should return.” Meng Jiuchang braved his nerves to remind him.
Feng Yi didn’t acknowledge him, instead lowering his gaze toward the lotus pond and speaking thoughtfully.
“In the days when Imperial Noble Consort Gao was favored, her son—the Ninth Prince—was dearly loved by the late Emperor. That winter, right here, my ninth brother pushed me into the pond, nearly drowning me. You were the one who jumped in and pulled me out.”
Meng Jiuchang quickly replied, “It was my duty, Your Majesty. I failed to protect you—I am unworthy to live.”
Feng Yi let out a low chuckle.
Meng Jiuchang shivered at the sound, bowing his head even lower.
He had been one of Feng Yi’s earliest attendants.
At the time, His Majesty had been just a child, and he himself had been young.
The Empress Dowager had focused entirely on regaining favor, paying some attention to her son but devoting most of her efforts to herself.
Feng Yi had suffered constant obstruction, and as his attendant, Meng Jiuchang had also endured his share of hardship.
That winter had been especially brutal. The Ninth Prince tricked him away, then shoved His Majesty into the freezing pond.
Fortunately, Meng Jiuchang hadn’t gone far. Sensing something amiss, he rushed back immediately.
He remembered vividly—the Ninth Prince stood by the water, laughing gleefully as Feng Yi struggled to stay afloat, completely unconcerned whether his brother lived or died.
Horrified, Meng Jiuchang jumped into the water, rescuing His Majesty from certain death.
That winter, Feng Yi had lingered in illness and remained bedridden for months.
Yet, the Ninth Prince went unpunished. Instead, Imperial Noble Consort Gao turned the tables, claiming that His Majesty had spoken rudely, and that the Ninth Prince had only “accidentally” pushed him.
While the Ninth Prince remained unharmed, His Majesty fell ill for an entire season, and the Empress Dowager, unable to protect him, vented her anger on Meng Jiuchang, nearly beating him to death.
Had it not been for His Majesty, Meng Jiuchang wouldn’t have survived.
Recalling these memories, Meng Jiuchang broke into a cold sweat.
Why was the Emperor suddenly bringing this up?
Was he warning him?
Thinking back to his actions today, Meng Jiuchang felt his blood run cold.
Ever since he had become chief attendant, he had grown accustomed to flattery…
Feng Yi said nothing more, striding back toward his palace.
At the crossroads, he paused, reconsidered, and changed direction—heading toward Wangyou Palace.
Meng Jiuchang: …
Hastily, he followed behind, keeping completely silent.
As they stepped into Wangyou Palace, they were greeted by laughter from within.
The gatekeepers moved to announce His Majesty’s arrival, but Feng Yi raised his hand, signaling them to stop.
The attendants hesitated but ultimately lowered their heads, obeying his command.
Lanterns swayed slightly in the evening breeze, casting flickering lights across the palace corridors.
Servants passing by immediately bowed upon seeing the Emperor.
Feng Yi ordered silence, then walked up the stone steps himself.
Standing beneath the eaves, he heard Song Yunzhao’s crisp voice.
“No cheating! Put it back properly!”
“Master, I wasn’t cheating. You see—I followed exactly what you said. This move is perfectly fair.”
“Really? Let me see.”
Feng Yi heard Song Yunzhao’s skeptical tone, followed by her surprised reaction.
“Huh? It actually is! How did I not realize that? Let’s play another round.”
“Master, it’s getting late—let’s continue tomorrow.”
“It’s not late at all! There’s no one visiting tonight anyway, so this is the perfect way to pass the time.”
“What if His Majesty comes? I should tidy up first.”
“He won’t come at this hour—don’t fuss over it. We’ll be going to bed soon anyway.”
Feng Yi picked up on the impatience in Song Yunzhao’s voice and furrowed his brows slightly.
“His Majesty favors you the most in the harem. If he doesn’t visit, he’s likely preoccupied with court affairs—please don’t be upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
Meng Jiuchang’s face stiffened—His Majesty was already displeased today, and hearing this would likely make him even more unhappy.
Was Song Jieyu disregarding the Emperor entirely?
“There are countless beauties in the palace—it’s not just me. His Majesty can go wherever he pleases, it’s not my place to comment.”
Song Yunzhao glanced at Xiang Xue’s troubled expression, her tone casual.
In the palace, the most dangerous thing was true feelings—getting attached was a death sentence.
Did the Emperor have emotions?
Yes, of course.
But they never lasted long.
While everyone in Wangyou Palace seemed certain that the Emperor truly liked her, she was careful not to get caught up in illusions—but her attendants seemed completely convinced.
Xiang Xue, however, thought differently. Hearing her mistress speak so indifferently, she became even more convinced that Yunzhao was hurt.
Her spirits had been low all day, which was why they had tried so hard to cheer her up.
“Master, should I have Anshun check His Majesty’s whereabouts?” Xiang Xue suggested tentatively.
“Spying on the Emperor? Are you tired of living?” Song Yunzhao shot her a sharp look.
Xiang Xue dropped to her knees, pleading. “Master, please don’t be angry—it was my mistake. I accept any punishment.”
Song Yunzhao sighed inwardly—having overly ambitious attendants wasn’t always a blessing.
After thinking for a moment, she softened slightly, looking at Xiang Xue.
“My relationship with His Majesty isn’t what you all imagine. Stop entertaining wishful thinking. This is the last warning—if it happens again, there will be no leniency.”
“Understood.” Xiang Xue rose, even more troubled than before.
She hadn’t quite grasped what her mistress meant—what did she mean their relationship wasn’t what they thought?
“All of you, leave. I want to sit here alone for a while,” Song Yunzhao instructed.
“Yes.” They obeyed, turning to exit the hall—only to be stunned into silence upon seeing the Emperor standing outside.
Their faces turned pale.
“I bow to your Your Majesty.”
Song Yunzhao froze at the words.
The Emperor?
She quickly stood up, her mind racing.
How long had this sly Emperor been standing there?
Thinking back, she hadn’t said anything dangerous.
Luckily, she was always cautious—even around her closest attendants, she never spoke recklessly.
And yet… he had been eavesdropping on her.
She had barely taken a few steps before the Emperor strode into the hall. Seeing him, she immediately approached.
“I pay my respects to Your Majesty.”
“Rise. It’s quite lively here for this late hour,” Feng Yi said, his gaze resting on Song Yunzhao.
Song Yunzhao: …
Judging by his tone, he must have heard quite a bit. What else could she do?
“Having nothing else to do, I had them play chess with me—so that next time, Your Majesty won’t find my skills lacking,” Song Yunzhao said with a smile, stepping closer to him.
Feng Yi glanced at the messy chessboard, feeling visibly irritated.
Xiang Xue hurriedly gathered everything up, tidying the space, and presented tea, before bowing and stepping aside.
“You said earlier that our relationship is different. Tell me—how exactly is it different?” Feng Yi sat across from Song Yunzhao, speaking slowly, each word deliberate.
Song Yunzhao’s smile stiffened.
Well, he certainly knows how to focus on the key points.
“I want to hear the truth,” Feng Yi said.
He could already tell she was preparing to brush it off.
Song Yunzhao could barely keep up her smile.
Her mind raced, but outwardly, she spoke in a playful yet slightly resigned tone.
“How do you expect me to explain this?”
“Haven’t I said? Speak honestly.”
Song Yunzhao put on a hopeless expression, glancing up at the Emperor.
“Do you want me to start from my battle at Sanyuan Tower, when I stood with hands on my hips, facing off against enemies? Or should I recount how I barely escaped disaster at Yuquan Tower? I’ve had my two most humiliating moments witnessed by Your Majesty—so tell me, what dignity do I have left? Yet, despite all that, you still protect and favor me. Naturally, that makes our relationship different—doesn’t it?”
Feng Yi listened to her words and actually found himself convinced.
Every other woman in the harem had a carefully crafted persona—two faces, one in public and one in private.
But Song Yunzhao?
He had already seen her true self before she had even entered the palace.
Thinking about it this way, his frustration from earlier eased slightly. A faint smile touched his lips.
“You certainly know how to glorify yourself.”
“Of course! I must have something exceptional about me—otherwise, how could I have caught Your Majesty’s eye? Though… I’m not quite sure what my excellence is.”
Song Yunzhao spoke with a large, self-satisfied grin, but inwardly, she felt relieved—she had navigated through the moment.
What had gotten under the Emperor’s skin today, anyway?
Now he was here venting his mood on her—how very inconsiderate.
“What have you been busy with these past few days?” Feng Yi asked.
Song Yunzhao wondered if he had read the storybook she had sent.
Judging from his tone, he probably hadn’t.
Anyone who had wouldn’t be questioning her with this suspicious air.
“Not much,” Song Yunzhao answered.
Since she hadn’t figured out his mood, it was best not to say too much. Playing it safe was the wiser option.
Feng Yi knew her words were half-truths, but he didn’t press further.
Instead, he said, “Back during the palace selection, I knew you didn’t want to stay.”
Song Yunzhao startled slightly.
What had happened to him today?
Was he in the mood to dig up old accounts?
Could this account be revisited?
Of course not!
Song Yunzhao’s internal alarms blared, but outwardly, she showed just the right hint of embarrassment.
“We’ve talked about this before—let’s not bring it up again. It’s clear my skills weren’t polished enough to fool Your Majesty’s sharp eye.”
Feng Yi gave a cold chuckle.
Even when she flattered him, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
Song Yunzhao felt like her brain was ready to shut down. She tried to sound serious, but she was clearly bluffing.
“Your Majesty, if you keep pressing like this, it’s rather unreasonable. I was simply aware of my own situation—if I had entered the palace without protection, I probably would have met my death by now.”
Feng Yi studied her. “That’s not necessarily true.”
With complete sincerity, Song Yunzhao continued, “I was never valued at home. My own mother, elder sister, and younger brother all treated me like an enemy—only my Father looked out for me. But my Father was a government official, always busy, unable to monitor household matters every day. In my early years, I endured countless hardships. How do you think this personality of mine was shaped? If I didn’t fight back, if I wasn’t a little ruthless, I wouldn’t have survived in my own home.”
Hearing this, Feng Yi frowned slightly. “Early years?”
Song Yunzhao disliked dwelling on the past.
When she first arrived in this world, she was just a baby, unfamiliar with ancient etiquette and customs.
At such a young age, she couldn’t speak or walk.
Later, even when she grew older, she was still too small—and anything she said was dismissed as childish nonsense.
Before she turned five, she had suffered greatly.
Feng Yi noticed her serious expression, about to ask further, when she spoke again.
“Yes. You may not believe it, but I’ve had sharp memory from a very young age. I can still clearly recall events from when I was three.”
Back then, her mother resented her for not being a son. Every harsh word she spoke—she remembered them all. She thought she would forget, but she knew everything.
“Because my mother despised me, my wet nurse neglected me as well. I was often underfed, and as a result, I was always skinny as a child. But they lied to my Father, claiming I was a picky eater, refusing to eat, which led to him scolding me.”
“I was too young to resist, so those years were truly difficult. You might find it hard to imagine, Your Majesty—my parents were both alive, I had siblings, yet my life was a daily struggle.”
Feng Yi understood this all too well.
“Then what did you do?” Feng Yi asked.
He had only investigated her recent years, but childhood memories were harder to trace—he hadn’t looked into them.
“In our household, no one celebrated my birthday. My sister had birthday feasts, my brother had grand celebrations—but not me. When I turned five, my wet nurse took my monthly allowance, so I had no money to buy myself even a simple treat. I refused to keep suffering in silence, so I arranged for one of my attendants to invite my Father for dinner. Your Majesty, can you guess what happened next?”
Feng Yi looked at her. “Your allowance was gone, the household ignored your birthday, so your Father discovered the truth?”
“Exactly, Your Majesty! My wet nurse knew my mother hated me—so she neglected me entirely. She never imagined that my Father would come looking for me. That evening, when he arrived, the dining table had only a bowl of cold rice and a dish of plain vegetables—not even a bowl of birthday noodles. When he held me, he wept. That was the first time I knew—someone in my family truly loved me.”
“And what happened next?” Feng Yi asked.
“My Father sold off my wet nurse’s entire family and fought bitterly with my mother. From that moment, I learned a valuable lesson: If you suffer in silence, no one will know what you endured.”
Feng Yi looked at Song Yunzhao and felt a rare flicker of envy.
Like her, he had been an unwanted child—but at least she had a father who truly cared.
And he had no one.
He had only himself, struggling alone in the palace to survive.
Song Yunzhao watched his expression carefully.
Seeing him soften slightly, she knew she had handled this well.
To heal someone’s wounds, sometimes you have to show them your own scars.
It was a harsh truth, but an effective strategy.
Seeing the Emperor’s gaze turn gentler, she knew she had won this round.
“Your Majesty doesn’t seem to be in a good mood today—has something troublesome happened?”
Song Yunzhao tested the waters, carefully probing.
Since entering the palace, the Emperor had never discussed court affairs with her.
But she couldn’t remain blind and deaf forever.
Today, she extended a cautious step forward.
“You? You think you could solve my troubles?” Feng Yi chuckled, a teasing light in his eyes.
“Try me! Maybe I actually have a solution.”
Song Yunzhao pretended to challenge him, crossing her arms playfully.
Feng Yi didn’t take her seriously.
But tonight, the atmosphere felt different—perhaps there was a rare sense of camaraderie or perhaps because they had both suffered before.
For once, he opened up.
“Since summer began, the southern flood season has arrived. Several reports have come in about dam collapses—I’m troubled over disaster relief efforts. So, tell me, dear concubine—any bright ideas?”
Song Yunzhao: …
Farewell.
The Emperor was being unreasonable—jumping straight to the most difficult topic, leaving no easy way to respond.
Seeing Song Yunzhao’s furrowed brows, Feng Yi smirked—so, she liked talking big? Well, now she was cornered.
But Song Yunzhao wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. After thinking for a moment, she finally said, “Your Majesty, I don’t fully understand these matters, but I do know that managing waterways is no easy task.”
“Not fully understand?” Feng Yi deliberately pushed further. “Then you still know something—let’s hear it.”
Song Yunzhao huffed inwardly.
Fine—if the Emperor took the bait, she might as well play along.
“I don’t know how to manage floods,” she admitted, “but I do understand that resettling disaster victims is no simple matter either.”
Feng Yi picked up on her words and asked, “You know about this?”
“I’ve heard my Father mention it before,” Song Yunzhao explained. “Your Majesty, my Father served ten years as a county magistrate, and he encountered situations like these. I’ve also seen our family elders helping to resettle disaster victims, so I know a little.”
“Family elders?” Feng Yi asked suspiciously.
“Yes,” Song Yunzhao nodded. “When my Father was out handling disaster relief, the women in the household couldn’t just sit idle. They had to help collect grain, ensuring that victims wouldn’t starve or freeze. They also had to approach local gentry and wealthy families, asking them to work together—those with money offered funds, and those with power provided labor.”
This wasn’t just a bluff—it was the truth.
Feng Yi listened, deep in thought.
The court officials had never mentioned that local elites could assist in disaster relief efforts.
He had always assumed that everything relied solely on the imperial treasury.
Then came the real question—if local communities were also contributing, where was the government’s relief money actually going?
If officials could profit from both sides, wouldn’t they be taking double?
Feng Yi’s expression darkened. Looking at Yunzhao, he asked, “Would local gentry really be willing to spend their money? Once they give it away, they’re not getting it back.”
Song Yunzhao was startled by the question.
“Your Majesty, why wouldn’t they?” she said, genuinely surprised. “It’s their homeland—they have deep ties to the land. Besides, helping earns them prestige, which benefits their own families.”
She paused before adding, “I recall my Father mentioning that in some cases, official requests were made to grant tax exemptions to those who contributed to relief efforts. However, some local officials never actually passed on the exemptions—instead, they kept the benefits for themselves. Since neither the officials nor the local gentry spoke openly about it, no one realized what was happening. That’s all I know about it.”
Feng Yi’s expression grew even darker.
Before court officials had even left the capital, they had already petitioned for tax exemptions on behalf of local benefactors.
In previous years, he had always approved such requests.
But now, hearing this truth from Song Yunzhao, how could he not be shaken?
“Concubine, are you certain of this?”
Song Yunzhao thought to herself—this couldn’t be any truer.
She nodded. “I wouldn’t dare deceive Your Majesty.”
“You said your Father participated in disaster relief?” Feng Yi asked.
Thinking back, Song Yunzhao realized that he had.
“My Father mentioned it before. But regarding government affairs, he rarely spoke about them after returning home. That time, the disaster was severe, so First Madam and my mother worked tirelessly to aid victims—which is how the story reached the inner household.”
She didn’t want to bring up Cai Shi, but she had played a role, and it was easy to verify.
She couldn’t omit the truth.
Feng Yi remained thoughtful for a moment, then stood up.
“Rest early. I have matters to handle at Taiji Palace.”
Song Yunzhao: ?
Still, she quickly rose and said, “Chenqie respectfully sees Your Majesty off.”
Watching the Emperor’s hurried departure, Song Yunzhao carefully reviewed everything she had said.
There were no flaws in her words.
Only then did she feel some relief.
But clearly, she had relaxed too soon.
![Who Are You Calling A Canary? [Transmigration]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/20250108211651_200_280.jpg "Who Are You Calling A Canary? [Transmigration]")
