Volume One, Chapter 47: Jealousy

Xue Wu was suddenly brought back to her senses by that voice, inwardly berating herself for her sudden surge of jealousy.

Shen Ran was an emperor with three thousand beauties in his harem; if she were to feel jealous over such a matter, when would it ever end? Besides, did she expect to demand that all the women in the harem spend the rest of their lives in solitary confinement?

She had prepared herself mentally for this reality from the very first day she married Shen Ran.

Yet why was it that something she could accept in the past suddenly felt so unacceptable now?

Gently biting her lower lip, Xue Wu steadied her racing mind slightly and said, "Understood, come in."

The maid acknowledged the order and pushed the door open. Holding a tray, she knelt on the ground and said in a low voice, "This maid greets Your Majesty, greets the Empress."

Seeing someone enter, Shen Ran ceased his earlier mischievous behavior.

He leaned lazily back in his chair, gave a faint "Mn," and instructed, "Put it on the table and get out."

Having consumed alcohol, his voice carried a slightly indolent and husky undertone compared to usual, yet far from being unpleasant, it added a subtle trace of enticement to the ear.

The maid's heart skipped a beat inexplicably. As she rose and placed the hangover-remedy soup on the table, her gaze almost uncontrollably swept across Shen Ran's face—enhanced and made even more devastatingly enchanting by the wine—and her breath caught in her throat.

Fortunately, she had served by Lady Xue's side for quite some time and knew deeply that the person before her was far beyond her reach. She hurriedly averted her gaze, set down the tray, and practically fled the room.

Yet this single interlude completely shattered the mental fortifications Xue Wu had just painstakingly built.

She instantly felt even more depressed.

At the same time, a warm touch grazed her forehead. Shen Ran had actually resumed his attempt to apply the floral brow decal to her.

Xue Wu pressed her lips together.

She pulled his hand down and said, "Your Majesty, I am a little tired. You should drink your soup first. Once you've finished, let's turn in for the night."

Her disappointment was far too obvious this time.

Shen Ran stared at the soup on the table for a moment, pondering somewhat laboriously the reason behind Xue Wu's change in attitude—from her remark after applying lip tint to this bowl of soup.

When he finally belatedly realized what might be displeasing Xue Wu, Shen Ran's shoulders trembled slightly, and he suddenly burst into an irrepressible laugh.

Xue Wu was bewildered by his laughter and could not help slightly furrowing her brow.

Shen Ran fixed his eyes on hers and said quietly, "Awu, from this day forward, there is no room for anyone else in my eyes."

Shen Ran's eyes were exceptionally striking, especially now as they shimmered with a fine mist of moisture, radiating an almost irresistible sense of innocence.

Xue Wu paused slightly under the gaze of those eyes.

In truth, upon closer reflection, the look Shen Ran had given that maid just now had truly meant nothing. Or rather, the way he looked at most people was no different from how he looked at a tree or a writing brush.

Like the wind in winter, cold and detached.

Only the way he looked at her right now was different.

In an instant, Xue Wu felt all her previous displeasure and lingering insecurities vanish like smoke in the thin air.

She smiled faintly, her lips parting as if to speak, when she suddenly felt the world spin around her. By the time she regained her senses, she realized Shen Ran had hoisted her up onto his shoulder.

Xue Wu's heart leaped.

She struggled and cried out in alarm, "Your Majesty—"

"Don't move."

Shen Ran strode toward the bed, his tone tinged with a faint, suppressed excitement—

"Awu, now I am going to prove to you that every word I said just now came from the bottom of my heart."

…………

Meanwhile, within the Imperial Palace, at the Imperial Guards' quarters.

"Crack—!"

A heavily calloused hand slammed down hard onto a wooden table, causing the wine in the bowl to slosh violently back and forth. "I've really had it! To think that you and I, brother, have toiled bitterly in this palace for seven or eight years, diligent day in and day out, yet we are still only third-rank guards, not even having managed to become second-rank guards! And yet some unfeathered little brat gets to leap straight to the top in a single bound!"

Inside the crude, shared twin-room, the candlelight flickered dimly.

A guard of twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, his face flushed red from heavy drinking, leaned back in his chair with an expression of intense resentment. "Tell me! In terms of seniority, in terms of age, what qualifications does that little brat have to be the Chief Guard!"

"Brother Wang! Brother Wang!"

A slightly younger guard beside him hastily cut in. "Just say a little less of that. Getting overheard is no laughing matter! Besides, the fellow is a general's son! He's not someone people like us can compare to!"

"I spit on that! To hell with being a general's son!"

"His father committed treason and colluded with the enemy! What kind of general's son is he even? He's even worse off than we are!"

"Little Zhang, you are far too soft-natured!"

The guard addressed as "Brother Wang" spat fiercely onto the floor and slurred his words, "He was originally just prime material to have his balls cut off and become a eunuch! But look at him now—riding high on your and my brother's heads simply by flattering His Majesty and the Empress! We have to bow to him when we cross paths; I simply cannot swallow this humiliation—"

Before he could finish, a faint rustling sound drifted from outside, resembling the sound of someone tugging at something.

Brother Wang always lost control of his mouth when he was drunk.

He had been right in the middle of his righteous indignation when this abrupt noise shocked him into a violent shudder, sobering away the greater part of his drunkenness instantly.

The guard called Little Zhang turned equally pale.

These kinds of remarks were fine to toss around in private, but if some trouble-stirring gossip-monger overheard and passed them along, letting Zhao Yuanzhuo catch wind of it, the consequences would be no laughing matter.

Whether they accepted it or not, the other party was already sitting in that position. According to the regulations, the Chief Guard possessed the authority to punish other guards—anything under forty strokes of the cane could be administered at will. Of course, many of the imperial guards were noble scions, and if the Chief Guard encountered those with formidable backgrounds, he would certainly have to show some courtesy even if they broke the rules. But for nobodies like them without any backing, they could only be kneaded and squeezed however the man pleased.

He could easily fabricate some trumped-up charge against them, and after forty solid strikes of the heavy staff, half their lives would be gone.

Brother Wang and Little Zhang exchanged glances.

Walking on tiptoe, the two of them crept up to the door and flung it wide open.

Only to find the biting, knife-like wind rushing in, with not a soul to be seen outside.