The smashing of the Fei family’s storefronts was a matter for later. On the night Qu Lingyu was formally invested as a consort, Shen Tingjiao did not spend the night at Qifeng Palace. At that hour, Yin Zhuli was reclining on her couch reading a book. The charcoal fire in the hall burned brightly, and the lattice windows were half-open, revealing a few branches of winter plum swaying in the cold air, casting vivid floral shadows against the wall.
Yin Zhuli had assumed he wouldn't be coming, so she was quite relaxed. He hadn't bothered to have the palace attendants announce his arrival, entering with the same ease as if he were returning home to the Prince Fulu Estate in the old days.
Yin Zhuli looked up, somewhat surprised. "Did you... take a wrong turn?"
Shen Tingjiao gave a faint smile. His face, illuminated by the candlelight, was peerlessly beautiful. "The local provinces sent some tribute satins and silks today. I’ll have Chen Zhong bring them over tomorrow. See what you like and pick some out for yourself."
He guessed that Yin Zhuli wouldn't be particularly interested in such things, so he didn't say much more. He pulled off his boots and climbed onto the couch. Yin Zhuli found his current attitude difficult to read. If one were to say his personality had completely changed, he didn't exactly mistreat her.
Yet, if one were to say he was as submissive as before, he had gained a certain edge of hardness, especially in front of others. From the current situation, although he was supporting the Fei family to rival the Yin family, he didn't seem to have any intention of actually moving against Yin Zhuli herself.
He unfastened his outer robes and hung them on the wooden rack, then snatched the book from her hand and set it casually on the low table by the couch. Yin Zhuli naturally knew what he intended, and she wasn't afraid—if he wanted to go, they would go. Who was afraid of whom? Eschewing any trace of shyness, she directly unbuttoned her inner garments and lay back on the couch. "Come on, then."
Shen Tingjiao hovered over her, propping himself up so their noses almost touched. He narrowed his eyes, staring at her with a half-smile that made Yin Zhuli’s skin crawl. Finally, she spoke up: "What?"
Shen Tingjiao smiled tenderly, as if returning to his former fragile persona. He leaned close to her ear and whispered softly, "I'm coming. But you take the lead."
After more than a decade of friendship, this familiar manner gave Yin Zhuli a slight sense of security. She turned her face to the side and closed her eyes to sleep. "This commoner wouldn't dare."
Shen Tingjiao chuckled low. "Do it."
Yin Zhuli rolled over and pinned him down, regaining her usual arrogance. "You really want me to?"
Shen Tingjiao’s eyes brightened. His throat moved slightly as he gave a small nod. Yin Zhuli shifted her weight to press him firmly beneath her, confirming once more: "No getting angry?"
Shen Tingjiao brushed his leg gently against her waist. "No anger."
Yin Zhuli casually pulled a silk sash from her robes. She looped it through the carved dragon-and-phoenix headboard, pulled both of his hands above his head, and tied them together with a clean, efficient knot. She explained tonelessly, "That way your guards tied people last time is for eunuchs about to be castrated. And you can't bind the hands and feet together; that's for trussing pigs. Tying the hands like this allows for a change of position midway through. Hmm, the legs shouldn't be tied; leave them free to add a bit of flavor."
Shen Tingjiao couldn't care less about the details. In front of Yin Zhuli, his reactions were always intense. He was already losing his patience. "Stop talking and hurry up!"
Yin Zhuli finished securing him and gazed at him closely for a moment, her lips curling into a strange smile. He felt a sudden chill. "What are you doing?"
Yin Zhuli took a fragrant handkerchief and covered his eyes, her voice turning gentle. "Doing you, of course!"
Shen Tingjiao sensed something was wrong and was instantly filled with regret—knowing she had been harboring anger lately, he really shouldn't have let her take the initiative now. But Yin Zhuli didn't care what he thought; in the pleasures of the bedchamber, there was no fun in being polite.
She reached out and took a red candle from the stand. This was a small candle used for late nights, only about the thickness of a finger. She lit it and blew gently on the wick. Shen Tingjiao, realizing the danger, immediately put on his imperial airs: "Release Us, or We shall execute nine generations of your kin!"
He carried quite a bit of majesty when he was serious now, but unfortunately, Yin Zhuli wasn't intimidated. She leisurely blew on the candle again. "Since nine generations are going to be executed anyway, I might as well enjoy myself before I die."
Shen Tingjiao opened his mouth to speak again, but suddenly a drop of red wax fell like a tear onto his chest. Caught off guard, he immediately let out a pained grunt, his voice losing its calm and gaining a frantic edge. "You bastard, what are you doing! Let me go!"
Yin Zhuli saw his skin flush red and couldn't help but lean down to lick and nibble at the spot. "Your skin is far too delicate. It hurts a bit at first, but Your Majesty, one must endure the bitter to taste the sweet."
Two more drops of red candle tears fell. Shen Tingjiao groaned and began to kick at her, but with only his feet, he was no match for her. Instead, she caught his ankles. The candle wax began to fall like rain, slowly and rhythmically dripping onto his chest.
Shen Tingjiao’s hands struggled desperately against his bonds, but Yin Zhuli had tied them too tight. In a fit of rage, he shouted, "Chen Zhong?!"
Outside the door, Chen Zhong answered cautiously, "Your Majesty?"
Yin Zhuli was undeterred. She yanked down his trousers and let a drop of red wax fall directly onto his "rogue general." Shen Tingjiao let out a sharp moan. Hearing that sound, how could Chen Zhong dare to enter? He could only wait outside with bated breath.
Yin Zhuli barked out, "What are you standing there for? His Majesty told you to get lost!"
Chen Zhong scrambled to obey and hurried away. As the sound of footsteps faded, Shen Tingjiao fell into despair. "Yin Zhuli, I will kill you! I will kill you!!"
Yin Zhuli chuckled low, the red candle in her hand still seeking out the most sensitive spots to leave its crimson marks.
As his skin grew accustomed to the heat, a different sensation began to take root. His moans shifted from initial pain to something soft and yielding. Yin Zhuli licked his earlobe, her movements tender but her voice full of resentment: "Even Shen Tingyao didn't dare raise my taxes, yet you actually dared to add twenty percent!! Adding twenty percent is one thing, but you actually exempted that old man Fei from twenty percent! If the tiger doesn't show its teeth, you really think I'm a Persian rabbit!"
Shen Tingjiao arched his back to rub against her. The silk handkerchief obscured his vision, making the sensation of the wax dripping onto his skin feel exceptionally vivid. He began to sweat, and his moans gradually changed their tune. Yin Zhuli wrapped her hand around his "rogue general," using the warmth of her palm to soothe it for a moment before holding the red candle over it and letting a single drop fall on the tip. Shen Tingjiao cried out, drenched in a fine sweat.
Yin Zhuli’s voice was cold. "Arrange a subsidy to settle the tax matter."
Shen Tingjiao shook his head. She dropped another bead of red wax. Shen Tingjiao could no longer tell if it was pain or something else, but his soldier stood even taller. Yin Zhuli dropped a few more beads, and he finally couldn't help but hiss, "Fine! I agree, I agree! Just hurry up!"
Yin Zhuli leaned down and blew on the rogue general to cool it, then used the tip of her tongue to skillfully peel away the hardened wax. Shen Tingjiao’s soul felt as if it were drifting. He desperately wanted to reach out and hold her, or run his fingers through her long hair, but his hands were bound. He lifted his legs to rub against her in a gesture of extreme intimacy and supplication. They didn't often engage in such acts when she was the one taking the lead, but every time they did, the experience was so profound it was etched into his very marrow.
Yin Zhuli would only use her hands. He was somewhat dissatisfied. "You... don't want to?"
Yin Zhuli gave a monosyllabic reply: "Mm."
He grew a bit angry. "Why?"
Yin Zhuli said impassively, "Because this is something your Consort Hui should be doing."
She deliberately brought up Qu Lingyu because she had to find out—if Qu Lingyu really was pregnant, did Shen Tingjiao know? And if he did, was the child his or Shen Tingyao’s?
Logically, it should be Shen Tingyao’s. Because Qu Tianji had rebelled, the only reason Qu Lingyu hadn't been executed along with him must be because she was carrying a royal heir. At that time, Shen Tingjiao had been with Yin Zhuli constantly; he shouldn't have had the chance to get close to Qu Lingyu. However, she couldn't be entirely sure—after all, such a thing only takes fifteen minutes.
Hearing her mention Qu Lingyu, Shen Tingjiao’s anger dissipated slightly. "Are you jealous?"
Yin Zhuli snorted coldly. Shen Tingjiao took it as a silent admission, and his mood instantly brightened. "Zhuli, it’s not what you think between her and me." Now wasn't the time for explanations; his voice was hoarse, and he only wanted to coax Yin Zhuli into joining him fully. "You go first, and I’ll tell you later."
This bout of pleasure lasted until the third watch. Shen Tingjiao’s entire body ached, yet he was filled with a sense of sated satisfaction. He rested with his eyes closed for a while, then nudged Yin Zhuli, tilting his chin toward the silk sash at his wrists. "Untie me."
Yin Zhuli repeated, "The twenty percent subsidy!"
He nodded. "The twenty percent subsidy."
Only then did Yin Zhuli untie the cord. Seeing that he had struggled quite fiercely earlier and the skin on his wrists was chafed, she found some ointment to apply for him.
He didn't hold a grudge over the incident. "Zhuli, I'm hungry."
Yin Zhuli was just about to fall asleep and was extremely impatient. "You’re about to head to the morning court. Just endure it. Chen Zhong will have something prepared before then."
He lay beside her with a look of grievance. "But your Emperor is hungry now."
Yin Zhuli got up. There were some cakes and fruits in the room, but he was pampered and couldn't eat things that were too sweet or greasy. Moreover, eating cold food at this hour would inevitably lead to indigestion.
Yin Zhuli searched for a while and finally, with a mischievous thought, remembered the pheasants in the garden. Tsk, the taste of those was truly excellent.
She indeed caught another pheasant, gutted it with the *Yellow Spring's Guide* at her waist, stirred the charcoal brazier, and began to roast it right there. Shen Tingjiao rolled over, watching her in the pose of a reclining beauty. "...Those were bought for decoration. Don't eat them anymore. They're very expensive."
Yin Zhuli was dismissive. "A waste of food."
Merchants were practical. Shen Tingjiao was too lazy to get angry. "I remember the first time you stole a chicken to roast when we were kids. You forgot to hide the feathers and someone reported you to Old Madam Yin. You had to kneel in the ancestral hall for several days."
Yin Zhuli sprinkled some salt on the bird and snorted. "Wasn't that because you were hungry!"
Shen Tingjiao smiled faintly, his long, thick lashes trembling like butterfly wings. He sat up, his long hair falling like a waterfall of ink, looking elegant and seductive. "Nothing happened between Lingyu and me. It's just that she has nothing now, so I'm giving her a place to stay. Zhuli, can you trust me just this once?" His smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. "Trust me completely, just once, okay? I am different from Qu Tianji!"
Yin Zhuli continued roasting the chicken, quietly sprinkling salt. It seemed Shen Tingjiao didn't know about Qu Lingyu’s pregnancy, so the child definitely wasn't his. Her mind whirled through several possibilities, but her voice remained indifferent. "Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven; who would dare question you? Besides, the Imperial Harem should naturally have three thousand beauties to ensure the prosperity of the royal line. In the future, let the Ministry of Rites select more girls for the palace. Speaking of which, the girl by my side, Qingwan, is quite good. There isn't much to do in Zhaohua Palace lately; why don't I send her to serve by Your Majesty's side?"
A flash of disappointment appeared in Shen Tingjiao’s eyes, vanishing in an instant. His voice turned somewhat cold. "You needn't concern yourself with my affairs."
Yin Zhuli focused on roasting the chicken. *Trust you? If my mother hadn't trusted Qu Tianji back then, how would she have ended up the way she did? You and Qu Tianji are indeed different—you are far more of a scoundrel than he ever was!*
At the third quarter of the fifth watch, Chen Zhong was already waiting outside. Shen Tingjiao found it a bit difficult to get up and dress; his constitution was poor, and his physical stamina couldn't compare to Yin Zhuli’s. Yin Zhuli felt a pang of pity—she couldn't say whether it was love or not, but she had grown used to doting on him over the years. "Can you really attend the morning court like this?"
Shen Tingjiao fastened his own belt. "What choice is there? It's still early; go back to sleep."
Yin Zhuli pulled the brocade quilt over her head. *I don't know what the point is, giving up sleep to scheme for that golden chair.*
Seeing her bundled up tightly, Shen Tingjiao called Chen Zhong in to help him dress. Chen Zhong moved with extreme care; he couldn't quite gauge the weight of this Empress and was terrified of waking her. The heart of an Emperor was truly difficult to fathom. If one said he didn't care for this Empress Wenxu, he didn't go near any other women, even spending the night of a consort's investiture at Zhaohua Palace.
Yet if one said he doted on her, as soon as he ascended the throne, he immediately slapped heavy taxes on the Yin family. Anyone with eyes could see he was suppressing them.
He glanced at the couch, but the gauze curtains were drawn tight, and he could only vaguely see a spill of black hair on the pillow.
By the end of the Mao hour, just as the court session was ending, Yin Zhuli was struck by a rare moment of goodwill. She ordered Tianxin, a maid of Zhaohua Palace, to bring a bowl of sweet soup to Shen Tingjiao. Little did she know that this simple gesture would be the spark that ignited a disaster.
***
