Chapter 23: Your Jewel

The inner palace of Taichen Palace was spacious yet not empty. It was already April, and the night was cool, but as the bed curtains were drawn around the couch, the surrounding air suddenly grew scorching hot.

Lan Wu could feel the heat even with her outstretched fingers.

Her garments had not been removed, yet the ties had long since fallen to the floor. The loosely fitting clothes half-concealed and half-revealed, while her shy, watery eyes wandered, unsure where to rest.

When Chu Mingheng lifted the hollow of her knee into the crook of his arm, he saw the spot he had struck earlier. The skin there was delicate, and that single strike had already left a red mark, contrasting sharply with the surrounding fair skin. Deeper still were faint, scattered crimson dots.

His gaze darkened as he pressed the back of his hand against that patch of skin.

Lan Wu immediately arched her back, letting out a soft moan.

Chu Mingheng felt the skin there was excessively hot, almost scalding his hand.

Sensing his hand gently massaging the sore spot, Lan Wu frowned and feigned shyness, pushing his arm away.

Her shyness seemed feigned; there was no hint of genuine bashfulness in her every movement.

He took his time tormenting her, biting her lips to make her retract her teeth.

Inside the curtains, the heat was already dizzying. Lan Wu had cried a lot today and had just been called “made of water” by Chu Mingheng. Even before the main event began, she could only lie there dazedly, her belly trembling pitifully.

Until her body was pulled apart, a sharp, brief pain made her whimper through tear-blurred eyes.

“What did I say?” Chu Mingheng whispered into her ear.

Lan Wu clung to him, breathing heavily, too weak to even process his words. She only stared blankly, watching the bed curtains sway in her vision.

…

Chu Mingheng spoke harshly, but after two rounds, he let Lan Wu off. By then, she was cradled in his arms, her belly slightly swollen, as he carried her to the bathing chamber.

The skin below Lan Wu’s shoulders was dotted with red marks, like scattered plum blossoms. Her fingers gripped Chu Mingheng’s shoulders, her cheek softly pressed against the side of his neck, looking as though she was about to fall asleep.

But the moment she entered the water, Lan Wu woke up.

“…Your Majesty, what will I be tomorrow?” she asked about her rank, a faint, inexplicable hope in her voice.

In her previous life, she had started as Lan Meiren, a rank given only because Chu Mingheng was dissatisfied with her. This time, he should be quite pleased—what rank would he give her?

Chu Mingheng knew exactly what she meant, though he hadn’t given much thought to Lan Wu’s rank yet.

Looking at her face, now flushed with color and filled with expectant obedience, he spoke softly, “Lan Meiren, how about that?”

When these three words reached Lan Wu’s ears, she froze, suddenly feeling a pang of unease.

She had considered that even if she remained Lan Meiren, it would be acceptable. But now, hearing these words from Chu Mingheng’s lips, striking her like a blow, her body turned cold—as if it foretold that she would meet the exact same fate as in her previous life, with no difference at all.

Seeing her reaction, Chu Mingheng felt an inexplicable surge of irritation and panic. Without waiting for Lan Wu to speak, he changed his mind first. “Let’s change it.”

Lan Wu clenched her palms nervously as he gently kissed her lips. Drawing closer, she heard him say slowly:

“Zhen, like a pearl, like a treasure—it suits you. As for the rank… Jieyu.”

Zhen Jieyu…

Lan Wu wanted to force a smile to express her gratitude, but as soon as her expression shifted, tears began to fall. Her reddened eyes fixed unwaveringly on Chu Mingheng. “Am I a piece of jewelry?”

Chu Mingheng couldn’t tell whether she was happy or upset—the tears had come too quickly for him to respond.

He said, “You could be.”

Lan Wu wiped her own tears and muttered softly in complaint, “You just struck your jewelry…”

Chu Mingheng pinched her chin. “If you don’t correct yourself, you’ll be struck again next time.”

“I—” Lan Wu opened her mouth, then changed her address. “This concubine is very obedient.”

She adapted quite quickly, already using the self-referential term.

“Wipe your tears clean.”

As he said this, Chu Mingheng reached out to wipe the teardrops from her face, but his own hands were wet, leaving Lan Wu’s cheeks damp instead.

The two were in the bathing pool. Lan Wu immediately lowered her head, accidentally splashing water that scattered droplets everywhere.

Seeing Chu Mingheng’s face now wet as well, Lan Wu belatedly realized what had happened. She gently reached out to touch his face. “Your Majesty, this concubine didn’t mean to. Let me wipe it clean for you.”

She began to wipe with her hand but was stopped by Chu Mingheng.

“No need. It’s not as much water as yours.”

Lan Wu’s face flushed crimson. She wasn’t sure if he meant what she thought he did, but she didn’t dare ask. Hesitantly opening her mouth, she could only pretend to be sleepy.

Pretending soon turned into genuine drowsiness.

By the time Chu Mingheng carried her back to the bed, she was almost asleep the moment she touched the sheets.

Chu Mingheng extinguished the candles in the hall and returned to the bed to find Lan Wu sleeping on the inner side.

He didn’t pay it much mind, but today he had noticed something odd about Lan Wu’s reactions.

Lan Wu herself didn’t realize the significance of the questions she had answered, but when pieced together, something felt off.

If the dance at the Longevity Festival was something she had prepared for two months to perform for him, and she had danced earnestly during the banquet, why had she later rejected Consort Li’s overtures and expressed a desire to leave the palace?

This contradicted her previous words and actions.

It was as if she had become a different person.

Chu Mingheng leaned beside Lan Wu, using the faint light seeping through the window to study her face. He traced his fingers lightly along her jawline and neck but found nothing unusual.

Lan Wu was sensitive to the cold. In her drowsy state, she instinctively moved closer to the warmth beside her.

Chu Mingheng’s hands were always cool to the touch, but his body was warm at night. Lan Wu had grown accustomed to sleeping in his embrace.

She shifted her head, sleepily seeking Chu Mingheng, and once she found him, burrowed into his arms, soon sinking back into deep slumber.

Chu Mingheng dreamed again.

This time, the person in the dream had a face.

The small hall was square, and the floor wasn’t even covered with a palace carpet. Lan Wu, dressed in crimson dance attire, danced barefoot on the ground for him.

Music drifted in from outside the hall. The dancer, filled with grievance, performed in the desolate little hall, her movements strikingly familiar, as if he had seen them somewhere before.

In the dream, he remained silent.

Only after the dance ended, with Lan Wu’s dance clothes scattered around, did she kneel anxiously upon seeing his silence. Clutching the remaining fabric, her bowed head seemed to await the fall of an executioner’s blade.

He walked over to her, bent down, and lifted her into his arms, telling her, “Don’t dance like this again.”

Lan Wu agreed.

Chu Mingheng heard her say joyfully, “This concubine choreographed the dance herself. I’ve only ever performed it for Your Majesty…”

The dream abruptly ended, yet the person beside him still slept soundly.

Outside the hall, dawn was nearly breaking.

Chu Mingheng felt something extra in his embrace.

He looked down and saw Lan Wu, who had unknowingly rolled in during the night and was now sleeping peacefully.