Chapter 6: No Next Time

“Do you want me to revoke my order?” Chu Mingheng’s palm rested against Lan Wu’s forehead, momentarily unable to discern whose body temperature was lower.

But soon, as those bright eyes gradually welled up with hot tears, pooling in their sockets before dripping down one by one, Chu Mingheng felt the warmth of her tears.

“This servant knows she was wrong, Your Majesty. This servant will dance properly next time. Please do not punish others, alright?”

…

Similar words seemed to have been heard even in dreams.

A voice similar to Lan Wu’s, a woman’s soft, coquettish murmur tinged with grievance and a sob, as if from within the bedchamber, pleading with him in a lingering, sorrowful manner.

“This concubine knows she was wrong, Your Majesty. Please be gentle with this concubine, do not punish me, I beg of you…”

A cold breeze swept by, scattering the dream voice from his ears. He lowered his head once more, his fingertips having already lightly traced the corner of Lan Wu’s eye, brushing against her trembling lashes—as if she were dancing naked, shy and restless.

Chu Mingheng withdrew his hand, gradually clenching it into a fist, imprisoning those few teardrops within his palm. He asked Lan Wu, his voice soft and cool: “If not them, then it will be you who is punished.”

The girl in his sight seemed frozen stiff with fear, gazing at him mournfully as if he were an unforgivable sinner.

Lan Wu’s eyes were very beautiful; these eyes imbued everything they looked upon with emotion, as if he too were her dream lover.

Her coquetry came too naturally, yet she herself seemed utterly unaware. Clearly knowing that dancing poorly and being discovered would anger him, she was still willing to gamble that he wouldn’t notice. And even if he truly did, now with a little coquetry, he really did feel like forgiving her just like that.

But no.

No forgiveness.

Lan Wu bit her lip, seeming to reach a decision. She held back her tears, her crimson-tinged eyes lowering: “Then punish this servant. Punishing this servant alone is enough.”

How would he punish her? Would he order her limbs severed too? Or have her beaten to death?

Lan Wu was afraid, yet it also seemed like she had resigned herself to the worst.

Chen Kangan watched from the side, utterly dumbfounded. Having followed His Majesty for so many years and seen all the ladies of the rear palace, which one dared to be like the one before him—without even a rank yet daring to ask His Majesty to change an imperial decree? And His Majesty’s attitude was equally puzzling: as imposing as ever, yet showing a trace more indulgence toward the woman before him.

If it were anyone else, the moon terrace would already be stained with blood.

Chu Mingheng stood up. The spacious huanghuali wood chair did not even shift. Once the man rose from the wooden chair, his stature was noticeably too tall. His everyday attire of white marble silk was embroidered with cloud patterns, yet this did nothing to diminish his imposing presence; at most, it added a faint, elusive gentleness. He leaned forward slightly once more, admonishing Lan Wu:

“No next time.”

Lan Wu knelt at the center of the moon terrace, watching as Chu Mingheng led his entourage out of Yilan Hall.

The vast palace gradually fell silent, leaving only the empty chair before her. Looking at it, Lan Wu could even recall Chu Mingheng sitting there just moments ago, watching her dance.

Nightfall gradually descended. Lan Wu climbed up from the moon terrace and hurried out of Yilan Hall.

This life was different from the last one.

Why was Chu Mingheng interested in her? If things continued like this, would he take her into the palace?

Returning to the Music Bureau, Lan Wu began to cough. The spring night was cold, the chilly wind rustling. A few days ago, she had danced in summer attire during the Longevity Festival without issue, yet today, after just one visit to Yilan Hall, she fell ill.

In her drowsy sleep, she recalled many things from the past.

In her previous life, when Consort Li intended to present her to the emperor, she naturally had to choose the most opportune moment.

Yet, as fate would have it, it rained that night. The cold rain soaked her, making her shiver uncontrollably, but she persisted and finished the dance. Afterward, she was granted a bath at Taichen Palace. When she emerged, her face was flushed and utterly adorable.

That night, she climbed into the emperor’s dragon bed, receiving not an ounce of his tenderness. She fell ill afterward and took nearly half a month to fully recover before she could serve him again.

She was somewhat afraid of Chu Mingheng’s methods in bed. Off the bed, he was a dignified and rigorous emperor, but once on it, he had endless indecent tricks.

After another dance at the Moon Pool Terrace, she collapsed before taking two steps forward.

In her dazed state, she lay with closed eyes, weeping. Her body alternated between chills and fever, and she only felt at ease when held. Someone gently wiped the tears from her face and finally planted a kiss on her flushed cheeks. A voice spoke, seemingly teasing her for acting like a child while also soothing her to stop crying.

After that, Chu Mingheng never made her dance in the pool again. Even when she did dance, it was only in the warmest halls, on soft carpets, with windows closed, performing solely for him.

The cold wind rattled the windows. In her confusion, she opened her eyes, taking in the rough wooden table before her and the coarse blanket covering her. She blinked quietly, gazing out the window.

Chu Mingheng was an emperor whose word was law. Once he retracted his command, he naturally would not trouble the others in the Music Bureau again.

Lan Wu was ill for two days, and her face visibly thinned.

She also inquired about the incident of the death at the Thousand Carp Pond.

“Such matters are taboo and shouldn’t be spoken of often,” Xia Chu said while tidying the bedding, unable to help commenting when she heard Lan Wu’s questions.

Seeing Lan Wu remain silent, Xia Chu cautiously glanced outside the room, walked over, and whispered to her, “I’ll tell you just this once, but you mustn’t tell anyone outside that I said it.”

Lan Wu nodded, watching her.

“That person was named Yuzhu. I heard she was Lady Lifei’s personal palace maid. Lady Shufei sent people to investigate the guards on duty at the Thousand Carp Pond that night, and coincidentally, no one saw Yuzhu enter the Imperial Garden. Tell me, how could a perfectly fine person wander into the Imperial Garden in the dark?”

Lan Wu knew Xia Chu couldn’t keep her mouth shut, which was why she had asked her in the first place. But the more she listened, the more something felt off.

Xia Chu leaned close to Lan Wu’s ear and spoke with some difficulty, “I heard that Yuzhu went to meet her lover that night.”

Lan Wu blinked, stunned by these words.

Her? That lover?

“But Lady Lifei said…”

Xia Chu waved her hand, assuming an inscrutable expression. “Lady Lifei was just trying to preserve her maid’s dignity. Besides, if such a thing were to spread, Lady Lifei would lose face.”

“However, just as Lady Shufei was about to investigate further, Lady Rourou’s side uncovered something first. They said there were clear signs of a slip by the Thousand Carp Pond, left by Yuzhu, suggesting she fell into the water accidentally.”

“Since Lady Lifei wasn’t pursuing the matter, Lady Shufei found it inconvenient to investigate further.”

Lan Wu dared not dwell on it too deeply. Consort Li’s methods weren’t particularly clever; if Consort Shu had continued investigating, she would surely have been exposed. By then, Lan Wu would have been caught in the crossfire, offending both sides.

Fortunately, this matter had also come to an end. Lan Wu continued to stay in the Music Bureau, frequently inquiring about ways to leave the palace. Over time, she actually managed to learn about quite a few shortcuts.