Chapter 88: The Little Hall
On the dinner table, a dish of venison was served. Lan Wu rarely ate venison, and the Yushan Fang had prepared it cleanly. Finding the taste quite good, she ate a bit more.
However, venison is nourishing for the body, and Lan Wu inexplicably began to feel her whole body growing warm.
Now, hearing Chu Mingheng explain the reason, she frowned and stared directly at him. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
Before, when she ate shrimp and crab, he had scolded her. Yet now, when she ate too much venison, he didn’t stop her.
Chu Mingheng smiled lightly. “I had it prepared for you. Why would I stop you?”
“Come, let me show you your paintings.”
Lan Wu hesitated for a moment, then followed him.
From the front hall of Taichen Palace, they circled to the back hall. When the side door of the back hall was opened, inside was a separate room. The room was not small, but it was empty all around, with only a few paintings hanging on the walls.
Lan Wu had sharp eyes. At a glance, she saw that all the paintings were her own work. Among them, the first painting of grapevines hung in the center of the hall, suspended in mid-air with fine gold-threaded cloth draped from the beams and wrapped around both sides of the frame.
She stared blankly, her feet stiff, unable to step inside.
Chu Mingheng wrapped his arm around her and led her in, closing the hall door behind them. He smiled as he spoke about these paintings and even the embroidery cloth she had ruined.
“Look, I’ve carefully preserved all your things. I haven’t thrown them away or ruined them.”
Lan Wu snapped back to her senses and looked at Chu Mingheng somewhat puzzled. Then she murmured softly, “Concubine’s paintings aren’t even good. How could you go to such lengths to display them specially in Taichen Palace… people will laugh.”
If others collected and carefully displayed paintings, they would be masterpieces by famous artists. Yet her hastily drawn works were being treasured and displayed by Chu Mingheng in Taichen Palace—wouldn’t that just invite ridicule?
But Chu Mingheng seemed completely unaware. He pulled the reluctant Lan Wu further inside, his tone faintly teasing. “Who would dare laugh? They must not value their lives.”
“In the future, everything you paint or embroider, I will keep it here. How about that?”
He asked Lan Wu if it was good, but it was clear he had already decided.
Lan Wu grew anxious, stamping her feet, her face flushed red as she felt even more that her paintings were ugly. Her eyes flickered, and she saw yesterday’s painting already hanging on the left wall.
“Stop looking—you’re still looking—” Lan Wu stood on her tiptoes and reached out to cover his eyes, not letting him look, feeling utterly embarrassed.
Chu Mingheng looked completely at ease and simply picked Lan Wu up.
“Why can’t I look? I like everything you paint. Since I like it, I’ll naturally keep it. If others want to see, I won’t even allow it.”
“It’s not like these paintings are anything indecent. Yet you’re covering my eyes—I can’t see anything.”
As he spoke, he stepped lightly past the painting in the center and walked around to the back. Behind it was a tall screen, comparable to a large door, requiring manual effort to push open and enter inside. Behind the screen was a spacious soft couch, nestled against the wall, with three sides tightly concealed by gauze curtains. Only this screen, made of mother-of-pearl inlaid ebony, was embroidered with scenes of the four seasons.
It wasn’t until she was gently placed on the soft couch that Lan Wu realized something was off about this place.
When they had come earlier, the palace servants were all waiting outside the hall. After entering the hall, they had gone through the side door. Although there were windows on the walls outside the screen that let in light, the windows were very high, unlike ordinary ones. And inside the screen, there were no windows, not even a door. The tall screen blocked the way forward, casting a dark, oppressive shadow that almost suffocated the enclosed space.
Lan Wu nearly jumped up in alarm, anxiously grabbing Chu Mingheng’s arm as she told him they needed to go back.
Chu Mingheng responded with a faint “hmm” and asked, “Go back where?”
As he spoke, he reached out and loosened Lan Wu’s hair bun.
Lan Wu felt her legs go weak, her calves trembling slightly. She whispered, “Your Majesty, let’s return to Yilan Hall. It’s already late.”
“Why?” Chu Mingheng pinched the flesh of her thigh. “What’s wrong with this place?”
“Here, it’s just you and me, Ah Wu. No one will hear you no matter how you cry out.”
Lan Wu was already flushed with heat, but his words made her blush even more. She slapped his hand away, feigning fierceness. “Who’s going to cry out? If you want to, cry out yourself!”
“I want… I want to go back to Yilan Hall…”
With that, she turned over and tried to get off the bed.
Chu Mingheng’s gaze darkened. As she turned, he pressed a hand against the small of her back, pinning her firmly to the bed.
“Your Majesty? Your… Your Majesty… Ah, don’t take off my clothes… My pants… you can’t take them off… you’ll tear them!”
The hibiscus-curtained bed was warm.
Just as Chu Mingheng had said, no sound from inside the room could be heard outside. There were no windows behind the screen, and Lan Wu had no idea what time it was.
All she knew was that Chu Mingheng was truly too fierce. At one point, she crawled toward the screen, trying to escape, but the screen wouldn’t budge. She failed to flee and was instead caught by Chu Mingheng, who tied her to the bed.
She was the one who had eaten the venison, so why was Chu Mingheng unleashing all his brute strength on her?
She drifted in and out of consciousness, her wrists still bound with a belt around Chu Mingheng’s neck as he held her against him.
Her eyes reddened, and she bit down on his shoulder.
“No more… it hurts…” Finally managing to gasp out these words, Chu Mingheng seemed to snap back to his senses. He gently stroked her back, no longer as fierce as before, coaxing her to sleep with soft murmurs.
The moon hung high, casting a cold and desolate silence all around.
Behind the screen, only the lingering scent of decadent desire remained.
Chu Mingheng finally carried Lan Wu out of the small chamber and into the main hall. He carefully cleaned her, applied medicine, and gently tucked her into the inner part of the bed to sleep.
He himself changed clothes and strode out of the hall.
“Where is she?”
Chen Kangan bowed and replied, “Your Majesty, Consort Zeng is currently in the Cold Palace.”
“Hmm, let’s go.”
The Imperial Carriage moved along the palace path, flanked by high red walls that cast shadows under the palace lanterns.
Passing through a threshold, the deeper they went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became.
A red door was locked, and a palace attendant opened it, revealing a long corridor inside.
The Imperial Carriage finally stopped before a large door within the corridor.
The wooden door appeared somewhat dilapidated. The imperial guards on either side knelt in salute before silently opening the door.
The Cold Palace was desolate in every corner, now inhabited only by Consort Zeng in this vast hall.
Hearing the commotion, she stepped out of the hall and, upon seeing the visitor, froze for a moment before kneeling in salute.
Chu Mingheng glanced coldly at her forced composure.
“Has Your Majesty come to kill this concubine?” Consort Zeng spoke up.
Chu Mingheng frowned slightly.
Luo Yun stepped forward and slapped her across the face. “You should refer to yourself as a servant.”
She had broken protocol.
In the past, Consort Rou had been so imposing, never once slapped. She prided herself on being a noblewoman, but now she was merely a servant.
She was clever enough to guess that her downfall to this day had been orchestrated by the emperor before her.
Thinking of this, Consort Zeng raised her eyes to look at him again, pitifully feigning a remorseful expression, trying to evoke pity in the emperor.
“Your Majesty, this servant admits her guilt. I beg Your Majesty, in consideration of my years of service, to spare my life…”