Chapter 1. The mountains are high and the rivers are wide; I'm leaving now. ...

The emperor was tall and thin.

Standing there, it resembled a cypress tree.

A withered, hollow cypress tree.

The knuckles are jagged and protruding, much like the knots on a tree trunk.

The tapping of the bamboo and wooden strips was leisurely and casual.

The sound of the snap was soft and muffled.

The hall was deathly silent. The woman in the crimson robe bowed deeply to the ground.

Her fingers were long and pale, and they trembled slightly with the tapping sound, along with the floral hairpin on her forehead.

Xiao Xun also knelt down.

The youngest son doesn't need to adhere to such strict etiquette. Or perhaps, because he was the emperor's youngest son, born when the emperor was over sixty, he received some natural pampering and favor.

For example, he knelt down upright without being reprimanded.

He tried to peek out to see what was written on the bamboo slips in the emperor's hand, but he failed.

He was still too young, only seven years old.

He straightened up, facing directly at the pair of jade pendants on the emperor's jade ornaments, which looked like two gleaming scimitars.

Even if he strained to look up, all he could see was the inscription on the bamboo slip: "December of the winter of the third year of Tian Shou," and nothing beyond that.

Including the emperor's face.

In Xiao Xun's memories, both past and present, the emperor's face was unlike anything else on his body; it was always a blurry silhouette.

He couldn't see his face.

The emperor is the emperor, far surpassing the status of a father.

He rarely bent over except when he was in bed. He rarely bowed his head except when he was at his desk.

However, he did hug Xiao Xun after all.

The embrace was stiff. Her arms were wrapped around Xiao Xun's arms, and because she was so thin, they seemed to be tightly gripping him, her fingertips and nails digging into his flesh through his clothes.

With his legs beneath him, Xiao Xun was reminded of the Taiye Pond in winter, where the water receded, rocks were exposed, and broken branches lay scattered, pricking people painfully.

What made Xiao Xun even more uncomfortable was the aura.

A faint, almost imperceptible, rotten smell.

He couldn't say where he came from, but he felt extremely uncomfortable sitting on pins and needles.

Before me was a black robe embroidered with dragons, pythons, sun, and moon patterns, always new, incense-scented with ambergris.

The curtains hung low; these were the newly replaced feathered tents for winter, with wisps of smoke from the Boshan incense burner curling around them.

The brocade mat beneath her seat and the cushion behind her were also frequently replaced.

Xiao Xun dared not utter a sound, staring at the creases beneath the three layers of clothing.

Fortunately, such moments are extremely short and rare.

The emperor preferred to hold his mother rather than hold him.

Xiao Xun, a young child, would only let his whole body sink down when being held.

But his mother was different. Consort Li wrapped herself around the emperor, her toes hooking onto the edge of the mat.

Looking at it, it resembles a soft, light, rosy cloud.

Sometimes, when the emperor buried his withered hand in this crimson cloud and stroked it up and down, the eunuchs serving beside him would lower their heads and lower their eyelids, and could see the hem of his deep robe spread out like a flower.

Inside, a woman dressed in floral attire revealed a taut, bluish ankle.

"Has Mother ever smelled that scent?" Xiao Xun wanted to ask.

How should he tell his mother?

When he was five years old, he was learning to ride and shoot. He hit a rabbit, and the rabbit's fur carried that scent.

The damp, decaying leaves at the bottom of Taiye Pond also carry this scent.

More than a month ago, when the fire broke out in Beigong, half of the sky turned black, and the pungent smell seemed to be mixed with this kind of odor.

Just as he figured out how to ask, his mother had finished making almond cake.

Once the sweet pastries were inside, the doubts turned into sugar water.

When he wanted to ask a second time, his mother taught him to try on the winter clothes she had made herself.

Feeling the warmth of the brocade robe, Xiao Xun excitedly ran out into the snow and called for someone to bring his beloved little horse.

His mother followed him out, hugged the exquisitely beautiful little boy to her chest, and used a handkerchief embroidered with phoenixes to wipe the snowflakes off his hair, saying, "Ah Xun looks best in white."

Xiao Xun smiled, revealing her gap-toothed smile, her nose turning red: "Because Xun looks like Mother. Mother is beautiful, so of course Xun is beautiful too!"

My mother likes white, but she herself wears silver-red.

The emperor only liked her to wear peach, crimson, and magenta—colors as fresh and youthful as her mother's age.

He looked at Consort Li as if she were an alchemy furnace carved with images of the Penglai Immortal Mountain and a jade pot carved with images of the Queen Mother of the West.

As he watched, he himself seemed to grow younger, his voice turning into a wheezing, panting sound, as if he had returned to his prime, when he was fully armed, fighting on the battlefield, sweating profusely.

As Xiao Xun knelt before the emperor, feeling that familiar presence wafting back, he thought to himself, "When I return to the Phoenix Palace, I must remember to ask my mother about it."

But he did not wait for his mother to return to the Phoenix Palace.

The tapping sound of the bamboo slips stopped.

The cypress wood emitted an old and decaying sound.

Xiao Xun didn't hear what was said, nor could he remember it.

He only saw the dragon-headed jade ornament before him transform into a pair of real sharp blades, flying towards the woman who was expressing her gratitude for the emperor's grace.

The crimson robes turned to blood, which spread throughout the hall, reaching all the way to Xiao Xun's feet and seeping upwards to form the crimson dragon patterns on his vermilion shoes.

...

Xiao Xun opened his eyes, drenched in sweat.

In the fourth year of Jinghe, a fierce snowstorm raged, and dawn broke in the east.

Hearing the commotion in the imperial bedchamber, Li Shun, the imperial eunuch, lowered his head and silently led a group of eunuchs into the room.

After changing his clothes, Xiao Xun sat down in front of the bronze mirror, where he was served by others and had his hair tied up with a crown.

The face reflected in the bronze mirror was young, twenty-one years old.

His brows were broad and his eyes were like cold stars.

Many people say that he bears a striking resemblance to his father.

Xiao Xun simply smiled upon hearing this.

It's always true that a son resembles his father.

Moreover, his father had countless great achievements in his life. He reigned for forty-eight years, expanded the territory, and brought foreign tribes to submission. He was posthumously honored as Wu.

However, very few people have witnessed his father's prime. Xiao Xun leaned against the armchair and closed his eyes to ponder for a moment. He himself had been on the throne for almost fourteen years since the fourth year of the Tian Shou reign. Apart from a few who had retired early and returned to their hometowns, most of them had died in the great fire that spread from the North Palace to almost the entire city of Chang'an in the winter of the third year of the Tian Shou reign.

Looking at the current imperial court, there is probably only one Qu Yang left.

As for Qu Yang, the regent entrusted with the care of the late emperor, and the former Grand Marshal and General, upon hearing that Xiao Xun had beheaded his son Qu Qingchuan and deposed his daughter Qu Qingru from her position as empress, and that he would soon be executed, his eyes turned red with a sinister glint, and his eagle-claw-like hands gripped the wooden bars of the imperial prison until they were stained with blood. He looked up to the sky and sighed, it was unclear whether he was crying or laughing.

"Like father, like son; like father, like son!"

As Xiao Xun moved, the white jade comb in Li Shun's hand behind him tilted to the side and bumped into the jade hairpin.

Li Shun's heart skipped a beat, and his legs involuntarily went weak.

In fact, His Majesty's benevolent reputation has always been known in the palace.

However, the swift and ruthless treatment of the Qu family and their supporters over the past few months has left people unsure whether the so-called "benevolence" is the true nature of this young monarch or the result of years of suppressed behavior as Qu Yang's puppet.

After all, what people in the palace originally referred to was not "benevolent ruler," or at least "kind and lenient ruler."

Kindness carries a sense of superiority and leniency, representing the dignity of a ruler and the virtue of a benevolent ruler.

The palace maids were saying "rouren," which, although it included the word "ren," was just short of explicitly stating the meaning of "submissive and weak" or "easily manipulated."

The handsome face reflected in the bronze mirror remained with its eyes closed, showing no anger and seemingly unconcerned by the crisp sound of the impact.

Li Shun's anxiety subsided.

He was promoted to the emperor's court in less than ten years.

Wang Fu, a palace attendant who had served the emperor for twenty years, suddenly fell ill with an inexplicable fever half a year ago.

Although he showed no signs of illness on his face and his voice was still booming, His Majesty, out of pity for his hard work and his advanced age, granted him permission to recuperate in the Cold Palace.

Although the Cold Palace was quiet, with no sign of human habitation for miles around, it probably wasn't too cold. After all, Li Shun had seen it from afar; the weeds there grew as tall as a person.

So after half a year of recuperation, Wang Fu's fever did not improve.

His Majesty also bestowed upon him fields, houses, carriages, and horses on the shady side of Nanshan Mountain, ordering him to leave the palace and return to his hometown to live out his days in peace.

Wang Fu left, but Li Shun ended up getting lucky.

Speaking of which, he should thank Lin Yuan properly.

Lin Yuan and he lived next door when they were young, and many years later, they met again in the palace.

At that time, Li Shun was an insignificant eunuch, while Lin Yuan was a lowly palace maid.

Lin Yuan likes sweets, so I'll send her some honey bait another day to thank her.

This month's allowance is more than Li Shun had painstakingly saved up in the previous two years; it's enough to ask someone to buy a silver hairpin outside the palace.

However, the empress has been deposed for over a month now, leaving the position of empress vacant.

These days, the Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices and the Minister of the Imperial Clan Court frequently visit the Xuan Room. Standing there, they resemble ancient trees, constantly talking about "spreading branches and leaves."

Meanwhile, on the imperial desk, the memorials requesting His Majesty to establish a new empress and select family members were growing taller than weeds that grow when exposed to the wind.

Once His Majesty officially issues the edict establishing the new empress, he will likely bestow titles and honors upon the six palaces.

The six palaces have been a mere formality for so many years; His Majesty is a man in the prime of his life.

He had heard rumors from the gossipy palace servants that His Majesty and the deposed empress had long been estranged and that they had never actually been intimate.

Although Li Shun had never experienced the feelings of a young man in his prime, he had heard that it was a heart-wrenching and very unpleasant experience.

His Majesty's special treatment of Lin Yuan is known throughout the palace.

When the time comes for the grand conferment of titles upon the six palaces, Lin Yuan should at least be able to confer the title of Jieyu or Meiren, right?

Once she has an annual salary of thousands of bushels of grain and a fiefdom of hundreds or thousands of households, would she still care about a plate of honeyed bait or a plain silver hairpin?

As Li Shun thought of this, His Majesty had already risen and sat down in the curtained chamber of the Xuan Shi Hall.

These past few days, Chang'an has become a frozen wasteland. Xiao Xun ordered his officials to take a break and not attend court. The court session ended three days later, but as the year draws to a close, memorials still pour in like snowflakes.

The thick, heavy canopy allowed the morning light and snow to filter through, but the interior remained dark and gloomy.

Li Shun quickly bent down and worked diligently, and in no time, he lit all the lanterns on both sides, high and low.

Fireworks light up the trees, a dazzling display of lights.

—It reflected Xiao Xun's gloomy face.

I fear that there will be some ungrateful ministers who will argue that Qu Yang, as Grand Marshal and General-in-Chief, was entrusted by the late emperor to assist in governing for fifteen years. Even if he has not made any great contributions, he has certainly worked hard. Your Majesty should treat him leniently to show the emperor's boundless grace.

Furthermore, Qu Yang's measures to eliminate the deep-seated malpractices of the court must not be abandoned...

Such are all examples.

Li Shun recalled that during his more than ten years of service before the emperor, he had only seen Xiao Xun smile twice.

On one occasion, the emperor issued an edict summoning the Minister of the Imperial Secretariat to propose the position of Chancellor to Su Dan and to recall him to the capital. After the edict was drafted, the emperor looked at the words on it and smiled for a long time.

One time it was directed at Lin Yuan.

They sat side by side, seemingly applying makeup in front of a mirror. His Majesty smiled radiantly, not even noticing the ink stains on his forehead.

Li Shun, who had retrieved the bronze mirror, dared not look up, but as he retreated, he couldn't help but smile as he heard the laughter coming from that direction.

His Majesty smiles at Lin Yuan. No wonder when Lin Yuan recommended him to serve in front of the Emperor, she said to him, "His Majesty is handsome and kind, and loves to laugh."

Li Shun couldn't help but take a deep breath.

It is true that Your Majesty is a woman of exceptional beauty. I have heard that Your Majesty's birth mother, Consort Li, was so beautiful that she was brought into the palace by the late Emperor, who was nearly sixty years old, when she was only sixty years old.

When the late emperor was young, he must have been handsome and dashing. Although he had many children, now, besides Your Majesty, only Prince Xiao Cheng of Huaiyang is still alive.

The Prince of Huaiyang was renowned, and although he frequented brothels, he remained handsome even in his forties, thanks to his indulgence in wine and women.

But His Majesty's love of laughter—it seems—is reserved only for Lin Yuan. This is more debatable than his reputation for benevolence. Even Wang Fu, upon receiving the imperial edict granting him permission to return home, gazed at the remaining ice on the eaves and sighed inexplicably, "His Majesty is like this ice."

His Majesty's eyes were filled with gloom as he stared at Li Shun.

In his hand was not a bamboo slip from a court official, but a piece of silk, which looked like a letter.

His hand clenched into a fist, causing the thin silk paper to wrinkle halfway.

His knuckles, with prominent veins, tapped the desk unconsciously.

Snap, snap.

Li Shun's legs went completely limp. The incense burner in the hall wasn't actually burning very hot, and the feathered curtains were rolled up high, offering no protection from the wind. His back was covered in sweat.

He recognized the letter. It was Lin Yuan who had asked him to place it on the desk in the Xuan Shi Hall.

Three days ago.

"Ah Yuan, what is this?" Li Shun did as instructed without thinking much, but couldn't help asking.

"I beg Your Majesty for your favor."

"What kind of grace?" Li Shun asked expectantly.

Is it a jeweled object, or a symbol of palace status?

If she asked for dragon liver and phoenix marrow, stars and the moon, His Majesty would grant it, wouldn't he?

Now, even he has benefited from Lin Yuan's old friendship, and his entire family has risen to prominence.

If he had known earlier that Xiao Xun would stare at him with such fury today, he would have been certain that he was about to ascend to heaven.

"I won't tell you about my affair with His Majesty." Lin Yuan curled her lips into a smile.

"Why don't you wait for His Majesty to return and give it to him personally? His Majesty will surely be pleased."

"What's the fun in that?" she said with a sly smile to Li Shun.

For some reason, Li Shun felt that the smile looked somewhat tired.

It was probably because of the heavy snow.

The sky had been overcast for days, making even her watery eyes seem dull.

However, things will be different in a few days, Li Shun thought.

He watched with a smile as Lin Yuan turned and walked into the snow, the swirling snowflakes adorning her with a pair of hairpins and a white jade cap.

Yes, it's different now.

On the silk paper were two lines of text:

Your Majesty, I have reached the age to leave the palace.

May the mountains be high and the rivers be long, may I be content, and may you be well.

A note from the author:

----------------------

The story is now open! Comments will receive a red envelope, and the author is begging for a favorite!

Let me warn you:

1. A true white moonlight. However, that was the male protagonist's white moonlight when he was fourteen or fifteen, a time of budding romance, when familial love was more prominent. The male protagonist in this story is already twenty-one years old, and will be twenty-two after the New Year.

2. Substitute. However, during their interactions, the male lead did not treat the female lead as a substitute.

3. Dual perspectives. The beginning contains some single-perspective narratives, which may deviate somewhat from the truth.

4. The opening scene is set at a crematorium, so there will be many flashback sequences.

5. The power struggle storyline primarily serves the purposes of love and character development.

6. The story doesn't focus much on the female lead, but she's very beautiful. Many people have a crush on her. She's a local from ancient times and not a female-centric protagonist.

6. Please do not include specific historical figures; this is a fictional, mixed-up work.

7. Finally, this is truly a very, very lighthearted and sweet story.

Note:

1. The ranks of the imperial harem are modeled after those during the reign of Emperor Wu of the Western Han Dynasty: Empress, Consort, Lady Xing'e, Ronghua, Beauty, Eighth Prince, and Consort (Although so many titles are listed, the male protagonist does not have a harem, hahaha, long live the fictional world).

2. The emperor's reign title, based on the Western Han Dynasty, was generally changed every four or five years. For ease of calculation, the text sets it to change every five years: Tian Shou (the old emperor's reign title), the male protagonist ascended the throne in the fourth year of Tian Shou, changed the reign title to Zhao Yuan, followed by Jia Ping and Jing He.

3. Palace: Chang Le Palace, located west of Weiyang Palace, also known as the "Eastern Palace," was generally the residence of the Empress Dowager. This differs from later accounts where the Eastern Palace was the residence of the Crown Prince. The text refers to the Crown Prince's palace as the "Northern Palace."

Jiaofang Palace: The residence of the Empress.

Xuanshi Hall: The emperor's residence.