Volume One, Chapter 18: The Emperor Requires the Harmony of Yin and Yang

As Xiao Jin’an slowly caught his breath, Yun Jinhuai felt a twinge of guilt. Had he heard all the unguarded words she had blurted out just now—words spoken without thinking?

“This is a sacred remedy for internal injuries. As long as it doesn’t harm your heart meridian, it will save your life. Our Yun family has only this one left. Take it quickly, and you’ll recover soon.” Yun Jinhuai brought a snowy white pill to his lips.

Xiao Jin’an took it, but while she went to fetch water, he slyly slipped the pill into his sleeve, a handsome curve tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The little girl was as generous as ever, always giving him the best of everything.

Closing his eyes, he feigned sleep, while Yun Jinhuai sat by the bedside, keeping watch.

Every so often, she glanced at his face, then at the sky outside, stifling her frustration.

She knew the journey to the Netherworld Valley was now indefinitely delayed.

This man had seen through her ruse—the secret plan behind her open front—and came tonight to catch her in the act.

But in wounding the enemy, he had also harmed himself; both sides had paid a heavy price.

He was injured, and she had lost the last precious elixir.

Sighing, she could only hope he would leave the General’s Mansion swiftly and intact.

After half an hour, sensing the medicine had taken effect, Yun Jinhuai turned to ask if his pain had eased.

But the man on the bed was already fast asleep, his long, thick eyelashes fluttering gently with each shallow breath, casting faint shadows beneath his eyes.

His long hair had loosened at some point, flowing freely across the pillow.

The glossy black strands only highlighted his jade-like skin and handsome features.

His brows were slightly furrowed, shadowed by a misty trace of sorrow.

Suddenly, Yun Jinhuai could not bear to wake him.

In a world at peace, he could not find rest—how arduous the burden of an emperor!

She pulled a brocade quilt over him and leaned back in her chair, dozing off.

Half-awake, she heard the drum from the watchtower, and jolted upright.

“Your Majesty, please wake up—you must hurry to the morning court.” Yun Jinhuai reached out, but touched only empty air.

Focusing her gaze, she saw the bed was empty, though still warm; a cloak was draped over her shoulder.

“Ah!” Yun Jinhuai sighed in relief.

The sacred medicine’s effect was indeed remarkable—he had gone from barely able to move to vanishing silently within hours.

As Xiao Jin’an’s figure appeared in the narrow alley behind the Yun residence, Jing Hang met him with bloodshot eyes.

“Are you suffering from an eye ailment, or have you been drinking?” Xiao Jin’an asked in surprise.

Those eyes were redder than a rabbit’s!

Jing Hang: “……”

Was that question even considerate?

Since the emperor had entered the General’s Mansion through the side gate alongside the Marquis of Wuan, Jing Hang’s ears had perked and eyes widened, afraid to miss any sound inside.

“Your Majesty, I have not slept a wink all night. It was harder than training a hawk!” Jing Hang complained.

They had only intended to prevent Yun Jinhuai from leaving the city, yet it had taken the entire night.

“I am with Jinhuai; why should you worry?” Xiao Jin’an stretched his limbs.

“Your Majesty, I worry about your injury. There isn’t even a court physician in the General’s Mansion now. How did you endure the night?” Jing Hang asked with concern.

No sooner had he spoken than the emperor vanished from sight!

In the faint morning light, a figure darted like a meteor, swift as lightning, heading straight for the palace.

Jing Hang stood alone, disheveled in the wind. Had the emperor staged a self-inflicted wound?

Thinking of the Marquis of Wuan’s even harsher deception after a grueling night, Jing Hang felt a slight comfort and took off in pursuit.

Inside the Purple Palace Hall, the attending eunuch helped the emperor wash up, while Song Cheng’en arranged his dragon robe and jade belt.

Jing Hang stood outside, overhearing the emperor’s constant complaints.

“Have the Imperial Household Department replace the calming incense. It’s too overpowering and makes it hard for me to sleep.”

“Change the bed as well.”

“Sigh, restless nights must mean the feng shui of this chamber is off.”

Why was it that in Yun Jinhuai’s room, he could sleep soundly until dawn?

...

“Yes, yes, yes.”

The emperor grumbled, and Song Cheng’en nodded obediently.

After the emperor left for court, Song Cheng’en asked Jing Hang puzzled, “Guard Jing, I saw His Majesty looking spirited and refreshed this morning, so he must have slept well last night. Why then has he suddenly taken issue with every item in the room—even the Purple Palace Hall itself?”

“You know the emperor best—what do you suggest we replace these things with? Should we even change the entire sleeping chamber?”

Jing Hang rested his chin in his hand, silent for a long moment.

As the emperor’s attendant, both he and Song Cheng’en knew the sovereign suffered from insomnia.

For three years, he had poured his energies into state affairs and worried over the battlefield, rarely enjoying a peaceful night.

Yet they both noticed that last night, the emperor had slept well.

So it wasn’t the chamber, incense, or bed.

Could it be that the emperor needed a balance of yin and yang?

This sudden thought startled Jing Hang.

Ah, no!

Such a notion was disrespectful to the emperor and an insult to the Marquis of Wuan!

Just thinking of it felt like a sin.

“Eunuch, leave everything as it is. The emperor is merely grumbling; don’t take it seriously,” Jing Hang waved off the matter, brooding alone.

He knew the emperor’s feelings toward Yun Jinhuai went beyond brotherly affection—there was also a man’s desire.

But for years, due to their statuses, it had to be concealed under the guise of “brotherly love.”

When Yun Jinhuai was thirteen, the General’s Mansion had long arranged her marriage, selecting Su Ziwen, heir to the Marquis of Pingyang, as her betrothed.

Afterward, the young Prince of Ping had locked away all his feelings, burying them deep within his heart.

When he ascended the throne, many daughters of powerful ministers eagerly awaited his selection of a consort.

Yet the emperor declined, citing pressing military affairs and the need to revive Nanling’s industries.

He was diligent and wise, his heart occupied only with governance and the border wars.

This emperor, born of humble origins, had finally earned the people's approval and support after three years.

Jing Hang had prayed countless times before the Bodhisattva, wishing for a kind and virtuous woman to replace Yun Jinhuai in the emperor’s heart.

Unexpectedly, she had returned from the battlefield, now free.

The emperor’s soul was immediately captivated, and the feelings he had suppressed surged uncontrollably.

But how could the once-lowly prince who became the supreme ruler marry a twice-married woman like the Marquis of Wuan?

Not to mention making her empress or even a concubine—it was impossible.

They were like two parallel lines, never to intersect.

Unless one of them changed direction.