Feng Xuanyi stood tall before the imperial throne. On his left was Empress He Yilan, dignified and magnificently composed; on his right stood the breathtaking Virtuous Noble Lord Nalan Xuan, their fingers still intertwined. Although Feng Xuanyi remained expressionless, the oppressive solemnity that usually surrounded him had noticeably receded, leaving him somehow gentler. He seemed entirely unlike the emperor who normally dominated the court with unapproachable authority. There was even the faint suggestion of a smile around his eyes, calm and warm, as though he were merely the young master of an ordinary great household gathering with family and friends.
“Rise, all of you. Take your seats.” Even his voice seemed softer than usual.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Another perfectly synchronized expression of gratitude followed before everyone finally dared rise and return to their seats in twos and threes.
It would have been better if they had kept their heads lowered. The moment they looked toward the seats of honor, little gasps immediately rippled through the hall. The gazes gathering upon Nalan Xuan held astonishment, admiration, concern, sympathy, and resentment in equal measure.
Everyone else had taken their seats, leaving Nalan Xuan stranded alone upon the jade dais, unable to decide whether he should go up or down. He had originally hoped to slip quietly into the hall and remain as inconspicuous as possible, yet after all his careful thought he had somehow chosen the most spectacular possible way to make an entrance. He glanced discreetly around the hall. The imperial consorts and officials were already seated according to rank. By rights, as the highest-ranking imperial consort present beneath the empress, he should have occupied the foremost seat among the consorts, but that position had already been taken by Consort Shen, Shen Shuyuan. Given how things currently stood for him within the imperial harem, Nalan Xuan was not particularly surprised and could simply have found another seat. Unfortunately, Feng Xuanyi seemed utterly unconcerned with hierarchy, etiquette, or how improper it looked to stand before so many court officials openly holding onto an imperial consort in broad daylight. He simply refused to let go. Nalan Xuan was left neither able to stay nor able to leave, standing awkwardly beside the imperial throne above everyone else in the hall.
His arm was tugged. The unexpected pull made Nalan Xuan stumble, though the force was not particularly strong. His body merely tipped forward and his footing shifted, so to anyone watching it probably looked as though he had simply taken two steps toward Feng Xuanyi.
Holding onto me is already conspicuous enough. What are you tugging me for? Do you still think we’re not attracting enough attention? Nalan Xuan looked up in confusion, only to meet Feng Xuanyi’s completely undisguised gaze.
To his astonishment, Feng Xuanyi—who was normally so inscrutable that neither joy nor anger ever showed on his face—had apparently decided to write his thoughts there in enormous letters for once: Sit beside me.
Nalan Xuan could not tell whether his own brain had broken or Feng Xuanyi had finally gone mad. At an occasion like this, with that intention? The vein at his temple began throbbing. It was absurd beyond belief. The two of them remained locked in a silent contest of strength for a while, but imperial will was ultimately impossible to resist. Nalan Xuan could not outstubborn Feng Xuanyi. In the end, stiff and uncomfortable from head to toe, he perched on one side of the broad dragon throne beside the armrest, looking as though he wished he could transform into a gecko and glue himself permanently to it.
He had barely settled when Feng Xuanyi abruptly pulled him into his arms and loosely encircled him there. Nalan Xuan was completely unprepared. Forget resisting—he could not even find his balance before he fell against Feng Xuanyi’s chest through the magnificent imperial robes. Both of them understood perfectly well that the sudden position resulted from a private contest of wills, each quietly exerting force against the other. To everyone watching, however, it looked like nothing less than spontaneous intimacy between two people hopelessly in love.
Being held so ambiguously in full view of an entire hall left Nalan Xuan mortified. His red clothes had finally lent a little color to his pale face, but now he flushed properly from the inside out. His body stiffened visibly until he might as well have been carved from stone. He simply could not understand it. Two grown men openly wrapped around each other like this—did Feng Xuanyi truly feel no awkwardness whatsoever? And did everyone else not find it painful to watch?
What Nalan Xuan did not know at the time was that the sight of him and Feng Xuanyi embracing so intimately caused no discomfort whatsoever. On the contrary, it looked warm enough that later court historians would devote ink to recording the emperor’s deep affection for the Virtuous Empress. Of course, it also had the immediate effect of overturning row after row of metaphorical vinegar jars throughout the imperial harem.
Elio’s Notes: “Virtuous Empress” (賢皇后) is the later historical title used here for Nalan Xuan after he becomes empress, carrying forward his established honorific “Virtuous.”
“Let the palace banquet begin! Music and dancing! Serve the wine and dishes!”
At Mo Yan’s command, the already crowded hall immediately filled with streams of palace servants entering in orderly lines, each carrying wine, food, or fruit. Their movements were practiced and efficient. In moments, the previously empty low tables before every guest were covered with dishes large and small, while the table before Feng Xuanyi seemed in danger of being piled into a mountain.
The music began. Long flowing sleeves unfurled as graceful dancers moved lightly across the center of the hall, their bodies turning elegantly and their eyes so alluring that a single glance seemed capable of making a person’s bones go soft.
Wine cups passed back and forth while clear singing drifted through the hall. With Mo Yan’s ringing announcement that the banquet had begun, the restrained tension created by the emperor’s arrival quickly dissolved into laughter, conversation, and the clinking of cups.
“Virtuous Noble Lord really does know how to make an impression when you finally choose to make one. Just look at you today—so handsome and dashing you’ve put every beauty in the hall to shame. Noble Lord certainly put a great deal of thought into this.” The instant Liu Xiaoyun opened her mouth, the sourness came twisting out from every angle. Without realizing it, she had probably voiced what countless others were thinking but did not dare say aloud. Her eyes were practically burning with jealousy, yet her face displayed nothing more than innocent admiration and heartfelt delight.
If she had been born in the modern era, that Oscar statuette would have had her name written all over it. Nalan Xuan almost felt sorry for her. Truly, “born in the wrong era” could have been invented specifically for Liu Xiaoyun. Still, compared with people who hid everything inside, waited until you relaxed, and then stabbed you from the shadows, he actually preferred her personality. Whatever Liu Xiaoyun felt, she usually came straight at you with it. Even when she pretended otherwise, her intentions remained obvious. If he had to have an enemy, he would rather face someone attacking from the front. The hidden arrows born from love turning to hatred inside the palace were far harder to guard against.
“Guipin Liu flatters me.”
“Come to think of it, it really has been quite a while since we last saw Noble Lord. We heard that you had been unwell and were refusing visitors, and all of us sisters worried for quite some time. Seeing you today finally puts our minds at ease. Not only have you recovered beautifully, His Majesty’s favor seems even greater than before. You were not implicated in the slightest by Marquis Dingbei’s rebellion—what wonderful fortune. Congratulations.” As she spoke, Liu Xiaoyun even smiled toward the consorts around her, as though seeking agreement, or perhaps merely sharing an interesting piece of news with everyone nearby. “Such tremendous good fortune is something the rest of us could never obtain even if we begged for it. We were discussing it at Fengyi Palace with Her Majesty the Empress before, worrying that after Noble Lord fell ill, His Majesty might forget you. We had even been thinking about how we might lend you a hand. It seems we were worrying over nothing after all.”
The more desperately a person wanted to forget something, the more there always seemed to be someone—deliberately or otherwise—ready to remind him of it at every possible moment. It was neither an enormous obstacle nor a trivial one. Whether Nalan Xuan could cross it or not, it remained lodged unmistakably within his heart.
He flinched instinctively, and even the hand still held inside Feng Xuanyi’s gave an uncontrollable tremor.
Feng Xuanyi seemed not to notice anything unusual about him at all. He ignored the melodious singing filling the hall, ignored the graceful dancers, and ignored the countless gazes being cast openly or covertly in their direction, as though Nalan Xuan were the only person left in the entire world. He busied himself placing food onto Nalan Xuan’s plate and asking whether it suited his taste, ordered Mo Yan to refill the wine, and at one point even personally brushed a crumb from the corner of Nalan Xuan’s lips. The intimacy of his every gesture filled countless onlookers with envy—and turned just as many pairs of eyes red with jealousy.
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