Chapter 119

However, that very afternoon, Sun Lüzhi and Bo Mengshang suddenly rushed back to Qianliang Mountain, their faces reportedly etched with urgency. From then on, Fu Ping’an remained in the study.

It wasn’t until the evening of the third day that Luo Qionghua saw Fu Ping’an again.

Compared to that night a few days prior, Ping’an’s complexion had turned pale once more, and she looked utterly exhausted.

Luo Qionghua’s heart ached. She brought a bowl of ginseng soup and said, “Your Servant Wife asked the kitchen to keep ginseng soup warm. Your Majesty might take some.”

Fu Ping’an nodded but didn’t drink the soup. Instead, she looked up and asked, “Have you looked over the list of patients? Do you have a sense of how many are currently symptomatic, how many are asymptomatic, and how many have recovered?”

Luo Qionghua answered each in turn.

Over the past few days, aside from a half-hour each afternoon spent chatting with Mu Tingyun, most of her time had been devoted to this very matter.

She quickly discovered that the medicine Ren Danzhu had compounded was not nearly as miraculous as the one Her Majesty had given Commandery Princess Yunping.

The herbal medicine was helpful, but it worked gradually. After two days of taking it, patients with mild symptoms were showing no signs of illness, and even those critically ill had been pulled back from the brink of death.

Even so, everyone was already astounded.

“…Now everyone believes Your Majesty is a divine being capable of moving heaven and earth. They say that prescription is a celestial formula and that a temple should be built to enshrine it.”

Fu Ping’an smiled at this, but her brow furrowed. “But do you know what Ah Zhi and Governor Bo discovered in the surrounding area? Just a hundred li from here, there are several villages utterly devoid of human presence. Every household is holding funerals—or rather, there’s no one left to hold them. You can push open doors and enter without hindrance, for the masters lie sick on their beds. The common folk suffer from famine and disease; the farmland lies fallow. Zhen is right here, and the local Commandery Governor is right here, yet no one reported this. Do you know why?”

Luo Qionghua was shocked. “Why?”

Fu Ping’an gave a cold laugh. “Because the plague hasn’t yet spread into the city. They think that as long as they lock the refugees outside the walls, they can rest easy. If they report the plague, it becomes a stain on their official career. Naturally, they avoid it if possible, hide it if they can.”

Growing angrier as she spoke, Fu Ping’an slammed the bowl heavily onto the table. “These are Zhen’s county magistrates! These are Zhen’s commandery governors! Every day at cockcrow, Zhen attends Morning Court, hardly ever late, day after day. And every day, what is reported to the court is peace and harmony. It’s as if, aside from the external enemies beyond Mobei, this Great Wei is already at peace, its rivers clear and seas calm. In front of Zhen, they call Zhen a divine being, favored by heaven. But in reality, they are treating Zhen like a fool!”

After this outburst, seeing the deathly silence around her—the palace servants lowering their heads, not daring to speak, their expressions terrified—she fell silent herself, letting out a long sigh.

She looked toward Luo Qionghua and saw her eyes wide with both shock and fury. “So that’s how they are.”

A look of confusion crossed Luo Qionghua’s face. “But why would they be like this?”

Fu Ping’an thought for a moment, then waved a hand toward Jingyue and Qin He. “You may all withdraw first.”

Once the palace servants had left, Fu Ping’an beckoned to Luo Qionghua. “Ah Hua, come here.”

There was a certain intimacy in those words.

Luo Qionghua shifted her stool to sit beside Fu Ping’an. Fu Ping’an asked, “Have you ever thought about what you would do if you were an official?”

Luo Qionghua said, “Me, an official?”

“It would be quite normal if you hadn’t thought about it. After all, at home, you probably weren’t exposed to…”

“No, I have thought about it,” Luo Qionghua suddenly said, though her voice then grew a bit sheepish. “…In the past, minor officials from the Jingzhao Governor’s Office were always coming to the West Market. They would eat things and buy things without paying. Everyone was angry, but no one dared speak up. So I used to think that if I became Governor of the Capital, I would make a rule forbidding minor officials from abusing their authority.”

Fu Ping’an: “…”

“What is it?” Luo Qionghua blinked.

Fu Ping’an: “They don’t pay?”

“Right. They don’t.”

Fu Ping’an covered her face, speechless. “…There are indeed far too many things Zhen doesn’t know. Such things happening even here in Weijing. But this shows that as the bureaucracy layers down level by level, the information disparity is inevitable. Zhen is blaming the commandery governors, but they might well be in the same position relative to Zhen.”

She lowered her hand and glanced at Luo Qionghua with genuine surprise. “You know quite a bit. Sometimes, you know more than Zhen.”

Luo Qionghua was taken aback. “Ah?”

A thoughtful look settled on Fu Ping’an’s face. “You are much better than Zhen was at your age. No wonder you grasped things so quickly. Thinking carefully, you recognize all the ministers in the court and even know something of their private conduct. In the future, Zhen might even need to consult you.”

Luo Qionghua was so praised she grew embarrassed. “Really? …Well, it’s nothing special, really. Your Majesty, please drink the ginseng soup. It’s almost cold.”

It was only then Fu Ping’an remembered the soup. Yet she still didn’t drink it. Instead, she took hold of Luo Qionghua’s hand and pressed it against her own face.

Luo Qionghua’s face flushed red. But the lamplight was dim, so Fu Ping’an didn’t notice.

She spoke. “Zhen isn’t tired. Zhen just applied something to her face.”

Luo Qionghua took a good while before her brain processed what this sentence meant—she had completely frozen the moment Fu Ping’an pressed her hand to her face.

Once her mind resumed functioning, she let out an “Oh,” then her eyes widened. “Applied what? Lead powder?”

Nowadays, the noble ladies’ favorite cosmetic was lead powder, because after applying it, the complexion turned flawlessly white, like a bright moon shining.

Fu Ping’an, however, said, “Lead powder is poisonous. Don’t use it. If you wish to use something, you can use this.”

Fu Ping’an pulled a box-shaped object from her bosom and handed it to Luo Qionghua.

Luo Qionghua took it and examined it closely under the lamplight. The box was made of a material she had never seen before—smooth like jade, yet lighter than jade. “What is this?” she asked, astonished.

“I believe it’s called a powder foundation.”

Luo Qionghua looked up blankly. “Is it edible?”

In this era, anything made with flour and eaten was called a cake—soup cakes, steamed cakes, baked cakes.

Fu Ping’an looked at Luo Qionghua, utterly bewildered like some small animal, and her heart felt as if it had been gently brushed by a feather.

She suddenly understood why, back when she knew nothing as a child, people had been willing to watch her livestream. Watching a beautiful child in a daze did have a peculiar charm.

Thankfully, because it was late and she had planned to sleep, she had turned off the livestream room.

She suddenly thought: Her Empress was so adorable. For some reason, she wanted to be the only one who saw it.

She opened the powder foundation—purchased in the Mall for just five Points—and took out the puff, dabbing some onto the back of Luo Qionghua’s hand.

Although the skin on the back of her hand was already delicate and fair, what Fu Ping’an had bought, whose full name was “Radiance Brightening Water-Wash Powder Foundation,” was a pure white shade. Thus, it still left a white streak.

“It still looks like lead powder.” Luo Qionghua leaned in to smell it. “It’s very fragrant.”

“This contains no lead. Lead is poisonous. If you wish to apply makeup in the future, you can use this.” After saying this, Fu Ping’an thought for a moment and added, “But you look better without powder anyway.”

Luo Qionghua recalled the line “Clear water yields lotus blooms, naturally carved, untouched by adornment.”

She lowered her head in shy delight for a moment before suddenly remembering important business. She looked up. “But why is Your Majesty disguising herself?”

Reflecting on her past interactions with Luo Qionghua, Fu Ping’an decided this was now something she could reveal.

Thus, she began, “In the past, Zhen’s physical frailty was not due to illness, but because she was poisoned.”

Luo Qionghua’s breath hitched. Poisoned?

“On the day of Zhen’s enthronement, Zhen was poisoned. Although partially treated in childhood, it remained a state of mild poisoning. But around the first half of this year, the effects of the poison deepened. Zhen has now—ahem—thanks to heaven, let’s say—detoxified. However, not wanting to alert the enemy, Zhen thought to maintain her previous appearance outwardly and see if she could lure the snake out of its hole.”

Luo Qionghua seemed frozen.

Fu Ping’an continued, “Zhen is telling you this today in hopes that you will be extra careful in your daily affairs. Zhen still has no lead on the poisoner, and the method remains a mystery. In the future, if you ever feel unwell, you must tell Zhen early on.”

Luo Qionghua still didn’t speak.

Puzzled, Fu Ping’an gently patted the back of her hand. “What’s wrong?”

Luo Qionghua’s lips trembled. After a moment, her eyes reddened.

“Your Majesty’s life in the palace was so fraught with hidden perils?”

Luo Qionghua desperately wanted to cry.

But Her Majesty had spoken to her about this with such composure. If she cried, it would be too weak of her. Yet the sorrow wouldn’t be controlled, and finally, it transformed into tears brimming in her eyes.

She recalled how, before her marriage, her mother, who had advised her against becoming Empress, had asked her: Do you truly believe Her Majesty is happy?

Back then, she had answered with complete confidence: Her Majesty must be very happy.

But it turned out Her Majesty had lived on such a knife’s edge.

Fu Ping’an was startled. She took out a handkerchief to wipe Luo Qionghua’s tears, saying, “Don’t cry. It’s all in the past now. Zhen is fully recovered.”

“Being Child of Heaven is too arduous. How could Her Majesty possibly be happy? Mother could see this, but I couldn’t. As expected, I am no match for my mother…” she said through choked sobs.

Fu Ping’an felt her heart clench seeing Luo Qionghua’s tears. Yet hearing these words, she couldn’t help but ask, puzzled, “Lady Chang said Zhen isn’t happy?”

Luo Qionghua wept uncontrollably and, unable to stop herself, threw herself into Fu Ping’an’s arms. “Why did Ping’an only tell me today? All this time, I truly thought Ping’an was simply frail. What a fool I am!”

Fu Ping’an patted Luo Qionghua’s back, her voice helpless. “Zhen is not unhappy. Zhen has now detoxified and resolved the immediate crisis. The most important thing now is simply to find the poisoner.”

Upon hearing this, Luo Qionghua sat up straight, roughly wiping away her tears. “Right. Right.”

Seeing this could stem her tears, Fu Ping’an added, “Actually, Zhen had another purpose in coming to Qianliang Mountain this time. It was to ask Cousin Fu Li—that is, the Hermit Daoist—about the events of that year, to understand the situation from his perspective back then. I didn’t expect the Hermit Daoist would seem to harbor a prejudice against Zhen. Sigh, and these past few days have been so busy I haven’t had the time.”

Luo Qionghua’s eyes were still glistening with tears. “Did you two meet as children?”

“By the time Zhen entered the palace, he had already been deposed and was living in seclusion in a Daoist abbey within the palace. Zhen had no freedom then and couldn’t see him.”

Those few short sentences seemed to reveal the difficulties of those years.

Luo Qionghua stopped crying. She thought that no matter how Ping’an felt right now, it would be far too useless to have Ping’an comfort her.

“You’ve never even met, yet he holds a grudge against you. Doesn’t Ping’an get angry?”

“Not angry.” Fu Ping’an lowered her gaze. “There’s nothing to be angry about.”

Luo Qionghua looked at her with admiration. “As expected, only Ping’an could be the Child of Heaven.”

Fu Ping’an smiled. “But if Zhen were in his position today, Zhen might not have such magnanimity. Magnanimity is built upon success.”

Luo Qionghua seemed to half-understand. Her heart felt as if a hundred claws were scratching it; she wanted, no matter what, to help Ping’an more. So, after pondering, she spoke up. “Ping’an has no time, but I do. Tomorrow, let me go and meet with the Hermit Daoist.”

Fu Ping’an paused, her brow furrowing slightly.

Luo Qionghua grew nervous. “Did I say something foolish?”

Fu Ping’an shook her head. “No, I was just thinking… it’s truly a good idea. Why didn’t Zhen think of it? You are the Empress, and he is also considered an imperial kinsman. It’s only proper for you to visit him.”

Seeing that she could be useful, Luo Qionghua nodded eagerly.

Fu Ping’an then said, “But in front of him, you mustn’t show timidity like you do in front of Zhen.”

Luo Qionghua quickly replied, “Ping’an underestimates me. In front of others, I can be very much the part.”

Fu Ping’an knew this naturally. She saw how Luo Qionghua managed palace affairs daily with nearly seasoned proficiency. Yet for some reason, she felt an urge to tease her and deliberately furrowed her brow. “Really? Zhen has never witnessed it.”

Luo Qionghua’s expression turned serious. “Really? Could it be… I’m only imagining it?”

Her eyes grew anxious. “Is what Qin He says to me daily also just lies?”

Fu Ping’an burst out laughing.

Only then did Luo Qionghua realize she had been tricked. Her cheeks puffed up, and she raised a hand to lightly punch Fu Ping’an’s arm. When she raised her hand to hit her again, Fu Ping’an caught it.

Luo Qionghua gazed at Fu Ping’an. Their eyes met, and suddenly, her heart gave a jolt. Slowly, she lowered her head again.

Matters of the bedchamber—before entering the palace, Madam Zhao had specially instructed her.

Back then, Luo Qionghua hadn’t understood. Reading those materials, she had felt both shy and amused. She hadn’t grasped why the Nanny took it so seriously, but when she asked, the answer was always vague—”You’ll understand when the time comes.”

Perhaps that time was today. Looking at that pale, unadorned face in the flickering lamplight, she suddenly seemed to understand, just a little.

Fu Ping’an, for her part, had completely forgotten all those textual teachings.

She looked at the young woman before her: limpid eyes moist and luminous, cheeks like cherry blossoms, the remnants of tears still clinging to her cheeks like dew on flower petals. When her eyes lowered slightly, they held words unspoken.

She was happy for her, and she wept for her too.

This was her Empress, her wife. Fu Ping’an thought she was fond of her.

So she pulled the young woman into her arms and gently pressed her lips to her forehead. Then, slowly, she moved down and covered those rosy lips.

Soft… and sweet.