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"Having... a meal?"
Zhu Kui was stunned for a full three breaths before coming to his senses and excitedly asked,
"So you mean my Lord Zhao is alright?!"
The eunuch smiled and said,
"The specifics of the matter are beyond our knowledge, but since His Majesty arranged it this way, it seems that Lord Zhao is unharmed."
The words could not be said for certain, but the signal they revealed was clear enough.
His lord was fine... and so was he... The blood rushed to Zhu Kui's dark face, and the smile at the corners of his mouth spread uncontrollably.
His cold body, like ice thawed by the spring wind, warmed up again.
At this moment, he also had the leisure to notice Zhang Changshuo's dejected departure, further proving the eunuch's words were not false.
What method did his Lord use? Did he really turn the tables?
Or did he misunderstand before—were his Lord's series of actions in the past two days truly the Emperor's intent?
Zhu Kui, amidst his post-crisis delight, couldn't help but let his imagination run wild, even beginning to doubt himself.
...
White Horse Hall.
The atmosphere in today's government office was quite peculiar. The messengers, usually scattered outside, unexpectedly all reported for duty without prior arrangement.
They gathered in small groups, whispering in low voices. Even nearing noon, they remained glued to their spots, frequently glancing toward the office entrance in eager anticipation.
It was clear they wished to know firsthand the punishment outcome for Zhao Douan.
Since ancient times, watching grand figures face misfortune has been a popular entertainment among the people.
"It's about that time; it should be over by now."
"Considering the commute, it should be any moment now. So, what do you think will happen to Zhao...?"
"Heh... I'm afraid, even if he escapes with his life, he'll be skinned alive. Haven't you heard the whispers in the Capital? The ministers in the court have been applying pressure; the Saint's favor must have its limits."
"Ah, if only he had known this would happen..."
Someone shook their head, about to launch into a lengthy discourse, when they suddenly caught sight of a figure emerging from the back office, quickly rose, and saluted,
"Director, sir."
The rest of the messengers also rose, with awkward expressions.
The elder, his temples graying, deep-set eyes, and clad in the White Horse Bureau Director's robe, scanned the crowd with displeasure and said,
"Is there nothing you all should be doing? Gathering here to gossip?"
A middle-aged messenger attempted to ease the atmosphere,
"You are right to reprimand us, sir. We were just concerned for our colleague..."
Heh... the Old Director chuckled lightly, too lazy to expose them.
Another person frankly said,
"Zhao Douan has brought much trouble to the office in the past; now it's just reaping what he sowed. Director, you've shown him much care, yet him? Instead of gratitude, he..."
"Exactly, I think it was overdue."
People chimed in one after another, united in aversion.
The Old Director sighed, wanting to say something, but ultimately giving up.
His feelings toward Zhao Douan were complicated, just as the comments on the memorials were conflicting.
Perhaps as people age, they become soft-hearted. When Zhao Douan was arrogant and domineering, the elder wished to strip him of his rank and cast him into the dust.
But now, seeing him facing grave charges, perhaps even life-threatening, the elder couldn't help but feel sympathetic.
At this time, the sound of horses' hooves came from outside the office, and then Zhang Changshuo walked in.
"Lord Zhang, you've returned," a group rose excitedly to greet him, knowing he went to the palace with Zhao Douan for an audience. They couldn't help but look around,
"But Zhao... he didn't return with you?"
Zhang Changshuo was expressionless, "I came back alone."
People glanced at each other, not surprised but rather with a sense of "as expected."
The Old Director sighed lightly, closed his eyes, and asked,
"So was he taken to the Imperial Prison? Or to the government office? Or to the Ministry of Justice for trial?"
Involvement with rebels would definitely require interrogation by the Three Agencies.
"He wasn't imprisoned," Zhang Changshuo said emotionlessly, leaving this remark behind, cupped his hands, and said,
"I am unwell and request three days of leave to recover at home."
With that, he turned and left straight away.
The crowd stood stunned, and the Old Director opened his eyes, realizing something seemed off.
Given their relationship, if Zhao Douan had encountered any misfortune, Zhang Changshuo should have been elated.
What had actually happened?
Puzzled, the crowd turned their attention to the officials who accompanied Zhang Changshuo into the palace.
The latter had to explain,
"I do not know the detailed process, only that Zhao Douan submitted a memorial; His Majesty ordered the matter not to be mentioned again... Imperial Censor Lv was reprimanded, and Lord Zhang was... punished to confined doors for three days..."
What?
A single memorial reversed His Majesty's intention?
The Imperial Censor, representing the whole court, was silenced?
Zhang Changshuo was punished with confinement?
Wasn't it said that His Majesty had withdrawn his favor and Zhao Douan was to be cast into serious trouble?
How did it all turn around completely?
"And what about Zhao Douan? No punishment? Why didn't he return?"
"Well... Lord Zhao was retained by His Majesty to have a meal in the palace."
Courtyard.
For a moment, the silence was deafening, as if no one dared break the stillness, each face painted with disbelief.
Even the Old Director was stunned, a mix of incredulousness washing over his weathered face.
That lad... only a mere gigolo... such an insignificant pawn... how did he achieve this?
...
...
At this very moment,
Zhao Douan, within the palace, did not know what ripples his news had caused within the capital's official circles.
Nor would he know how many pairs of eyes that were watching, hoping for his downfall, were now filled with shock and disappointment upon learning of the outcome.
Or rather, he hardly had the time to care.
For as he waited alone in a flower hall for approximately one hour, he finally received the news that the Empress summoned him.
...
"His Majesty does not prefer others' service while eating; you may enter, my lord."
Outside the Empress' bedroom,
The older female official stopped her steps, softly speaking to Zhao Douan trailing behind her.
The Emperor often changed dining spots, but primarily dined in the bedroom.
Because after lunch, a brief nap usually followed, emphasizing convenience.
As a "Gigolo," it was the first time that Zhao Douan set foot into the Empress' bedroom.
He beheld the ornate beams and painted rafters; the courtyard was vibrant, rich with rare flowers and plants.
In the cloister connected by red lacquered wooden pillars stood several female officials dressed in a style reminiscent of Tang Dynasty palace maids.
Through the only half-open door, he vaguely saw a large round table filled with exquisite dishes, the eunuchs from the Imperial Kitchen and the Imperial Tea House carrying lacquers as they left in small steps.
Beside the table, a moon-white silk dress could barely be discerned.
"Subject Zhao Douan, summoned," Zhao Douan stood outside the threshold, took a deep breath, and lowered his head to speak.
"Come in," came the always cold voice.
Granted permission, Zhao Douan finally stepped over the threshold, lifting his gaze to see clearly the figure by the dining table, using slender jade fingers to grasp a spoon, her lips slightly parted as she sipped soup, Xu Zhenguan.
Golden sunlight broke through the cracks in the clouds, penetrating through the window flowers and illuminating her otherworldly, flawless face like a crystal jade art piece.
Dazzlingly white.
Zhao Douan couldn't help but lose himself for a moment.
"Sit down and speak."
Empress Xu Zhenguan raised her head, noticing his slightly silly look, her lips curved slightly, hiding a smile.
Thus, the summer breeze also stirred ripples in the light.
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