Chapter 62: C62. There's A Skill In Handling A Wife Or Husband,

Chapter 62

Emperor Qianxing had performed his little display of “filial piety” in front of his stunning aunt, and with that grand act complete, he had no reason to linger. With Eunuch Wan and the others in tow, he made his exit without looking back.

Meanwhile, Yunzhu moved with deliberate grace toward the cool shade by the palace wall, where she lingered patiently, waiting for Yuci’s chariot to arrive.

The maid leading the way was one of Empress Dowager Cao’s people. Yunzhu noticed the girl sneaking cautious glances her way—furtive, yet unmistakable. But Yunzhu, ever composed, chose to ignore it.

She wasn’t foolish; she could sense the particular fondness Emperor Qianxing seemed to have for her. The sharp-eyed eunuchs and maids of the palace were masters of perception; it was only natural they’d pick up on even the smallest hints of preferential treatment. But what of it?

The Emperor was a boy of just twelve. Perhaps his regard stemmed from nothing more than a child’s innocent reverence for his aunt—or perhaps something more... intoxicating. After all, even the youngest eyes can appreciate beauty.

Who could truly know what dangerous, tantalizing musings might flutter through a young king’s head? Not even Yunzhu herself could fully unravel the enigmatic workings of that boyish mind.

The truth is plain and timeless—beautiful people, whether man or woman, inevitably turn heads, stir hearts, and inspire desire, their allure unmatched by the plain and forgettable. Beauty commands attention—height, poise, temperament—they all play a part.

Imagine a blacksmith with two apprentices. One fair of face, the other unremarkable. Who would receive the kinder words, the lighter workload, the quiet favoritism? Beauty pleases the eye; it needs no justification, no apology.

Yet beauty is a double-edged gift—especially for women born into modest lives. Too often, it marks them for misfortune. Ravished by greedy men, torn from their homes, bartered as concubines or sold to brothels to live out a nightmare under velvet chains. Sometimes worse—thrown to the wolves of the street, their cries unanswered, their fate brutal and unspeakable.

But Yunzhu wasn’t just any beauty. She was the noble daughter of Duke Ningguo, blessed not only with an ethereal face but the security of wealth and power. She didn’t need her beauty to survive—it was her crown, her weapon, a gleaming edge that earned her admiration, jealousy, and men’s slavish devotion. With it came choice: the confidence to take a man like Cao Xun, who, after one glance, was ready to claim her as his bride.

The rhythmic shuffle of feet broke the stillness as four young eunuchs in azure uniforms approached, bearing a chariot through the moon gate. Behind them, two palace maids glided like shadows, their umbrellas raised high to ward off the sun, while a steward eunuch walked briskly at the front.

“Halt.”

The steward eunuch stopped, then turned toward her—his gaze reverent, his voice smooth and deferential.

“Madam, if you please.”

He extended a hand to the woman whose beauty shone like a cruel sun, confident she would take it.

Within the palace, where titles shifted like the wind, Yunzhu—known as Lady Cao here—rarely relied on the services of eunuchs. Yet to deny his assistance now would’ve been an open slight, a careless insult to the palace hierarchy.

With languid grace, she allowed herself to accept. Her delicate hand rested in his, light as silk, yet carrying a weight that no man could ignore.

The steward, flushed with earnest diligence, helped Yunzhu ascend into the chariot, his every movement careful, almost reverent.

The chariot was a masterpiece of rich, polished mahogany, sleek and gleaming, its every curve caressed by craftsmanship. The seat was an indulgent temptation—draped in sumptuous silk cushions that seemed to beg to be touched, while a decadent arrangement of identical pillows circled the backrest like a promise of pure, unhurried luxury.

Yunzhu had strolled into the palace countless times before, but this was something else. This was the first time she’d been carried away in a palanquin, and the experience was—oddly thrilling.

The steps of the chariot were solid, steady, and deliberate, as though daring her to relax into the motion. And so she did, her body easing into the rhythmic sway, surrendering to the pulse of the journey.

The palace road stretched wide and proud—enough space for two carriages to ride side by side—but those damned yellow-tiled walls loomed on either side, pressing in, clipping one’s perspective. It was a stark reminder that this was the palace: the gilded heart of power, the most exalted ground in the empire. A glorious cage where every step was dictated by rules as sharp as knives.

Here, authority was a jealous beast, resting solely in the hands of the Emperor. Everyone else—the Empress Dowager, the Empress herself, even the pretty little concubines—had to dance to the Emperor’s whims. Unless, of course, the Emperor was spineless enough to let the reins of his power slip through his fingers.

Currently, Emperor Qianxing was playing puppet to his mother—the indulgent Empress Dowager—and the stoic cabinet led by Gu Shoufu. The Empress Dowager tried, and often failed, to curb her son’s impulsive pursuits. Meanwhile, the cabinet buried itself in the grind of state affairs, far too occupied to meddle in the Emperor’s private antics. They reined him in when they could, and when they couldn’t, they shrugged and allowed him his excesses, as long as he didn’t tear the whole palace down.

It wasn’t that the cabinet lacked ambition for a competent ruler—no, they’d simply been burned too many times. Emperor after emperor, each one more pigheaded and dim-witted than the last. The ministers’ influence ran deep now, and the Emperor, young and insecure, knew better than to challenge them in open court. Instead, he cloistered himself with sycophants and favorites—closer, safer company. And as for the eunuchs? Well, their tangled presence in politics had bred a chaos so exhausting that it had become easier for everyone to let the Emperor win the small battles, rather than provoke a war of wills.

As the chariot glided on, Yunzhu let these thoughts unfurl in her mind like silk ribbons. The gentle rocking of her seat added to the languid, mesmerizing rhythm.

From time to time, palace officials crossed her path. Their stiff backs straightened further, their gazes dipping respectfully when they caught sight of the lavish chariot.

Beyond the palace road, Yunzhu spotted other officials—men of rank, power, and influence. There was no protocol requiring them to acknowledge the Duke’s wife, yet their fleeting glances betrayed their surprise.

The scenery outside blurred into a monotonous stream of yellow walls and unchanging sights, the same tired grandeur she’d seen a thousand times. There was no comfort in the passing view, no warmth to soften the chill of leaving the imperial city behind.

*

The chariot was a masterpiece of polished mahogany, its grandeur accentuated by the decadent luxury of silk cushions that cradled the seat and wrapped around the backrest in a perfect, inviting arrangement. Every detail screamed opulence, the kind that made you lean back and let the world blur around you.

For Yunzhu, this was a first. She’d entered the palace countless times, but leaving it carried in such a finely crafted palanquin? That was new—and strangely exhilarating. The sturdy steps rocked with a rhythmic steadiness, and she let herself settle into the motion, her body easing into the journey as the palace walls loomed on either side.

The broad road beneath her was wide enough for two carriages to roll side by side, yet it felt suffocating. Those imposing yellow-tiled walls closed in, constraining the view like a golden prison—beautiful, yes, but inescapable. That was the palace: the world’s most exalted domain, a place where power dripped like honey, sweet and dangerous, where every move played by the Emperor’s whims.

In theory, at least. Reality was far less tidy. Emperor Qianxing—young, indulged, untethered—was led more by his doting mother, the Empress Dowager, and shadowed by a cabinet that took care of state affairs with all the weariness of men who’d seen too many emperors fail to measure up. The Empress Dowager fussed but couldn’t restrain his impulsive appetites. The cabinet picked their battles, letting the young ruler run wild in private, as long as he didn’t topple the world they’d built.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want a wise emperor—of course they did. But the dynasty had churned out so many dull-witted and bullheaded rulers that, by now, it was easier to endure them than to try reshaping them. The ministers knew where their influence ended, choosing soft submission over sparring with a monarch who still feared them in court but found solace in the obsequious flattery of his immediate entourage. Add in the inevitable meddling of eunuchs, and politics inside the palace became a tangle of games so exhausting that most gave up the fight altogether, nodding along to minor whims to avoid sparking chaos.

The palanquin rocked on, soft and deliberate, as Yunzhu’s mind wandered through these thoughts.

Occasionally, a palace official would cross the road, catching sight of the grand chariot and stopping to bow, their movements measured, their reverence automatic. And there were others too—men of rank, officials with clipped steps and studied gazes. They weren’t obligated to pay respects to the Duke’s wife, but the look on their faces betrayed their curiosity. Surprise flared in their eyes, even as their feet kept moving.

The imperial city receded behind her, its gilded monotony rolling past like a ghostly reflection of all she was leaving behind. Yet, as Yunzhu gazed out, that endless sameness offered no comfort, no closure. It was a silent acknowledgment of her departure, a truth etched into the walls she would no longer face.

For Yunzhu, this was not a simple exit—it was a moment drenched in unspoken finality. And as the chariot rocked, her thoughts, sharp and clear, matched its steady rhythm.

*

Yunzhu returned to the grand halls of the Dingguo Duke's mansion to find news waiting for her—an invitation had already been sent to Mr. Hu, the Minister of War.

It seemed that after the Spring Festival, Mr. Hu—completely enchanted by Chen Dingzhi, the radiant top scholar—had wasted no time arranging for him to marry his precious granddaughter. The wedding was fixed for the tenth day of the seventh month. Since Mr. Hu often mingled with Cao Xun for matters of state, he naturally extended an invitation to the Dingguo household for the lavish affair.

Yunzhu, always quick to see through the fine layers of politicking, recognized the undercurrents immediately. She was well aware of the ongoing rivalry between Cao Xun and Mr. Hu, both men hungry for control over military command. For now, the power was split between them, a fragile balance. But in the world of officials, no matter how sharp the claws hidden behind the scenes, propriety still demanded its due.

The Hu family had extended their hand, and a refusal would paint the Cao household as petty, a slight that could cause whispers in the wrong corners.

Wasting no time, Yunzhu sent someone to deliver the invitation to the West Courtyard and asked Pan Shi if she was inclined to attend.

The wedding was not just any event—it was to be the first grand aristocratic gathering in the capital since the new emperor's ascension. Pan Shi, eager to bask in the reflected glow of her imperial grandmother’s legacy, seized the opportunity with enthusiasm. She was determined to make an impression.

When Cao Xun returned in the evening, Yunzhu presented him with the invitation. Predictably, he too had decided to attend.

With a tilt of her head and a gleam in her eye, Yunzhu mused, “I hear Chen Zhuangyuan’s family isn’t particularly well-off. Where will he settle after marrying Miss Hu?”

Cao Xun, matter-of-fact as always, replied, “Master Hu has gifted him a house.”

Yunzhu’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “Well, isn’t Chen Zhuangyuan the luckiest man alive? A bright future, a stunning wife, and a roof over his head—all served to him on a silver platter. No struggles, no worries.”

Cao Xun nodded in agreement. “He’d be a fool not to take every advantage of this.”

Both of them knew that opportunities like this came with strings attached. Success and sacrifice walked hand in hand, and Chen Dingzhi’s rise would depend on how well he could play his part.

After that brief dissection of the Hu family’s affairs and the golden scholar’s good fortune, they moved on to supper.

Once they’d finished eating, Yunzhu stretched gracefully and murmured that she felt like taking a stroll in the garden. The summer heat lingered like a jealous lover during the day, making the cooler mornings and evenings far more pleasant for such excursions.

Cao Xun, with a hint of amusement in his voice, offered, “I’ll join you.”

Yunzhu turned to him with playful reproach. “We argued just last night, yet here we are, stuck to each other again. Don’t you worry that if word gets out, all the fuss from yesterday will seem like a wasted performance?”

Cao Xun met her quip without missing a beat. “Hardly. People will just admire how well I keep my wife in line—or how skillfully you manage your husband.”

A spark of laughter flashed in Yunzhu’s eyes, though she said nothing in return. This was their game, after all, played behind closed doors. What business was it of anyone else’s?

They reached the pond as the sunset bathed the garden in soft, golden hues. Yunzhu, with deliberate languor, wandered to the stone bridge and leaned lightly against its guardrail. She turned her gaze to the water, where lotus flowers floated in full bloom—serene, beautiful, and just out of reach.

Smirking with purpose, she pointed toward the nearest blossom, its petals a blushing pink. “Fetch me that lotus, will you?”

Cao Xun followed her line of sight and raised a brow. “It’s too far. I’ll have a boat brought over.”

Yunzhu’s response was immediate—sweet, sultry, and sharp as a blade wrapped in silk. “Too slow. I can’t wait that long.”

The breeze caught her skirt, making it ripple like water, and the setting sun gilded her bold brows and luminous features. She tilted her head ever so slightly, the smile on her lips both alluring and unshakable, the kind of smile that made men forget the rules.

Cao Xun hesitated for the briefest moment, then strode toward the pond, his resolve settling like stone. He had no choice—Yunzhu always knew how to pull the strings, and tonight, she played them perfectly.

She wasn’t about to hide the teasing gleam in her eyes or the wicked games she played with the man beside her. If he fell in line, he’d be rewarded with nothing more than her smug, satisfied smile. But if he dared to resist? Oh, she’d have no problem meeting him with cold indifference and a hint of sharp irritation.

It was all up to Cao Xun now.

Their gazes locked in an unspoken challenge, lingering longer than it should have. And then, he gave in—silent and steady. Shrugging off his robe, he handed it to her with practiced ease, turned on his heel, and stepped off the stone bridge. No hesitation, no second thoughts. The water lapped softly against the shore as he waded in, undeterred.

The pond was shallow at first, reaching just to Uncle Guo’s waist, but that didn’t stop him. The nearest lotus had already started to wither, tinged with yellow, so he pressed on, deeper into the water, until he found the freshest bloom. It was a small act of defiance—drenched in quiet, masculine grace.

With the lotus in hand, Cao Xun turned back toward the bridge.

And there she was—Yunzhu—lounging against the railing like a queen on her throne. Chin resting lazily in her palm, her gaze flicked over him with mocking indifference, her lips curling into a condescending, almost predatory smile. His effort? As far as she was concerned, it was inconsequential.

When Cao Xun emerged from the water, the transformation was something to behold. His pristine white shirt and trousers clung to him in a way that left little to the imagination—wet fabric tracing the sleek lines of his legs, his lean strength emphasized in every step. But there wasn’t a trace of embarrassment on his face. If anything, his expression was carved from stone—focused, intentional, and undeniably alluring.

He moved straight toward her, steps slow and deliberate, as if the entire world existed to bridge the distance between them.

Yunzhu, unbothered and wholly in control, plucked the lotus from his hand with a look so smug it was nearly sinful. Then, in a single fluid motion, she spun on her heel and darted to the other end of the stone bridge. Her laughter echoed behind her, taunting and sharp.

“Filthy one,” she threw over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playfulness, “I’ve no interest in keeping you company!”

With the lotus in hand like some victorious trophy, she sprinted away, slowing only when she reached a safe distance. Her teasing gaze searched for his reaction, half daring him to chase her.

But Cao Xun? Unruffled, unbothered—he simply chuckled under his breath, the sound low and rough, as though she hadn’t just baited him. With unshakable calm, he retrieved the robe she had carelessly left on the bridge rail, slipped it back over his broad shoulders, and closed the gap between them.

Each step he took was deliberate, brimming with quiet confidence—an unspoken promise that he was not a man to be toyed with for long.