CHAPTER FORTY‑TWO — THROWING ONESELF INTO AN EMBRACE
He hardened his resolve, ignoring her stillness as his movements grew increasingly urgent. Only in such moments did he feel—however fleetingly—that she truly belonged to him.
And yet…
Even with his eyes closed, his heart remained hollow. The emptiness gnawed at him, sharp and unrelenting. Abruptly, he seized her wrists and pinned them above her, as though restraining her body might somehow anchor his own restless spirit.
Beneath him, her eyes were tightly shut, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Time blurred.
At last, he stilled.
She shrank instinctively, inching toward the edge of the bed as though seeking distance, breath, space.
But he reached for her again—pulling her firmly back into his arms, pressing her against his chest as if refusing to let even a sliver of air separate them.
Her body stiffened once more.
He exhaled softly, almost in relief, and brushed his fingers through her long, silken hair. His lips grazed the shell of her ear, warm enough to make her tremble.
"Qing'er," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his mouth, "you have been in this palace for nineteen years. We have been husband and wife for nineteen years."
"Yes," the Empress replied quietly.
She could not fathom why he had suddenly chosen to speak of this.
"Chen'er is nearly eighteen," he continued, his voice low and indistinct.
"Yes."
Her breath hitched. A subtle tremor ran through her.
"Time passes quickly," he said, something complicated flickering in his tone.
"What is it that Your Majesty wishes to say?" she asked softly, her eyes glimmering in the dim light.
"I wish to say…"
He suddenly shifted, turning toward her with renewed intensity.
"…let us begin again."
His gaze burned with a fervour that belonged more to a youth of seventeen than to a man who had ruled an empire for nearly two decades.
---
The room Aunt Xi had arranged for Tang Ke Xin lay close to the Empress's chambers—separated only by a single wall.
Aunt Xi could never have imagined that the Emperor and Empress would be so… spirited in the middle of the night. Nor could she have known that Tang Ke Xin's hearing was far sharper than most.
As a result, Tang Ke Xin found sleep utterly impossible.
She tossed and turned, the heat pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. The night was stifling—no breeze, no fan, no relief.
At last, she slipped quietly from her bed and crept outside, careful not to disturb anyone. Most of the palace slept deeply at this hour. Even the Empress's attendants had retired, for the Emperor had dismissed them earlier.
Normally, the Peace Palace was lightly guarded. But tonight, with the Emperor staying over, the guards were stationed closer than usual.
Tang Ke Xin wandered beneath a large tree. A stone bench rested beneath its branches, and she lay upon it gratefully. The leaves above cast shifting shadows, concealing her from sight. A faint breeze stirred, cooling her flushed skin.
She closed her eyes, intending to rest for a moment.
But then—
Her eyes snapped open, sharp as a blade.
A scent drifted on the wind.
A scent she recognised.
The same strange fragrance she had detected on Xiao Cui earlier that day.
Through the foliage, she saw a figure approaching.
Tang Ke Xin held her breath.
"Chief Zhan," a guard whispered respectfully.
Tang Ke Xin recognised him at once.
Zhan Yu—one of the elite imperial bodyguards assigned to protect the Empress after an assassination attempt years ago. Hand‑picked by the Emperor himself, he was among the most skilled men in the palace.
The guards of Kunning Palace reported directly to Eunuch Liu and, through him, to the Emperor. Their movements were tightly regulated.
But why…
Why did Zhan Yu carry the same scent as Xiao Cui?
That fragrance was rare—so rare she had never encountered it before today. Its presence on both individuals could not be coincidence.
Zhan Yu was responsible for the Empress's safety. The Empress trusted him implicitly.
Tang Ke Xin's eyes grew colder.
"Maintain vigilance," Zhan Yu instructed, his voice deep and steady.
"Yes, Chief. All is well here. It is still early—we shall remain alert."
"The heat is unbearable. I shall wash first, then return."
Tang Ke Xin listened intently.
Everything sounded normal.
Routine.
Unremarkable.
If she had not detected that scent earlier, she would have dismissed it entirely.
But something was wrong.
The palace had quarters for guards on night duty. Zhan Yu, as the chief guard, would certainly have access to them.
Yet something in his tone, his timing, his direction… unsettled her.
When he turned to leave, Tang Ke Xin's eyes flashed.
She could not alert anyone—not with the Emperor and Empress together, and not with the guards so close. Any disturbance might alert the wrong person.
She had been trained—first by a military doctor who had recognised her talent, then by the army itself. She knew how to move silently, how to observe without being seen.
Keeping her distance, she followed Zhan Yu along a narrow path, slipping from shadow to shadow.
He was skilled—she dared not get too close.
But she did not lose him.
Soon, she realised he was heading toward the rock garden—the very place where the murder had occurred.
Her pulse quickened.
Zhan Yu paused briefly.
Tang Ke Xin dropped low behind the rocks, holding her breath.
After a moment, he continued on.
She exhaled quietly and rose—
—and collided with something solid.
Warm.
Unyielding.
Alive.
Not a wall.
A chest.
A man's chest.
She had thrown herself straight into someone's arms.
But that was not the most shocking part.
As she lifted her head in surprise—
He lowered his.
And their lips met.