Chapter Twenty-Three: Let's Burn Some Memorials for Fun

“Furthermore, if you are truly uneasy, isn’t it only with Fu’er in the palace that there’s even a chance to send Tang’er in?” How could Lady Gu refrain from bringing up her own daughter’s prospects? What was Shen Fuyu but a worthless daughter of a baseborn concubine who had climbed into the master’s bed? Her death was of no consequence; if she could serve as a stepping stone for her own daughter, then it would be the fortune of many generations!

From birth, her daughter had been raised with the aspirations of becoming a princess consort or an empress. Even now, her marriage remained unsettled. With the current opportunity Shen Fuyu had created for the Shen family, it was no bad thing to send Tang’er into the palace. Her Tang’er was far superior to that wretched girl—surely she could win the emperor’s heart?

“I have thought of this as well, though I cannot help but feel some guilt toward Fu’er.” Speaking of this daughter, Shen Shucheng could scarcely recall a memory, save for the time she nearly drowned—only then had he noticed her. Afterwards, the inner quarters were thrown into chaos by her on several occasions, but it was Lady Gu who had always persuaded him to let the matter rest. “But given the current situation, with the Lin and Sun families likely joining forces, having both sisters enter together gives them a measure of support.”

“Do not worry, my lord. This is all for the good of the Shen family. Fu’er and Tang’er, as your daughters, will surely understand your difficulties.” Lady Gu’s tone was gentle. “If you feel you owe Fu’er, you can make it up to her in the future should the chance arise. Would Fu’er truly bear a grudge against you, her own father?”

“There’s truth in that.” Shen Shucheng nodded. “If the opportunity arises, I’ll mention it. I don’t think it’ll be much of a problem. In the meantime, speak with Tang’er so she may be prepared.”

“Yes.”

…

“Your Majesty.”

“Speak.”

In Crescent Moon Palace, Qin Zhiyi was dining with Shen Fuyu.

“A messenger from Jiachun Palace reports... Lady Jing, unable to bear the humiliation, has taken her own life.”

Shen Fuyu chewed her food twice, then feigned shock and leaned close to Qin Zhiyi. “Oh dear, Your Majesty, suicide within the palace is a grave crime! Hurry! Punish her family!”

Qin Zhiyi: “…”

Wasn’t it you who humiliated her in the first place?

“I find it rather strange—what did Lady Jing ever do to you? You had her perform the menial tasks meant for the lowest slaves. Anyone would have been driven to this end under such disgrace.” Not that he cared much; compared to other families, the Jing family was insignificant. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have granted her more than a concubine’s rank.

Yet Shen Fuyu’s means of tormenting others were ever inventive. She dared both to say and to do! In just a month, the inner palace had seen one driven mad, three dead!

Was this even the work of a human being?

Not that it really mattered if they went mad or perished.

“What does it matter to you what I do?” Shen Fuyu blinked innocently. “Honestly! Why meddle in so many things?”

“As you wish.” Best not to get angry—anger only gave Shen Fuyu an opening. Qin Zhiyi took a deep breath. “Changfu, gather some people and tidy up. As for the Jing family… let them face justice. Lady Jing has committed suicide; the Jing family is to be imprisoned and investigated.”

So now, as emperor, he was denied even the right to interfere in such matters.

Upon hearing this, Shen Fuyu quickly called over a palace maid and whispered, “Send a few people to hang a banner at the Jing family’s gate, with these words: ‘Congratulations to the Jing family on your well-earned prison meals!’”

“Oh, and Your Majesty!” As if a sudden thought struck her, Shen Fuyu said, “You must hurry and finish your meal so you can get to the memorials!”

“Tch!” Qin Zhiyi, who had been eating with some appetite, instantly lost it. “Every hour of my day is scheduled. When did it become your place to direct the emperor?”

“If you’re emperor but neglect state affairs, what does that make you? A tyrant!” Shen Fuyu put on a great show of astonishment, fixing him with a stare. “A tyrant, a tyrant, a tyrant, a tyrant, a tyrant…”

“Enough!”

Did he look like a tyrant?

And as for Shen Fuyu, did she have the makings of a femme fatale?

What femme fatale in history ever had such a shameless tongue?

Day after day—he played at being a tyrant, only to be driven to distraction!

“No matter, to prevent you from shirking your duties, I’ve already moved your entire study here!” Shen Fuyu smiled sweetly, as if by magic producing a memorial from her sleeve and waving it before him. “See? You still have so many memorials left unread. I shall, as your devoted consort, sit by your side and read them with you!”

“I’ll read them myself.”

Qin Zhiyi set down his bowl, appetite gone.

The lunch was cleared away in haste, and in its place came the complete desk, memorials, and official documents from the imperial study. Qin Zhiyi frowned and glanced at Changfu.

Changfu could only return a look more miserable than crying.

The servant had been coerced, truly!

Qin Zhiyi sighed; sometimes silence says more than words.

Resigned, he began to read. Most of the memorials were mere formalities, greetings from officials, or thinly veiled petitions for their own benefit, disguised in polite language. Reading them gave him daily headaches, and he often wished to throw them out entirely. His red pen circled and scribbled as he read, when suddenly the acrid scent of burning reached his nose.

“What are you doing?”

Qin Zhiyi looked over to see Shen Fuyu crouched by the brazier, and his frown deepened. “Weren’t you going to sit with me while I read memorials? Do you take me for a firepit? You’re burning the memorials!”

“Oh, I’ve already looked through this stack for you; it’s all nonsense.” Shen Fuyu cheerfully tossed another document into the flames. “Why shouldn’t I burn them? What’s the harm in burning a couple for fun? You’re so petty! Now I’m upset! And you won’t be able to make it up to me!”

“…!”

Qin Zhiyi’s brow throbbed. Reading memorials was vexing enough without Shen Fuyu burning them beside him! He glared at her, and without thinking, flung the half-reviewed memorial in his hand at her.

But Shen Fuyu, nimble as an eel, dodged deftly, and the document arced perfectly into the fire.

“…”

Qin Zhiyi returned to his reading, regretting ever engaging with her.

The more he read, the more irksome the memorials became—and with Shen Fuyu at his side, his mood grew fouler still. He slashed at the page with his red pen and tossed it aside. Why could nothing ever be simple?

She was driving him to distraction!

Suddenly, something seemed to click in Shen Fuyu’s mind, and her hand paused mid-toss. Then she began to chuckle with a strange, mischievous glee.

“I swear, there must be something wrong with your head,” Qin Zhiyi remarked, casting her a glance. In the past half month, he’d grown as sharp-tongued as she, and his temper had worsened. That old saying about becoming like those you spend time with was proving true.

By now, he was almost used to her unpredictable antics; if nothing else, they only startled him on occasion.

“Stop burning those—the smell is overpowering, can’t you tell?” But looking at the present moment, Qin Zhiyi couldn’t hold back. The fiery documents filled the room with a pungent odor, heady with incense, so much so that he felt he might lose his nose entirely. Yet there was Shen Fuyu, sitting contentedly by the brazier as if she noticed nothing. Was her nose even real?

“Enough noise. Such shouting and fussing is unbecoming of a sovereign. You must change that.” Shen Fuyu calmly interrupted, serenely regarded the memorial in her hand, and then tossed it into the fire.