IMPERIAL FAVOUR - CHAPTER 4

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Chapter 4: Desiring What Cannot Be Had.

Tang Zhuozhuo watched the man’s back, straight as a bamboo stalk, disappear into the night. As he left, the suffocating pressure that had filled the hall vanished with him. Feeling her knees go weak, she found a soft stool and sat down, her eyes shining with a crystal-clear light.

An Xia had just seen the master depart with a face as dark as thunder, yet she had heard no sounds of a struggle. Seeing that Tang Zhuozhuo did not look like she had that morning—furious and on the verge of tears, the maid felt somewhat relieved. "My Lady, would you like some refreshments?"

Tang Zhuozhuo rested her chin on her jade-like hand, staring at the glowing night-luminescent pearls in the hall as she shook her head. After a long silence, her brow furrowed as if remembering something, and she asked with a grave expression, "Where is that painting?"

An Xia froze for a moment, then stammered in reply, "It is kept at the bottom of the chest. My Lady, you..."

She wouldn’t be bringing it out at a time like this, would she?

A shadow flickered through Tang Zhuozhuo’s bright almond eyes. She stood up, looking at the bright candles on the table. "Bring it here."

An Xia wanted to persuade her otherwise, but seeing that Tang Zhuozhuo’s expression was grim and recalling her usual temper, she ultimately sighed inwardly and went to fetch it.

The scroll had been well-preserved, without a single speck of dust upon it; Tang Zhuozhuo had cherished it deeply. She pursed her lips and laid the scroll flat on the violet sandalwood desk, weighting one corner with an inkstone. That corner was instantly stained with a dark blotch of ink.

Tang Zhuozhuo gave it a stray glance, her gaze shifting immediately to the person in the painting. The man pictured there wore a refined smile—a graceful, jade-like gentleman. Even through a portrait, one could sense the man’s elegant and poised bearing.

Wang Yi was exceptionally handsome, with a pair of "peach blossom eyes" that often held a shallow smile. Many noble ladies in the capital had their souls hooked by those eyes, and Tang Zhuozhuo had been no exception; she had fallen for his fine skin and outward appearance at first sight.

At the bottom of the painting was a single signature: Tang. Beneath the neat, delicate script was a sketch of a peach blossom in full, brilliant bloom, it was clearly Tang Zhuozhuo’s own handiwork.

Though she was born into a family of generals, she was highly gifted. Her skills in the qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting were all exemplary; she simply didn't flaunt them, so few people knew.

Tang Zhuozhuo’s slender fingers, white as warm jade, brushed over the painted man’s features as her carmine-colored wide sleeves swept across the scroll. Suddenly, the image of that man’s hideous, distorted face from her previous life flashed before her eyes, and her gaze turned cold.

She picked up the painting to examine it closely. A moment later, she smiled at the worried An Xia. "Is my skill in painting acceptable?"

The smile at the corners of Tang Zhuozhuo’s mouth was as light as a brushing feather, shallow and failing to reach her eyes.

An Xia was truly frightened now. "My Lady, let this servant put the painting away, lest His Highness..."

She couldn't bring herself to finish, her face full of anxiety. Tang Zhuozhuo naturally knew what she wanted to say.

Huo Qiu had only just left; for her to bring out this painting now was a blatant provocation. If a person with hidden motives reported this to his ears, it would inevitably spark another bitter quarrel.

Tang Zhuozhuo pursed her lips and rolled the painting into her hand. Then, frowning slightly, she instructed An Zhi, who had remained silent the whole time, "Go fetch a brazier."

An Zhi was startled, but she quickly bowed and retreated. This left An Xia to pout and ask, "What does My Lady need a brazier for? The weather is so dreadfully hot."

Indeed, in the heat of the sixth month, one would be drenched in sweat if they weren't careful. Even during the night, several basins of ice were usually placed around the hall to ward off the heat.

Tang Zhuozhuo lowered her eyelids. She didn't feel the heat, but she continuously wiped the cold sweat from her palms.

Soon, two young palace maids brought in a charcoal brazier burning bright and fierce. As soon as it was set down, sparks flew, and the temperature in the room spiked instantly.

Tang Zhuozhuo took a few steps forward and tossed the rolled painting into the fire. Immediately, a hole the size of a bowl was scorched through it. She remained motionless, her expression unreadable. After a long while, she let out a soft huff through her nose, and her body finally relaxed.

An Xia watched, slack-jawed. She let out a gasp of disbelief before quickly covering her mouth, silently processing the shock. Even the usually taciturn and deep-thinking An Zhi could not hide the momentary flash of astonishment on her face.

Tang Zhuozhuo walked back to the desk and used a handkerchief to meticulously clean her hands before saying with a smile, "Have you all gone daft? Hurry and take the brazier out."

The waiting maids scrambled to carry the brazier away. An Xia moved to Tang Zhuozhuo’s side and began kneading her shoulders with just the right pressure, the joy in her voice unconcealed. "My Lady has finally seen sense! You should have done this long ago."

After all, the Imperial Family was different from anywhere else; a single misstep would bring relentless criticism. Moreover, as the Crown Princess, her status was noble, she could not afford even a single blemish on her reputation.

Tang Zhuozhuo froze for a moment, her glazed-amber eyes looking exceptionally soft in the nocturnal light. She closed her eyes and, after a long silence, gave a low "Mhm" in response. When An Xia looked again, she saw that half of her mistress's beautiful face was hidden in the shadows, her expression exceptionally cold and laced with a biting chill.

Indeed. She should have done this a long time ago.

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In the main hall of the Eastern Palace, the scene was entirely different.

Huo Qiu held a wolf-hair brush, his strokes forming characters on the paper. His other hand was tucked behind his back, his black hair falling loose. Beside the desk, his ceremonial crown shimmered under the bright candlelight.

Zhang Desheng carried a cup of hot tea and entered with extreme caution. His short, stout body moved like a rolling winter melon. He carefully watched Huo Qiu’s expression, his heart filled with bitterness.

They clearly had such a fight this morning; why is the Crown Princess still making a fuss over that rubbish General?

The Master had suffered from head ailments since youth. Usually, he was fine, but whenever his emotions fluctuated violently, his head would ache the entire night. Yet, he refused to summon the Imperial Physicians, clearly holding a breath of suppressed fury in his heart.

Recalling the news that had just arrived from the other side, Zhang Desheng sighed again inwardly.

Keeping a layered smile on his face, he set down the steaming fragrant tea. "Your Highness, please have some hot tea."

Huo Qiu acted as if he hadn't heard, not even granting him a glance.

Zhang Desheng wiped the cold sweat from his brow with his grey-blue sleeve. Words reached his lips but he stopped himself, looking quite comical.

Huo Qiu was impatient; his hand did not stop moving. He cast a faint, cold glance toward the eunuch, his voice filled with endless indifference. "What is it?"

"Your Highness... news just came. They say the Crown Princess has... brought that painting out again."

Huo Qiu’s hand stalled. His well-defined middle finger gripped the brush handle so hard the knuckles turned white. In an instant, his eyes turned as dark as a bottomless pool of freezing water.

A long, heavy stroke marred the rice paper. When Huo Qiu looked again, the entire page of calligraphy was ruined. He rested the ink-stained brush on the inkstone, his long fingers brushing over the blackened blotch. His headache grew even more severe.

Huo Qiu had been composed and self-restrained since childhood; there had always been nothing he wanted that he could not have. Now, as the world was about to fall into his grasp, he had encountered this one woman, Tang Zhuozhuo.

Desiring what cannot be had... truly, she is the one thing I cannot obtain!

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