From CEO to Concubine

As Yan Zheyun read his composition out loud, the pavilion fell deathly silent. Hua Zhixuan's face was ashen and even Gracious Consort Yao, who could usually be counted on to lighten the mood, wore a solemn expression. 

Everyone was too stunned at Yan Zheyun's daring to gloat maliciously at what they must all deem as a stupid, arrogant mistake. 

It wasn't like they didn't feel the same jealousy towards the emperor's past love, but who was crazy enough to call the emperor out on it as bluntly as this?! 

The emperor's new love, apparently. 

Yan Zheyun placed the brush back down on its holder, taking extra care not to damage the hairs. He pretended not to notice the apprehension radiating off the others as they held their breaths collectively, waiting for the emperor's wrath to befall this presumptuous concubine who had overstepped. 

"What does Your Majesty think?" he asked, taking a step back with a little graceful bow. "Yan Yun is of little talent and referenced the opening from the work of a passing scholar that had once approached Yan Yun's father for shelter from the storm." He didn't hesitate to bring up the ex-prime minister, relishing even in the way the faces around him became even greyer. What were they so fearful for? It was his life on the line, not theirs. 

The expression on the emperor's handsome face was as mild as the pale sunbeams streaming in past the billowing curtains but Yan Zheyun couldn't tell whether he was just putting on an act or if he was, in fact, still not angered by Yan Zheyun's audacity. 

"A wandering maestro, a passing scholar, Yan Yun's life was full of colour," the emperor murmured. 

Yan Zheyun lowered his head further. The emperor had no idea. Couldn't comprehend just how colourful Yan Zheyun's life had been before he transmigrated. The sorts of people he could meet in the biggest cosmopolitan cities of the world, globalisation bringing with it friends and acquaintances from all walks of life that he'd had to leave behind for no good reason. He still had no idea what that strange robotic voice had been or why he'd had to die then and there just because it said so. 

His lips pressed into a flat line. He didn't say anything in response, didn't feel much like talking. The headache that had been throbbing behind his eyes had simmered into a dull thud that was less painful but more nauseating. 

Luckily, it didn't seem like the emperor was anticipating a reply from him. A hand landed on the small of Yan Zheyun's back, a guiding pressure that ushered him an inch closer for reasons that Yan Zheyun couldn't understand. Was this a show of affection plain and simple or was the emperor trying to get him to relax his guard before going in for the kill? 

Perhaps his tenseness was evident because the emperor's stroked his back reassuringly before asking the pavilion at large, "Who would like to be the first to critique this poem?" A round of praises was customary at scholarly gatherings. Yan Yun had been too young to attend that many before the downfall of his family but Yan Zheyun could pick out one or two faded snippets from his memories and knew that the emperor was asking for compliments on his behalf. 

Ordinarily, no one would have a problem with this. The more eager concubines would even jump for the chance to speak up in front of His Majesty, in the hopes that he would so much as look their way even once and notice what they had to offer. 

But…

They exchanged troubled glances. Who under the heavens would be brave enough to comment on such a brazen poem?! More importantly, what sort of reaction was the emperor expecting? It was impossible to tell just by looking at him whether he wanted them to admonish or flatter Lord Yue. Not even Hua Zhixuan dared to risk speaking up, for fear that he would make the wrong decision and dig an even deeper grave for his Brother Yan. 

The emperor didn't seem to understand their hesitation. 

"No one?" he asked. "Lady Zhang? You always have so much to say. Or how about one of this sovereign's consorts? Should the few of you not set an example for the rest of the harem?" The emperor's calmness had a peculiar effect. Instead of soothing his 'wives', it set them on edge instead, cold sweat trickling down their spines as they waited for the other shoe to drop, convinced that his geniality was just a front for the rage that he was concealing within. 

Yan Zheyun thought so too. He forced himself to relax into the emperor's loose embrace but every nerve in his body felt like it was tingling from nervous anticipation. He'd chosen to display his displeasure, his envy, his sadness. If the emperor chose to punish him for it, then the only thing Yan Zheyun could say was that it was a good thing he became disillusioned before his heart was entrenched enough to be broken. 

If he didn't…then maybe, just maybe, their relationship could one day be more than just about survival politics. 

"Your Majesty, please allow this concubine-subject the honour of being the first to admire Lord Yue's poem." 

Yan Zheyun's eyes flickered to Lady Zhao and he was surprised to find that she was peering at him through her thick lashes. Her gaze darted away as soon as it met his and she was serene as she continued, "This concubine-subject cannot help but be moved by the yearning in the poem." 

"…" What yearning? Was this how science students felt when talking to humanities students? Where did this random interpretation come from? 

"Oh?" A small smile played on the corners of the emperor's mouth. "Do tell." The hand on Yan Zheyun's back pressed a little firmer and Yan Zheyun resisted the urge to swat it away. 

Lady Zhao curtsied. "Yes, Your Majesty. The first line, which Lord Yue said he'd referenced from an older poem, speaks of a nostalgia over better times with a lover in the past but the remaining lines hint at a bitter realisation that said lover doesn't hold their bond in as high a regard." She let out a quiet sigh. "The loneliness in the poet's tone is a perfect match for the bare plum tree Your Majesty has drawn and thus, Lord Yue's talents should indeed be commended." 

"And yet you say you detect a note of yearning?" The emperor seemed particularly focused on this point. Yan Zheyun, who most definitely hadn't intended to yearn, wanted to tell him that Lady Zhao was just making up bullshit on the spot. But her observations, which reminded him of literature essays he'd used to have to write for language class back in high school, apparently pleased the emperor and he didn't want to be the one to burst that bubble. 

Lady Zhao nodded. "If a heart has truly given up, Your Majesty, the poet wouldn't still cling to the memory of a first meeting." 

This time, it was Yan Zheyun's turn to keep his eyes on the ground. The hand on his back slid over to catch his waist in a tentative hold. He didn't react, not just because they were standing on display for everyone to see, but also because he didn't know how to feel. The emperor wasn't behaving the way he'd expected at all. Today, none of his cunning calculation had been directed towards Yan Zheyun and Yan Zheyun didn't know what to make of it. 

"Lady Zhao truly is the pride and joy of the left prime minister," the emperor declared. 

Lady Zhao's eyes crinkled. "Your Majesty's compliment holds this concubine-subject in too much esteem, this concubine-subject merely found Lord Yue's poem to be resonant." With what, she didn't elaborate and the emperor didn't ask. 

"Cao Mingbao!" 

Head Eunuch Cao stepped forth and bowed. "Your Majesty?" 

"This painting and poem are to be mounted and hung up in Tianlu Pavilion to serve as a reminder to this sovereign." 

Heads turned this way and that as the other concubines shared disbelieving looks amongst themselves. Yan Zheyun didn't miss the particularly hateful stare Wu Yusi shot at him but maybe Lady Zhang's forlorn figure on the ground served as a strong deterrent because she quickly concealed her dislike behind an impassive veneer. 

Noble Consort Dou must have sensed that the emperor's mood was much improved to when he first stepped into the pavilion. 

"Your Majesty, this consort has failed in her duties to guide her little sisters." Noble Consort Dou walked over to kneel next to Lady Zhang, head hanging contritely as she tried to plead with the emperor on Lady Zhang's behalf.

From the corner of his eyes, Yan Zheyun saw Noble Consort Li raise her brows. She didn't seem inclined to assist, content to watch her keenest competition bear the brunt of the emperor's disapproval. 

And, Yan Zheyun realised, the emperor was unhappy with her. 

"When Noble Consort Dou begged this sovereign to interfere in the affairs of the inner palace and assign your childhood friend to you, what did you promise this sovereign?" 

Noble Consort Dou kowtowed onto the floor. Yan Zheyun studied Lady Zhang's face for any signs of remorse towards this big sister figure of hers, who was humbling herself in front of the entire harem for her sake. But he could only see the desperate adoration with which she stared up at the emperor. 

She wasn't worth Noble Consort Dou's effort, he concluded. 

"This consort knows she is in the wrong, this consort promised Your Majesty that no concubine of Lijing Palace would cause trouble under my watch…" 

"Cause trouble?" There was a dangerous edge to the emperor's voice. "Is that what Noble Consort Dou thinks this is about?" Impatience flickered in his dark gaze as it shifted from Noble Consort Dou to Lady Zhang. "'Lady of Bright Deportment' is equivalent to an 'Upper Five' rank in court and its bearer still can't distinguish between a concubine and a slave?" 

"Your Majesty—"

He held out a hand to silence her. "Since Lady of Bright Deportment Zhang still hasn't learnt how to treat those of a lower rank than her well, learning from scratch would be of benefit to her. This sovereign hereby demotes her to the rank of Third-class Attendant." 

This was like a sudden bolt of lightning out of the clear skies for everyone present. Anyone who had spent more than a day in the inner palace knew just how important rank and authority was. To fall all the way back to the bottom rung was akin to being thrown to the wolves. 

The punishment was too much for Lady Zhang to handle and she collapsed in a dead faint, the emperor unmoved in the face of the frantic cries that broke out in front of him. 

"Send for an imperial physician to tend to Attendant Zhang," he commanded impassively, before returning his attention to Yan Zheyun. 

Was such retribution too harsh? Perhaps. But Yan Zheyun didn't have it in him to feel sorry for her. In the inner palace, stupidity was a crime and he couldn't become soft on every person who tried to harm him, just because they were too foolish to realise that they were being made use of. And apart from the manipulation by Imperial Concubine Hui and the others around her, the vindictiveness Lady—no, Attendant Zhang felt towards him was real. 

Yan Zheyun might sympathise but he wasn't going to save her. 

"Yan Yun isn't going to ask this sovereign what reminder your poem is going to serve?" 

"…" 

The emperor was a warm line against Yan Zheyun's side and every figure of his being was hyper-aware that they were still under the scrutiny of the rest of the inner palace, sans one very ill Imperial Concubine Pei. He had the feeling that if he didn't play along, the emperor wasn't beyond taking things one extreme step further, like dragging him into a tight hug in front of everyone. And to think that the emperor had been so averse to his touch just a couple of months ago. Yan Zheyun could hardly recognise him anymore. 

"Would Your Majesty like to explain just what reminder Yan Yun's poem is going to serve?" he caved obediently. 

He had no idea what to expect as a reply but it definitely wasn't a quiet huff of laughter that stirred the faint wisps of hair at the top of his head.

"This sovereign will use it as a reminder that he once was careless with Yan Yun's feelings." 

A lump formed in Yan Zheyun's throat. 

"And that Yan Yun might wish for life to be as it was on the day we first met but this sovereign hates that we met so late in our lives (1). Five years is a long time to mourn and if it weren't for Yan Yun, perhaps there might be fifty more." There was a slight tremble in the emperor's voice as he murmured this and it made Yan Zheyun forget to breathe. Or maybe he was trying but the air had hitched in his lungs when the emperor leaned in to mumble against his ear, lips brushing over the thick flesh of its lobe, oh-so-accidentally nipping at it whenever he spoke. 

"And so, when Yan Yun is no longer angry with this sovereign anymore, know that this painting will be waiting to be appreciated by you in Tianlu Pavilion." 

His head reeled. Was this still the same stern, uncompromising man who ruled the kingdom with an iron fist? Where on earth did the emperor learn to speak like that?