Empress, Can I? [Transmigration + GL] - Chapter 7

Returning to the palace, Xuan Jingchi found herself at a loss for what to do.

Normally at this time, she would either be in the lab reviewing data results, typing away at code on her computer, or ordering takeout on her phone—maybe grabbing a milk tea and checking for discounted meal deals.

Here, there was nothing for her to do. With all this free time, she didn’t know how to occupy herself. Just then, Nuanxiang brought in a bowl of cherries.

Xuan Jingchi blurted out, “Where did these cherries come from?”

“Your Majesty, these were gifted by a neighboring state during Your Majesty’s coronation ceremony a few days ago.”

The cherries were plump and glossy, their deep red hue irresistibly tempting.

Xuan Jingchi ate two—sweet, tender, and best of all, she didn’t even have to wash them herself.

Instantly delighted, she munched away and asked, “How many are left?”

Nuanxiang replied, “Cherries don’t keep well, Your Majesty. You already bestowed many upon the ministers that day. This is the last bowl.”

Xuan Jingchi suddenly remembered something. “Has the Empress had any?”

Nuanxiang shook her head. “No, Your Majesty did not bestow any upon the Empress.”

Xuan Jingchi immediately stopped eating. “Take this bowl to the Empress. I’ll just have an apple instead.”

Nuanxiang looked puzzled. “Your Majesty, what is an apple?”

Rubbing her forehead, Xuan Jingchi rephrased, “What fruits do we have in the palace?”

“Your Majesty, we have grapes, pears, dates, and honeydew melons.”

Xuan Jingchi thought to herself—nutrition should be balanced. “Then bring me a little of each. Just a small portion of every kind.”

Just as Xuan Jingchi was happily chatting and eating fruit with the young maids in the palace, sharing amusing stories that had the little palace girls laughing uncontrollably, their delicate frames shaking with mirth—

A dark figure abruptly barged in, rudely interrupting Xuan Jingchi’s leisurely moment.

The man immediately took out a notebook, picked up his brush, and began writing while declaring, “The Emperor ignores state affairs, indulges in pleasure with palace attendants, and revels in decadent music—a tyrant!”

Xuan Jingchi was stunned.

Decadent music?

I’m just eating fruit and telling a story—how does that make me a tyrant?

She blinked at the young man and asked, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Nuanxiang whispered in her ear, “This is Lord Cheng Minzhi, the historian responsible for compiling Your Majesty’s biography and chronicles. He visits the palace every few days to observe Your Majesty’s conduct.”

Xuan Jingchi nodded and said to Cheng Minzhi, “As the historian recording my biography, you should stick to the facts. I’m just eating some fruit—how does that make me a tyrant?”

Displeasure laced the Emperor’s words, and the palace attendants lowered their heads in silence.

Unfazed, Cheng Minzhi lifted his chin with an air of defiance. “Your Majesty neglects governance, shows no concern for state affairs, and indulges solely in pleasure and lust—is that not the mark of a tyrant?”

Xuan Jingchi blinked again, thinking to herself, Fine, accuse me of indulging in pleasure—I won’t argue. But how dare you say I’m lustful?

“I was merely talking to them, telling them some stories—all perfectly proper. How is that lustful?”

No sooner had she spoken than Xuan Jingchi guiltily thought of the Empress.

She did admit to being a little captivated by the Empress’s beauty.

But who could blame her? Who wouldn’t adore a beautiful, elegant woman?

“Your Majesty scours the land for handsome young men, imprisoning them in the palace for your own pleasure—is that not lustful? Need I mention Huang Tingzhi? Can Your Majesty truly deny it?”

Xuan Jingchi was both furious and amused, torn between resentment for the original body’s owner and glaring at Cheng Minzhi. “Cheng Minzhi! If you dare slander me again, don’t blame me for being harsh!”

Faced with Xuan Jingchi’s threat, Cheng Minzhi dropped to his knees with a thud. She thought he was about to beg for mercy—but instead, he picked up his brush and continued writing, “The Emperor, devoid of virtue, flies into a rage, revealing her cruel and tyrannical nature—”

“You dare write that?” Xuan Jingchi was truly enraged. “Guards! Drag him away!”

Four eunuchs immediately rushed in, dragging the person out by force.

Even through the high courtyard walls, Xuan Jingchi could hear Cheng Minzhi’s fearless shouts: “The tyrannical and brutal Emperor, ignoring the admonitions of historians, will lead the nation to ruin if this continues…”

Xuan Jingchi felt her ears ache, her head spin, and her heart weary.

Being an emperor was hard, especially one with a notorious reputation.

She sighed.

Maybe she should just give up.

Stop caring about everything.

Indulge in pleasures and act arrogantly—let the world say what it will.

She sighed again, vaguely envisioning herself seven years later, reduced to a destitute prisoner.

The fate of a fallen nation seemed to loom before her, grinning with bloody jaws.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she straightened up, asking, “Where’s Huang Tingzhi? Hasn’t he been released yet?”

“Your Majesty,” Chenxiang replied, “without your decree, the guards dared not release him.”

Xuan Jingchi frowned. “Release him, release him. What’s the point of keeping him here? Just another mouth to feed.”

“As you command.” Chenxiang bowed and left to deliver the order.

“Wait, I’ll go too.”

Xuan Jingchi felt she ought to personally apologize—after all, it was “her” who had bullied and oppressed him first. Besides, she was curious to see what the man her former self had tried to claim looked like.

Just then, a palace maid came to report, “Your Majesty, the Sin Slave Meng Wan has finished composing her poem. Please review it.”

Nuanxiang took the poem and presented it to Xuan Jingchi. She glanced at it—the handwriting was elegant and beautiful. As for the content, she recognized every word, but whether the poem was profound or excellent, she couldn’t tell.

“Tell her to return for now,” she said.

When Meng Wan received the Empress’s reply instructing her to leave, she felt both disappointed and uneasy. Casting one last glance at Chen Yuan Palace, she slowly followed the maid back to the House of Sinners.

At Phoenix Palace, Xiao Fu held a half-eaten cherry, its red juice dripping between her fingers. She licked the sweet juice and exclaimed, “These cherries are delicious! Nuanxiang said they were a tribute from another country—the last plate, and the Emperor actually remembered to send them to Her Majesty. Too bad Her Majesty didn’t eat them.”

“If Her Majesty didn’t eat them, isn’t that all the better for you, little glutton?”

Xiao Fu giggled. “The Emperor cares so much for Her Majesty. Xiao Rong, do you think the Emperor married our lady because she likes her?”

Xiao Rong said, “Have you forgotten the rumors? Or that day the Emperor nearly killed Her Majesty?”

“I—”

Xiao Fu froze, the cherry halfway to her lips.

The events of that night were still vivid in her mind.

The Empress had truly intended to kill the Empress then.

Xiao Fu snapped out of her daze as Xiao Rong continued, “Who knows why the Emperor suddenly started treating Her Majesty well these past two days? The other day, she sent a hollow gold scent pouch, and today, cherries. Ah, the Emperor’s heart is inscrutable—who can guess what she’s thinking?”

It was now time for dinner, and the two went out to prepare the meal when suddenly, an announcement came from the door: “The Emperor has arrived!”