The Empress Wants It All: The Empire and Me - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The afternoon sun was simply too pleasant. As Lin Yanran leaned back in her lounging chair, pondering the Cooling Pill, a wave of sleepiness washed over her. She casually pulled a piece of dry cloth over her face to cover it.

Suddenly, she heard the creak of a door. She pulled the cloth down slightly and peeked out through bleary eyes.

The wooden door of the water room stood halfway open. A jade-like foot with rosy toes stepped out lightly. It pressed against the cyan floor tiles, framed by the raw wood color of the door frame. Slotted into smoke-gray wooden clogs, the exquisite, rounded pink toes looked like a beauty painted by a celestial brush.

Involuntarily, Lin Yanran pulled the cloth all the way off. As her gaze shifted upward, the fog in her brain seemed to clear instantly, revealing a misty and sublime fairyland—

Ice-silk fabric cut fine, folded in light layers, tinged with a delicate wash of rouge. A fresh style of beautiful makeup, overflowing with fragrance and melting charm, putting the palace maids of the Pearl Chamber to shame.

The lyrics of Emperor Huizong of Song suddenly sprang to mind. Her body straightened up from the chair uncontrollably as her eyes met those shimmering, ink-dark orbs.

Youqin Mingyue watched her quietly.

Lin Yanran suddenly stood up from the lounging chair: “Don’t move.”

Youqin Mingyue’s gaze remained fixed as she watched the other woman walk toward her until they were less than a foot apart.

Lin Yanran made no other move; her voice was very soft: “Are you tired? Let me take you back to your room first, and then how about I cook you a bowl of fermented rice soup with glutinous rice balls?”

Youqin Mingyue nodded slightly.

Lin Yanran immediately bent down and picked her up. Still in a bridal carry, she only had to lower her eyes to see her. Lin Yanran couldn’t describe the feeling; she only felt as if the ground beneath her feet was soft and spongy, as if she truly had entered a fairyland.

At this moment, Youqin Mingyue was intoxicatingly fragrant, as beautiful as a celestial goddess descending from the ninth heaven. Lin Yanran even lightened her footsteps unconsciously. She carried her all the way to the room, unable to tear her gaze away.

Gently placing her in a chair, she noticed her hair was still dripping with water and said, “The sun is still good, why not go out and dry your hair?”

Youqin Mingyue shook her head: “No need.” Having finished her bath, she felt utterly exhausted, without a shred of strength left.

Lin Yanran said nothing. She found another dry cloth, came behind her, and began to wipe the moisture from the strands of hair. Youqin Mingyue leaned quietly against the chair and did not refuse. She had spent a long time bathing and felt depleted of all energy. At this moment, letting this commoner serve her was acceptable.

Lin Yanran remained silent, quietly drying the damp hair, strand by strand. The entire room was filled with a rich, ethereal fragrance; enveloped in this scent, her body and mind turned tender and soft. In this moment, no words were needed.

Once the hair stopped dripping, she took another dry cloth, gently coiled the beautiful hair, wrapped it up, and let it hang behind her head.

Being served so comfortably, Youqin Mingyue felt a faint drowsiness coming on, but she was suddenly startled awake by the sensation of her earlobe being pinched. Just as she was about to struggle, her shoulder was held down.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m just drying your ears to prevent any discomfort from trapped water.”

Only then did she realize Lin Yanran had wrapped a finger in a dry cloth and was gently dabbing inside the ear canal. In the imperial palace, this was an intimate act performed only by the wet nurses who raised her or her personal maidservants.

But now, this commoner! How audacious!

An unspeakable sense of shame sprouted from the depths of her heart, making her both angry and humiliated. But to stop her now would seem too deliberate and would expose her inner vulnerability; it was better to accept it calmly, treating her as nothing more than a servant!

However, she soon regretted it!

She was a top-tier Kunze; every inch of her body was sensitive to the extreme. If someone were to blow a light breath on her, her skin would shiver. Moreover, at this moment, Lin Yanran was holding her earlobe, wiping it gently, and even had the audacity to let the pad of her finger linger and stroke the tender flesh inside the ear.

Every inch was explored. Each touch forced her to clench her teeth tightly; only then could she suppress the shivering sensation of being shamed to death.

Damned commoner! She deserved to die anyway, and now her crimes are compounded!

She bit her lip, desperately suppressing the resentment in her heart.

Lin Yanran was as serious in her actions as she was in her academic pursuits. She wiped the inner ear clean. The pearly-white earlobe, moistened by the steam, was as red as a petal of crimson rouge-succulent. She couldn’t help but steal another glance.

Youqin Mingyue had reached the limit of her endurance. She was highly refined, educated from childhood to hide her emotions; though her chest was filled with the fire of resentment at the enemy’s presumption, her voice remained abnormally calm.

“Can it be over now?”

Only the slight tremble in the tail of her voice and her fingernails digging into her palms until they were red betrayed her fury.

Lin Yanran was completely oblivious. She let out a satisfied sigh, looking at the woman as if looking at her most prized masterpiece. “Alright, you rest. I’ll go cook some food.”

After she left, Youqin Mingyue’s expression shifted several times before she calmed down. She propped herself up on the table and retrieved a bronze mirror she hadn’t used in a long time. The original owner’s house had no high-quality goods—just an ordinary bronze mirror that remained slightly blurry no matter how much it was wiped.

She slowly brought it before her face.

Brows like distant mountains shrouded in mist, eyes like autumn waters rippling with waves, skin like congealed jade fat, and lips like painted cinnabar—a face like a newly blooming lotus. Truly, a celestial goddess descending to the mortal world.

She reached back and touched the back of her head, where her hair was wrapped in Lin Yanran’s dry cloth. The cloth was very ugly. She frowned. She moved to pull it off and let her waterfall-like hair flow free. But once the hair was wrapped, it stopped dripping onto the back of her neck, and the sticky, damp feeling vanished.

It had to be said, Lin Yanran knew how to serve people. She withdrew her hand.

A short while later, Lin Yanran entered carrying a bowl. It was clearly hot; after setting it down, she blew on her fingers. It was a bowl of malt-sugar fermented rice soup with glutinous rice balls, and a white porcelain spoon sat by the rim.

Youqin Mingyue remembered that Lin Yanran’s house never had porcelain spoons; this spoon must be newly bought. Things like malt sugar and fermented rice were also scarce commodities. In a dilapidated place like Phoenix Town, it was not easy to buy such things, and the price was surely high. To please her, she had truly spent a fortune.

A trace of an indescribable feeling rose in her heart, as if she had finally won a round—it was trivial, yet it brought a strange, small sense of comfort.

Lin Yanran asked, “Shall I stir it to cool it down for you?”

Noncommittal, she gave a slight nod.

Lin Yanran held the spoon and began to stir it stroke by stroke. The spoon clicked gently against the porcelain bowl, making a pleasant, crisp sound. The surface of the soup rippled with waves.

“It’s ready.” She let go of the handle and deliberately turned the bowl toward her.

Youqin Mingyue’s eyes remained expressionless as she gently pinched the spoon handle. Lin Yanran did not leave, leaning on one elbow to watch her. Youqin Mingyue disliked being stared at like this; in the imperial palace, she would have had this person beheaded. But now her state of mind was somewhat different; letting her watch, she calmly held the spoon, scooped up a rice ball, blew on it, brought it to her lips, and took a small bite.

Her eating manner was very beautiful.

Lin Yanran watched for a long time before asking, “Is it good?”

The inexplicable comfort was still there, and Youqin Mingyue rarely answered her: “Passable.”

Lin Yanran kept watching until she finished. Three rice balls and some soup remained at the bottom of the bowl. She asked, “Why didn’t you finish? Can’t you eat more?” She had only put in nine rice balls; she hadn’t expected three to be left. This appetite was too small.

Youqin Mingyue’s tone was light: “A small taste is enough.”

Lin Yanran gave an “oh,” realizing that these high-born nobles had rules about eating—only tasting a little of everything. She said with a smile, “Then I’ll eat it?”

Youqin Mingyue was caught off guard by the question. Before she could answer, Lin Yanran had already taken the bowl, picked up the spoon, and started shoveling them into her mouth. In a few gulps, the rice balls were gone, then she tilted her head back and—slurp—drank the soup clean.

Youqin Mingyue’s fingernails suddenly dug into her fingertips. She was inexplicably angry, yet she couldn’t explain the source of her anger to this coarse commoner, so she became doubly incensed.

Lin Yanran put the bowl down, still smiling: “Who knows that on the plate, every grain is the result of hard work? I ate it to save it from being wasted.” She wasn’t about to admit she was craving it; this stuff was damn expensive, and she hadn’t been willing to cook a bowl for herself.

Youqin Mingyue said with a cold face: “Go out. I want to rest.”

Lin Yanran complied, saying, “You can read a book. Sleep after your hair is dry, otherwise you might catch a cold.”

After coming out, Lin Yanran’s heart began to panic. She was out of money. Supporting an empress was very expensive. Just one bowl of malt-sugar fermented rice soup had cost 500 wen out of her remaining 2 taels and 1 qian, leaving her with 1 tael and 6 qian.

Thinking of the gambling house’s high-interest loan, she panicked even more. Returning to her room, she began to focus intensely on the Cooling Pill. This single pill was worth a hundred taels; she was unwilling to crush it or dissolve it. She wanted to challenge her limits and vowed to identify the last ingredient—the catalyst of the pill—while it was intact.

Unnoticed, the setting sun sank in the west and night fell. A full moon rose above the treetops, then climbed bit by bit to the center of the sky. The spring night carried a water-like chill. Silvery moonlight spilled down, covering the courtyard and turning the ground white as snow. The black dog lay at the bottom of the steps, chin resting on its parallel front paws, its dark eyes watching the gate expectantly.

The master had forgotten to feed it again tonight. But the master was getting better and better to it, so it faithfully guarded the gate.

Suddenly, its ears pricked up, its shoulders tensed, and it made a pouncing motion. A thud came from Lin Yanran’s room.

She had become obsessed with the Cooling Pill, staring at it from dusk until late at night. Her face was flushed with excitement and endless joy, but when she moved, she fell right off the bed. Her leg had cramped!

“Hiss—”

She took a sharp breath, ignoring the needle-like numbness, and scrambled up to limp outside. The excitement on her face could not be suppressed.

“I figured it out! Haha, I figured it out!”

“I’ve found the last ingredient!”

She walked out excitedly. Because the Cooling Pill only treated the symptoms and not the cause, she needed one more ingredient to upgrade it into a true inhibitor! To do that, she had to find Youqin Mingyue and get a clue from that pill she kept close to her body.

“Mingyue—”

In her joy, she forgot Youqin Mingyue’s hatred for her and called her name directly.

It’s the master. The black dog lay back down.

Lin Yanran lifted the door curtain and froze. The room was quiet—no, there was a faint, heavy sound of breathing, accompanied by weak cries.

She hurried over.

Youqin Mingyue lay on the bed, her hair disheveled, her cheeks flushed, her lips dry. She was murmuring weakly in her sleep.

“Imperial Mother… Imperial Mother…”

She kept calling for her mother, her brow furrowed in extreme pain. Lin Yanran reached out to touch her forehead, and her expression changed instantly.

The forehead was terrifyingly hot.

“Mingyue—”

Youqin Mingyue did not respond. Only then did Lin Yanran notice a line of crystal-clear tears sliding from the corner of her eye. The skin on the side of her neck was already wet.

She was crying in her sleep.

A high fever! Unconsciousness! Accompanied by a terrifying nightmare!