Chapter Seventy-Five: Refusing to Be the Second to the Great Melody

General’s Manor was in chaos throughout the night, yet the assassin could not be found. Doctor Jin arrived in time to examine little Wan, who had fallen into a coma. Fortunately, the wound had missed any vital organs. But the child’s body was weak—having lost so much blood, she would need careful nursing to recover. Though the physician spoke reassuringly, Spoon could not set aside his worries for his sister and watched over her the entire night.

Somehow, news of the assassination attempt at the General’s Manor sprouted wings and flew straight to the imperial palace. The Emperor of Tianjue seemed to take note, yet, curiously, he did not summon Dayin, but instead called for Kaiming.

Before entering the palace, Dayin cautioned her over and over: speak only what should be spoken, and nothing more. Kaiming herself was left wondering—what exactly should be said, and what not? In the end, she decided to improvise as the situation demanded.

The palace gates stood as ever—layer after layer like rolling mountains, the immense walls unchanged through the ages. Standing within, one felt how small and insignificant humans were, like ants forced to gaze upward at some enormous being.

A eunuch guided her into a vast chamber, appointed with brocade-cushioned couches and low tables—evidently the Emperor’s audience room.

While she waited, she gazed up at the ceiling. It seemed as if every object in the room had come to life, whirling ceaselessly above her head.

Suddenly, a sonorous voice rang out: “His Majesty, the Emperor, arrives!” Instantly, her idle musings were cut short.

As her eyes fell from the ceiling to the door, she was momentarily dazed—the sudden shift of scene left her vision in darkness for a few seconds, and she could not clearly see who had entered. When her sight returned, the Emperor was already standing directly before her.

“What is the matter?” His tone was gentle, his eyes full of inquiry.

Unused to such close scrutiny, Kaiming instinctively took two steps back and bowed. “Greetings, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor of Tianjue’s lips twitched, as though he wished to speak but then refrained. The eunuch Chen, following close behind, suddenly turned ashen, his eyes wide as saucers. “Kaiming Commander, do you not know the proper etiquette?”

“What etiquette?” She was all the more bewildered.

“You dare show such disrespect to His Majesty!” Chen spat out.

What was the matter with this old eunuch? Why was he so agitated? She was at a loss. Suddenly, she recalled scenes from television dramas—when meeting the Emperor, one must perform three kneelings and nine kowtows. How troublesome.

“Oh, I understand.” She quickly complied, prostrating herself and awkwardly knocking her head to the floor. “Long live His Majesty, the Emperor—ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand times ten thousand years.”

The Emperor settled himself on the brocade couch before her, silent, his gaze fixed on her.

Kaiming felt his eyes prickling her skin like needles—an unbearable discomfort crept over her. Had she misspoken again?

Chen was about to intervene, but the Emperor waved him off at just the right moment. “Commander Kaiming is accustomed to military life, unfamiliar with court etiquette. It is of no consequence.”

At that, Chen immediately fell silent.

Kaiming smirked inwardly—now that the Emperor himself had spoken, what more could this lackey say? From above, the Emperor’s voice drifted down: “Rise.” She quickly complied, standing there awkwardly.

The Emperor spoke slowly. “I heard an assassin broke into the General’s Manor last night?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Was anyone harmed?” He asked casually, reaching for a teacup from the side table and sipping leisurely.

Watching his elegant manner, Kaiming suddenly realized that, at such close range, the Emperor of Tianjue was quite handsome. Long, thick lashes shaded black-pearl eyes; the steam from his tea lent him an almost dewy charm. Yet his high-bridged nose and resolute lips radiated strength. The blend of gentleness and steel was seamless, adding to his allure.

She gave herself a mental shake, dispelling her wayward thoughts, and dutifully replied, “The General was unharmed. It was little Wan who was injured.”

“Little Wan, injured?” The Emperor’s expression shifted, and his tea nearly spilled onto his intricately patterned sleeve.

Kaiming sighed inwardly—ah, the heart of a parent is ever tender.

The Emperor quickly regained his composure. “Was the injury grave?”

“The physician has examined her—it is nothing serious.” She stole a glance at his expression and, recalling Dayin’s instructions, continued, “The General asked me to convey to Your Majesty that all proceeds smoothly; there is no need for concern.”

The Emperor nodded and said nothing more.

He lingered over his tea, slow and unhurried, while Kaiming, standing rigid on the hard floor, inwardly bemoaned her fate. Was this the Emperor’s way? He sits while others stand, drinks while others thirst, and even a conversation must be endured on one’s feet.

She cursed in her heart but dared not show it on her face.

After a few more sips, the Emperor finally noticed the living soul before him. “Give Commander Kaiming a seat,” he instructed the eunuch.

Chen responded, bringing forth a chair. She thanked him and sat down at once, sighing in relief.

But the Emperor’s eyes rose to meet her again, and at once the pricking sensation returned. Worse, the seat was too near the Emperor; seated, she dared not move for fear of impropriety. The sensation was like a thorn that could not be plucked, a bone in the throat that could not be swallowed—stifling.

The Emperor studied her for several minutes, which felt like centuries. She rolled her eyes stiffly, thinking, If this silence drags on, we’ll both turn to stone. I must break the deadlock.

Thinking quickly, she cleared her throat and asked softly, “Your Majesty, is there anything further you wish to ask me?”

His eyes brightened, as if amused by something odd; Chen’s face cycled through several shades in seconds. Kaiming flashed an urgent look at the old eunuch, signaling him to hold his tongue.

“What is it?” she asked, more perplexed than ever by the silent exchange between Emperor and eunuch.

At last, the Emperor smiled faintly. “Leave us,” he told Chen. “I wish to have a word with Commander Kaiming.”

Chen dared not disobey; he withdrew, closing the palace doors behind him.

A breeze drifted through the open window, stirring the floor-length gauze curtains. The room was filled with golden sunlight, the shifting rays casting a dazzling beauty over everything.

Kaiming found her gaze momentarily lost in the scene.

“Commander Kaiming,” the Emperor’s voice came as if from outside the world, “is my palace beautiful?”

“Beautiful… yes, beautiful…” she replied absentmindedly, then caught herself. Why was he asking this?

“It is so. Outsiders see only the grandeur and splendor of the palace.” He smiled at her. “But who knows how much filth lies within, how many lives have been lost here?”

Kaiming nodded unconsciously, thinking the Emperor’s words were rather like a novelist’s—first setting the scene, then leading to the point.

He must have seen too much of power struggles, intrigues, and betrayals to speak so.

“Your Majesty speaks truly,” she quickly agreed, eager to flatter, whether appropriate or not.

The Emperor’s tone shifted. “I have heard of Commander Kaiming’s wit and courage. In preparation for this conversation, I conducted some inquiries. It seems your conduct during your time at the new recruits’ training camp was less than exemplary, your record… questionable.” He paused deliberately.

“But the friends you chose, I quite admire. Hao is the only son of a civil official, often at odds with the Dai family; Changgeng is a free spirit. Like attracts like, as they say…” For no reason, Kaiming suddenly recalled what Xiaobi once said: you and Chunhua are birds of a feather. She began to sweat. Was the Emperor mocking her or praising her?

“I believe you will not consort with the Dai family,” the Emperor concluded. “Therefore, I need your help.”

Kaiming breathed a sigh of relief. Dai Yuheng recruited openly; the Emperor, by contrast, did so covertly.

“My humble strength is insignificant—I fear I cannot aid Your Majesty,” she replied, bowing. You fight your battles; what concern is that of mine? When Hao was alive, I avoided all this—must I now wade in deeper?

A spark flickered in the Emperor’s calm gaze. “You are refusing me, then?”

“I dare not!” Kaiming bowed even lower, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I am but a humble commander…”

“Then what if I make you a general?” The Emperor teased.

Kaiming was startled, looking up in alarm. “Your Majesty mustn’t joke—such things cannot be done lightly! I have neither merit nor noble lineage; if you appoint me at will, the court officials will drown you in their protests…” Seeing the growing amusement in his eyes, she quickly held her tongue.

The Emperor laughed. “Dayin always says you are unruly in speech—now I see it is true.”

Kaiming kept her eyes on the floor, unable to read his meaning, and dared not reply.

“You are not a native of the central palace,” he continued. “You came here with a man and two children. Your conduct in the countryside was much criticized, and you acquired a reputation as a troublesome woman. After joining the army, your actions were even more outrageous—an ambiguous relationship with the young lady of the Zhen family, drinking and brawling with the male soldiers, even being imprisoned and exiled…” He listed her deeds one by one, each true, and Kaiming broke into a cold sweat, unable to fathom his intent.

Was she to be humiliated for merely refusing him?

The Emperor rose and paced around her; the vibrant hem of his robe flashed before her downcast eyes. Her lashes quivered as she pondered.

“But then, astonishing things happened one after another. By rights, a female soldier with your reputation—a bully, a thug—should be all brute force and no brains. Yet, seeing you risk your life for Hao, offering yourself as bait to save Changgeng, and so on, my first impression of you was completely overturned…”

She lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze with calm composure. The Emperor paused, turning slightly to look at her. Kaiming no longer avoided his eyes, but met them unflinchingly.

He was amused by her boldness.

“No one dares look directly at me in this way—not even Dayin,” he remarked.

“I am not Dayin, Your Majesty,” Kaiming replied, her words carrying a subtle double meaning, her expression unchanged.

Did he wish to mold her into another Dayin? Too bad; he had miscalculated. The Emperor turned and stepped toward her. “From the moment I began dealing with you, I realized that Commander Kaiming is far more astute than I imagined. You are brave, and…”