Chapter Ninety: Entering the Palace

The air was as still as a stagnant pool, incapable of stirring even the smallest ripple.

The Seventh Prince stared at him in a daze, as if time itself had frozen. Yu Hualiang watched with indifference as he drew from his bosom the jade token of the Seventh Prince’s manor.

“This is yours.”

Yu Hualiang’s voice was like a blade slicing through the Prince’s heart. The Seventh Prince took a step back, his entire body trembling; the thing he feared most in his life had finally come to pass.

He bowed his head low, trying his best to hide his expression from Yu Hualiang.

Unable to contain his emotions, Yu Hualiang deliberately turned away and said, “Your Highness, please leave.”

“Yu Hualiang!” the Seventh Prince choked out, forcing back his tears, then, shaking with anger, picked up the jade token and hurled it to the ground with all his might.

Yu Hualiang’s tears fell in that instant, following the shattering of the jade, his tears burning the back of his hand like hot coals.

“As you wish… You are free! I won’t stop you!”

The Seventh Prince’s words burst out in anguish. Yu Hualiang, after a few deep, steadying breaths, managed to squeeze out two words: “Thank you.”

Until the moment the Seventh Prince slammed the door behind him and left, Yu Hualiang maintained his composure, but in the end, all his emotions collapsed.

He locked himself inside, refusing to see anyone, smashing objects and sobbing uncontrollably throughout the day.

When Mo Cai finally rescued him, he found the room in utter disarray, and Yu Hualiang’s head, hands, and body were covered in wounds, all oozing blood.

Yu Hualiang felt that he had lost himself, becoming more and more like a woman! He forbade Mo Cai from telling anyone about his injuries, both to spare others from worry and, more importantly, to prevent the Seventh Prince from taking any action that would only add to his troubles.

Lian Sheng was surprised at how readily Yu Hualiang agreed to enter the palace. The night before he went, Yu Hualiang couldn’t sleep at all.

He sat at his desk, dazed, when a shadow slipped into the room. He barely spared the intruder a glance, as if this had become routine.

The newcomer was slight, with a youthful face but eyes fathomless as an abyss, and though his voice was that of a young man, it carried none of a youth’s warmth.

“So, you’ve made up your mind?”

Without looking at him, Yu Hualiang let out a cold laugh. “With my entire family held hostage… As if I had a choice.”

The youth smiled. “How can you say that, Master Yu? His Majesty merely invites you to paint for his concubines.”

“If the emperor truly wished me to paint for his concubines, a simple decree would suffice. There’d be no need for you to play these games.”

The youth’s lips curved in a predatory smile as he drew closer, finally resting a hand lightly on Yu Hualiang’s shoulder, his tone bewitching. “Master Yu… Consider your relationship with the Seventh Prince… If you were openly summoned to the palace, wouldn’t that put His Majesty in a difficult position?”

Yu Hualiang shot him a cold look and brushed away the intrusive hand. “Hmph. I doubt it’s as simple as painting.”

Chuckling, the youth replied, “You needn’t be so wary, Master Yu. Once you enter the palace tomorrow, I’ll give you instructions. My name is Lin Tang.”

He turned to leave, but Yu Hualiang called out, “Who are you fooling? Jin He?”

At the window, the figure froze, gazing at Yu Hualiang in confusion. “How did you know?”

Yu Hualiang sneered, “No matter how well you disguise yourself, that peculiar scent of yours is unforgettable—neither masculine nor feminine.”

Liu Yu dropped the act, removing Lin Tang’s mask to reveal his true face. Even performing such tricks before Yu Hualiang, he could not help but sigh in admiration.

“So it really is you, you damned half-demon,” Yu Hualiang said irritably.

“Don’t be angry, Master Yu,” Liu Yu replied smoothly. “As you see, I’m simply following His Majesty’s orders. Whatever he says, I do.”

Yu Hualiang thought back—this was the one who had tricked him into meeting Princess Xuan, nearly costing him his life in the blaze. Fortunately, both he and the princess had survived.

Since Liu Yu was one of the emperor’s people, why had he come to the Seventh Prince’s manor? Was he sent to spy on the Prince? Not even trusted among his own kin—how laughable, this royal family.

Pondering this, Yu Hualiang sensed something amiss. The cross-dresser had come disguised as Lin Tang to meet him; perhaps he was merely standing in for Lin Tang.

Yu Hualiang had met Lin Tang before and knew that his temperament was ill-suited to such persuasion—hence, the cross-dresser was sent instead.

But even so, there was no need for such secrecy. If it were truly an imperial command, the cross-dresser could have been sent directly to persuade him, then inform him that Lin Tang would act as his contact in the palace.

The current arrangement suggested that nothing could go wrong in his meeting with the contact tomorrow and, moreover, that the emperor’s business with him was being kept even from the cross-dresser.

Upon his arrival at the palace, Lin Tang would take over, with the cross-dresser responsible only for familiarizing him with faces and procedures.

What, exactly, was the emperor planning?

Yu Hualiang could not fathom it, but Liu Yu leaned in, peering at him. “What are you thinking, Master Yu?”

“Why didn’t he come see me himself?” Yu Hualiang asked bluntly.

“He?” Liu Yu glanced out the window and sneered. “With that insufferable attitude of his, don’t you think that if you dared refuse, I’d be looking at your corpse instead?”

Yu Hualiang silently thanked his luck he hadn’t met Lin Tang. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he asked, “What is the emperor up to?”

Liu Yu flicked his forehead. “Master Yu, there are things better left unasked. Careful, or your entire clan could be wiped out.”

Yu Hualiang shivered. No matter what, he had no freedom.

He gazed out at the scenery from the carriage and sighed. Whatever the emperor’s intentions, he could only comply.

As Yu Hualiang drifted into his thoughts, he caught a flash of blue in a corner of the street.

So, he was still watching over him. The burden on Yu Hualiang’s heart seemed to lighten. He lowered the carriage curtain, steeling himself to greet the palace—this so-called hell on earth—with a renewed spirit.

He was met by Lian Sheng, who, because others were present, refrained from his usual barbed remarks and accompanied him in silence.

Yu Hualiang found the quiet unsettling. The palace was as he’d imagined: vermillion walls three times a man’s height, dignified yet reeking of decay.

The people here were mostly impeccably dressed and expressionless, as if trading in commodities rather than human affairs.

Yu Hualiang disliked it—the atmosphere was stifling. Though vast, the palace offered no comfort, as if eyes lurked behind every wall, watching, waiting for the slightest sign of weakness.

He steadied his gaze, avoiding scrutiny. An elderly eunuch, nimble and courteous, collected his belongings and led him to a courtyard.

There were five or six rooms within. The eunuch, in a shrill but gentle tone, said, “Master Yu, we know you hail from the Yu family’s painting association, but as you see, this is all the accommodation allotted to a first-rank painter in the palace. I hope you don’t find it lacking.”

Yu Hualiang smiled graciously. “Thank you for your concern, Sir. To serve His Majesty is an honor beyond measure.”

Pleased, the eunuch beamed and extended his hand. Yu Hualiang understood, and after a brief search produced a small gold ingot.

Lian Sheng gaped at him, but Yu Hualiang, not caring for appearances, handed it over without a second thought.

The eunuch, suppressing his laughter, led him to a room shaded by trees, promising a cool retreat.

But to Yu Hualiang’s surprise, the room already had an occupant, who sat hunched, hair unkempt, engrossed in work.

The room was a mess, the floor and tables strewn with paintings. Yu Hualiang casually picked one up—a bold depiction of a pine tree, struggling to survive in a mountain crevice. Yet its restlessness betrayed the artist; many details were poorly rendered.

The eunuch snapped, “Han Wu, what are you doing? Why is it such a mess here?”

Without looking up, Han Wu replied, “Eunuch Wang, I’m restoring a painting for His Majesty. If I don’t do it well, can you bear the consequences?”

Eunuch Wang, about to scold him, was stopped by Yu Hualiang. “It’s fine, Sir. I’ll handle things here.”

The eunuch rolled his eyes, praised Yu Hualiang’s sensibility, and left. Yu Hualiang set down his belongings on the other bed.

Han Wu sneered, “You bribed the eunuch too, didn’t you?”

Yu Hualiang saw nothing shameful in it, replying plainly, “I did.”

This answer piqued Han Wu’s interest, and he turned, curious to see what kind of person Yu Hualiang was.

Clad in blue, hair neatly tied, Yu Hualiang’s features were gentle, his eyes smiling and star-like—impossible to dislike at first sight.

That, perhaps, was his gift. Yet whenever men looked at him this way, Yu Hualiang wished he had a scarred, bearded face.

He bowed his head slightly. “I am Yu Hualiang.”

Han Wu sized him up and grinned, “So you’re Yu Hualiang? The one with the ‘broken sleeve’?”

Hearing this, Yu Hualiang could only manage a helpless smile. “That’s right.”

Han Wu turned back to his work, chuckling, “At least you’re honest.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Yu Hualiang replied.

He had just cleared a space for himself at the table when Lian Sheng entered, face dark, and called him outside.

Yu Hualiang knew this meant another lecture.

“How are you so generous, handing out gold as soon as you arrive?” Lian Sheng scolded.

Yu Hualiang took the rebuke in silence; Lian Sheng was like a nagging housekeeper.

Seeing his silence, Lian Sheng pressed, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“There’s nothing to argue about,” Yu Hualiang answered truthfully.

With a sigh, Lian Sheng relented, glancing back at the rooms. “All these are well-known painters, competing for the title of the best in the land. Be careful.”

Yu Hualiang was puzzled. “What? I thought we were just here to paint for the concubines. Why is there a competition for Master Painter of the Empire?”

Lian Sheng clicked his tongue. “My master once held that title—the imperial court’s chief painter. Now the emperor values painters even more; winning that honor would bring glory to your ancestors.”

Yu Hualiang gave a noncommittal “Oh.” He cared little for such titles; what he truly wished to know was why the emperor had summoned him to the palace.

“Yu Hualiang! This is a matter of great honor!” Lian Sheng urged.

Yu Hualiang replied perfunctorily, “Yes, I know. I’ll do my best.”

As they spoke, Yu Hualiang caught sight of a shadow flitting past the trees. Assuming it was Lin Tang, he barely listened to Lian Sheng and slipped away to follow.

“Princess, just ahead is the First Rank Painter’s Hall. I’ve heard the painters there are all top-tier—they could easily capture all your beauty on canvas!”