Chapter Seventeen: Isn't This a Bit Inappropriate?

“No need for such formalities, Grand Preceptor,” Qin Zhiyi said, personally reaching out to help him up.

Shen Fuyu stood quietly to the side, unusually silent.

Rong Xuan rose with composure, his gaze finally falling on Shen Fuyu, who was sizing him up as well. He smiled and said, “You must be the Wise Consort, I presume? Rong Xuan pays his respects.”

“Who else could I be? Didn’t you just salute the Wise Consort?”

“Your tongue is indeed sharp, Your Highness.” Rong Xuan showed no irritation. Instead, he gestured toward the cushion before the table. “Please, Your Highness.”

Shen Fuyu arched her brows slightly, accepting his invitation without ceremony and settling onto the cushion. Rong Xuan took the one opposite her; there were only two cushions on this second floor, one for each of them.

Her eyes turned to Qin Zhiyi. Shen Fuyu couldn't help but laugh aloud, “Oh my, why is His Majesty standing?”

“Look at my muddled head—there are only two cushions, so it seems there’s no place for His Majesty. But…” Her tone shifted, mischief and excitement dancing in her eyes, “I suppose I can’t be blamed, can I? The Grand Preceptor was the one who asked me to sit. If you must find fault, Your Majesty, it’s hardly with me.”

Without giving them a chance to respond, Shen Fuyu aimed her barbs at Rong Xuan, “Grand Preceptor, isn’t it rather inappropriate to have such a private meeting with me? The emperor is still standing. You really are heartless!”

She pointed a finger, “Isn’t this what they call ‘forgetting the old for the new’?”

“The Star Observatory has its own rules, Your Majesty. The emperor and I have our own ways of spending time together,” Rong Xuan replied, pouring two cups of tea and sliding one to Shen Fuyu. “Please, Your Highness, have some tea.”

Shen Fuyu’s beautiful eyes narrowed, her fingertips lightly grazing the rim of the cup as she spoke, “Grand Preceptor, to drug me in full view of the emperor is rather bold, isn’t it? If you covet my beauty, perhaps you ought to be more discreet. I know well I’m a rare flower—men who fancy me could line up from one end of the palace to the other. Even if you’re tempted, you’ll have to wait your turn.”

“You’re truly full of yourself, Your Highness.” Rong Xuan took back the cup he’d offered.

Silence settled over the second floor. The three of them sat, none speaking, locked in an awkward standoff for a long while.

Shen Fuyu crossed her arms, gently biting her lip. This Grand Preceptor Rong Xuan was indeed no ordinary man.

Had it been anyone else, they would have long since lost their temper.

Like the emperor she stood before—though his face was impassive, he was nearly furious beneath. Shen Fuyu understood well the reasons: first, she had deliberately implied Qin Zhiyi had something going on with the Grand Preceptor, then claimed Rong Xuan had abandoned Qin Zhiyi for her. Second, her shamelessly narcissistic words were not only annoying but also a subtle challenge to the world’s male dominance.

Qin Zhiyi’s anger was inevitable; anyone would be angry to witness such a scene.

She possessed a space that recorded and prompted anger value gains, but the increase she’d just experienced had not yielded so much as a sliver from Rong Xuan.

Was this man’s heart made of stone?

Yet, as things calmed, Shen Fuyu recalled another matter. Shortly after she had taken over Shen Fuyu’s body, it was decided that a girl from the Shen family would be chosen to bring good fortune to the emperor. Shen Father refused to let his treasured legitimate daughter go, so he chose her instead…

Shen Father had many wives, and besides the proper-aged legitimate daughter, there were several suitable concubine-born girls. Any one of them could have been chosen, but in the end, it was she who was sent to the palace.

Ever since she became Shen Fuyu, the Shen family’s rear court had been in chaos thanks to her, yet she ended up as the chosen one, likely thanks to the handiwork of the brainless Lady—the main wife. Shen Father was an old scoundrel, never bothered with the affairs of the back courtyard, always delegating to Lady. So no matter how much havoc she caused, Shen Father remained blissfully oblivious.

It was amusing to think: she’d infuriated Qin Zhiyi, and had she succeeded in driving him to death, the Shen family would have perished as well.

If that happened, Lady’s scheme to use this marriage to take revenge on her would have been exposed to Shen Father, making for quite the spectacle.

But that would likely never come to pass.

Still, selecting a Shen family girl to bring fortune was not a random imperial whim—it had been calculated by the Grand Preceptor. She’d overheard bits of this from Lady; if memory served, it was said that a Shen family girl had the fate to prosper the nation.

Considering she’d nearly enraged the emperor to death, and now factoring in the Grand Preceptor’s curious scrutiny…

Could it be?

“Your Majesty, would you please step outside?” Rong Xuan finally spoke, politely inviting Qin Zhiyi to leave. “I have a few questions I’d like to ask the Wise Consort in private.”

Shen Fuyu glanced at Rong Xuan, then at Qin Zhiyi as he was ushered out, resignation in her voice. “Grand Preceptor, please speak frankly.”

“I thought Your Highness would have a few more barbed remarks for me,” Rong Xuan said, resuming his seat.

Shen Fuyu shrugged. Humans have emotions; anger can be suppressed but never entirely erased. Even the slightest trace would be captured by her space, yet Rong Xuan truly felt none.

What was the use in mocking him? There was no anger value to be gained—it was merely a waste of breath. She had no interest in such futile endeavors.

“You’re no fun,” Shen Fuyu said bluntly. “No anger, nothing amusing. Only a fool would bother with pointless efforts.”

Rong Xuan truly wasn’t angry. Having interacted with Shen Fuyu so directly, he now felt certain about his suspicions. When she had uttered those wild words, her eyes had not shown arrogance or disdain, but excitement.

She had a purpose, and her actions were deliberate.

Rong Xuan poured her another cup of tea. “Please, Your Highness, have some tea.”

This time, there was nothing hidden within. Shen Fuyu accepted the cup, sampling it politely, feeling a touch of unfamiliarity—she hadn’t spoken so normally with anyone in years.

“Grand Preceptor, if you have questions, ask,” Shen Fuyu said, setting the cup down with poise and looking at Rong Xuan. Could this master of divination discern her secret?

“You’re not truly a daughter of the Shen family, are you?” Rong Xuan’s first question.

“I am, but not entirely,” Shen Fuyu replied with a smile, lightly touching her face. “As you see, I am Shen Fuyu, but what’s inside is not quite right, so I’m not, and yet I am.”

“So that’s it.” Rong Xuan nodded. No wonder every time he tried to divine Shen Fuyu’s fate, he saw only death; if her inner self was gone, then the real Shen Fuyu no longer existed. “No wonder the hexagrams are disturbed.”