Chapter 3: Caught Staring

At the announcement, Shen Zhiyi hurried to her feet and faced the door. She quickly recalled what the instructing attendant had taught her: when a consort greeted the emperor, she must overlap her hands at her waist, bend her knees, lower her head, and never look directly at his face.

She silently arranged herself in the proper position.

The door opened. First came a gust of cool night air, carrying the faint scent of ambergris. Then a pair of black boots stitched with gold crossed the threshold, and the hem of a bright yellow robe shifted in the candlelight.

Zhiyi lowered her eyes and curtsied. “Your Majesty.”

There was a moment of silence above her. Then a deep voice spoke, unhurried, like half-melted snow running over stone in winter.

“Raise your head.”

She did—and froze. Not in pretense. She was truly stunned.

The man before her was nothing like she had imagined. She had expected the emperor to be either a potbellied middle-aged man or a soft, bloated fellow worn out by drink and women. Instead, he was very tall, with broad, straight shoulders. His dark everyday robes showed off a narrow waist and long legs.

His brow was high and sharp, his nose straight as if carved with a blade. His thin lips were pressed lightly together, and the clean line of his jaw looked as though it had been drawn in a single stroke. Candlelight fell across his face from the side, warming it and making his eyes seem especially deep.

A man in his thirties, at the age when he was most compelling.

Only one thought remained in Zhiyi’s head: *I get to sleep with a gorgeous man for free? I really came out ahead.*

The thought lasted only an instant. She remembered she was still curtsying and quickly pulled back her gaze, lowering her eyes. But Li Xuandu had already noticed that brief delay.

He studied her. In the candlelight, her face was indeed beautiful: delicate without being bland, her lips naturally rosy. Best of all was the vermilion mark between her brows, a red bean fallen on clean snow.

He was accustomed to beauties. His harem had women as sumptuous as peonies, as cool as frost, as enchanting as could be. Yet this little Attendant still made him look twice.

It was only a second glance. What truly interested him was the moment their eyes had met. She had looked at him without fear, without a trace of flattery, and without even a show of modest shyness. She had simply stared, her eyes shining with something he had never seen in a consort before.

He couldn’t quite name it. Admiration, perhaps? Or the delight of someone who had stumbled upon a treasure?

Li Xuandu smiled inwardly. Interesting.

His expression remained indifferent, however. His voice was not loud, but it carried a weight that allowed no careless answer. “What are you looking at?”

Zhiyi came to herself. Eyes lowered, she answered softly and evenly, “Your Majesty is so handsome and imposing that I… I was caught staring. Please forgive me.”

Even she felt embarrassed by the words. What kind of ridiculous line was that? She sounded like an innocent heroine in an idol drama. But she couldn’t come up with anything better on the spot. She could hardly say, “Your Majesty, you’re gorgeous, and I’ve struck it lucky,” could she?

The chamber fell silent for a moment. Then she heard a low laugh above her, rising from deep in his throat, touched with surprise and an interest she couldn’t quite place.

She lifted her eyes a little and caught the slight curve of Li Xuandu’s lips. It was a small smile, but on that cool face it softened his whole manner.

He did find her amusing. The women of the harem either trembled before him until they could scarcely speak, behaved with the stiff propriety of puppets, or feigned innocence and coquettishly sought his favor. This little Attendant clearly didn’t know the rules, yet she spoke openly, hiding nothing. Oddly enough, he could find no fault with her.

*A curious little thing,* he thought. It might be amusing to keep her around. The harem was large enough; one more mouth made no difference.

“You may rise.” He passed her and walked farther into the room, his robe stirring a faint breeze. “This once. If you disregard the rules again, you will be punished.”

Relieved, Zhiyi straightened, then dipped another curtsy. “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

Li Xuandu sat in a chair beside the canopy bed and casually undid the fastenings at his collar. Looking up at her, he said, “Come here and help me change.”

Zhiyi hesitated. She had watched enough historical dramas to know what he meant: help the emperor undress. But she had never taken historical clothes off another person. What if she did it wrong? What if she pulled a button off?

Her mind raced with complaints, though she kept her face composed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” She walked over.

When she reached him, she realized something else: the man was extraordinarily tall. She was a little over five feet three in this body; by her estimate, he was at least six feet one. Standing in front of him, she would have to tilt her head back just to see his chin. Seated, however, he was at just the right height: with her standing and him sitting, their eyes were nearly level.

Li Xuandu had already undone several buttons at his collar, exposing a length of neck and his collarbone. Zhiyi didn’t dare look too long. She lowered her eyes and reached for the remaining buttons down the front of his robe.

She pressed her fingertips against a jade button, struggling a little before she worked it through the buttonhole. Then came the second and the third. Each seemed determined to thwart her. The holes were terribly tight, and she didn’t dare tug, so she had to ease each button out bit by bit.

Li Xuandu watched her with lowered eyes. The tips of the little Attendant’s ears had turned red, the color spreading from her earlobes to the base of her neck like a thin wash of rouge. Her hands trembled only slightly, but he was close enough to see it clearly.

Yet she insisted on appearing calm, eyes downcast and lips pressed together, as though she were carrying out a task of enormous importance. For some reason, he found the sight amusing.

At last Zhiyi finished the buttons and gently drew the outer robe from his shoulders. The dark fabric slipped away, revealing a moon-white inner garment. Thin and close-fitting, it outlined his broad shoulders and firm chest.

She glanced at him, and her heart skipped a beat. Wait. Wasn’t the emperor supposed to spend every day sitting and reviewing memorials? What was going on with that physique?

Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscles visible even through the fabric—he certainly hadn’t acquired that body by living in comfort. She quickly looked away and reached for the ties of his inner garment.

The ties were easier than the buttons; a light pull loosened them. The garment fell open, exposing Li Xuandu’s upper body to the candlelight. Zhiyi kept her eyes lowered, but she couldn’t help catching sight of him from the corner of her eye: a firm chest, defined abdominal muscles, not an ounce of excess flesh around his waist. His skin was pale from being covered by robes year-round, but he looked anything but frail. The paleness only made the lines of his muscles clearer.

She silently awarded his physique nine points out of ten, withholding one in case he got conceited.

She slipped the inner garment off and laid it aside. Then she didn’t know what to do with her hands. By the rules, she should continue helping him into his sleeping robe, but where was it? She looked around and couldn’t see it.

Li Xuandu noticed her searching gaze. His lips curved again, and he pointed toward the head of the bed. Following his gesture, she saw a moon-white silk sleeping robe folded neatly over the rail there.

She fetched it, unfolded it, and helped him put it on. That meant getting close to him. As she rose on tiptoe to drape the robe over his shoulders, they were near enough to smell one another: the steady, restrained scent of ambergris on him, with an indefinable cool freshness beneath it; on her, the faint scent of soapberry from her bath mingled with a young woman’s natural fragrance.

Li Xuandu looked down at the woman so close to him. Her lashes were long, casting fan-shaped shadows beneath her eyes. The vermilion mark between her brows was even brighter up close, as if it had been painted on.

Unsteady on tiptoe, she unconsciously placed a hand on his shoulder for balance. The warmth of her palm came through the thin silk of his sleeping robe. The touch was light, but his breath caught for an instant.

Zhiyi noticed none of it. She was busy arranging the robe. Only after she had stepped back and checked that nothing was amiss did she breathe a little easier and withdraw to one side, hands lowered.

“There, Your Majesty,” she said.

Li Xuandu remained seated, watching her. The way he stared made her uneasy. She kept her eyes down and stood still, wondering, *What is he looking at? Is there something on my face?*

“What is your name?” he asked suddenly.