62: Chapter 62 Qingge's Follow, Di Xuan's Interaction

The afternoon sun was warm, casting dappled shadows from the trees within the palace walls.

Chen Xuan walked slowly along the side corridor, his fingers unconsciously brushing the tip of his nose. The tension from having just extricated himself from the Golden Hall hadn't fully dissipated.

He had intended to leave the palace directly, but as his steps turned the corner, he heard a soft call from behind.

"Young Master Chen, wait a moment."

It was the Empress's voice.

He stopped, turned, and clasped his hands in salute. "Does Your Majesty have further instructions?"

Empress Murong Wan stood at the end of the covered walkway, her bright yellow dragon robe shimmering faintly in the sunlight. She held no memorials and had no attendants. She said simply, "We only spoke halfway earlier. How about a walk in the garden? The flowers are blooming nicely right now."

Chen Xuan's heart stirred, but he smiled outwardly. "Your Majesty is in an elegant mood; how could this humble subject dare to refuse?"

He thought to himself, *This Empress really won't let slip any chance to probe.*

The two walked side by side towards the Imperial Garden, silent along the way. Upon reaching the garden, tea was already prepared in the pavilion, steam rising in delicate wisps.

Empress Murong Wan sat down and gestured for him to do the same. He didn't stand on ceremony, picking up the tea bowl, blowing on it, and taking a sip.

"The plum blossoms in the northern border bloom early. I heard Dugu Xue wrote a poem a few days ago. I wonder if Your Majesty has seen it?" He set down the tea bowl, casually steering the topic outward.

Empress Murong Wan lifted her eyes to look at him. "You're quite concerned with other people's affairs."

"Concerned is too strong a word; I merely heard about it."

He grinned. "Besides, a princess writing poetry is considered refined elegance. If I were to write one, it'd be a joke. It's best I don't meddle."

She nodded slightly but didn't reply, merely tapping the edge of the tea tray with her vermilion brush—once, then again.

Chen Xuan knew this was her habit when she was thinking.

He discreetly scanned the surroundings. The garden was very quiet, with only the rustling of leaves in the wind.

But just as his gaze swept past the eastern eaves, he detected an extremely faint trace of Sword Qi—clear, cold, sharp, like a flash of silver light skimming across ice.

It was Li Qingge.

He understood in his heart but didn't expose it. Instead, he looked up at the sky and said with a smile, "It feels as if a Sword Immortal has passed by on this wind."

As his words fell, silence enveloped the area outside the pavilion.

Empress Murong Wan followed his gaze and glanced at the eaves, her brow moving almost imperceptibly.

Three zhang away, atop the decorative ridge beast on the flying eaves, Li Qingge stood, her clothes as white as snow, her green blade pointing downwards.

She had originally come to the palace on her sect's orders to deliver an invitation. Passing by this area, she had glimpsed a familiar figure from the direction of the Golden Hall and looked a moment longer.

Unexpectedly, she saw Chen Xuan sitting casually in the pavilion with the Empress, talking and smiling with ease.

She had intended to leave immediately, but upon hearing his comment about a Sword Immortal on the wind, her steps halted.

It wasn't panic, nor was it annoyance, but a sudden feeling of interest.

This man had clearly sensed her presence, yet didn't point it out directly. Instead, he used a jesting remark to both alert the Empress and greet her. A measured approach, neither subservient nor arrogant.

Her fingertips lightly brushed the sword tassel—a small habit of hers when thinking.

Inside the pavilion, Empress Murong Wan withdrew her gaze, her tone flat. "Was that Li Qingge on the eaves just now?"

Chen Xuan clasped his hands, smiling frankly. "Perhaps the Sword Immortal was patrolling the city and stopped by to see the commotion. After all, a minor figure like me rarely enters the palace. To receive the attention of two such esteemed individuals simultaneously is an honor."

The words sounded self-deprecating but were actually watertight.

Empress Murong Wan stared at him for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Aren't you afraid of inviting trouble?"

"I am."

He nodded candidly. "Who isn't afraid of trouble? But if one doesn't even dare to speak or walk freely, what's the point of living?

"Besides, I haven't done anything shameful. At most, I've had a meal, exchanged a few words, and even this tea was bestowed by Your Majesty. If anyone's to blame, it's for your hospitality being too gracious."

She found herself at a loss for words.

This man always managed, at the most critical juncture, to deflect the most dangerous questions with the lightest remarks.

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping toward the eaves once more. They were now empty, only a single roof tile shimmering faintly in the sunlight.

"She's gone," she said softly.

"Mm," Chen Xuan responded, saying no more.

He knew some matters were best left at that.

Li Qingge had indeed left. Standing atop an old locust tree outside the palace wall, she glanced back towards the pavilion, the corner of her lip lifting almost imperceptibly.

This Chen Xuan was far more interesting than she had imagined.

Previously, hearing about him saving Leng Shuang, taking in Zhao Hongling, and assisting Liu Ruyan, she had thought him a frivolous scoundrel who rose through women.

But seeing him today—unflinching before the supreme ruler, handling verbal sparring without revealing weakness, even detecting her presence unseen, and using a teasing remark to deftly dissolve the awkwardness between three parties—this composure and sharpness were far from ordinary.

She gripped her sword hilt, her figure flashing once before disappearing into the depths of the streets.

Back in the pavilion, the tea in the bowl had cooled by half.

Chen Xuan stood up. "If Your Majesty has no further instructions, this subject will take his leave. If I stay any longer, I fear the guards will search me three times over as a potential assassin when I exit the palace gate."

Empress Murong Wan looked at him and suddenly asked, "Do you truly believe I was testing you?"

"How could that be?" He waved a hand. "You attend to myriad affairs of state daily. Summoning me was for matters of the realm, guiding me is for cultivation, showing concern is for caring for your subjects. A mere Martial Artist like me, receiving such generous treatment from Your Majesty, feels nothing but gratitude. How dare I suspect it's a test?"

She said, "Yet every word you speak seems to guard against me."

"Guard? I wouldn't dare." He scratched his head and smiled. "But when one enters the palace gates, it's only natural to be more proper. It's like being a guest in someone's home. Even if the host says to make yourself at home, you still choose a chair to sit on, not sprawl on their kang gnawing roast chicken, right?"

This time, Empress Murong Wan finally smiled.

It was faint, brief, like a fallen leaf drifting across water.

"That tongue of yours is faster than a sword."

"A fast sword wounds; a fast tongue invites a beating." He chuckled. "So I'm usually slow-tongued. Today was an exceptional performance."

She waved a hand. "Go on."

He saluted with clasped hands, turned, and walked towards the palace gate.

Reaching the end of the covered walkway, he suddenly stopped, looked back, and said with a smile, "If both of you are interested in me, why not host a banquet another day? Invite Your Majesty and the Sword Immortal to share a table and discuss the Dao? Let the common folk witness what 'The Emperor overlooks the Nine Heavens, the Sword illuminates the Mountains and Rivers' truly means."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left.

His back was straight, his steps steady.

Empress Murong Wan sat in the pavilion, unmoving, silent. After a long while, she murmured to herself, "This Chen Xuan really is a strange man."

Her fingertips lightly twirled an earring, her gaze somewhat profound.

Meanwhile, outside the palace walls, Li Qingge stood on the flying eaves of a tavern. In her hand was a bamboo invitation she had originally intended to deliver to the Empress, now casually crumpled into a ball.

She gazed in the direction Chen Xuan had departed and said softly, "'The Emperor overlooks the Nine Heavens, the Sword illuminates the Mountains and Rivers'? Quite the bold claim."

Yet a trace of a smile once again appeared at the corner of her mouth.

Chen Xuan walked all the way to the palace gate. The guards routinely checked his waist token. He handed it over and casually asked, "Did a female knight in white come to the palace today? Dressed plainly, sword quite shiny."

The guard shook his head. "Didn't see one."

"Oh." He retrieved the token and patted his clothes. "Must have been my eyes playing tricks."

He stepped out of the palace gate. The sunlight shone on his face, warm and pleasant.

The earlier exchange, seemingly relaxed, had actually required careful steps at every turn. The Empress was testing his attitude; the Sword Immortal was observing his Heart-Nature. Caught in the middle, he had to maintain propriety without appearing slick, and ensure neither felt slighted.

Fortunately, he had managed it all.

He rubbed his chin, his steps never faltering.

Now it was time to go back and think carefully about the next steps to take.

The wind hadn't yet risen, but the path underfoot could no longer be trodden with the same old stride.