80: Chapter 80 Emperor Xuan Discusses the Matter of Choosing a Husband Again

Chen Xuan walked along the bluestone path leading to the imperial palace, sunlight spilling over his shoulders, warm and cozy.

As he walked, he reached out and touched the sword tassel inside his robe; it was still pressed against his chest, warm, as if it retained a trace of human touch.

When the servant said the Empress had summoned him, he did not ask further questions, just nodded and set off. He knew this trip to the palace was likely not for matters of state.

In front of the side hall, the guards recognized him and immediately cleared the way.

The hall was very quiet; one could even hear the sound of the candles burning.

Empress Murong Wan sat on the Phoenix throne. She had not changed out of her bright yellow Dragon robe, but she had removed the Nine-Dragon Nine-Phoenix crown, securing her hair with only a jade hairpin. She did not look like she was discussing state affairs, but rather waiting for someone to confide in.

She looked up as he entered, tapped her vermilion brush lightly against the table, and said, "Everyone, withdraw."

The attendants on either side withdrew silently, and the doors closed.

Chen Xuan stood still and bowed, "Your Majesty, you summoned me—is there another treacherous official causing trouble? Or is there an emergency at the border?"

Empress Murong Wan did not answer, just looked at him with a calm gaze that brooked no evasion.

"Chen Xuan." She called his name without adding any official title or honorifics, "Where did you go last night?"

"Me?" Chen Xuan grinned, "Last night I was at my residence, drinking with a few friends, chatting until dawn. I only just woke up this morning before your people came to fetch me."

"Is that so?" she asked softly, "And is Li Qingge also one of your friends?"

Chen Xuan paused, his smile fading slightly.

He knew he could not hide it from her. The Great Zhou palace had many eyes and ears; the news of Li Qingge's departure had likely already reached her desk.

"She is," he nodded, "a very special friend."

Empress Murong Wan lowered her eyes, her fingertips caressing her earring. A moment later, she looked up, "You sent her away, and now you come to see me. How do you think I feel about that?"

Chen Xuan did not answer immediately. He walked to the center of the hall, unhurriedly lifted his robe, and sat down, as casual as if he were in his own living room.

"I think you summoned me here not just to ask about that."

Empress Murong Wan stared at him for a long while, then suddenly smiled. It was a faint smile, but it carried a touch of sincerity.

"I have been on the throne for twelve years and ruling personally for five. I have purged treacherous officials, suppressed warlords, and quelled rebellions. Men under heaven either bow as subjects, crave wealth and status, or harbor delusions of seizing imperial power. But you are different."

She paused, "You do not seek office, do not covet wealth, do not fear death, and are not eager to climb the social ladder. Even when I show you favor, you never take advantage of it to climb higher."

"And so?" Chen Xuan tilted his head, "Do you think I am a bit strange?"

"I think you are rare."

She looked directly at him, "Over this period, I have seen you handle state affairs and I have seen you fight others. You are lazy, but not incompetent; you are slippery, but you never cross the line. You have saved Liu Ruyan, protected the Zhao family's daughter, helped the Princess of the Northern Border, and even treated a courtesan with sincerity. You are not putting on an act; you truly treat people as people."

Chen Xuan scratched his ear and chuckled, "Is that a compliment?"

"Yes. I have considered it carefully. I want you to be my husband."

The hall fell silent instantly. Even the candle flames seemed to pause for a moment.

The smile on Chen Xuan's face froze. He blinked, confirming he had not misheard.

"You... what did you say?"

"I want you to enter the palace as my husband." Empress Murong Wan's tone was steady, as if she were reading an imperial edict, "You will not be titled a King or appointed Prime Minister, but you will enjoy the ceremonial status of a Prince, hold the authority of Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guard, and assist in the important affairs of the Six Ministries. If you are willing, the betrothal ceremony can be held tomorrow."

Chen Xuan did not move, nor did he smile. He looked down at his hands, then looked up at her.

"Your Majesty." His voice lowered, "You know I have always been direct. You spoke sincerely, and I cannot brush this off with a joke. But regarding this matter, I must be honest: I do not want to agree."

Empress Murong Wan's brows twitched slightly. She did not get angry, nor did she press him, simply waiting quietly for what came next.

Chen Xuan took a deep breath and straightened up, "You are the Empress, the most powerful person in this world. Whoever you want must kneel to accept your decree. But I am not that kind of person. I have never thought about relying on a woman to climb to the top."

"I saved Leng Shuang because she was about to be ruined by someone; I helped Zhao Hongling because she did not want to marry that old corrupt official; I sparred with Dugu Xue because she fought with gusto. I did these things not to trade for favors, but to have a clear conscience."

He paused and smiled, "As for feelings, they cannot be traded. I am grateful for your favor. But if I agreed to this marriage, it would not be taking a wife; it would be selling myself. I am not willing. And I do not want to wrong you; you deserve a man who wholeheartedly wants to marry you, not a martial artist who nods reluctantly after weighing the pros and cons."

The hall was silent. Empress Murong Wan sat there, her fingers slowly releasing the earring and falling onto her lap.

She did not speak, just looked at him, her gaze gradually changing from majestic to complex.

"So you are rejecting me?"

"Yes." Chen Xuan nodded, "I am not rejecting you as a person, but this arrangement."

"If I am to marry, it must be based on mutual affection—a chase, a game of cat and mouse, a life spent laughing through the quarrels. It cannot be an imperial decree, a ceremony, and a pile of ministers kowtowing in congratulations, only for us to sit in the palace every day, speechless and harboring our own secret thoughts."

He stood up and bowed, "Your Majesty is wise and mighty, ruling over the land, admired by all under heaven. To be favored by you is my, Chen Xuan's, good fortune. But I choose my own path. I want to walk the path of the Dao of martial arts to the end, and I want to treat each woman well. I do not seek the fastest way, only to have a clear conscience."

Empress Murong Wan was silent for a long time. Outside the hall, the wind passed the eaves, causing the copper bells to chime softly.

She finally spoke, her voice lower than before, "Others fight desperately to enter these palace gates; you, on the other hand—I push the door open for you, and you turn and walk away."

"Then why do you still keep me?" Chen Xuan smiled.

"I am not keeping you to make you the Imperial Consort." She looked at him, "I want to see how far you can truly go. Can a person who wants no power, no fame, and no patron survive in this world?"

"Then just watch." Chen Xuan turned and walked toward the palace gate, "I am alive, and I am living quite well."

He pulled the door open, and sunlight flooded in, making the threshold shine.

"By the way." He turned back and winked, "Next time you want to invite me for a drink, just send someone to deliver the jars. Do not bother with all this empty pretense; I do not buy it."

With that, he stepped out, his figure disappearing into the light.

Empress Murong Wan sat in her seat, unmoving. After a long while, she slowly picked up the vermilion brush and continued to review the memorials.

The tip of the brush fell onto the paper, its rhythm slowed by a few beats, as if she were distracted. But in the end, she did not look up again, nor did she have anyone chase after that retreating figure.

Chen Xuan walked out of the palace gate and squinted at the sky. The sun was high; the streets were bustling with people, peddlers hawking their wares, children chasing each other—everything was as usual.

He adjusted his collar and started walking back. The wind blew past his ears, and he subconsciously touched his chest; the green jade sword tassel was still there.

He did not take it out, just pressed it gently, as if confirming it was still there.

There was a liquor shop at the street corner. He stopped as he passed by, went in, and carried out three jars of liquor, tying them into a string and hoisting them onto his shoulder.

"From now on, I must carry three jars whenever I go out," he muttered to himself, "two to drink myself, one to offer to an old friend."

He did not stop, continuing to walk forward. The sunlight shone on his shoulders, the liquor jars swaying and making a dull clinking sound.

He was getting further and further away from the imperial palace, yet closer and closer to his own path.