A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

Li Huai, carrying three volumes of folded books, circled the entrance to the Imperial Study for the second time.

The door was ajar, and there was no candlelight or the sound of papers being turned inside.

According to usual practice, His Majesty should have already spent half an hour reviewing memorials by this time.

He was hesitating whether to push the door open and go in when he heard footsteps behind him.

Hua Jieyu walked over from the corridor, glanced at him, then looked at the half-closed door, her lips twitched as if she was holding back something.

"His Majesty is not here," she said.

Li Huai paused for a moment, then said, "Your Majesty..."

"They went to the back." Hua Jieyu didn't say much, but simply raised her chin towards the direction of the harem.

Li Huai was a smart man, and he understood immediately.

He looked down at the three folded books in his arms, then looked up at the sky.

It was just past Shen Shi (3-5 PM), and there was still a long time before it got dark. He opened his mouth, as if to say something.

Hua Jieyu spoke first: "Is it urgent?"

"It's not an urgent matter, just the allocation of autumn grain in the North..."

"Then let's do it tomorrow," Hua Jieyu said, making the decision for Wei Zhao, her tone as calm as if she were simply commenting on the nice weather.

Li Huai stood there, his expression somewhat complicated.

Having served as Minister of Revenue for so long, this was the first time he had been dismissed before sunset.

He stood there for a while longer, then finally turned and left, shaking his head as he went. The conflicted look on his face was as if he had lost three taels of silver and found five taels back.

Wei Zhao did indeed go to the back.

He stopped in his tracks when he reached the entrance to Shang Wanqing's courtyard. It wasn't hesitation; he simply didn't know what reason to use to go in.

This feeling is strange.

He was the emperor, and the entire harem was his domain; he didn't need a reason to go to any of the courtyards.

But it was right in front of this door that he felt he had to give an explanation.

He thought about it, but couldn't come up with an answer.

After standing there for about half a cup of tea's time, the palace maid guarding the door was so nervous that she was about to kneel down.

Wei Zhao then stepped inside.

Shang Wanqing was leaning against the couch, a thin blanket embroidered with cloud patterns draped over her body, and a roll of drawings spread out in her hand.

She had already looked through most of the ship drawings that Hua Jieyu had sent.

Her attention was entirely on the painting, and she didn't even look up when she heard footsteps, probably assuming it was a palace maid bringing tea.

Wei Zhao didn't say anything, but sat down in the chair opposite her.

He watched her flip through the pictures.

Her fingers slowly glided across the drawing, occasionally pausing at a certain mark, her brows furrowing slightly, as if she were silently calculating some information in her mind.

That focused expression was exactly the same as when she was in the shipyard looking at the half-finished warship.

Wei Zhao just watched, not finding it boring at all.

After a while, Shang Wanqing finally noticed someone sitting opposite her. She looked up and saw Wei Zhao. She was stunned for a moment, then frowned.

"Why are you so free today?"

Wei Zhao picked up the now-cold tea from the table, took a sip, and replied unhurriedly, "I'm not free. Li Huai is still waiting at the door."

Shang Wanqing's hand stopped on the drawing, and she glanced at him.

There was a hint of surprise, a hint of doubt, and something else in her eyes that she herself didn't realize.

"Then what are you doing here?"

Wei Zhao thought for a moment, as if carefully considering his words.

"I came to see you."

He paused, then added, "Every look is one less."

Shang Wanqing was speechless after hearing his words.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something in rebuttal, but she didn't know what to say.

She couldn't very well say, "You can watch it every day," that would be too...

She lowered her head, shifting her gaze back to the blueprints, but couldn't help but let a slight upturn of her lips.

"It's not like I'm leaving tomorrow." Her voice was muffled and unclear, muffled by the drawings.

Wei Zhao didn't reply, but simply put down the cup of cold tea and asked the palace maid at the door to replace it with a hot one.

He knew very well that with Shang Wanqing, saying one insincere thing was more effective than saying ten serious things to her.

A serious woman will analyze, refute, and use data and logic to shut you down.

Not knowing how to respond, the unserious girl simply lowered her head, a sly smile playing on her lips.

He'd been watching this little scheme for years; he knew it inside and out.

Dinner was eaten in Shang Wanqing's courtyard in the evening.

When the imperial kitchen staff delivered the food box, they handled it with the utmost care, as if it were a piece of porcelain.

The dishes inside were all light and simple – blanched river shrimp, steamed sea bass, a bowl of mushroom soup with very little oil, and a plate of finely chopped yam.

It was all made according to the dietary supplement recipe prescribed by Xie Daoning.

Shang Wanqing didn't say anything, picked up her chopsticks and started eating.

She ate everything when she was in Quanzhou, including dry biscuits and cold water. She wasn't picky about food.

But halfway through the meal, she put down her chopsticks.

Wei Zhao was holding a slice of yam when she noticed she had stopped and asked, "What's wrong?"

"It has no taste," Shang Wanqing said bluntly.

She wasn't being pretentious; it just genuinely lacked flavor. The salt was used sparingly, as if it were free, and there wasn't even a trace of soy sauce.

This isn't eating; this is taking a medicine.

Wei Zhao picked up the bowl of mushroom soup in front of him and took a sip.

It was indeed bland.

He put down his bowl and said to the palace servants waiting outside the door, "Next time, add an extra slice of ginger."

The palace maid bowed and replied, "Yes," and her footsteps quickly disappeared outside the corridor.

Shang Wanqing picked up her chopsticks, poked at the fish in her bowl, then looked up at him with a strange expression.

"When did you start taking charge of the kitchen?"

"Today," Wei Zhao answered matter-of-factly.

Shang Wanqing stared at him for two seconds, pursed her lips, and couldn't help but smile.

It wasn't a polite laugh; I genuinely found it funny.

An emperor, busy with countless affairs of state, instead of approving imperial edicts, came to the kitchen to instruct on how many slices of ginger to be placed.

She lowered her head and continued eating, without saying anything more.

But he moved his chopsticks more frequently than before.

Wei Zhao saw this but didn't say anything. He simply pushed the plate of yams towards her.

After the meal, the palace servants came to clear away the dishes.

Wei Zhao did not get up. He leaned back in his chair, a freshly brewed cup of tea beside him, still steaming.

Shang Wanqing didn't send him away.

She picked up the half-rolled-up ship map again and leaned back on the tatami to continue looking at it.

The diagram was marked with the mechanical analysis of the new type of ram. She scribbled on the edges with charcoal, occasionally pausing to calculate before writing again.

The two of them remained silent.

There was no deliberate companionship, nor any unnecessary small talk. One looked at the pictures, the other drank tea. The sky outside the window gradually darkened, and a palace servant quietly entered to light the lamps, then quietly withdrew.

Wei Zhao held his teacup, his gaze intentionally or unintentionally falling on Shang Wanqing.

Her profile was softened by the candlelight, and a few stray hairs fell across her forehead, but she didn't care, her mind was completely focused on the drawing.

He did the math in his head. It had only been a few days since she returned to Beijing.

She had been busy in Quanzhou for several months before that; before that, she was preparing for war and building ships.

The time they spent together could be counted on one hand.

So when he said "every time I see it is one less time I'll ever see it again," he wasn't being sentimental. He was telling the truth.

Just after the gong sounded at the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), a soft knock came from outside the courtyard gate.

Xie Daoning has arrived.

She would come to take Shang Wanqing's pulse every night without fail.

When she pushed the door open and saw that Wei Zhao was still there, she paused for a moment, then resumed her normal pace.

"Your Majesty, I have come to take Lady Shang's pulse."

Wei Zhao nodded and stood up. He put down the teacup he had been drinking from all night on the table and glanced at Shang Wanqing again.

Shang Wanqing was putting away the blueprints, freeing her wrist to let Xie Daoning take her pulse.

She looked up and met Wei Zhao's gaze. She paused for a moment, then looked away.

"Go on, go on, don't get in the way." She said, trying to shoo them away, but her voice lacked force.

Wei Zhao smiled and turned to walk out.

As he reached the door, Xie Daoning's voice drifted from behind him, neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Has His Majesty finished approving all the memorials today?"

Wei Zhao did not stop.

"Not all approvals are complete. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

His figure disappeared into the night under the eaves.

Xie Daoning withdrew his gaze, placed his fingers on Shang Wanqing's pulse, paused for a moment, and whispered something.

"That's right."

Shang Wanqing didn't understand what she was saying, but she didn't ask.

She just lowered her head, staring blankly at the wrist that Xie Daoning was holding, for a while.

Her other hand, without her noticing, landed on her lower abdomen.