I told the Emperor I wanted to leave the palace.
He said it was beneath my station.
I said I wanted to be Empress.
He said I was being ridiculous.
I said, fine—then I'd sleep in his chambers tonight.
He didn't even look up.
I fussed and whined for a while, but he ignored every word. Finally, I swept my arm across his desk and sent a stack of memorials scattering to the floor. That got his attention. He raised his head with a slight frown, those dark eyes sharp with displeasure. The attendants around us went still, not daring to breathe. I shrank a little under his gaze.
I curled a finger and scratched my cheek, unsure what to do with myself.
"Enough of this. If you're bored, ask Consort Jing to take you to see the koi. Or go listen to Consort Yu play the zither."
His tone had softened again. The moment I heard it, I threw myself at his arm and clung on tight. "Imperial Uncle, I want to marry you! I don't have to be Empress—I'll take anything! Noble Consort, Imperial Consort, just a plain consort—I'll take it all!"
His large hand landed on my face. He pushed me away. "You can't marry me. Be good. You're still young—when you grow up and find someone you truly love, I'll arrange a match for you."
"Then fine, don't marry me. But can you at least stay and sleep beside me? I'm scared sleeping alone. Just like when I was little."
He stood up to leave. I grabbed the hem of his robe. I'd been kneeling, and when he rose, the momentum dragged me flat onto the floor. He froze for a heartbeat—so I latched both arms around his thigh, letting out a howl that could've cracked the rafters. "You don't love me anymore now that I'm grown up! I can't sleep at night! I have no appetite during the day! I don't think I'll survive the month—"
A look of utter exasperation crossed Qian Wu's face. He crouched down and peeled me off the floor. "Fine. I'll come tonight."
"Wonderful! I'm off to play with Consort Jing then!" I cut the tears instantly, gathered my skirts, and bounced out the door.
He pressed his fingers to his temples, the weariness carved deep into his face. Eunuch Lin sidled up to him, bowing. "Your Majesty hasn't slept a full night since the border dispatches began arriving. Perhaps a moment's rest—"
Qian Wu shook his head. "The council hall. If the session runs late, remind me. I promised Qian Ling I'd be back."
Eunuch Lin allowed himself a small smile. "Your Majesty does have a soft spot for the little princess."
* * *
Consort Jing didn't take me to see the koi. She was embroidering a sleeping robe. She was my mother's younger sister—which meant I ought to call her Aunt. But in the palace, she was a consort and I was a princess, so we'd always danced around that part.
"Why are you making a sleeping robe, Your Ladyship?"
She smiled. "His Majesty's old one has been worn for years. I thought I'd make him a new one."
I rested my chin on my hand and listened. The ruler of an entire empire, and still this frugal. I'd just found another reason to adore Qian Wu. How vexing.
By the time he came that night, I was already half asleep. The moment I sensed his presence, I snapped wide awake, rolling over to wrap my arms around him. He hadn't changed out of his court robes. He didn't lie down—just leaned against the edge of the bed, patting my back. "Sleep," he murmured.
Sleep? Not a chance—not now. It had been ages since he'd put me to bed like this. He kept saying I was a big girl now.
"I really, really want to marry you. Then I could sleep next to you every night."
A resigned smile tugged at his lips. The dark hollows under his eyes looked even deeper against his pale skin. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's not possible."
I reached up and touched his face, my chest aching for him. "Aren't you going to sleep?"
"After you fall asleep, I'll go back. Close your eyes." He patted my back again.
"You really won't stay?" I stuck out my lower lip. I knew he could never resist that look. If this didn't crack him, nothing would.
He shook his head again, his hand still moving gently against my back. Pat. Pat. Pat.
"Then go rest, Imperial Uncle. I was being selfish." My heart squeezed for him. If he couldn't sleep here, then let him go back and get some rest. I understood all of that, I really did. But the sadness still pooled heavy in my chest. If only people never had to grow up.
He said nothing. Only murmured, in that low, quiet voice: "Sleep."
I told him to go. But my arms wound tighter around his waist, and I closed my eyes.
* * *
Something big was happening at court. The border wars had dragged on for years—villages burned, harvests trampled, refugees clogging every road south. Fanjiang had sent an envoy to negotiate peace.
I'd never understood politics. All I knew was that I saw Qian Wu far less often now. But I also knew how busy he was, so I tried not to bother him.
I'd eaten something bad a few days ago and couldn't stop vomiting. It took two rounds of herbal medicine before I felt better. When I woke that morning, I found Qian Wu leaning against my headboard, eyes closed, those long lashes resting against his cheeks, his nostrils fluttering with each shallow breath. I crept my hand out from under the covers and hooked one finger around his.
He woke instantly. It took his gaze exactly one second to sharpen from haze to clarity.
He pressed his palm to my forehead. "Better?"
I nodded. "Much better. I just missed you. I think missing you is what made me sick in the first place."
He let out a short laugh and pinched my cheek. "Little fox. Stay inside the palace and don't wander off, all right? I'm swamped right now. Once things settle down, I'll come play with you. Deal?"
"Deal. I'll behave." I couldn't help stretching my arm out of the blankets, reaching up to brush my fingers across his eyelashes. "You work so hard, Imperial Uncle. It hurts to watch."
He said nothing. Just looked at me, a quiet smile on his lips, something soft and unguarded in his gaze that he never showed anyone else.
* * *
I didn't know what was keeping Qian Wu so busy until Consort Jing came to visit and told me. The Fanjiang envoy had arrived to negotiate a ceasefire, and among their terms, they were requesting the hand of an imperial princess.
Our family had never been large. Qian Wu's generation had only four princes and two princesses. In mine—well, my uncle was only twenty-six and had just one son and one daughter, both far too young to marry.
My father's line had left only me. Aunt Guangle had two sons. Aunt Guangyang had a daughter, but she was already betrothed to the eldest son of the cavalry commander.
"Apart from you, there is no eligible princess. His Majesty has been beside himself—he can barely eat or sleep."
I understood what she was really saying. If I went to Fanjiang, I would never come back. No more afternoons at Qian Wu's side, no more tugging at his sleeve until he sighed. My hands curled into fists in my lap, and I couldn't bring myself to answer her.
* * *
The court was in an uproar. Civil and military officials argued back and forth, tallying soldiers, counting grain stores, weighing the gains against the bigger picture. But none of their calculations could account for Qian Wu's heart.
The young sovereign had taken the throne too early. His father had died young, right in the thick of war. His elder brother rode out to battle and never came back. His brother's wife died in childbirth, leaving behind a baby girl—the little princess he had raised as his own.
The ministers saw how he doted on the child, the way a father would his own daughter. Surely, they reasoned, when the fate of a nation hung in the balance, even one's own flesh and blood could be given up. What they didn't see was the way his hand lingered on her hair a breath too long, the way his eyes followed her out of every room—a tenderness too fierce, too raw, to be merely paternal.
The Fanjiang envoy had been in the capital for over a month. Both sides remained locked in a standoff. Memorial after memorial piled up on Qian Wu's desk; he couldn't bring himself to read another one.
Several elder statesmen gathered in the council hall, their voices rising with impassioned speeches. The gist never changed: consider the greater good, Your Majesty.
Qian Wu had never been a selfish ruler. He had lowered taxes, opened the granaries in drought years, pardoned men who stole to feed their families. Never once had he been this paralyzed. He knew what the right decision was. But every time he reached for the vermillion brush, his hand refused to move.
* * *
I stood outside the council doors, a lacquered food box in my hands. Inside were pastries I'd made myself—my first attempt. I wanted Qian Wu to try them.
I told Eunuch Lin to let the Emperor know I'd like him to visit tonight.
Eunuch Lin nodded. He said I was probably the only person in the world who could speak to His Majesty like that.
I beamed. Being the most special person to Imperial Uncle—that was all I wanted.
* * *
He came that evening. He didn't mention Fanjiang. He didn't mention the marriage alliance. Not a word.
I knew he was protecting me. He didn't want me to know, and he would never let me go. He wouldn't marry me—but he truly loved me.
I handed him the chestnut cakes I'd made. "It's my first try. They're probably not very good."
He took a bite. "Best I've ever had."
I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him. "I love you so much, Imperial Uncle."
He stroked my hair. "Imperial Uncle loves Qian Ling too."
His familiar voice, the warmth of his body against mine. The tears came before I could stop them.
"Let me go."
Every muscle in his body turned to stone. A long, aching silence passed before his voice broke through—cracked and raw. "No."
I wiped my tears on his shoulder, pulled back from his arms, and forced a smile onto my face. "I'm the only one who fits, aren't I? I know you're a good emperor. War kills so many people. I know how much you hate it. There's nothing else I can do for you. This is all I have to give."
"Let me go."