Chapter Text
If there's one thing you can never trust in the whole world, it would have to be the Emperor's heart: fickle, unpredictable, and shrewd, Minghao wishes he took the Empress Dowager's words to heart.
"Here is a piece of advice for you," she said when he went over to the Palace of Compassion and Tranquillity to greet her. "You may find many more allies in the palace now that you are the Empress. You will make friends and foes alike. Trust who you want to trust, but never trust the heart of an Emperor."
Minghao hadn't paid much heed to her advice then, having thanked her for sharing her wisdom with a smile. Now, as he watches Junhui pamper Soonyoung, Minghao flinches. It has been three years since he became the Empress.
Funny how people can change.
"It's fine," Seokmin mutters to Minghao. "How long can he be in favour anyway?"
"A year, apparently," Minghao shakes his head. "These few months, His Majesty hasn't even been visiting me. And he is always, always, at the Palace of Universal Happiness. What kind of spell did he put the Emperor under?"
"Hopefully not the voodoo kind," Seokmin fights a snort as they walk past the pavilion where Soonyoung's feeding Junhui frozen grapes. Minghao frowns. As the Empress, shouldn't the Emperor spend the most time with him instead of a mere consort? "I heard that Consort Wen threw a hissy fit at the feet of His Majesty yesterday."
"Yes, unfortunately, he did," Minghao sighs, rubbing his temple. "His Majesty summoned me yesterday to give me a good scolding for not inviting Soonyoung to my tea party. It's not my fault that I assumed that he couldn't come since he was too unwell to greet me in the morning. Honestly, he has been getting more spoilt lately."
"You'd be surprised."
Minghao shudders when Junhui eats the grape off Soonyoung's fingers. Something ugly and contemptuous stirs up in him as he watches Soonyoung paint with Junhui.
"Calm down, Your Majesty," Chan whispers. "Don't harm your body from anger."
"He's right, you know," Seokmin adds. "You have nothing to worry about. You are the Empress."
Minghao keeps his head high as he walks back to the Palace of Accumulated Purity. Still, even though his position as Empress is secure and he's guaranteed two days a month of meeting Junhui, he doesn't just want Junhui's body. He wants Junhui's heart too. He was promised that the moment he became Noble Consort Xu many, many months ago. But the moment Soonyoung decided to pull a whole range of outrageous Machiavellian tricks, either performing in front of the Emperor at banquets or feigning sickness to draw Junhui's attention, Minghao's place in Junhui's heart was giving way for Soonyoung.
"Jiangkang'an. Go call Consort Xiang over. I wish to speak with him," Minghao waves a hand.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Jiangkang'an bows and hurries off.
"You think Hansol can help?" Seokmin holds onto Minghao's arm as they step through the Gate of Accumulated Purity.
"Perhaps. He may be of assistance. I would call for Seungcheol too, but I believe the Noble Concubine in his palace is keeping him busy."
It takes Hansol barely any time to step into the Palace of Accumulated Purity. "Peace and grace to you, Your Majesty," he greets.
"You may be at ease. Have a seat," Minghao nods. He sits on the stool directly opposite the Empress' cushioned chair and pops a grape into his mouth.
"What seems to be the problem, Your Majesty?"
"I believe that you are aware that His Majesty summoned me last night solely to lecture me for excluding Soonyoung yesterday. I can tolerate His Majesty favouring other concubines, but not to this extent."
"Preposterous," Seokmin snaps.
"Oh, don't be so mean," Minghao laughs. "I am happy for Soonyoung, I really am. But it would be fairer if His Majesty could spend his time in the harem more...equally. That's where you come in, Hansol. Be honest with me. When was the last time the Emperor flipped your tag?"
"Roughly a year ago, Your Majesty," Hansol replies softly.
"That cannot do," Minghao says. "You have to find a way to take some of that attention away from Soonyoung. Here is a tip: the Empress Dowager's birthday is coming up. His Majesty is anxious and worried about the blanket that is currently being prepared since they cannot find the proper combination of thread and the Empress Dowager dislikes flashiness. He visits the Embroidery Room everyday to check on their progress."
"Your Majesty wants me to visit the Embroidery Room so that I will see the Emperor."
"Yes. Hansol, I don't wish to see you wronged. You and Soonyoung are both consorts, but you have been neglected," Minghao leans forward to take Hansol's hands in his, "and that hurts me."
Hansol smiles and bows his head. "I thank Your Majesty for your concern. If I want to see His Majesty, I should take my leave now. Please excuse me."
"Go," Minghao waves Hansol away with a fond grin. He watches the consort's retreating form before collapsing against his seat.
Hansol examines the blanket, stroking the phoenix's feathers.
"The blanket should not be so flashy. The Empress Dowager is long-lived; she has seen many extravagant and grand designs. But this blanket is used to cover her at night when she sleeps, so it should be toned down. For example, the phoenix is surrounded by hundreds of flowers, so the colours here should not be too shiny. Try using seven shares of dark purple thread mixed with one share of silver thread to embroider the wings of the phoenix," he says.
"I see. What should we do next, Your Highness?" the embroidery maid asks with awe in her eyes.
"Silly girl. Did I not already show you? After you embroider each feather, add a tourmaline bead to the top and some purple crystal beads towards the edge. Like that, the colours will not be too flashy and blinding, but it will still give a gentle glow under the candlelight."
Junhui walks over to the Embroidery Room for his daily inspection. He stops when he sees an unfamiliar silhouette in the curtains.
"Do not announce my arrival," he quietly orders the supervisor of the Embroidery Room, who bows and steps aside. The Emperor makes sure to keep his steps silent as he walks closer to the curtained entrance, hearing the voice inside grow louder with every step.
"The purple crystal beads will accentuate the rich shade of the dark purple threads," Hansol continues, unaware of the figure outside. "The simple colours of the phoenix's feathers will complement the gold colour of the rest of the blanket. If I were you, I would add amber stones near the head of the phoenix to make it more majestic. Amber signifies auspicious prayers. I believe that the Empress Dowager will enjoy it."
Junhui motions for the supervisor to part the curtains for him. "I never knew I had such a knowledgeable consort," he smirks.
"Peace and grace to you, Your Majesty." Hansol whirls around.
"Be at ease. I have not seen you in a while, Consort Xiang," Junhui strokes the blanket, humming in approval at the fine needlework.
"It is my misfortune to not be by Your Majesty's side."
"I can see that you put in a lot of effort into the phoenix's feathers. The colours complement each other without being overly sumptuous, and they do not overshadow the flowers at the side. Royal Mother will definitely like it."
"I thank Your Majesty for his high praise," Hansol blushes. "It is not mine to fully take credit for. The embroidery maids did all the work. I just advised them. I noticed the Buddhist beads the Empress Dowager always carries with her, so I decided that the blanket should use the same colour scheme for the blanket. After all, if the Empress Dowager did not enjoy the colour combination, she would not have those beads with her all the time."
"Everyone sees Royal Mother, but only you notice the details. How come I never noticed how thoughtful and humble you are?" Junhui turns to face Hansol, holding his hands.
"I am afraid that Your Majesty and the other concubines would find my thoughts dumb, so I choose to hide them."
Junhui lets out an exaggerated sigh and pats Hansol's hands. "I think about you whenever I step into the Embroidery Room. It seems like it was just yesterday that I first saw you here, diligently working on one of my robes. These years, I have neglected you."
"No, Your Majesty, I understand. Being the Emperor leaves you busy all the time. I do not wish to be greedy and distract you from your duties," Hansol shakes his head.
"I have time to spare today. Let us return to your palace. Come," Junhui says with an air of finality. He pulls Hansol along with him.
Back in the Palace of Universal Happiness, Soonyoung paces back and forth. "Is His Majesty here yet?" he asks impatiently.
"It will be just a moment, Your Highness. His Majesty the Emperor said that he would return right after he checks on the progress of the blanket in the Embroidery Room," his maid replies.
Soonyoung scowls and sits in front of his dressing table, ordering his maid to touch up his makeup. She bows and starts drawing his eyebrows just as the Emperor's head eunuch comes in.
"Greetings to Your Highness, Consort Wen," he kneels and bows.
"Eunuch Li! Is His Majesty on the way?" Soonyoung asks excitedly, waving his maid away.
"To reply Your Highness, His Majesty sent me here to inform you that you need not wait for him, as he will be going to the Palace of Prolonged Happiness," he relays apologetically.
"What? His Majesty went to visit Consort Xiang?" Soonyoung snaps.
"I will take my leave now, as His Majesty expects me to be back. Please excuse me, Your Highness."
Soonyoung stays stunned for a while before rage sets in. He pushes all his makeup and jewellery off his table with a frustrated scream, smashing mirrors and breaking valuable hairpins.
"His Majesty was supposed to come here! Who dares to steal my favour?" Soonyoung screams, whirling around to look at his servants. "Was it you? Did you tell Chwe Hansol that His Majesty promised to spend the whole day with me?"
"No, Your Highness! I am loyal to you. Please appease your anger, Your Highness," his head maid cries, falling to her knees and bowing.
"Please appease your anger, Your Highness!" the rest of his servants echo, getting on their knees and bowing too.
"Useless pieces of shit!" Soonyoung snarls, pulling the hair of his head maid and forcing her to lift her head. "You planned this, didn't you?" Without waiting for a response, he slaps her across the face. She cries in pain, falling to the floor again. His servants cower on the floor, not daring to make any noise or movement that would send the consort into yet another fit of rage. "Get out! Now!"
They scramble to exit the chamber. Soonyoung lets his rage simmer for a while. He has worked so hard these few years to make the Emperor pay attention to him. Having spent more than a decade vying for some affection, Soonyoung still lived as a high-ranked consort unfavoured by the Emperor for many years. Just recently, he managed to catch the Emperor's attention by performing at the Emperor's birthday celebration. It had taken him a long time, but he finally became memorable in the Emperor's eyes. The past year was spent lavishly, with Junhui sending gifts almost every day and visiting him at least five times a week.
It almost made the eleven or twelve years with only the slightest sliver of the Emperor's attention (which was only given whenever he was around the Empress, mind you) bearable.
And now they were trying to take that away from him.
Soonyoung doesn't want to go back to being lonely and unfavoured. When he's Consort Wen, most favoured concubine of the Emperor, people respected him. Maids and eunuchs no longer whisper behind their hands and give him funny looks whenever he walks by and only remember him as the concubine who offended the late Imperial Noble Consort Yuan.
But the moment his position in the Emperor's eyes was elevated, his position in the other consorts went down. The Empress and his friends all saw Soonyoung as a thorn in their side, even though all Soonyoung wanted was to feel a little bit of love in this otherwise empty palace.
Even Minghao, who was his closest friend before he became Empress, didn't invite him to his regular tea parties.
To put it simply, Soonyoung didn't understand. The rest of the consorts have monopolised the Emperor's affection for years at a go, so what was so bad about Soonyoung craving the same attention for barely a year?
Soonyoung knows Hansol well enough to know that the latter is too timid to start any schemes of his own. The Empress has to have something to do with it.
Back in the Palace of Accumulated Purity, Minghao lets Seokmin do his hair.
"Was I being too selfish? I wish for Soonyoung to be happy, but as the Empress I have to make sure that balance is upheld in the harem," Minghao sighs. He meets Seokmin's eyes in the mirror. "But am I being unfair to Soonyoung? Knowing His Majesty, if he spends too much time with the same concubine, he's going to get sick of them very quickly."
"No," Seokmin reassures. "You're not asking His Majesty to completely stop seeing him anyway. You're just giving the other concubines a chance to serve His Majesty, and you're protecting Consort Wen too."
"That's good to hear," Minghao exhales, reaching up to squeeze Seokmin's hand. "You always know what to say."
"All done, Your Majesty," Seokmin pats Minghao's shoulder. "What would Imperial Noble Consort Kim think?"
Minghao's eyes slowly open at the sound of a name he hasn't heard in years.
"Mingyu?" he asks, name tasting unfamiliar on his tongue. "If he were in my position, Mingyu would be genuinely happy for Soonyoung. But me? I have no interest in fighting the other consorts and concubines for the Emperor's affection anymore. Seokmin-ah, I am weary. I have no desire to continue living here," Minghao picks at his nail guards.
"My puppy misses you. You haven't been over in a long time, have you? "
"I would love to go over—" Minghao starts to get up, but Chan enters.
"Your Majesty, Eunuch Li is here," he says.
"Greetings to Your Majesty the Empress. His Majesty requests your presence in the Hall of Mental Cultivation," Eunuch Li bows. "The palanquin is already ready outside the gate."
"Seokmin, send my regards to your puppy. Eunuch Li, please lead the way."
Minghao follows Junhui's head eunuch out. The pear blossom tree is quiet, leaves swaying in the air like his resolution. Chan follows him, whispering a quiet word of affirmation. With a flutter in his heart, Minghao climbs onto the palanquin. The eunuchs raise the palanquin and head towards the Hall of Mental Cultivation.
"Peace and grace to His Majesty the Emperor," Minghao says in a hushed whisper.
"Minghao." Junhui pulls him into his arms. "I missed you."
Minghao's brain freezes. After years of being apart while Junhui finds interest in newer, younger concubines, he misses Minghao?
"I missed you too, Your Majesty," he replies like a fool.
"I had to spend time with other concubines to appease the ministers. You understand, don't you?" Junhui pulls away to look into Minghao's eyes with a certain sort of greedy desperation.
"Yes," Minghao lies.
"Good," Junhui gives him a thin-lipped smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Many clans and tribes were displeased that I wasn't giving their concubines any favour at all. To uphold the peace in my Great Qing, I had to do that. But I thought of you at every moment, because everything they did with me, we did first."
"I understand, Your Majesty. You are the ruler of the empire before anything else."
"This is why I picked you to be my Empress, Minghao. You understand me like no other. Today, I want to have our portrait taken. I have neglected you for the three years you are Empress, and our portrait taking has been delayed for far too long."
"Alright, Your Majesty," Minghao replies, searching Junhui's face for any sign of a lie. He finds nothing.
"Giuseppe Castiglione will take our portrait, my love. I believe that you are more familiar with referring to him as Lord Lang Shining, yes?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Very well. Li Yu. Summon Lord Lang."
An Italian man, handsome and charming and near Minghao's age, walks in.
"Greetings to Your Majesties," he says with a voice like rich honey. "Please get into position as I ready my materials."
Junhui climbs up the few steps to his throne and sits, patting the empty space on his right. Minghao sits next to Junhui, hands placed neatly on his lap as he looks forward, stoic and the pinnacle of grace. Next to him, Junhui does the same.
Giuseppe begins sketching the Emperor and Empress, occasionally making quick comments to adjust their posture.
"This is awfully boring," Junhui whispers.
"Be patient, Your Majesty," Minghao tuts. "We have been here for less than two hours."
"You never call me Junhui anymore," whines the Emperor. "Do you not like me anymore?"
"As if I got any chance to call you Junhui in the past three years," Minghao snaps. He immediately regrets it, and adds in a much softer tone, "I missed calling you Junhui. Like this, in the day, where it actually feels like I am your Empress."
"I promise that you'll always be my Empress. You can call me Junhui whenever you want."
Minghao placates him with a smile.
"Your Majesties, could you sit a little closer?" Giuseppe speaks up. "I would like to capture the deep love between the both of you."
Junhui shuffles closer to Minghao almost immediately, placing his right hand over Minghao's left hand.
"Your Majesty. Lord Lang said to sit closer, not put your hand closer!" Minghao whispers, scandalised.
"I know other places I can put my hand," Junhui teases.
"Excellent, Your Majesties. Please hold this position."
Minghao sits still as a statue. After a while, he leans a little to his left and rests his right hand on top of Junhui's. The Emperor lets out a small, shocked noise.
"You're beautiful," Junhui mumbles. "I want to keep this portrait until the day I die, so I can always, always see your face."
"You flatter me," Minghao says dryly. He knows better than to trust Junhui's words.
"It's true," Junhui insists. "You're especially beautiful when you're under me, though, in my bed."
"If I remember correctly, the last time I was in your bed was to fuck you."
Junhui's face goes red, which doesn't go unnoticed by Giuseppe.
"You did a number on me that night. I couldn't walk properly the next day. Ended up hobbling into court and when I sat down, I could still feel your come between my legs."
"Well, I guess we both got what we wanted, Your Majesty," Minghao smiles like the cat with the cream. He leans in closer to whisper, "Did it flow down your legs? Were you so full of my come that you couldn't clench your loose, sloppy hole to keep it all in? Or did you love my come so much that you didn't want to clean it out in the morning?"
Junhui lets out a soft, choked sob. "Loved it. I loved feeling full with your come."
"You didn't answer the rest of my questions, Your Majesty. You said you were bored, so why don't you answer my questions, hmm?"
"I—" Junhui begins. "I can't say it, Minghao. He might hear me!"
"Then be soft. If I don't hear you tell me how well I fucked you that night, I'll have no choice but to recreate the moment so you will remember. Maybe we can even give Lord Lang a good show, let him see how much of a slut his Emperor is? He can paint it for us, and you can hang it in your chambers whenever you miss me," Minghao threatens in a low voice.
"I didn't want to clean your come out. It spilled out of me as I was walking to my throne, and I—I tried to clench, but my hole only fluttered weakly," Junhui sniffs.
"Continue," Minghao smiles, patting Junhui's hand.
"And when I sat down, your come kept flowing out and down my legs. I felt like a whore," he whines softly. "But it felt so good. So, in front of all the court officials, I spread my legs and fucked myself with my fingers with your come to replace the scented oil all the concubines use."
"Did the ministers see you all spread out and slutty?"
"My table covered me. But if one of them bowed too deep, or tilted their heads in the wrong direction, they would have seen me with four fingers in my ass and my hand around my cock."
"You're filthy, Your Majesty," Minghao says without missing a beat.
"Because of you," Junhui sneers.
It feels wrong. Minghao doesn't feel like it's right. Every time he has sex with the Emperor, it doesn't feel like sex between husbands, but it feels like the duty between an Emperor and his Empress. The power dynamics between them are completely messed up.
"I see," Minghao responds, slipping back into his demure persona. He suffers with Junhui through another two hours of sitting perfectly still and giving frigid smiles without another word. Though he's finally managed to leave Junhui flustered and elicit a reaction from his husband, Minghao doesn't feel satisfied with himself. It's odd.
"All done, Your Majesties," Giuseppe announces, presenting the portrait to them.
It's a wonderful likeness. The court painter managed to mark every single detail, from the slight blush tinting Junhui's cheeks and the way their hands were clasped together. Minghao looks at the portrait in amazement. He never thought it would be possible to capture his likeness so accurately and in such a captivating manner. Have his eyes always looked so deep and charming? The satisfied curve of his lips reveal his pride at being the ruler of the harem, and were his hands always so long and slender? Minghao's already thirty-one, but Giuseppe's depiction of him makes him look radiant. Young. And hopelessly in love with the Emperor.
"Oh, Lord Lang," Minghao gushes. "It is beautiful."
"I am glad that you like it, Your Majesty," Giuseppe bows deeply.
"Yet another masterpiece," Junhui praises. "Send this to the Palace of Accumulated Purity." Giuseppe thanks the Emperor for his high praise.
"I thought you wanted to keep it, Your Majesty," Minghao comments.
"A portrait of such high calibre deserves to be hung in your chambers. Only the best for you, Minghao."
Minghao spends hours looking at the portrait. He glances towards the mirror on his table and examines his reflection before letting his eyes wander back to the portrait.
"Chan," he calls. "Look at me. Do you think I am getting older?"
Chan looks taken aback. "Everyone grows old, Your Majesty."
"I know. But do I look older? Oh, look, there's another wrinkle on my cheek," Minghao fusses. "Pass me a bowl of bird's nest, Seungkwan. This is ridiculous. Is this why His Majesty doesn't love me as much anymore? Because I grew older?"
Minghao grips Seungkwan's hands as he sets the bowl of bird's nest on the table. It almost spills over.
"My apologies, Your Majesty! I deserve death for my careless blunder—" Seungkwan begins, flustered.
"Seungkwan-ah," Minghao interrupts, abject terror haunting his eyes. "Am I getting old? Look at the portrait, and look at me. I look much older in the mirror than in the portrait. This must be the reason why His Majesty spends more time with the younger concubines."
"Your Majesty..." Seungkwan says sympathetically. "You are barely thirty-one years of age. You are still youthful."
"Seungkwan's right, Your Majesty," Chan adds. "You are beautiful. The most beautiful Empress I have ever seen."
Minghao gives them a wobbly smile and drinks the bird nest, eyes never leaving himself in the painting. He looks beautiful in the painting, but when he looks at himself in the mirror simultaneously he notices all the differences. How his eyes look uneven in the mirror but perfectly symmetrical in the painting. The curve of his lips looks forced, unnatural, fake in the mirror compared to the painting.
After a few days, he asks Chan to summon Giuseppe to the Palace of Accumulated Purity.
"How may I be of service, Your Majesty?" Giuseppe gives the Empress a charismatic smile.
"I want to commission a painting from you. I want you to paint the most beautiful portrait of me," the Empress states.
"I am deeply grateful for receiving that honour, Your Majesty," Giuseppe answers, stepping closer. Minghao dismisses all his servants save for Chan and Seungkwan, looking expectantly at the Jesuit.
The way Giuseppe looks at him is unique, the Empress notes. He is dissected like a court proposal, the court painter's eyes memorising every last detail of his face. The only thing he can compare it to is Junhui's lustful gaze, but the way Giuseppe's gaze caresses him is like Minghao's a fragile porcelain vase. He looks like Minghao the way a man would a woman, with the same tenderness.
"Please hold still, Your Majesty," Giuseppe requests. "Look straight, please, and think of something that makes you happy."
It takes a while for something to come to mind. The Empress thinks of Junhui sweeping him into his strong, muscled arms back when he was a mere Imperial Concubine, carrying him bridal-style back to the Palace of Eternal Longevity, and he relaxes. His stoic expression melts into something softer, something gentler. Giuseppe's eyebrows furrow in concentration as he does some rough sketches of the facial structure of the Empress, hawkish eyes spotting the mole on Minghao's jaw that even Junhui never noticed.
Just as Giuseppe takes a step closer to the Empress, Soonyoung takes a step through the Gate of Accumulated Purity.
"Should I really be talking to the Empress about this?" he murmurs to his maid.
"You are someone who values friendship, Your Highness, so it would be best for you to clear things up with His Majesty the Empress," she replies subserviently.
"Alright," Soonyoung exhales. He waves a dismissive hand at the Empress' maids and eunuchs, a silent command to not announce his arrival.
In the main hall, Giuseppe closes the distance between the Empress and himself.
"Apologies, Your Majesty. But I have to feel your face in order for me to create the most accurate planes of your face," the Italian says. "It will just take a while." Minghao nods, giving him permission, and feels a short breath escape him the moment Giuseppe's chilly hands cup his cheeks. Giuseppe's hands are calloused from years of wielding paintbrushes, and each callous feels like a miniature firework imploding on his skin.
The Empress freezes in place. Giuseppe is handsome in a way he isn't used to. Nothing like the soft and delicate features of the Manchu and Han Chinese, the Jesuit's features are sharp and angled. Dimly, Minghao wonders if Junhui ever thought of him like that before.
Giuseppe's skilled hands explore the angle of Minghao's nose bridge, his cheekbones, and his jawline. To anyone else, they look like they're lovers; enamoured, captivated.
Nobody sees Soonyoung stand outside the curtained entrance, eyebrow raised in amusement as he watches the court painter stroke the Empress' face. He gestures to his maid, who nods in understanding. Soonyoung leaves without a word.
"Your Majesty," Seungkwan reminds pointedly. Minghao jolts and takes a step back instinctively. Giuseppe does the same, bowing his head and requesting for the Empress to take a seat. He complies, figure svelte and sophisticated as he perches on his seat, back straight as he stares at the window behind Giuseppe's head. Minghao can see a peek of the pear blossom tree from the crack in the window. The branches are bare. Yellowed leaves litter the ground beneath the tree. His servants sweep the leaves away. A sweep of flashy jade robes that kicks the leaves into the air steals a choked breath from the Empress.
Only Soonyoung dares to wear jade green.
Minghao's heart sinks in his chest, sinks deep into his stomach, where it burns, dislodged.
"Please face me—"
"Enough," Minghao interrupts. "You are dismissed for today. I will call for you again."
Giuseppe swallows the words in his mouth and exits. Minghao watches his retreating form and turns around to face Seungkwan and Chan the moment Giuseppe disappears from the gate.
"Soonyoung was here," Minghao gasps, breath shallow.
"Nobody announced his arrival, Your Majesty," Chan reassures.
"I saw him," he insists.
"It could have been the staff from the Imperial Household Department," Seungkwan points out.
"No. Soonyoung is the only consort who wears jade green robes!"
Seungkwan and Chan exchange a pensive glance.
"Maybe you were mistaken, Your Majesty. You must be tired after sitting for so long. We will assist you in taking your afternoon nap," Chan suggests.
Minghao sighs. Maybe the exhaustion has really gotten to him. "Alright. Assist me to my chambers." With the flick of his hand, his maids hold onto each of Minghao's arms as the Empress makes his way to his chambers. They remove his hair from its elaborate updo.
The half-completed portrait rests on Giuseppe's table.
"Why do you look so troubled, Giuseppe?" the French missionary sits next to him. "Is this about the portrait of the Empress?"
"His eyes," Giuseppe whispers. "They haunt me."