Chapter 51 Imperial Marriage

Chapter 51: Granting a Marriage

Lu Jiming and Wei Yan had reconciled, their misunderstandings fully resolved. Thus, the quarrel from that day was treated as a page turned—never to be mentioned again.

In the Great Qi Dynasty, minor court assemblies were held every three days, and grand assemblies every fifteen days. While Lu Jiming recuperated in Chongyuan Palace, Wei Yan skipped a morning court session to remain in the palace and keep watch over him, unable to feel at ease.

“If Your Majesty misses morning court on my account, I’ll be impeached by the Censors,” Lu Jiming said lazily, reclining on the couch.

His spirits had improved considerably over the past few days—likely because he was nearing his fourth month of pregnancy, the condition had stabilized, and his appetite had returned to normal. After several days resting indoors, he no longer felt any discomfort.

“Don’t worry—I know what I’m doing,” Wei Yan replied. Though he had missed morning court, he met daily with his trusted senior ministers to discuss state affairs, ensuring no official business was delayed.

As he spoke, his gaze kept drifting toward Lu Jiming’s waist.

In their previous life, when Lu Jiming had been pregnant, he had desperately tried to conceal it from Wei Yan. Wei Yan had never seen Lu Jiming’s figure change. Now, with this second pregnancy, Wei Yan seemed afraid of missing a single moment—his eyes constantly fixed on Lu Jiming’s belly.

Looking wasn’t enough. After a few glances, Wei Yan would reach out to touch.

Lu Jiming swatted his hand away. “The child is still tiny—what’s the rush?”

Wei Yan couldn’t quite articulate what he was rushing for. Both the elder and the younger were right before him—neither could possibly run away. He gave a low chuckle, lay down beside Lu Jiming, wrapped an arm around his waist, and murmured softly, “This child will surely resemble you.”

Lu Jiming didn’t deny it. A-Luan indeed bore a striking resemblance to him—almost none to Wei Yan. That was why, after being raised in the capital for over a decade, no one had ever questioned A-Luan’s parentage.

“He’ll likely inherit your temperament—playful and mischievous, putting on a tough front outwardly but impossible to control in private,” Lu Jiming said, his hand overlapping Wei Yan’s, both resting gently on his abdomen.

He was now nearly four months along, yet A-Luan remained small—just as in his previous pregnancy. In the early months, the changes were barely noticeable; growth would accelerate later.

Lu Jiming had reflected on this over the past few days. This pregnancy was almost identical to the first. Last time, too, he’d suffered loss of appetite, occasional nausea, persistent drowsiness and fatigue, and frequent dizziness.

Only last time, he’d gone to great lengths to conceal it—never allowing anyone to take his pulse—so he hadn’t known just how spirited the child was. The pulse had only become detectable this far along.

“How am I supposed to tell whether you’re praising or scolding me?” Wei Yan asked.

Lu Jiming patted the back of Wei Yan’s hand. “Praising you, Your Majesty. It’s good for a child to be lively. What would it be like if they were lifeless and dull?”

“I’d also prefer them well-behaved,” Wei Yan said, lowering his head to kiss Lu Jiming’s neck. “There’s nothing wrong with resembling you either.”

Though they held the titles of father and son, they had begun living together very late—and despite all efforts, never truly grown close. To Wei Yan, A-Luan’s personality still resembled Lu Jiming’s more than his own.

On the surface, they were discussing their unborn child—but in truth, they were reminiscing about a living person.

Wei Yan knew Lu Jiming was describing A-Luan—and found it utterly novel. The A-Luan presented to him was always polite and distant, cool and detached. Sometimes, Wei Yan felt he was simply another Lu Jiming.

Thus, the A-Luan emerging from Lu Jiming’s words gave Wei Yan a completely different impression.

The two fathers chatted for a long time about many things. Then Wei Yan remembered official duties and asked Lu Jiming, “Will you continue attending court sessions afterward?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Unless there’s something in your court you don’t want me to see?” Lu Jiming joked.

He was not one to rest on his laurels; more precisely, Lu Jiming was perpetually ambitious—eager to seize every bit of power and opportunity.

Having been idle in the palace for so many years, finally regaining the chance to serve in office again, Lu Jiming certainly wouldn’t relinquish it easily.

“I still say your health is most important,” Wei Yan said seriously. “So long as you exercise sound judgment and avoid exhaustion, I’ll support whatever you wish to do.”

As he spoke, he thought to himself: *Thankfully, Lu Jiming is a civil official. At most, he’ll stir things up within the confines of the court—whatever he wants is merely a matter of my word.*

Unlike military generals—who, after a few words, would demand deployment to the frontier to fight enemies—even if Lu Jiming wished to go, Wei Yan would absolutely forbid it.

Privately, Wei Yan still intended to reserve the position of Chancellor for Lu Jiming. Yet the current Chancellor Li—who had succeeded Chancellor Chen—was performing adequately, and Lu Jiming’s seniority remained insufficient to command universal respect. So for now, Wei Yan had assigned him to oversee the Hanlin Academy, waiting until his seniority increased before entrusting him with greater authority.

After a long conversation, Lu Jiming grew drowsy and fell asleep right in Wei Yan’s arms. Wei Yan pressed his cheek against Lu Jiming’s, closed his eyes—but did not sleep. A contented smile lingered on his lips.

After completing their daily lessons, Ning Zhifei and Yan Huai came to pay their respects—but were stopped outside the door by the newly promoted Deputy Commander Cui Chi.

“His Highness is asleep. His Majesty instructed no one is to enter,” Cui Chi said.

“Then please convey our greetings to Father Emperor and Father on our behalf,” Ning Zhifei said properly before returning to his side palace.

Yan Huai followed. Only once they were alone did he say, “Wei Yi keeps appearing around us every other day. What does he actually want?”

Ning Zhifei smiled. “Perhaps he truly has no compatible peers in the capital? Back then, Young Master and he were both Study Companions to the Crown Prince—surely it’s natural for him to seek out Young Master for company?”

“I told you—call me by my name. If you call me ‘Young Master’ again, I’ll start calling you ‘Your Highness,’” Yan Huai said unhappily.

He couldn’t quite explain what had been troubling him lately. He was deeply afraid Ning Zhifei would grow to dislike him—and disliked seeing Wei Yi cling so closely to Ning Zhifei’s side. This insecurity made him rather neurotic.

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Within a few days, Lu Jiming had fully recovered and resumed attending court as usual.

He clearly felt his waist had thickened considerably—but Wei Yan insisted he couldn’t see it and volunteered to help fasten his belt. After tightening it, even Wei Yan had to admit the belt was noticeably shorter than before.

The two left Chongyuan Palace together, parting only outside Changchun Hall.

Changchun Hall was the palace used for court sessions in this dynasty—often referred to by court officials as the Golden Luan Hall. Lu Jiming joined the ranks of civil officials and entered the hall alongside his fellow courtiers.

Today was a minor assembly, attended only by key officials. During grand assemblies, the Golden Luan Hall couldn’t accommodate all civil and military officials, so morning court would be held directly in the courtyard outside the hall.

When Lu Jiming first resumed court attendance, his colleagues still felt quite unaccustomed—acting cautiously everywhere, unsure how to interact with the Empress.

But after several sessions, they gradually adapted. All officials simply treated him as an ordinary colleague, addressing him as “Lord Lu,” and reserving “His Highness” solely for use within the inner palace.

Recently, there had been no major affairs in court—so some officials once again turned their attention to Wei Yan’s harem.

Perhaps because the previous memorial had vanished without a trace, this time they stated outright in court that the Central Palace lacked an heir—and requested the selection of consorts.

This petitioner was no pushover. The moment his words ended, Lu Jiming distinctly felt the courtiers around him collectively draw in a sharp breath—and countless gazes fall upon him.

He had nothing to say—and no intention of involving himself in this matter again. Pretending not to hear, he stood motionless within the ranks.

Seeing Lu Jiming remain composed, Wei Yan, on the throne, could no longer hold back. He spoke up: “Who says the Central Palace has no heir?”

At those words, Lu Jiming again felt even more eyes turn toward him—and this time, it was different. Earlier, they had merely glanced; now, who knew how many pairs of eyes were fixated intently on his belly?

Instantly, the assembled ministers knelt, offering congratulations to Wei Yan.

Standing among the crowd, Lu Jiming felt kneeling was inappropriate—what sense did it make to congratulate oneself? Yet if he refused to kneel while everyone else did, standing alone in the hall would be too bizarre.

After a moment of internal struggle, Lu Jiming chose not to kneel. As the others kowtowed, he lifted his eyes to meet the dragon throne. Wei Yan sat there without formal decorum—leaning sideways in his chair, propping his face with one hand, smiling directly at Lu Jiming.

Lu Jiming helplessly returned Wei Yan’s smile.

For some reason, he sensed the two of them were secretly exchanging affection—right before all the civil and military officials. Such a thing, in his previous life, he wouldn’t have dared imagine. But now he faced it calmly—even finding it somewhat amusing.

After the ministers finished their congratulations, Wei Yan wasted no time speaking again. “The Empress is with child. I intend to grant a general amnesty.”

A court official ventured, “Your Majesty, perhaps wait until the prince is born to celebrate together?”

“I can’t wait. Let’s grant the amnesty first,” Wei Yan declared in the most solemn tone—uttering words that were, frankly, nonsensical. “When the Crown Prince is born, we can think of something else to celebrate.”

“The Crown Prince?”… He only said “prince.” Where did “Crown Prince” even come from?! The civil and military officials exchanged glances, yet no one dared speak up.

Lu Jiming felt countless gazes scrutinizing him once again, making his skin crawl. Even the few elders seated in the front row had already turned to steal several furtive glances at him.

Wei Yan, now in high spirits, paid no heed to the stunned silence below. He turned to the official who had earlier proposed selecting consorts and said, “Ah—regarding the matter of selecting consorts…”

Seeing Wei Yan in such high spirits, the official assumed his proposal was about to be approved. A smile spread across his face, and he was just about to assume a posture of gratitude when he heard Wei Yan continue, “I won’t be needing that. A Xuan has just come of age, and I instructed the Imperial Clan Court to prepare for it a few days ago. Since you’re so fond of playing matchmaker, I’ll entrust this task to you.”

Overseeing matrimonial affairs for the imperial house was not only laborious but also unlikely to earn much favor. Cold sweat broke out on the official’s forehead—but since Wei Yan had already spoken, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and accept the assignment.

The other officials studied the floor and kept their mouths firmly shut, inwardly mocking the man for his foolishness. After all these years, he still hadn’t grasped the emperor’s attitude toward the empress. As long as the emperor didn’t impulsively abdicate and hand the throne to the empress, they were willing to tolerate almost anything.

Seeing how docile the court officials were today—hardly raising any objections to his words—Wei Yan decided to press his advantage and eliminate future troubles once and for all. Abruptly, he announced, “Yin Yuxie served as my Study Companion, and he’s not getting any younger. Since A Xuan is about to have his consort selected, I should give more thought to Yin Yuxie’s situation as well.”

Hidden among the crowd, the Earl of Yongning jolted, thinking misfortune had now befallen his own family. He quickly stepped forward to express his gratitude.

He pondered inwardly that his youngest son remained utterly clueless, still indulging in nothing but food, drink, and entertainment all day long. If he learned the emperor had arranged a marriage for him, he might very well turn the palace upside down. But any uproar would likely not affect him directly—let the boy take his grievances to the emperor.

Unaware of the Earl of Yongning’s thoughts about Yin Yuxie causing a scene in the palace, Wei Yan spoke with utmost seriousness: “The Yin and Huan families have always been close. Grand Tutor Huan’s youngest son and Yin Yuxie grew up together, thick as thieves since childhood. I’ll act as their matchmaker.”

Grand Tutor Huan’s lips twitched. *Just great*, he thought—now Huan Zixiao was involved in this mess too.

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Author’s Note: Thank you to all teachers and sisters. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, this novel will launch paid subscriptions starting this Sunday, with chapters from Chapter 24 onward requiring purchase. A full-subscription lottery will be held, and even non-subscribers will receive red envelopes. Details will be posted on Weibo @江咚咚东, and the password will be included in the author’s note of Sunday’s update. The update will be posted at noon on Sunday.