Clack, clack, clack — the sound of footsteps echoed.
Mashan heard the sound from within the room, rose from his chair, and went out to greet the visitor before they even arrived.
Coming through the stone corridor was an official carrying a stack of documents. Mashan bowed with a "Thank you for your trouble" and accepted the load. The official bowed politely in return, yet couldn't help glancing toward the office where the documents were truly meant to go.
The master of that office, situated in the innermost reaches of the palace, was famously known for rarely showing face. And even if that person did appear in public, that face could never be seen.
Whenever appearing in public, a mask was always worn, and no one ever laid eyes on the true countenance beneath. It was said that in childhood, burns had scarred the skin, and the ugliness of those features had driven this noble person to withdraw from public life. In the old days, they would simply let their bangs hang down to hide their face, but in recent years, they had stopped showing it entirely.
As for such a person, keeping strange rumors from spreading in the palace — well, that might prove harder still.
That the Dowager Empress doted on the pitiful youngest like a pet, or that the Emperor had cast them aside.
That was the current Crown Prince.
It was said that the ugly appearance was caused by the vengeful spirits of the women who had withered away in the previous Emperor's garden of flowers. The previous Emperor's reign had been a long one. During that time, the number of flowers that had fallen within the harem was said to number in the thousands.
So the ugly visage was a curse, then.
To Mashan, it was a story that could only provoke a scoff.
Mashan entered the office still holding the documents. In the soft, fragrant air, there sat a figure at the desk.
A figure with long hair gathered into a single bundle at the back, guiding a brush across paper.
For an instant, Mashan mistook the figure for the master, but on closer look, it was someone else entirely.
Not the features — the aura was strikingly similar.
Androgynous features, sharp and clean contours. Every movement was economical and refined, and the way the brush glided was remarkably like the master's.
But the person sitting there was undoubtedly someone else.
They were even a different gender.
"Finally here to work?"
A crisp voice rang out. High for a man, low for a woman. The height was the same — tall for a woman, not particularly so for a man.
This person, who could be called neither man nor woman, had served as a Senior Consort in the Inner Palace until last year.
Ada After leaving the Inner Palace, she was supposed to have taken up residence in the Emperor's detached palace.
But, however.
Ada twisted her lips as she looked at the documents she'd been given. Not so much a smile as a sneer. She pulled that kind of face.
After departing the Inner Palace, she had been working here as a body double for Masen's master. "Working" was generous — she was really just cleaning up the paperwork she received in their stead.
"There's nothing to be done about this, is there?"
Ada twirled the brush between her fingertips.
She understood what they were getting at. These documents only needed to pass a surface-level review. In name, as long as each one was individually approved, the budget would be released.
Ada split the documents into two piles. Pass or fail — those were the only two categories.
She could split them all she wanted, but in the end she approved both piles. That was the role of a useless figurehead. Do that for a few years, and piles of failed documents accumulated just like this.
Later, she could just have someone else nudge things along from a different angle.
Originally, that job had been Masen's.
Sorting through that much paperwork in an office with almost no visitors — there was no excitement in it whatsoever, but it was the role she'd been given, so there was no helping it.
Recently, because Ada had been handling things in their place, Masen had begun venturing outside to take on different work.
Those jobs, too, were far from ordinary. They diverged greatly from the military official's work he had originally wanted.
Even so, he bore it with patience, telling himself it couldn't be helped.
Very few people knew the Crown Prince's true identity.
It was precisely when he thought about that that his sense of purpose emerged.
He had prided himself on being someone trustworthy enough for that responsibility.
And yet.
What was Father thinking?
He recalled his father, the man who currently went by the name "Gaoshun."
It wasn't just Gaoshun — he had grievances about the master as well.
Why would he try to bring in a girl like that?
He found it baffling beyond endurance, and when he had impulsively confronted his father about it, the man had made a thoroughly ambiguous face. Frustrated by that, he had turned to demand an explanation from the girl herself, only to be punched.
Afterward, when he received an explanation from his father, he was told that keeping the girl close at hand was more convenient for various things. He had heard before that she was knowledgeable about pharmacology, but even so, he had seen no need to bring her along personally.
However.
He was told that the girl was from the house of Luo.
When he heard that, Ma Shan instinctively flinched.
In this country, beyond one's surname and given name, a single character representing one's house was sometimes bestowed. This was mainly granted to families that had served the Emperor for generations, and direct-line males often received that character as part of their name.
In Ma Shan's case, it was "Ma"—a name bestowed several generations prior by the Emperor, used in the names of Ma Shan, his elder brother, and Gaoshun's original name.
The house in question, Luo, was an ancient lineage. They primarily produced military officials, but beyond that, they had demonstrated talent in many fields. In the history of this country, Li, they had produced numerous geniuses.
Their areas of expertise varied widely, shifting greatly depending on individual interest.
What this meant was that the geniuses of the house of Luo tended to be eccentrics.
The current head of the house was Luo Han, a bizarre figure mockingly called "the Strategist." His behavior was unpredictable—he always seemed to be wandering about the court looking for something entertaining—but his talent was beyond question. When it came to judging people's abilities, his eye was sharper than anyone's. Every person he recruited went on to become a respected figure in their field.
This eccentric had no interest in aligning himself with any faction.
Interesting or not, likable or not—that was all there was to it.
You didn't want to get close to this man, but you absolutely did not want to make an enemy of him either. That was the tacit understanding within the court.
As for the man's relatives, he was supposed to have only one nephew whom he had taken in as an adopted son, and he was not supposed to be married. That was what Ma Shan had heard.
But in reality, he had a daughter—and he reportedly doted on her.
When he heard that this girl was that daughter, Ma Shan's jaw dropped.
At the same time, he understood.
The Luo clan produced many geniuses. On the other hand, many of them seemed to be lacking something as human beings.
Even this very Luo Han, for reasons no one could fathom, had one day suddenly expelled his own father—who had been the head of the house at the time—and his younger brother from the family. The two who were expelled were considered relatively normal among the Luo clan, meaning they were incompetent. The nephew, for his part, had decided it was more advantageous to side with Luo Han, and had been adopted into the household.
Perhaps Heaven, in exchange for granting extraordinary talent, also bestows fatal flaws.
If such a man doted on his daughter, it was enough to make you scratch your head, but at the same time, you could understand. Affection, after all, can become biased.
Currently, several factions had formed in the court. The most powerful among them was the clan of Zichang, who had enjoyed imperial favor since the era of the Empress Regnant.
Honestly, they must have been a thorn in the Emperor's side. They were the festering abscess left over from the previous Emperor's reign, still present as ever.
What to do about those who had grown fat and complacent during the previous era — that thought kept circling in his mind.
What would happen if he brought that neutral man in the court over to his faction?
In terms of sheer political power, the gain wouldn't be that great. But the impression it would make was an entirely different matter.
In a way, it made perfect sense. Yet he had a feeling the headaches it would bring would far outweigh the benefits.
Ma Shan recalled his lord after the falconry outing.
His lord, face scorched red by the fierce sunlight, had left the banquet mid-way through. When Ma Shan thought he'd returned feeling better, he looked even worse than when he'd left — as though a phantom had drained every last drop of his life force.
Trailing unsteadily behind him was a girl clutching mushrooms to her chest with surprising tenderness. Though her expression remained uneasy, she would occasionally glance down at the fungi in her hands and her features would soften.
Whatever had happened between them, Ma Shan was not in any position to ask.
All he could tell was that, judging by where his lord's gaze kept falling, the cause of his exhaustion lay squarely with that girl — and the question arose whether it was really wise to leave her at his lord's side.
He couldn't let things continue like this.
Mulling over that thought, Ma Shan began tidying the documents that Ada had sorted.