Jade Uncarved, Unpolished

Gu Chengyin stood three paces to the right and slightly behind Luo Zhao, as quiet as a green bamboo growing in the corner of the hall.

Sunlight slanted through the half-closed lattice window, falling precisely across the side of Luo Zhao’s face and illuminating half her features with a soft, gentle radiance.

Her eyelashes cast a small fan-shaped shadow over her eyelids, trembling faintly with each movement of her eyes as she reviewed the official documents.

Like a butterfly resting among flowers, occasionally fluttering its wings.

Her nose was straight and refined, the curve from the bridge between her brows to its tip flowing as smoothly as though it had been drawn in a single stroke with the finest brush.

Her lips were lightly pressed together. Their color was neither deep nor pale, but a faint rosy hue untouched by cosmetics, gleaming with a warm, lustrous sheen in the light.

Luo Zhao’s posture was flawless.

Her back was straight without being stiff, her shoulders relaxed without seeming lax, and her neck long and fair.

It rose from the collar of her black-and-gold court robes in an elegant curve, like a swan resting upon the surface of a lake.

The court robes made her bearing especially striking—not with the aggressive brilliance of someone demanding attention.

Rather, it was a composure and nobility that seemed to emanate from her very bones, the result of countless years of rigorous training in etiquette.

A small section of her slender, fair wrist showed beneath her sleeve. The way she held the brush was graceful and natural.

The vermilion brush in her hand seemed like an extension of her finger, gliding across the paper without the slightest trace of earthly crudity.

Gu Chengyin watched for a while and had to admit that Luo Zhao truly was the foremost beauty.

The title had not been bestowed upon her because of her status, nor forced upon others through her power. She had grown into it in the truest sense.

Lin Qingyan’s beauty was cold and aloof, like the first snow resting on pine branches in the depths of winter, making people afraid to approach or profane her.

Shangguan Yunying’s beauty was gentle and warm, like sunlight basking beneath a corridor on a spring afternoon, bringing peace to anyone who looked upon her.

But Luo Zhao’s beauty was noble. It was the kind of perfection that revealed no flaw no matter where she was placed.

Her brows and eyes, the shape of her nose and lips, the curve of her chin, the line of her neck, the way she sat there, the manner in which she held her brush—

Every detail was perfectly measured, as though Heaven had taken a ruler and carefully gauged her inch by inch while creating her.

Yet that nobility carried with it a sense of distance.

It was not a distance she deliberately put on, but one that seeped from her very blood and bones.

Luo Zhao sat in the seat of honor, her back straight and her eyes lowered, resembling a portrait of a court lady hanging upon a wall.

Beautiful indeed, but separated from others by a layer of invisible gauze.

Visible, yet untouchable. Close enough to see, yet impossible to enter.

But Gu Chengyin knew—and only he knew—that what lay hidden beneath this portrait was entirely different from what appeared on the surface.

His gaze shifted from Luo Zhao’s profile to her neck.

The red marks that had once marred that long, fair stretch of skin had already faded, but a few faint traces remained.

They appeared and disappeared against her skin, like pale ink spreading across xuan paper after being touched by water.

When Luo Zhao reviewed official documents, she made no deliberate effort to raise her collar.

Thus, these few faint traces appeared intermittently along its edge, as though silently informing everyone who could see them—

They were telling the world who the master of this Highness was.

Luo Zhao could clearly have erased the marks completely, but she had not.

She kept them, as though they were a precious seal.

Gu Chengyin could not help feeling something strange stir within him.

How had he never noticed before…?

No.

It would be more accurate to say that he had never truly looked before.

In the past, when Gu Chengyin looked at Luo Zhao, he saw the Crown Princess. He saw a chess piece. He saw a tool that could be used for cultivation.

His eyes had been filled with nothing but interests, calculations, and schemes.

So although Gu Chengyin knew that Luo Zhao was indeed very beautiful, he had never truly allowed that fact into his heart.

It was like clutching a piece of priceless jade in one’s hand while spending every day thinking only about how to use it to strike someone.

He had never thought to raise the jade toward the light and see just how clear and lustrous it truly was.

Now Gu Chengyin had raised that piece of jade.

He held it up to the light and examined it carefully.

Then he realized that he had probably been wasting it all along.

That conclusion, however, remained in Gu Chengyin’s mind for only a few breaths.

No matter how beautiful it was, a piece of jade was still only a piece of jade.

Jade had to be carved before it could become an ornament, just as cocoa beans had to be ground before they could become chocolate.

Besides, appreciating a beautiful face was one thing, but he had come to the Crown Princess’s Palace and stood here—

He had not come to admire Luo Zhao’s peerless beauty.

He had come to observe her: this Highness who was immune to the effects of the Dao Heart.

To observe what kind of person she truly was, to observe her genuine state while working,

and to observe the things hidden deep within her bones—things she might not even be aware of herself.

Gu Chengyin pulled his thoughts away from the conclusion that she was truly beautiful.

His gaze once again became sharp and focused, like an invisible blade.

Layer by layer, it dissected the details of Luo Zhao that he had habitually overlooked.

From the moment he had taken his place behind her until now, roughly the time it took to drink a cup of tea had passed.

Luo Zhao had reviewed four official documents.

Four documents from four different sources, handled in four different ways, revealing four different Luo Zhaos.

Although Luo Zhao currently oversaw the Ministry of Personnel, as the Crown Princess, she was involved in every aspect of governance.

Therefore, Emperor Luo had issued an oral decree instructing the Grand Secretariat to forward some memorials and official documents to Luo Zhao for processing.

The first document came from the Ministry of War. It was a memorial requesting an increase in military provisions.

Luo Zhao read it from beginning to end twice.

The first time, she used her eyes. The second time, she traced each line between the words with the tip of her vermilion brush.

After each line, she paused for a moment, as though calculating an equation known only to her.

When she finished, her brows did not furrow even once. She turned directly to the end of the memorial and wrote two words:

Rejected.

Decisive and crisp, cold as frost.

There was no explanation, no consolation, not even a softening phrase such as “the matter may be discussed again.”

Two words, like two swift blades, severing all hope and wishful thinking from those old schemers in the Ministry of War.

This was the Crown Princess of the court—cold, proud, and solitary.

She handled public business on its own merits, showed no favoritism, and valued efficiency above all else.

The second document came from the Imperial Academy. It was a memorial from a Grand Academician requesting permission to resign and return home to live out his old age.

The Grand Academician was a deeply senior minister who had once taught Luo Zhao how to read.

Now that he was over seventy, he had indeed reached the age at which he ought to retire.

After reading the memorial, Luo Zhao held her brush suspended above the paper for a full five breaths.

Then she lowered it.

She neither approved nor rejected the request. Instead, she wrote two lines:

My esteemed minister has labored for the nation for decades. Now that you request leave to return home and rest, I cannot help but feel deeply reluctant to see you go.

I have instructed the Imperial Household Department to prepare one thousand taels of silver and twenty bolts of fine silk. Once you have returned home, I hope you will enjoy your remaining years in peace and think no more of affairs of state.

Her tone was warm, her wording sincere, and every line carried the consideration and thoughtfulness of a junior showing concern for an elder.

Luo Zhao had not even asked the Grand Secretariat to draft an edict. Instead, she had issued the retirement allowance through the Imperial Household Department.

This was Luo Zhao, who knew how to understand and repay the old ministers who had served her.

She seemed entirely different from the Crown Princess who had coldly rejected the Ministry of War’s request moments earlier.