Chapter Seventy-Seven: Audience with Emperor Song

Standing outside the door, Li Pingyang exhaled, easing his nerves, kept a smile on his face, and stepped into the room.

The moment he entered, he was startled by a figure in red robes, clutching his chest and leaping backward, feeling as if his heart might leap out. Pointing at the red-robed man, Li Pingyang blurted, “Why aren’t you breathing? You scared me out of nowhere!”

Glancing around, he saw two neat rows of red-robed guards at the entrance, each wearing a half-white, sinister mask, silent and unmoving. They had sealed their energy points with true qi, putting their bodies into a ‘standby state’—a sort of dormant mode—so neither breath nor heartbeat could be detected. This was a technique masters used to hide themselves.

Seeing they ignored him completely, Li Pingyang decided to test them to see just how long they could endure. He first reached out and pinched the nose of the red-robed man before him; the man merely blinked, utterly unaffected, his gaze fixed forward like a statue, expressionless.

Li Pingyang thought, “Just wait!” Then, with a mischievous smile, he extended his middle and index fingers and tried to tickle the man. His own fingers grew tired and he laughed, but the guard remained stone-faced, not even cracking a smile. Shaking his head at the dullness, Li Pingyang walked away.

He’d barely gone a couple of steps when he spun around, quickly made a funny face at the guard. Even the young eunuch nearby couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. Li Pingyang thought, “Surely this time you’ll react?” But the red-robed man was as emotionless as a machine, showing not the slightest expression. Disappointed, Li Pingyang sighed, losing interest and deciding not to play anymore.

After all, youth is youth.

While Li Pingyang was having his fun, the Emperor of Song watched from a hidden corner, observing him closely. Seeing Li Pingyang smile reminded him so much of that woman. “My little ancestor, please, don’t make trouble anymore.”

Unable to bear it, Grand Eunuch Hong hurried forward, tugged at Li Pingyang’s sleeve, his face showing intense anxiety. Hong worried that Li Pingyang’s boldness, if seen by the Emperor, would lead to trouble. Li Pingyang smiled at him, then bent down to apologize to the red-robed guard.

Seeing Li Pingyang continue deeper into the room, the Emperor, who had been peeking, hastily withdrew, hiding himself, appearing even more nervous than the youth.

Entering the inner chamber, Li Pingyang was astonished by the towering bookshelves that filled the room like mountains. He hadn’t expected so many books—it could easily be called a library.

Books were neatly arranged: scrolls, bound volumes, foldable editions, and those laid open for display. There were eight bookshelves in total, forming a giant circle around the room.

Beside each shelf stood a bronze candelabrum, each holding nine candles, symbolizing imperial majesty. The candelabra were carved with coiled dragons, lifelike in their artistry.

Hidden behind one bookshelf, peering through the gaps between books, the Emperor continued to watch Li Pingyang, cautious and attentive.

Li Pingyang stopped before the shelf opposite the Emperor, his back to him, picked up a book and flipped through it. Not a speck of dust could be found, clearly cleaned daily.

But where was the Emperor? He had come at the Emperor’s request, yet the host was nowhere to be seen. Was he now the one waiting?

Having flipped through a book without any sign of the Emperor, Li Pingyang frowned, feeling impatient. Still, he thought, he’s the Emperor—what else can I do but wait?

Finding a spot, Li Pingyang gathered a pile of books, sat cross-legged on the floor, and began reading to pass the time. While browsing, he suddenly noticed a parrot in a cage.

He recalled Grand Eunuch Hong once warning him not to touch the Emperor’s paintings or parrots. Was this the parrot he meant?

Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, Li Pingyang stood and boldly approached the cage to observe the parrot up close.

The parrot looked regal, clearly male. Its body was bright green, wings blue, and atop its head was a golden crest, standing upright like a crown, exuding nobility and authority.

When Li Pingyang stared at it, the parrot turned sideways, tilting its head to meet his gaze. After a moment, it opened its beak and spoke: “Hungry!”

Li Pingyang didn’t catch it at first, but when the parrot repeated “hungry,” he understood. He quickly searched himself and pulled out a piece of bean cake wrapped in cloth.

He broke off a small bit and offered it. To his surprise, the parrot didn’t take it with its beak but raised its left foot, holding it like a hand, and bent its head to eat.

“Is it fun?” A voice sounded suddenly behind him. Li Pingyang spun around, startled, and saw a man dressed in loose white nightclothes, draped with a thin red robe, looking lazy and casual.

He gave off a particularly relaxed, unkempt air, his hair messy, as if he hadn’t bothered to tidy himself for the meeting.

Tightening his robe’s collar, the Emperor stood before Li Pingyang, meeting his gaze up close. Had Li Pingyang not seen him before, he would never have taken this disheveled man for the Emperor.

Certainly not for the ruler of a nation.

“Kneel, quickly!” Grand Eunuch Hong, head lowered and teeth clenched, whispered urgently. Li Pingyang not only refused to kneel, he asked, “Why?” nearly driving Hong to fury.

Li Pingyang explained, “It was His Majesty who asked to see me, so I came. I’m not here uninvited; I’m a guest.”

“It wouldn’t be right for a guest to show the courtesy of a servant. And this isn’t the court. I may kneel, or not—what do you say, Your Majesty?”

“Ah? If you don’t want to kneel, then don’t kneel,” the Emperor replied, caught off guard, then answered casually. His eyes lingered on Li Pingyang, full of indulgence, and Grand Eunuch Hong was truly surprised by his response.

He’d been lost in thought, recalling memories from the past, distracted. Looking at Li Pingyang’s strong frame, handsome face, and remarkable courage.

Returning to his chair, the Emperor picked up a memorial from the table, skimmed it, then frowned and tossed it aside.

“This time you have rendered meritorious service for the nation. I have a reward for you! Speak, what do you desire?” The Emperor lifted his head as he spoke, his gaze sharp, fixed upon Li Pingyang.

Li Pingyang uttered an “ah,” for he had acted out of impulse, thinking that no matter how mighty Song was, it was not for a small neighboring kingdom to behave so arrogantly.

He had acted only to defend his dignity, never considering what reward he might want.

He cared little for rank, titles, or riches, and felt undeserving—he hadn’t accomplished anything truly great, only acted out of personal feeling against the Tibetans.

He meant to seize this opportunity, and had already made up his mind. But if he voiced his request, the Emperor would surely be furious and likely refuse.

“Your Majesty, I have one request!” Li Pingyang said, bowing slightly, hands before him, offering a respectful salute. When he stated his wish, the Emperor remained calm, as if he had already anticipated it.