Brian Clark finally stood on the ground, and a palace maid brought a freshly scented regular robe to help Brian Clark change.

Before the clothes were changed, a eunuch came to report from outside: "Your Majesty, Prince Edward, Secretary of the Treasury, and his son are waiting outside the hall."

"Let them in," Brian Clark said.

The eunuch led the three in. They bowed to Brian Clark, who responded indifferently, "Rise."

The son of Secretary of the Treasury had not yet come of age, and was at the age of fearing nothing. That morning, his father had warned him a dozen times not to look directly at the emperor, but he was determined to do exactly what he was told not to. Now, standing behind Prince Edward and his father, he took advantage of the corner's cover to secretly lift his eyes.

The ruler of the world, just as Brian Clark had said, was the most pampered person, raised by the power of the entire nation.

As the young master glanced up, he saw a palace maid carefully smoothing the emperor's long black hair behind him. The emperor had just recovered from illness today, and to bring some festivity, he wore a red robe, his jade-like face tinged with a faint blush.

The young master’s breath caught, his heart pounding wildly. He hurriedly lowered his head in a panic, not daring to look again.

"This is the eldest son of Mr. Carter's family?"

Brian Clark's tone was gentle. Mr. Carter, flattered, bowed and said, "Your Majesty mentioned last time that there are too few young people in the palace. My son is of mediocre talent and naturally dull, but he is young and lively. If Your Majesty does not mind, I will let him come to the palace more often to keep Your Majesty company and help relieve Your Majesty’s boredom."

Brian Clark wanted to sigh again.

Some time ago, he had just accomplished a great task. Such hints were meant to have these ministers send their children to the palace, both as a means to restrain the officials and to show favor, to knock some sense into the favored and divided literati-bureaucrat group, and also to see if there were any promising talents to cultivate early for loyalty.

But now, he no longer had the heart for this.

"Come here, let me have a good look at you," Brian Clark beckoned to the young master. "Mr. Carter, don’t be so modest. Your reputation for good teaching is well known to me."

The young master held his breath and walked up to the emperor, while Mr. Carter's back was damp with nervous sweat. Ever since the emperor had purged the inner court in one stroke, he had always been extremely nervous in the emperor’s presence. The emperor’s authority in court had only grown, and he worried his legitimate son would lose composure before the throne.

Fortunately, the emperor seemed to be in a good mood today, and the questions were harmonious. The young master answered them one by one, gradually relaxing from his initial stammering.

Brian Clark was about to pick up his cup for a sip of tea when his hand suddenly lost strength and trembled. The teacup fell to the ground with a sharp, piercing crash. Staring at the shattered pieces, Brian Clark felt a surge of anger, his throat tickled, and he began to cough.

The young master was startled and instinctively looked at the emperor. The emperor’s pale, almost translucent fingers pressed to his chest, his long brows slightly furrowed. The previously pale lips were now reddened as if stained with rouge from coughing.

The emperor had a face as radiant as the spring breeze and as serene as the autumn moon, as if he were a priceless piece of celadon, so exquisite that no one dared even approach.

"Your Majesty," the young master mustered his courage and reached out to steady Brian Clark, asking with concern, "Are you all right?"

The broken teacup had already been cleaned up. Brian Clark stopped coughing and smiled, "Good child, I’m fine now."

Prince Edward, who had not spoken since entering the hall, let out a cold laugh and said coolly, "Your Majesty must take good care of your health. When Father Emperor passed the realm to you, you were not nearly so frail."

Brian Clark sighed, "Prince Edward is right."

Brian Clark quickly composed himself. He got up and walked outside the hall, looking up at the sky. "The weather is truly nice today."

"Your Majesty has recovered, and even the sky has cleared," Secretary of the Treasury quickly added. "During the days Your Majesty was ill, the people in the city were all worried, praying at home every day for Your Majesty’s recovery. Your Majesty rules the world with virtue, and the hearts of the people are with you. Even Heaven cherishes Your Majesty."

The emperor smiled. Seeing this, Secretary of the Treasury pressed on, "It should be sunny for the next couple of days. Spring rain is as precious as oil, and after the recent drizzle, the wild grass and flowers outside the city are all in bloom. My son says they have a cuju match tomorrow."

"Oh?" Brian Clark was intrigued. "A cuju match?"

It was well known that the current emperor loved cuju. The young master blushed and bowed, "Tomorrow, the students at the academy have arranged a cuju match. There will be four student teams, and it will last an hour and a half."

Brian Clark said, "That sounds interesting. When and where will your academy’s cuju match be held tomorrow? I’d like to join in the fun."

The young master replied in a trembling voice, "Y-yes."

Samuel Grant, sharp-eyed, noticed the fatigue between the emperor’s brows. He quickly stepped forward to escort Secretary of the Treasury and his son out. Prince Edward, who had stood by like a block of wood the whole time, now looked livid, shot a fierce glare at Brian Clark, and left with a flick of his sleeve.

Brian Clark watched his ugly expression and laughed heartily for a while, stopping only when his chest felt tight. In high spirits, he said, "Samuel Grant, come, let’s take a stroll in the imperial garden."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

*