The Emperor’s Heart (A Splendid Match Fan Fic) Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen: Broken Porcelain
Since the Emperor’s return to the palace, an unusual stillness had settled over the Hall of Heavenly Harmony. Though no official announcement had been made, the constant comings and goings of the Imperial Physicians, the tightened security, and the closed palace doors left little room for doubt. His Majesty had returned wounded.
With each passing day, the silence surrounding the Hall of Heavenly Harmony only deepened. The corridors that usually bustled with eunuchs carrying memorials and ministers awaiting an audience had fallen unnaturally still. Every servant lowered his voice before approaching the great vermilion doors, and even the Imperial Physicians departed with troubled expressions. Though the Emperor’s wound was healing as expected, he refused every recommendation to rest, insisting there was nothing to worry about.
Rumors spread with astonishing speed.
Some claimed the Emperor’s wound had festered.
Others whispered that the poison upon the assassin’s blade had yet to leave his body.
Only those who served within the Hall knew the truth.
The Emperor scarcely slept.
Meals arrived untouched. Wine, however, disappeared with unsettling regularity.
The injury to his shoulder no longer pained him nearly as much as the memories of the men who had never returned from their journey to the Northern Military Command.
They had died believing they were fighting for the Empire.
Yet the enemy they pursued remained little more than a shadow.
The Chunyuan Sect had once again slipped through his fingers.
Questions followed him back to the capital and haunted every waking moment since.
Was the Chunyuan Sect truly fighting for the bloodline of the late Prince Ruichang, believing the throne had been unjustly taken? Or had they become something else entirely? A gathering of men still loyal to Fan Hailian, determined to finish the rebellion their master had begun?
Neither answer satisfied him.
If they sought only revenge, they had waited far too long.
If they desired the throne, why remain hidden in the shadows instead of openly rallying support?
Instead, they waited.
Watching.
Preparing.
As though the throne itself was merely one piece of a far greater design.
That uncertainty disturbed him more than any blade ever could.
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Ji Yu stood outside the Hall for what must have been the fourth time that week.
The familiar bronze knockers gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, untouched.
She had come each day under one excuse or another. Once carrying medicinal herbs sent by Madam Chen. Another time with fresh pastries the palace kitchens insisted had been prepared for His Majesty. Each visit ended the same way.
“The Emperor is not receiving visitors.”
The words had become so familiar that she could almost recite them herself.
She should have stopped trying.
Instead, she returned again.
She just could not bring herself to stop. There was something deeply unsettling about imagining him alone behind those doors.
On the fifth evening she stopped asking.
Instead…
She carried two small boxes of pastries and silver towards the eunuchs and attendants.
Most of the palace attendants recognized her immediately.
Months earlier, when Noble Consort Xinyi had punished servants over the smallest mistakes, Ji Yu had quietly tended burns, hidden bruises and spoken on behalf of trembling maids who could not defend themselves.
Kindness was rarely forgotten inside the Forbidden City.
Neither were favors.
An elderly eunuch glanced toward the closed chamber before lowering his voice.
“…You were never here.”
Ji Yu smiled.
“I understand.”
A pouch disappeared into his sleeve.
The doors opened only wide enough for one person to slip inside.
Then they closed once more.
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The chamber was dim.
Only a few candles remained lit.
The scent of medicine lingered beneath the heavier fragrance of wine.
The Emperor stood beside the window, one shoulder wrapped in fresh bandages beneath a loose robe.
His back remained perfectly straight.
Only the untouched memorials piled across the table betrayed the exhaustion that clung to him.
He turned sharply.
“I ordered that no one—”
The words stopped.
His expression hardened.
“Who allowed you inside?”
Ji Yu lowered her head.
“No one.”
Silence.
“…I merely wished to see whether Your Majesty still frightened the palace.”
His brow tightened.
“You should leave.”
She bowed.
“As Your Majesty commands.”
She turned.
Only two steps reached the door before his voice came again.
“…Stay.”
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Neither of them spoke for several moments.
Outside, rain fell steadily against the tiled roofs of the Hall of Heavenly Harmony, its gentle rhythm the only sound that dared disturb the silence.
Ji Yu’s gaze drifted to the wine flask resting upon the table.
It was nearly empty.
So were the cups scattered across the floor.
The sharp scent of wine lingered in the chamber, mingling with the faint bitterness of medicinal herbs.
She had never seen him like this.
The Emperor she had come to know was always composed. Every word carefully measured. Every expression hidden behind the quiet dignity expected of the Son of Heaven.
Tonight…
That composure had begun to crack.
For reasons she could not explain, her heart ached for him.
She stepped forward until only a few paces separated them.
“How is Your Majesty’s health?”
He did not answer. His gaze remained fixed upon the rain beyond the window.
She continued softly.
“I can see that you are hurting.”
The words hung gently between them.
“I know it is your duty to bear the burdens of the Empire… to protect its people and carry their sorrows as though they were your own.”
A faint smile touched her lips, though sadness lingered in her eyes.
“Please…let me help you.”
The chamber fell silent once more.
When he finally spoke, his voice was so low she almost failed to hear it.
“…I failed them.”
A bitter laugh escaped him, devoid of even the faintest trace of amusement.
He had anticipated that the Chunyuan Sect would be waiting. He had expected deception. He had prepared for an ambush. Every route had been considered. Every contingency accounted for.
Yet none of it had been enough.
His fingers tightened around the porcelain cup until his knuckles turned pale. The cup slipped from his grasp, striking the polished floor with a sharp crack. Fragments scattered across the chamber, but he scarcely seemed to notice.
He saw them again as clearly as if he were still standing upon that mountain pass. Loyal commanders cutting through the enemy ranks without hesitation. Young soldiers answering every command without question. Men who had entrusted their lives to his judgment, believing that if they followed their Emperor, they would return home.
“They trusted me.”
Another cup met the floor.
Porcelain shattered beneath the force of his anger, but it did nothing to silence the thoughts that had tormented him since his return.
“They always know.”
“They are always one step ahead.”
He turned away, one hand bracing itself against the edge of the table as though the burden pressing upon his shoulders had become too heavy to bear alone.
“There is someone.”
His voice dropped until it was scarcely audible.
“Someone within my Empire…someone very close to me…feeding them every move I make.”
The chamber fell silent once more.
Ji Yu did not interrupt him.
She understood, perhaps for the first time, that he had not shut the palace out because of the wound beneath the bandages.
He had shut them out because he could not forgive himself.
Ji Yu remained where she was, studying him in silence.
The man before her scarcely resembled the Emperor she had first met months ago. Gone was the unwavering composure that never seemed to falter, the calm certainty that commanded an entire court with little more than a glance. Tonight, there was only a weary young man standing amidst broken porcelain and empty wine cups, carrying a grief no sovereign should have been forced to bear alone.
Her gaze drifted to the bandage wrapped around his shoulder before returning to his face.
For the first time since entering the palace, she understood that his wound was not the injury that troubled him most.
Without another word, she stepped forward.
Her embroidered slippers moved carefully across the polished floor, avoiding the shattered fragments of porcelain scattered between them. The silence remained unbroken until she stopped only a breath away from him.
He turned to face her. He did not move.
Neither did she.
Almost instinctively, her hands rose to his face.
The gesture surprised them both.
Her palms rested gently against his cheeks, warm against skin still cool from the evening air drifting through the open lattice windows.
For a fleeting moment, Li Lin Zhang simply stared at her.
No one had touched him with such uncomplicated tenderness in years. It’s not like he lets anyone get this close.
“I am here,” Ji Yu said quietly.
Her voice was gentle, yet it carried the same quiet confidence she always carries just like the last time they had a spirited exchange at the Secret Residence. The palace had taught her caution, but it had never stolen her courage.
She could still smell the wine upon his breath, though it did little to conceal the exhaustion beneath it.
“I know it is your responsibility to protect the Empire, I can help. We can bring down the Chunyuan Sect…”
A familiar determination flickered within her eyes.
“…we will figure them out together.”
Her words settled over the chamber like the gentle rain beyond the lattice windows.
She had spoken to him not and an Emperor but as Li Lin Zhang.
Not the Son of Heaven.
Not the ruler upon whom the weight of an Empire rested.
Simply a man who had been carrying far more than anyone ever should.
He found himself searching her face, looking for even the slightest trace of obligation or calculation.
There was none.
Only quiet conviction.
Only sincerity.
Slowly, the tightness in his chest eased.
His gaze lingered upon her face. He found himself admiring her quiet confidence, the unwavering courage that had first drawn his attention, and the effortless beauty she seemed entirely unaware she possessed. He had always known Ji Yu was beautiful, but tonight, she stole the very composure he had prided himself on for years.
“You have beautiful eyes.”
Ji Yu blinked, caught completely off guard.
The faintest smile touched his lips.
“They’re honest.”
Almost absent-mindedly, his hand rose to her cheek, his fingertips brushing softly against her skin.
“So different from this palace.”
Ji Yu forgot to breathe.
Neither of them moved.
The silence between them became impossibly small.
When he leaned closer, he did so slowly, giving her every opportunity to step away.
She didn’t.
Their lips met in a hesitant kiss, gentle at first, born not of triumph or desire alone, but of exhaustion, grief, gratitude, and the quiet comfort of finally no longer being alone. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, each stolen breath carrying words they had never dared speak aloud.
His hand slipped gently to the small of her back, drawing her closer, not possessively, but as though he had finally found something worth holding onto.
She answered the kiss with equal tenderness, her fingers instinctively finding the sleeve of his robe as though afraid the moment might slip away.
When they finally parted, his gaze fell to the shattered porcelain scattered across the floor. Only then did he realise how dangerously close she stood to the broken fragments. Without a word, he slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the edge of the table, away from the shards beneath her feet.
The moment the haze of emotion lifted, so did the weight of what he had done.
He drew back, uncertainty flickering across his face.
“Forgive me… I did not mean to overstep.”
Ji Yu looked into his eyes, her fingers tightening gently around his robe.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
Whatever restraint remained quietly dissolved. He kissed her again, deeper this time, before gathering her into his arms and carrying her gently towards his bed.
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Dawn crept quietly into the Hall of Heavenly Harmony, the first rays of sunlight slipping through the lattice windows and chasing away the night’s shadows.
Li Lin Zhang stirred.
The moment he turned, his gaze fell upon the woman sleeping peacefully beside him.
Ji Yu.
Her dark hair lay scattered across the silk pillow, a few loose strands resting against her cheek. She slept soundly, her breathing slow and even, untouched by the burdens waiting beyond those walls.
He watched her in silence.
A faint smile found its way to his lips.
Carefully, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
She murmured softly in her sleep but did not wake.
His eyes lingered on her a moment longer.
“Your Majesty,” the chief eunuch called softly from beyond. “It is dawn.”
Li Lin Zhang closed his eyes.
There were reports to review.
Decisions to make.
An Empire to govern.
The warmth that had filled the chamber only moments before quietly slipped away.
When he opened his eyes again, the man who had watched Ji Yu sleep with such tenderness was gone.
In his place stood the Emperor.
