Ding Wei pondered for a moment and replied, "Forget it. I'm afraid of losing my head. I'd better go assist the Empress; I hope for her health and well-being."
Eunuch Li looked at Ding Wei with a smirk that wasn't quite a smile. "I thought you were afraid of losing your head if you messed up the massage. If you go to Consort Tuo, there’s no risk."
*I'm not going to Consort Tuo. The Empress wants me there now—do I dare refuse? If I say no, that’s when I’ll really lose my head. Going is my only chance for survival, my only chance to rise to the top. You old eunuch, what kind of game are you playing? You’re so wicked—do you still want me to offer you any more bribes? You’re a disgrace as the Superintendent of the Directorate of Imperial Banquets; you can't even protect yourself or your own apprentice. If it were me, I would have had them completely whipped into shape long ago. You’re truly spineless as the Superintendent. If you can’t handle it, step down and let me take over.*
Ding Wei didn't know what the old man was scheming, but he answered based on his own intentions: "One must face what must be faced. Without a powerful backer, I might be targeted and punished for no reason in the future."
Seeing that Ding Wei finally understood, Eunuch Li smiled. "Now that’s the spirit."
...
Before dark, Ding Wei washed up and waited. Although he lacked the perfumes that would intoxicate women in later ages, the masculine scent of his pheromones was just as capable of captivating anyone. When Qiu Yao arrived, she couldn't help but steal a few extra glances at him. Deep down, she sighed at the waste—what a shame that such a handsome man had to be a eunuch. If he weren't, she might have even found herself infatuated with such a dashing man. As these thoughts crossed her mind, she felt her face grow warm.
...
Weiyang Palace covered a vast expanse. Every five or ten steps, one would encounter a pavilion. The corridors twisted and turned, with palaces and pavilions cradling one another. They were nested like Russian dolls, one after another, making it impossible to tell the cardinal directions.
When they reached the bedchamber, the hall was supported by beams of sandalwood and illuminated by crystals and jade wall lamps. Pearls formed the curtains, and the pedestal bases were cast in gold. All around were decorations of bell-shaped flowers with pristine white calyxes, glowing with a translucent, porcelain-like luster. The tips of the petals were rimmed with varying shades of pale purple, as if dyed or naturally formed. A six-foot-wide eaglewood bed was draped with shark-silk curtains, embroidered all over with silver-threaded crabapple blossoms. When the breeze stirred the silk, it felt like drifting through a sea of clouds and illusions. On the couch lay a green jade pillow for scent, spread with soft silk and ice-cold mats, piled with jade-belted quilts.
Beyond the window, the back garden was filled with rare and vibrant flowers. A crescent moon hung high in the sky, casting a hazy light over Weiyang Palace, making it seem both quiet and dreamlike. Sandalwood incense burned on the dais, curling with mist.
In the side room, a massive, ship-shaped bathtub overflowed with steam, the Empress submerged within. The hot water flushed her skin, making her complexion appear even more radiant and rosy. Seeing Qiu Yao bring Ding Wei in, the Empress offered him a shy, faint smile.
Ding Wei paid his respects and removed his outer robe, leaving him in only a white inner garment that highlighted his broad-shouldered, upright physique. Qiu Yao withdrew to stand guard outside. The Empress stole glances at him from time to time; when she saw him place his robe under a towel and stand there in his white inner garment, she blushed, slowly closing her eyes as her heart hammered against her chest. At the same time, she heaved a deep sigh—who knew the loneliness of her life as a "living widow"? *Damnable palace rules. If only he weren't castrated, if only he were a real man.*
Ding Wei scooped up some hot water and let it trickle slowly over the Empress’s beautiful shoulders. The warmth of the water seemed to seep into her heart, causing her delicate body to shiver. She closed her eyes, soaking in the sensation.
The Empress was feeling unwell and sat in the bathtub, eyes closed to clear her mind. Having been bullied earlier that day, she likely knew that Qiu Yao had intervened to help him. Perhaps because of this, he no longer trembled in fear; instead, he focused intently on his massage, wishing only for her swift recovery. He began by kneading her fragrant shoulders with gentle, soft strokes, gradually increasing the pressure. The Empress was pleased and satisfied with his techniques.
Ding Wei poured all his strength, skill, and focus into his palms and fingers. He pressed firmly around the acupoints on her beautiful back, his ten fingers dancing like a pipa player—grasping, kneading, scraping, tracing, tapping, rubbing, drilling, and lightly brushing. A faint smile hung on the Empress’s lips; she was intoxicated and relaxed.
By the time the Empress was covered in a light sheen of sweat, Ding Wei was drenched as well. The steam rising from the water and the heat of his labor left him feeling sticky. With the work on her back complete, Ding Wei considerately took a dry towel to wipe away the sweat. After a brief rest, he scooped up more warm water, gently rinsing her off.
By the time he finished, his inner garment was soaked, clinging to his chest and highlighting his firm, muscular build. It was a sight to behold.
When Ding Wei turned to face the Empress and reached out to gently lift her hand for finger-pressure massage, the Empress looked at his drenched garment and cautioned him with a pained tone, "Take it off! Wet clothes will give you a chill."
Ding Wei nodded and removed his upper garment, placing it on the rim of the bathtub. When he stood before her, completely bare-chested, his sturdy, healthy physique—dripping with masculine pride and alluring strength—truly left her breathless. If his body beneath the garment was a hazy beauty, then his revealed, upright form was a display of proud, masculine majesty. He was so stunning, so youthful, so full of vitality.
In a moment of delirium, she imagined him as a real man and said softly, "Come here. Wipe your sweat."
He did not hesitate or refuse. She placed her left hand gently upon his thick, muscular chest, while her right hand held the dry towel, focused, meticulous, earnest, and tender as she helped him wipe the sweat from his body. She felt like an elder sister, yet also like a lover. She poured all her resentment, longing, yearning, and a trace of complex, strange emotion into the towel as it glided across his skin.
Ding Wei felt warmth, a heat radiating within.
When she finished, he gently took her hand. Her hand was so beautiful that no words could describe it. If one had to use the most poetic language, it was as if her fingers were tapered bamboo shoots and her wrists like white lotus roots—slender jade fingers, seemingly untouched by the dust of the world.
As he took her hand and began to massage her, her body shuddered again, as if struck by lightning. She couldn't explain it herself, how she could feel such a heart-trembling sensation. She searched her heart—in all her twenty-odd years, she had never felt anything that made her blush, heartbeat accelerate, or pulse with such a strange, electrifying sensation.