The scolded officials emerged in a daze, staring at their equally pale-faced colleagues who had suffered the same fate. Though somewhat comforted by their shared misery, they remained utterly bewildered.

Just what was the background of this Junior Preceptor? Wasn’t she merely the daughter of Minister Yu?

How could a few idle remarks about her warrant such a reprimand? They had done this countless times before—even members of the imperial family hadn’t been spared their private gossip.

Could the Junior Preceptor’s status surpass even that of royalty?

Was she perhaps the Emperor’s illegitimate daughter?

If so, then Minister Yu Qinchun’s head must be…

It was impossible not to let their thoughts wander, especially since the rebuke didn’t end with the Vice Minister. The Minister himself had stepped in, berating them for their "audacity!"

How were a few casual comments considered audacious?

Watching the two high-ranking officials seethe with barely concealed tension, it felt like their offense was worse than insulting the ministers to their faces!

The same scolding wasn’t limited to the Six Ministries—even the Hanlin Academy, known as the "cradle of future chancellors," was no exception.

It was no wonder the higher-ups were furious. Every single one of them could hear Yue Fuguang’s inner thoughts.

They knew her "true" identity. Did these fools really think the divine artifact she wielded was lenient?

If they provoked her, their superiors might face collateral consequences—and where would they go to plead their case then?

To make matters worse, Emperor Mingxi had summoned them, subjecting the entire group to a cold-faced reprimand that lasted the time it took to drink two cups of tea. Though his words were veiled, every educated official present understood the cutting implications.

The ministers suspected the Emperor had only stopped because he’d exhausted his repertoire of refined insults.

But this wasn’t even the main issue. While imperial reprimands were rare, they weren’t unheard of—happening once or twice a year, something they’d grown accustomed to.

What truly sent chills down their spines was the Emperor’s revelation: three officials had reported that the inner thoughts they’d heard yesterday had suddenly vanished today.

This all traced back to the morning court assembly.

The three officials had attended as usual, chatting with colleagues when suddenly, a portion of them fell silent.

At first, the trio didn’t understand why—after all, the Emperor hadn’t arrived yet, and the only notable presence was the Junior Preceptor, casually eating and drinking in the hall.

Wait—since when had the Junior Preceptor arrived? They hadn’t even noticed.

Just as they dismissed their confusion, they observed their silent colleagues’ expressions shifting dramatically, a kaleidoscope of emotions playing across their faces.

A closer look revealed that over ninety percent of them were those who could hear the inner thoughts.

Then it struck them—today, the Junior Preceptor was unusually quiet. She’d been there for a while, yet not a single thought had been heard.

So why were their colleagues’ expressions changing so vividly?

And what did that mean for them?

A horrifying possibility crept into their minds—they might have lost the ability to hear Yue Fuguang’s thoughts!

The realization nearly made their legs give out.

Drenched in cold sweat, an overwhelming panic seized them. How could this happen? Without warning, the ability they’d once had was simply… gone.

This was far worse than never having heard her thoughts at all.

Ignorance was bliss—those who’d never stepped through that door didn’t know what they were missing.

But they had. They’d seen the wonders beyond. To be cast out now—how could they accept it?

To confirm their fears, they cautiously probed colleagues who could still hear the thoughts, only to be swiftly shut down with looks that screamed, "Don’t distract me from listening!"

The message was clear.

Pale-faced, the three wandered through the crowd until they found two others in the same predicament.

They exchanged glances, none daring to speak first.

Finally, Minister Wei broke the silence. "We… must report this to His Majesty."

He sighed. "There’s no hiding it. We need to find the cause—maybe we can regain the ability. Otherwise, just the three of us…"

He left the rest unsaid, but they all understood: without answers, they might never hear her thoughts again.

Worse, if the Emperor discovered this on his own, it could be treated as deception against the throne.

They knew the court’s future policies and decisions would hinge on the Junior Preceptor’s inner revelations.

Losing access meant lagging behind—or worse, being pushed out of the decision-making circle entirely.

How could they bear it?

Thus, just as Emperor Mingxi prepared to summon the officials and order them to curb all gossip about the Junior Preceptor, the "confession trio" came forward.

Their account sent a chill down the Emperor’s spine. His first thought? Thank heaven it was the officials who’d lost the ability—if it had been him, the consequences would be unthinkable.

After much deliberation, the three hesitantly admitted they’d all expressed varying degrees of disapproval the previous day—criticizing the Junior Preceptor for extravagantly demanding fresh delicacies.

The conclusion? Disrespect toward her might sever the connection to her thoughts.

Though the sample size was small, the pattern was alarming enough to instill vigilance.

From then on, they reminded themselves to treat the Junior Preceptor with reverence—absolute respect was non-negotiable.

Unbeknownst to them, Yue Fuguang had activated a minor function of her system—the "gossip module’s" favorability tracker.

Those whose favorability dropped below a threshold or declined too sharply were automatically blocked.

If they could hear her thoughts, they’d better behave!

Naturally, they’d assume this was divine punishment—disrespect toward an immortal would cost them their "gift."

For special cases, like those involved in certain schemes, she selectively allowed access. Long-term privileges depended entirely on favorability rankings.

The three officials at court that day were the sacrificial chickens, slaughtered to warn the monkeys.

Those ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‍who defied the gods would have their "powers" revoked by heaven itself.

To sell the illusion, Yue Fuguang even considered spending system points to have a white-bearded elder deliver a prophetic dream to Emperor Mingxi.

But that was a tangent.

Returning to the main point—why was Lord Wang also busy?

Because Lu Qi, leading over a hundred workers from the Ministry of Works, had spent a day and a half constructing the sunlit greenhouse.

The structure’s lower half was brick and stone, its main frame wooden. Three walls featured eight large windows fitted with glass panes, while the roof boasted a grand skylight.

Though not quite the legendary crystal dragon palace of folklore, it was awe-inspiring enough to leave them stunned.

Especially under the sunlight, the glass sparkled brilliantly, reflecting the hues of the blue sky and white clouds. The sight left everyone who saw it utterly mesmerized and awestruck.

Since Yue Fuguang didn’t want to waste too many points on glass, there wasn’t much of it. Yet even this small amount was enough to astonish the people of ancient times for days. Because of her frugality, the greenhouse she built ended up looking rather peculiar.

Watching these people rendered speechless by such an odd structure, Yue Fuguang was so embarrassed she could’ve dug out an identical one with her toes!

Almost as soon as the building was completed, Lord Wang received word and arrived with his team from Hongnong Temple to help prepare the land. Accompanying him was Crown Prince Xie Zhiyan.

This group fared no better than the Ministry of Works officials—in fact, they were even more overwhelmed, despite the fact that the latter had at least built the structure piece by piece.

Led by Xie Zhiyan and Lord Wang, they stood dumbfounded before the strange greenhouse, unable to tear their eyes away. It was… simply too unique, too beautiful, too extravagant!

Once again, Yue Fuguang found herself at a loss for words as Wang Shouchen, the former second-ranked scholar in the imperial examinations, showered her with increasingly exaggerated and effusive praise.

Clearing her throat, she forcefully changed the subject. "Lord Wang, shall we go inside and discuss how to arrange the land?"

"Yes, yes! Let’s take a look. Hurry inside—the view from within must be just as stunning."

With that, he gestured for Yue Fuguang and the Crown Prince to enter first.

Yue Fuguang chuckled inwardly. Even in his excitement, the old man hadn’t forgotten the propriety between ruler and subject.

Once everyone stepped inside, the sunlight outside was at its peak. Warm golden rays streamed through the glass, filling the room with a bright and cozy glow.

Since the windows were set low, the entire floor was bathed in sunlight.