The lighting inside the hall was dim, heavy velvet curtains hung low, and the charcoal fires burned intensely, making the air stifling and somewhat difficult to breathe.
Li Miaorong half-reclined on a phoenix couch draped with thick brocade mattresses. Her complexion was pale, with a cloth compress resting upon her forehead, projecting an image of frail breathlessness. Several trusted wet nurses and palace maids stood in attendance beside the couch, their expressions tense.
Shen Chaoqing strolled in leisurely. “Your son pays his respects to Mother. Hearing that Mother’s imperial constitution was unwell, your son has been worried sick and has come specifically to attend to you.”
Li Miaorong’s eyelids trembled as she slowly opened them. Her gaze was murky, yet upon catching sight of that silent figure standing behind Shen Chaoqing, she was suddenly startled.
Her well-maintained hand abruptly gripped the brocade quilt beneath her, her knuckles turning white. Wuhuo had botched his assignment and been beaten to death, yet this Liao slave dared to stand openly inside her bedchamber.
“Emperor, it has been quite a while since you last came to see this Mourning Lady,” the Empress said in a cold, rigid tone. “This Mourning Lady waited and waited before finally waiting for you, yet you even brought along a tail upon arriving today.”
Shen Chaoqing acted as though he failed to notice the Empress’s look, which seemed ready to spit fire, and seated himself unconcernedly on an embroidered stool brought over by a palace attendant, maintaining a relaxed posture.
“Mother, calm your anger and do not disturb your ailing body,” he said in a gentle voice, even carrying a touch of concern. “Xiao Huaiyan is now my man; how could he not come to pay his respects to Mother?” He tilted his head slightly to look at Xiao Huaiyan. “Why aren’t you paying your respects to the Empress Dowager?”
Xiao Huaiyan stepped forward in compliance.
The Empress stared at the young man before her. That calm, wave-less countenance served as a constant reminder of her bitter failure and her current humiliation.
Seeing Li Miaorong’s unsightly complexion as she struggled to maintain her composure, Shen Chaoqing deepened his smile. “Mother’s illness came on so suddenly; it must be due to excessive brooding. That insolent wretch Wuhuo deceived superiors and concealed things from subordinates, actually daring to frame and plot against the person by my side—he deserved his execution. Mother was surely deceived by him and angered as a result. Now that this scourge has been eliminated, Mother can rest assured and recuperate in peace, and no longer needs to fret over such filthy matters.”
Li Miaorong forced out a smile, her fingernails digging into the quilt. “Emperor, your filial piety is truly commendable.”
Shen Chaoqing gave a slight nod, adding with pointed intent, “These are all things your son ought to do. Mother must take good care of herself; if her imperial constitution were fundamentally harmed, that would be an unforgivable sin on your son’s part.”
Li Miaorong took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them a moment later, a few teardrops had gathered in the corners of her eyes. “What the Emperor says is true. It was Mother who used the wrong person and almost wronged a good man. This child looks quite steady indeed. Being able to serve by Your Majesty’s side is his fortune.”
Shen Chaoqing raised his eyebrows, smiling as he nodded.
Yet he watched as Li Miaorong changed the subject, her voice growing softer and carrying a mother’s concern for her son: “It’s just that an alien race with such an unknown background and possessing martial arts should ultimately be… a bit too dangerous to keep by your side. Mother truly cannot set her mind at ease regarding you. After what happened last night, he dared to act with such ruthless severity toward Wuhuo—who is to say he won’t in the future… won’t…”
Li Miaorong trailed off, leaving ample room for endless imagination.
Shen Chaoqing continued to smile and nod, seemingly in agreement with Li Miaorong’s words.
The air inside the hall instantly congealed. The attending palace attendants held even their breaths, lowering their heads as though wishing they could shrink into the cracks of the floor.
Fu An’s eyelids twitched violently, a layer of cold sweat seeping across his back. The Empress’s tactic of retreating in order to advance appeared to be for the Emperor’s safety, but in truth, every single sentence was pinning a conviction upon Xiao Huaiyan.
Xiao Huaiyan’s lowered hands gradually tightened into fists.
The smile on Shen Chaoqing’s face did not change in the slightest, growing even brighter instead. Acting as though he failed to understand the murderous intent hidden beneath those gentle words, he leaned forward slightly, observing Xiao Huaiyan with keen interest as if admiring a newly acquired novelty.
“Mother worries too much. Dangerous? Is Mother referring to him?” Before the Empress could reply, Shen Chaoqing smiled and turned back, his tone decisive and unwavering: “He wouldn’t dare. Furthermore… he is very useful.”
The words “very useful” struck like two velvet-wrapped blunt daggers, stabbing fiercely into Li Miaorong’s ears.
Was this any way to evaluate a living human being? This was clearly proclaiming the right of ownership and the experience of use over an object. The extreme contempt and control she displayed were more humiliating to Li Miaorong than any harsh or sharp rebuttal.
A microscopic crack instantly appeared across the gentle mask on Li Miaorong’s face. Xiao Huaiyan’s fingers tightened even further, his knuckles turning white.
She stared fixedly at Shen Chaoqing’s excessively pretty face. “…Useful?”
“Yes, extremely useful.” Shen Chaoqing acted as though he failed to notice her loss of composure, his smile growing even more radiant. “Obedient, sensible, and his martial arts… are not bad either. He has saved me a great deal of trouble. Mother need not trouble herself on your son’s behalf.”
Li Miaorong drew a deep breath, forcing out an extremely stiff smile as her voice sounded dry: “Very well, as long as the Emperor likes him.” Her gaze shifted to Xiao Huaiyan. “Since the Emperor values you so highly, then serve him well.”
Xiao Huaiyan gave a slight nod.
Shen Chaoqing rose leisurely, brushing away some non-existent dust from his robes. “I shall no longer disturb Mother’s quiet recuperation.”
He walked over to Xiao Huaiyan’s side, his steps pausing slightly. “Mother is ill; it is not fitting to stay long. Let us return.”
“Understood,” Xiao Huaiyan acknowledged.
Shen Chaoqing no longer looked at the Empress, whose face had flushed red with anger upon the couch, turning around to depart. Xiao Huaiyan followed silently in his footsteps.
Not until they stepped outside the oppressive and suffocating gates of the Changle Palace, breathing in the cold and biting fresh air once more, did Shen Chaoqing’s pace slow slightly.
He came to a halt in front of a wintersweet tree in full bloom. Reaching out, his pale and slender fingers gently plucked a red plum blossom, his fingertips twitching slightly as he cleanly snapped it off.
Turning his head sideways, his gaze landed upon Xiao Huaiyan. “Xiao Huaiyan.”
Xiao Huaiyan looked toward Shen Chaoqing.
“Bow your head.”
Xiao Huaiyan’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second before he complied, submissively lowering his head.
Shen Chaoqing stepped forward, the distance between them instantly shrinking. He could clearly see Xiao Huaiyan’s lowered, rigidly lined jaw, as well as the shadows cast by those dense eyelashes beneath his eyes.
Holding the newly plucked red plum blossom, Shen Chaoqing gently tucked it against Xiao Huaiyan’s dark temples, his fingertips inadvertently brushing past Xiao Huaiyan’s warm auricle.
The tactile sensation in that single instant felt like a tiny current sweeping across. Xiao Huaiyan’s fingers curled up abruptly at his sides.
The vigilance and repulsion deep within his body were on the verge of breaking through his skin.
Xiao Huaiyan forcibly reined himself in, his voice cold and hard: “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Yet Shen Chaoqing seemed entirely unaware or completely unconcerned. Stepping back half a pace, he tilted his head, his gaze lingering for a moment upon the vibrant red plum blossom that was awkwardly pinned to Xiao Huaiyan’s temple, clashing utterly with his stern demeanor.
“Hmm…” He drew out the ending syllable, as though appraising a newly finished masterpiece, a playful laziness lacing his tone. “The color is not bad.”
Xiao Huaiyan remained with his head lowered, maintaining the posture of having a flower pinned to him as he narrowed his eyes slightly.
That squinting motion was exceptionally minute, yet it resembled the final gaze of a fierce beast locking onto its prey, brimming with a dangerous aura.
Shen Chaoqing clearly caught that look. What he found strange, however, was that the humiliation and hatred within Xiao Huaiyan’s eyes were suppressed to perfection, without leaking out a single bit. Instead, it carried an unspeakable, undefinable aggressiveness that made Shen Chaoqing extremely uncomfortable.
The smile on his face faded slightly. “If you stare directly at my face again, I will carve out those eyeballs of yours.”