The Emperor's voice was like a stabbing blade: "Throw it into the incense burner to burn, so it won't be an eyesore."
In that moment, the young Lu Ying already understood, what was an eyesore to the Emperor wasn't the painting.
It was him.
Jealousy, like wild grass taking root, began sprouting in his heart on that New Year's Eve.
He was jealous of Lu Shiyan and Lu Zhengliu, jealous of the love the Emperor showed them.
And yet, he was also the Emperor's son, but he wasn't even worthy of eating a bowl of dumplings with his father.
The bustling New Year's Eve, for him, was nothing but a cold and lonely sleeping chamber.
Later, he watched as the Emperor personally educated Lu Shiyan and Lu Zhengliu, teaching them horseback riding and archery.
He was like a ghost that couldn't stand the daylight, hiding in the shadows, spying on their fatherly love, their family reunions.
Within the bed curtains, the girl sobbed, unable to speak clearly: "Lu… Lu Ying brother…"
