Xue Liulan stood alone in the Imperial Garden for a moment before heading toward the Empress Deng's palace. As he disappeared, two figures stepped out from behind a tree. His arm rested lightly around Murong Jin's shoulders as they watched him go.
"The wind is cold. Let's go back," he said, tightening the ribbons of her cloak with a smile.
She nodded, lost in thought, and they walked in silence.
"What's on your mind?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her pursed lips. "You haven't said a word."
She turned to him, her gaze serious. "Why did my cousin say those things to Xue Feiyan?"
"Hm?"
"Even if she feels guilty about the Crown Prince, why provoke Xue Feiyan so openly? It doesn't make sense."
"She didn't need to involve herself. But since she wronged my brother, she must pay the price." His voice dropped, his eyes darkening. Even if his brother had forbidden him from seeking revenge, the bitterness was hard to swallow.
Her hand tightened inside her sleeve. She sighed. "Do you think Xue Feiyan will really kill her?"
"Hard to say. Seventy percent chance." He stared straight ahead. He had always walked this path alone. Now that someone was beside him, what was there to fear?
They returned to the late Empress Murong's palace. He took her cloak and hung it up, then settled her into a chair lined with fox fur. He crouched before her, taking her hands in his.
"Still cold?"
She looked down at him, a smile spreading across her face. "No. Just because I'm carrying this little one doesn't mean I'm made of glass."
"Still, be careful. The physician said your constitution is weak, especially in winter." He stood and sat beside her. "You've lost weight again, worrying about Yi."
The self-reproach in his voice touched a soft spot in her heart, like a leaf falling onto a still lake, creating gentle ripples.
"I received a pigeon from him. He's safe." She interlaced her fingers with his.
"Good." He let out a long breath. A month of worry, finally over. "What would you like for dinner? I'll have them prepare it."
She pretended to think. "Anything. As long as it's with you. Even if we have to break into the Imperial Kitchens again."
He laughed. On their wedding night, he had taken her there for their first meal as husband and wife.
"When our son is born, I'll take you both," he said, tracing her eyebrow with a finger.
By then? she thought. You'll likely be Emperor. Will we still have that chance? A sadness washed over her.
"Why the sigh?" he asked, his hand pausing.
"Nothing." She smiled quickly. "Speaking of which, why did you want to stay here for a few days?"
"Have you been to the side hall?" He stood and stretched. The laziness was still there, but now it was mixed with a sharp, regal air.
She shook her head. She had been too tired to explore.
"What's in there?"
His smile faded. "Portraits of my mother."
"Portraits? Who painted them?" She knew it wasn't him. And she knew he hadn't come here just for the paintings.
"My father." He sighed, walking to a chair opposite her and sitting down, his fingers drumming on the table. "The room is filled with them."
What! Her eyes widened. Rumor said the Emperor and Empress Murong had a cold relationship. Why would he paint her after she was gone?
"Surprised?"
"Yes. I heard they didn't get along."
"She wouldn't be happy to hear you call her that. 'Mother' is better." He was silent for a moment, then laughed softly. "She always wanted a house full of grandchildren. Even if she knew it was a dream, she liked to think about it."
Murong Jin was stunned. Empress Murong. A woman who had entered the palace and hidden all her brilliance, letting herself wither within these four walls. Betrayed by the man she loved, surrounded by enemies, yet she had never despaired, never lost faith in the beauty of the world.
"A woman like her wouldn't be unhappy," she said, standing with conviction. "She would just smile and tell me to make sure the little one calls her Grandmother."
"Hahaha! You're right." He laughed loudly. His mother was exactly as she described. And Murong Jin was worthy to be her daughter-in-law.
"But Xue Liulan, you didn't come here just for the paintings."
"Of course not." He held out his hand. She took it and let him pull her onto his lap. "Were you surprised to hear my father missed her?"
"Yes. He remarried. How could he still be thinking of her?"
"I didn't believe it either. Until I saw the Music Bureau perform The Return."
She looked at him, confused.
"Guo Shangzhong told me the dancers were hand-picked by my father."
"It was Mother's favorite dance. It's only natural he would be picky."
"But they all share one feature."
"What?"
He paused, as if confirming the memory. "Their eyes. They all look a little like hers."
She sucked in a breath. All that effort, just to recreate her shadow? Emperor, if you loved her this much, why did you drive her to her death?
Silence filled the room. After a long time, she reached out and smoothed the furrow in his brow.
"Do you not know how to face him anymore?"
He grabbed her hand and buried his face in her shoulder. "I still hate him. But it's hard to hate a man who misses my mother this much."
"Then what will you do?" Today, the Emperor had given Xue Feiyan an army. He was wary of Xue Liulan's growing power. He was using the Seventh Prince to check him.
Even if Xue Feiyan was gone, the Emperor would never fully trust Xue Liulan. Would it really come to a coup?
"Whatever happens, I won't commit regicide. But I don't want to break his heart." To be forced to abdicate by his own son—that pain would be far greater than losing the throne.
She nodded, relieved. If he could be that cold to his own father, how could she expect him to spare her family?
"Enough of that." He took a deep breath and smiled. "Take a look around the palace these next few days. I'm sure you and Mother would have had similar tastes."
"I will. If I get bored, I can visit my cousin."
"Better not to see Murong Yu for a few days." He suddenly turned serious. "When this is over, you can bring her to the residence. But not now."
"Are you afraid Xue Feiyan will send someone to kill her? She loves him. Would he really be that heartless?"
"Our seventh brother has never tolerated a threat. And he never hesitates in matters of the heart. That is his strength, and his weakness. Why do you think the Deng family hasn't married Deng Qinyu to him yet?"
"Because he doesn't like her?"
"Because he refuses." He had to admire his brother for that. For the sake of the one he loved, he would risk offending a powerful ally.
She understood. Ling Yan.
What is heartlessness? What is passion? It is just wanting the right person.