Chapter 87 (2/2): Disdain

The soft rose-red satin bedding made her small, palm-sized face appear even paler.

She looked thinner than before, fragile as a delicate jade tablet—translucent and moist but too fragile to touch hard, easily shattered with the slightest squeeze.

Such a fragile little thing hiding so many worries and a painful past.

She couldn’t bear it, feared his questioning, tried to flee in panic, yet was caught and now had no idea how to face him, losing memory of that time entirely.

If it were before, Emperor Jingxi would have wanted to open her heart to see if there was any place for him.

But now, he was calm and rationalizing.

He gazed at her sleeping face, watching the faint furrow of her brows.

He raised a finger to gently smooth them, then affectionately kneaded her skin, cheeks, behind her ears, and the slender neck.

He lowered himself and buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder, softly rubbing against her.

She had just bathed, the faint scent of peach blossoms mingled with milk fragrance drifting from her body.

He greedily breathed it in, whispering softly, “A wu, if only you had told me sooner, I…”

He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly recalling their first meeting, his past strictness and demands, and the times he had pressured her.

He was the one who had once threatened her by holding her chin.

He closed his eyes tightly and murmured, “A wu, I may have been angry, but if only you’d….”

If only she’d coaxed him a little, he would have been soothed, would have compromised, yielded, and accepted all of her.

But now she had forgotten.

She couldn’t soothe him or care for him anymore.

He tried coaxing her, but she no longer heard.

***

A wu took many medicinal decoctions but showed no memory recovery.

Instead, she began acting out.

She wiped away tears, wanting to go home to find her parents, brother, and even neighbor Brother Yehan.

Emperor Jingxi stayed composed, holding her and coaxing gently.

He told her she was married now, that he was her husband, and this was her home—no need to think of her old one.

But A wu resisted and continued to rebel.

One day, as Emperor Jingxi tried to coax her to take her medicine, she refused, kicking about and throwing the embroidered blankets all over the bed, even tossing the bolster far away.

He calmly watched without anger, ordered the Nursemaids to clean up and warm the medicine again.

A wu had begun to realize Emperor Jingxi was indulgent with her.

No matter how much she made a fuss, he never got angry.

She tilted her chin defiantly and said, “Anyway, A wu won’t drink. Not without Brother Yehan, I won’t!”

Emperor Jingxi listened to her call out “Yehan” repeatedly but remained calm.

He even praised her, “A wu, your body is better. You can kick away such a heavy quilt now.”

Hearing this, A wu was so angry she grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it at him, then stomped and scratched like a provoked little dog.

She had teeth and could hurt him, even scratch his neck, but Emperor Jingxi showed no reaction, calmly letting her rage out.

If she were a snarling beast filled with rage, perhaps this was the perfect outlet.

Freely venting, forgetting he was the Emperor, forgetting court rules, acting as she wished.

At that moment, Emperor Jingxi thought, if they were common folk married, she’d be the wife throwing tantrums, furious at her husband, biting and scolding him.

And he would accept it all gladly.

A wu was mad and furious; she needed to vent.

After she tired herself out, he would gently soothe her, hold her close, and lull her to sleep.

Then silently tend to any bruises or scratches.

The physical pain was keenly clear—each mark a reminder that it was A wu who gave it, and he should bear it.

But this time, when A wu threw the bolster, her fine embroidered inner garment slipped open, revealing the rose-red underskirt beneath.

Emperor Jingxi’s gaze fell there—a flash of pale, smooth skin blinking in the light.

The rose-red underskirt was slightly damp, exuding a faint milky fragrance.

He subtly looked away.

Since A wu lost her memory, he felt as if her mind had returned to an earlier time—a child who understood nothing.

Though he was the elder and rightful husband, he didn’t wish to teach her such adult thoughts now.

Besides, he noticed that after waking, A wu’s emotions were fragile and sometimes explosive, even showing resentment toward him.

Perhaps she didn’t simply forget but chose to avoid.

To avoid provoking her resistance, he purposely concealed certain truths.

For example, he told her they were legally married and deeply in love.

He even temporarily glossed over the existence of the little prince and princess.

She was still a child; at her most vulnerable, there was no need to burden her with the responsibility of motherhood.

Emperor Jingxi used infinite patience, carefully coaxing and tenderly caring for her, but still faced some difficulties.

Like today—she had no idea how to handle things.

He feared mentioning certain topics might frighten this innocent young lady.

So he patiently said, “A wu, it’s time to bathe. Let Yilan help you, alright?”

A wu pouted unhappily, “I don’t want to bathe!”

Emperor Jingxi: “You don’t want to?”

A wu nodded firmly, “I want Brother Yehan, or I won’t bathe! You bring Brother Yehan to me!”

Emperor Jingxi: “Be good, alright?”

A wu: “I won’t listen!”

Emperor Jingxi watched her stubbornly hold her chin high, ready to defy him.

She was so willful, determined to resist, as if trying to make up for all the defiance she never showed before.

Emperor Jingxi smiled lightly, though his smile held a cold edge.

“In that case, someone, take Yilan away and punish her.”

Yilan, who was waiting behind the screen, shuddered in fear.

A wu was stunned and suspiciously looked at him.

Emperor Jingxi’s expression turned cold as he said, “She can’t even serve the bathing medicine properly. What use is she here?”

With a gesture, female attendants came swiftly to drag Yilan out.

Yilan’s legs went weak, and she knelt on the spot.

A wu’s face flushed red with anger.

This young lady had taken care of her these days, played with her—she liked her very much.

And now this villain wanted to beat her!

She huffed angrily, waving her fists, “Let go! Don’t! If you hit her, I’ll hit you!”

Everyone was stunned.

Hit the Emperor?

But Emperor Jingxi seemed used to it and said calmly, “If she can’t serve the bathing medicine properly, shouldn’t she be punished?”

A wu cried out in indignation, “You bully! I’ll fight you!”

Then she charged forward and butted him with her head like a small calf.

Emperor Jingxi took the chance to hold her tightly.

A wu struggled but couldn’t break free.

She was so mad, hitting him, “Bad man! Bully! Maritime Bandit! You’re a Maritime Bandit!”

Emperor Jingxi held her firmly, waiting patiently for her to calm down.

Finally, A wu stopped fussing, but still looked unhappy, tears in her eyes as she said, “You’re not a good person. You’re a bad person!”

Emperor Jingxi: “Yes, I’m a bad person.”

A wu: “You!”

She was huffing, but no longer wanted to hit him.

She knew he was good to her.

Even if she hit him, he wouldn’t cry—he would only look at her gently.

Emperor Jingxi looked at this spoiled little thing.

Since losing her memory, she rarely left the bedchamber, wearing only loose, soft silk inner garments.

Beneath the layers of inner clothing, her smooth feet showed.

The fabric was so soft and carefully cleaned every day that she didn’t want to wear satin socks anymore.

She was like a flower bud stripped of its outer petals, revealing the freshest little bloom inside—pure and unadorned, clear as jade.

But she was spoiled and capricious, with a somewhat pampered temperament.

Emperor Jingxi: “First, bathe. After that, it will be lunch. I’ll give you delicious food.”

A wu vented her frustration loudly, demanding, “I want osmanthus taro milk cake, plum candy, and honey cake!”

Emperor Jingxi: “Yes, you’ll have all of it.”

A wu: “And Brother Yehan!”

Emperor Jingxi was slightly taken aback.

Then he laughed self-deprecatingly, “If you’re good and obedient, I’ll help you find Brother Yehan.”

A wu didn’t quite believe him, “Really?”

Emperor Jingxi: “Yes, really.”

A wu: “Good!”

Emperor Jingxi silently watched her joyful expression from the side.

Perhaps in his heart, when he first met A wu—before the Crown Prince, before Yehan—that pure, untouched A wu who knew nothing of the world, who belonged entirely to him, to paint her as he pleased, to possess her body and soul.

Now, fate had brought such an A wu to him again.

Of course, he loved and cherished her—but with added restraint and taboo.

This A wu was indeed beloved, but she was not the original A wu.

What he wanted was always that original A wu.

At this moment, his thoughts drifted again to Yehan.

By now, he could calmly think of Yehan and Lu Yunjian.

They belonged to A wu’s past.

Yehan was her obsession.

She must have feared that she had taken Yehan’s life, which was why even after losing her memory, she still called out to Yehan day after day.

Could that youth bear such attachment?