She was somewhat doubtful.
Supporting his elbow on the embroidered quilt, propping his head, he lowered his eyes weakly and said, “Since the first time I boarded a ship and faced the waves, I felt chest discomfort and dizziness.”
“Huh?” A wu considered, “Seasickness?”
“Hmm…”
He looked at her helplessly and said, “The Imperial Physician said it was yin-yang imbalance and external evil invasion. When wind and water clash, it causes dizziness. So during those days you weren’t here, I just felt nausea and couldn’t eat. Then I was stung by a poisonous insect and lost consciousness.”
Listening, A wu recalled her own childhood seasickness and sympathized.
She asked, “Did the Imperial Physician try any remedies?”
“Some herbal prescriptions and acupuncture, but to no avail.”
Hearing this, A wu confirmed the Emperor’s seasickness and felt even more sympathetic.
She thought for a moment and said, “I remember our neighbor, Ye Abo, once mentioned a way to overcome seasickness.”
“Really? What method?”
“He said there are three hardships at sea: hurricanes, lack of fresh water, and seasickness. The first two can’t be helped by human effort, but seasickness isn’t caused by heaven, earth, or sea—it lies within oneself.”
“In oneself?” Emperor Jingxi echoed.
“Yes. Ye Abo said, to avoid seasickness, one must forget the self and treat the ship as the axis—like a feather or leaf drifting on waves, moving with the rhythm of the sea. In other words, go with the flow.”
The Emperor frowned, deep in thought.
A wu continued, “Your Majesty, as the Son of Heaven, refined and dignified, you might have certain fixations in your mind. Perhaps when on a ship, you unconsciously resist the rocking, which causes the dizziness.”
Emperor Jingxi was silent for a long moment, then chuckled softly, “A wu, you’re right. Resisting the ship’s rocking is like an mayfly shaking a tree—wasting energy. Better to follow the wave, which leads to harmony.”
She felt he was thoughtful, hinting at something deeper.
She looked at him with curiosity.
Emperor Jingxi sensed her puzzlement and said, “I’ve been ruling many years and realize I may have mishandled some things. Reflecting on today’s world, to preserve Great Hui’s foundation, I must go with the tide.”
A wu thought, ‘Truly worthy of the Emperor—a single seasickness sparks such insight.’
He smiled warmly, “A wu, you’ve grown so much. Your words today enlightened me greatly.”
His smile was gentle, making A wu feel slightly uncomfortable.
“It’s not my idea—it’s Ye Abo’s,” she added quietly.
But he said no more, just watching her silently.
A wu felt helpless.
Here it comes again—that man’s gaze was a gentle net, ready to trap her.
Who could resist?
She turned away, flustered and unsure what to do.
These past days, she had stayed by his side, their atmosphere warm yet held back by an invisible barrier.
Both avoided certain topics, maintaining a fragile peace.
Beneath the seemingly calm surface were many issues to resolve—could she truly let go of the past?
Could she willingly leave with him?
To move forward or retreat?
And what of Lu Yunjian?
She knew Lu Yunjian was imprisoned in the coastal defense dungeon.
Rumor had it Emperor Jingxi had him secretly interrogated, but details were never shared.
If her guess was right, Lu Yunjian might have ties to the Imperial Family of Dahui, which would explain everything.
Because Lu Yunjian had royal blood, the Zhen’an Marquis Manor valued him.
The Empress, knowing she was not related to him, harbored special feelings, hence her hostility toward A wu.
As for A wu’s past with Lu Yunjian…
Emperor Jingxi likely no longer cared, but there had to be an explanation.
Thus, facing the sweet yet hesitant closeness within reach, A wu was both eager and fearful, unwilling to take the next step.
At that moment, Emperor Jingxi said softly, “You’ve been away a long time. Do you miss Mo Yu and Mo Xi?”
A wu was startled.
Of course she missed them, but she knew they were well cared for and had no cause for worry.
Her thoughts dwelled on them only in the midnight hours.
Lowering her head, she murmured, “I do miss them somewhat, but not overly so.”
Hearing this, Emperor Jingxi ordered, “Go to that desk and bring me the scroll.”
Curious, A wu looked and saw the scroll among the memorials and documents.
She took it and asked, “What is it?”
“Open it.”
Since the documents were important official business, A wu usually avoided reading them.
Though no longer confined to the harem and now by Emperor Jingxi’s side daily, she still instinctively avoided such papers.
But since he said so, she unrolled the scroll.
Inside were many paintings—the top one depicted the sleeping chamber in the palace.
Two chubby little children played on a snowy white rug, adorned with a rich red double-dragon brocade carpet and scattered with toys the children loved.
The two kids were utterly engrossed in play.
Flipping through, all the images showed these two children—sleeping, laughing, crawling in various adorable poses.
A wu recognized the familiar, beloved faces—these were her children!
Her nose stung with emotion, and her heart ached.
Then the deep, warm voice entered her ears, “I thought you would surely miss them. The Eastern Sea is unstable, and I did not want to bring them along on this long journey to suffer. So I had these portraits painted and brought to you.”
A wu’s eyes reddened.
Emperor Jingxi’s voice softened as he coaxed, “A wu, come back with me, will you?”
She wanted to cry but stubbornly said, “No.”
The room fell into a subtle silence.
“Still mad at me?”
“Mm, yes, I’m mad.”
“I miss you. I miss you very much.”
His voice was lingering and tender, like sweet wine—intoxicating.
A wu wavered for a moment.
Then Emperor Jingxi sighed, “A wu, come to my side.”
She hesitated but saw him looking at her with gentle eyes, hand extended.
Under that springtime warmth in his gaze, she couldn’t refuse.
She stepped to his side.
No sooner had she drawn close than he gripped her wrist and suddenly pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
The scent of medicine enveloped them, and his kisses rained down like raindrops on her hair and forehead.
A wu could feel his longing and tension; he seemed to lose control in an instant.
Her heart raced, caught between fear and anticipation.
Then the Emperor whispered low beside her ear, “My A wu, are you well back home? Are you being spoiled by your family, turning into a little baby? With your father and brothers, do you think… it doesn’t matter whether I’m here or not?”
His lips trailed warmly around her ear, voice dropping, “Do you know how much I think of you? I miss you so much I can’t sleep at night and have to get up to read memorials… Are you upset that I’m old? That I don’t treat you well? That you don’t want me?”
His tone was low, tinged with sorrow and the pain of feeling abandoned.
A wu could hardly believe it.
This was a man who could discuss history and politics with her father, who commanded the Eastern Sea battles—yet now, almost out of control, he held her and kissed her, greedily and plaintively demanding her love.
Her soft, fragile body trembled; she almost melted into him.
His voice, strained and hoarse, rasped, “But I miss you. When I miss you, I look at Mo Yu and Mo Xi and wonder which parts of them resemble you. I remember when you carried them inside you…”
His voice turned almost breathless, “I remember how I made you bear them.”
Hearing this, A wu’s body relaxed completely, lost in intoxication.
Yet amid this irresistible surrender, she recalled her father’s words.
She bit her lip and murmured, “You only know how to coax me with sweet words. You bully me, you’re old, and you don’t treat me well!”
Her soft complaint was almost dripping with charm.
Emperor Jingxi said, “Old or not, when I care for you, isn’t it better than those two?”
A wu felt as if a thunderclap had exploded in her ears.
‘How dare he say that? Did he have no shame?’
Her face flushed crimson as she raised her hand and struck him hard, “Stop talking nonsense!”
Emperor Jingxi lowered his voice further and said, “Baby, you like it too, don’t you? That day when I visited your home, weren’t you sneaking peeks at me?”
A wu was so ashamed she nearly disappeared from the world.
She pushed him away fiercely, “No, I wasn’t! I’m not talking to you anymore!”
Then she turned and ran out without looking back.
Emperor Jingxi’s gaze followed her retreating figure.
The autumn wind lifted the soft hem of her clothing, wrapping around her slender form—graceful and captivating.
He pursed his lips slightly, quietly suppressing the desire burning within him.