Now, the care he lavished on A wu was thorough and attentive, as if holding her in the palm of his hand.
For the first time, Princess Dening thought her Mother Consort had been foolish.
***
After Princess Dening went off to play, Emperor Jingxi held A wu’s hand.
After a light stroll, they lay down on a couch to rest.
A wu was pregnant with twins and easily fatigued, so she was truly tired once lying down.
The Emperor gently massaged her waist with his large, warm hand and whispered in her ear: “Did Dening bother you on the way here?”
A wu: “Not really… Besides, I won.”
She was still a little proud when mentioning this.
Emperor Jingxi chuckled indulgently: “As long as you enjoy it. If you’re ever bored, you can play with Dening.”
Lady Meng and Concubine Hui seemed too serious; he found A wu and Dening more lively and relaxed.
A wu: “Okay.”
Emperor Jingxi: “Or you can spend time with the Empress Dowager. She likes you a lot. The Golden Seal she granted you was also with her approval. You should visit her more often; it will be good for you.”
A wu thought of the Empress Dowager’s warm gaze and felt comforted.
Although that favor was actually for the child in her womb, the child was her bloodline, so even indirectly, she had earned the Empress Dowager’s affection.
She smiled: “But everyone at the Empress Dowager’s palace is a leaf card master, like experts. If I go, I’ll lose every day and be bankrupt in no time.”
She hated losing; it was all money after all!
Emperor Jingxi absently stroked her back: “It’s alright. If you lose silver, I’ll make it up to you.”
The Private Treasury was his own; of course, he could let her spend freely.
A wu twirled a strand of his black hair by his temple around her finger, playing with it casually: “What if I lose every day?” Â
Emperor Jingxi nuzzled her nose gently and smiled: “Fortunately, over the years my treasury has accumulated some silver. Even if you squander it all, I can still afford it.”
Hearing this, A wu’s heart bloomed with joy.
She wanted to cling to him forever.
She thought he longed for offspring.
As Emperor, he wished for many sons and grandsons.
Now she was pregnant, though the child was not yet born, he already wanted to cherish her like a treasure.
She leaned against him like a boneless creature and asked curiously: “If I have a daughter, will you love her like you love Princess Dening?”
Emperor Jingxi was a little surprised by the question.
To be honest, he hadn’t put much thought into Dening.
Having a daughter early in his reign, when he was diligent with affairs, he barely had time to spare a glance at his young palace daughter.
Later, as the child grew older, it was even less likely.
A father, especially an Emperor, couldn’t constantly see his daughters.
This time, bringing Dening out was for various reasons—partly to make up for past neglect, partly to give A wu a playmate her own age, and partly for his own private motives to reduce palace troubles for her.
He had ordered spies on the Empress; no scandals emerged.
So he had to smooth things out with Dening.
But he never explained these intentions, only saying: “I’ll put more thought into her than before.”
A wu said softly: “What if it’s a son?”
In her heart, she hoped for one daughter and one son—a perfect family, both daughters and sons.
Emperor Jingxi laughed: “Then I will personally teach him to read, teach him archery and horsemanship…”
He stopped mid-sentence, then shifted his tone: “When he grows up, he will be granted a fief, a Golden Seal, and all his own estates.”
Imperial children were born precious, destined to have everything within their reach.
He would never neglect his bloodline.
A wu’s body softened; her heart pounded wildly.
Never before had she so clearly realized what it meant to carry the Emperor’s heirs.
Dahui had lasted 120 years, through five Emperors, and she would give birth to the current Emperor’s children—sharing in the realm of Dahui.
Even if not the greatest share, her descendants would enjoy the Emperor’s favor and protection for generations.
She, an ordinary fishing girl from the Eastern Sea, would have descendants enjoying the legacy the ancestors built.
Her bloodline would merge into the Dahui Imperial Family…
What was this?
It was a destiny-reversing fortune for her offspring!
At that moment, A wu thought: ‘Lu Yunjian, even Brother Ye Han—none of them mattered anymore’.
It really had to be the Emperor!
Bearing children for the Emperor meant she could lie back and reap the inheritance!
The empire of the Heavenly House Yong family!
A wu took a deep breath and buried her face in the Emperor’s embrace.
Lately, because she was pregnant, he no longer used any incense or scented robes in his chamber.
The clean fabrics only carried the fresh scent of soapberries—crisp and pleasant.
A wu greedily drew in his scent—the mature richness of a man who ruled mountains and rivers, who would raise their child, carrying her blood, to enjoy the utmost worldly splendor.
Emperor Jingxi felt her emotional shift. He lowered his gaze and looked at her tenderly as she nestled like a little dog, wriggling to nestle closer, to melt into him.
A wu murmured: “Your Majesty, A wu is giving birth and raising children for you. It’s hard. You must arrange everything well for them and cherish them.”
Emperor Jingxi: “Mhm, I will.”
A wu: “Cherish them always, cherish them the most!”
She knew she was greedy, but she just wanted him to say it—that he would cherish them the most.
Yet above, Emperor Jingxi remained silent.
His quietness made A wu uneasy.
She looked up at him from his arms and met his gaze.
He looked at her gently and quietly, as if he had been watching her for a long time.
A wu parted her lips, wanting to say something but didn’t know what.
She had asked for an unreasonable promise but he wouldn’t give it.
Then, in a slow voice, the man said: “From now on, the one I cherish most is not the children born of A wu.”
A wu’s heart chilled.
Not even a comforting word?
The Emperor’s lips curved into a beautiful arc as he slowly said: “The one I cherish most is A wu, only A wu.”
A wu’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, confused for a moment.
Emperor Jingxi reached out his long fingers to gently stroke her moist, bright lips and whispered: “Children are but guests; descendants are but clouds of smoke. When young, they bring joy at your knees, but when grown, they have their own thoughts, their own fiefs and titles. I have learned this with the Imperial Son and Dening—I cannot truly control them nor change their nature. We must all be at peace with it and let it be.”
To his children, he was more an Emperor than a father, occasionally playing the paternal role but feeling no great emotional waves.
In truth, he had long realized that the Imperial Son and Dening were parts of the Dahui realm, adjuncts of his Emperor’s identity—the fruits of his efforts to extend his lineage.
If he were not Emperor, there would be no consorts, no children.
In this life, he could fulfill his duty as a father, doing his best as he managed the realm.
But if there were a next life, he hoped they would be born into a good family and enjoy peaceful family happiness, no longer burdened by the Heavenly House.
Now, he looked at A wu, his tea-colored eyes full of unfathomable tenderness: “Perhaps I have not done well for now, but I will try. If you find faults in me, you must tell me, remind me.”
He paused, and his rich, pleasant voice carried a fragile plea: “Can you?”
A wu’s heart suddenly raced, nearly leaping out of her chest.
She blushed, feeling ashamed and moved, flooded with indescribable emotions.
Overwhelmed by the intense feelings, her eyes grew moist, and her nose tingled.
Half-kneeling in the man’s arms, she lifted her face to him, looking devoutly into his eyes and murmuring: “Your Majesty, A wu would give her life for you.”
When she said this, she was willing to bare her heart, her soul, to give everything for him.
Yet Emperor Jingxi only silently watched her in his embrace.
He had enough patience, but not an endless supply.
He didn’t want her life or loyalty; he wanted her heart, her love.
His long fingers softly and gently stroked A wu’s brow: “A wu, love me more, love me like your husband.”
For such words, A wu didn’t know how to respond.
The word felt too scorching.
She had always drifted through life without such thoughts.
Maybe she never deserved to think of such things.
So instinctively, she wanted to avoid the question.
Could she give something else?
She was willing to give her life—what more did he want?
At that moment, the man’s deep eyes fixed unwaveringly on her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze.
When their eyes met, she instinctively looked away.
The chamber was too quiet.
Although they were the closest of all, she was nestled in his arms, yet couldn’t speak.
She could have coaxed or lied, but she didn’t want to.
Finally, she raised her slender arm, cautiously hooked it around his neck, lifted her face, and pressed her lips to his.
The man hesitated for a moment, then bent slightly to hold the tender, trembling lips she offered.
The taste was exquisite and soft like cream, unwilling to part from them.
He closed his eyes in comfort, savoring the moment.
Unexpectedly, she seemed reluctant and pushed him away.
He opened his eyes, lowered his eyelids, watching her squirm as she arched her back and burrowed beneath his robe like a cat.
He raised an eyebrow and murmured hoarsely, “What is this—”
His voice vanished midway.
Because he saw the soft, shy girl boldly lifting his robes, nestling inside like a kitten.
Suddenly realizing something, blood rushed through him as he whispered hoarsely: “A wu!”
But she did not stop.
It was unfamiliar and timid, yet she felt she had nothing else to give.
She didn’t dare meet his eyes.
She just wanted to do something, to please him, to repay him.
Willing to give her bones and blood, to give everything, but don’t ask her about love.
She truly didn’t understand.
What followed was difficult for A wu.
She was frightened at first, unprepared for how shocking it was.
She trembled, clutching his robe tightly.
Emperor Jingxi’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his voice tightened and cracked: “A wu, if you don’t like it, then forget it.”
He could feel she had never experienced this, didn’t know how, and couldn’t accept it well.
Yet A wu grew stubborn: “I have never before, but I want to serve Your Majesty.”
She spoke timidly but with the resolve of facing death.
Emperor Jingxi lowered his eyes, dark and tender, looking at the young woman in his arms.
He was full of hope, pity, and a little melancholy, as if sentencing himself to a lifetime of wanting but not having.
Though delicate and pure, she had rolled through the muddy world and had a heart locked far in the past—untouchable by him.
A wu began trembling, cheeks flushed, scared yet eager, her body shaking as she struggled painfully and painstakingly.
The chamber was dim and hazy.
A wu’s disheveled hair stuck to her snow-white cheeks.
She lifted trembling lashes, wet and clear eyes devoutly looking up at the man above.
He lifted his neck slightly, the sharp and clear lines of his profile visible.
His Adam’s apple trembled violently, as if enduring great pain.
Born the most precious man under heaven, his noble features now stained with desire, the usually pale face tinged with light red.
A wu loved this deeply, and in this moment, she had the illusion that she could control this man.
A little pressure, and he could no longer restrain himself.
Then Emperor Jingxi pursed his lips and rasped hoarsely: “A wu, your husband wants more. Give him more. Cherish him.”
His voice was strained and filled with the desire unique to such moments.
A wu blinked her moist eyes and tentatively tried again.