Since pregnancy, her figure had grown slightly fuller yet more alluring, always drawing him into endless fascination.
Slowly, he extended his strong hand and pinched her slender waist.
Her skin was cool to the touch—icy and delicate, yet slippery enough to make him cautious.
She was too fragile; even a slight touch left red marks.
Still, he moved upward.
His hand, used to wielding the imperial brush and bow, was veined and strong, adorned with the jade finger ring he often wore.
With powerful fingertips, he gently pinched, the ring pressing lightly into her skin, leaving a faint indentation.
A wu let out a startled sound, her voice changing pitch.
Her body trembled slightly, and her moist eyes fixed on him intently.
Emperor Jingxi lowered his gaze.
Beneath the brilliant sunlight, the rosy flush on her pale skin resembled soaked red agate.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes burning hot, but his movements remained calm and measured, bending down slowly.
Throughout, he lifted his eyes to watch her, seeing her intoxicated and entranced.
This little thing, devoured utterly, her gaze hazy, the corners reddened, her cheeks flushed with amorous desire.
Emperor Jingxi savored her methodically until nearly satisfied, then rose, picking up a white handkerchief to wipe his lips.
A wu watched him, mesmerized, unable to look away.
Emperor Jingxi smiled lightly, knowing what she wanted, and resumed without hurry.
This time, he planned to care for her well, to ensure she enjoyed herself.
What followed was lascivious, unimaginable to ordinary people.
The stern, noble man of the court—lofty and untouchable, with ministers afraid to meet his gaze—was now bent in a powerful bow beneath A wu, his hands resting on her knees, plunging into her again and again.
His proud, sharp nose was damp, his cold face pressed against her soft skin.
The scene was shocking.
A wu’s slender waist trembled as she tilted her head back, her fingertips gripping his hair tightly.
At times like this, her mind wandered—thinking of that finger ring that once pressed against her, almost a symbol of death.
Now it was so erotic, and the man who never killed her before was kneeling before her.
She also thought of Emperor Jingxi’s court officials, the white-haired elders.
If they saw this, how stunned they would be.
Did they know that their revered emperor would so greedily and urgently kneel beneath a woman’s waist?
Perhaps only Emperor Jingxi knew how sweet this little woman tasted, how deeply she made him sink without escape.
Having carried his children, she was like a ripe fruit—one bite releasing sweet nectar.
At that moment, his expression turned absent-minded, and he wondered if his son had ever tasted this… had he?
This thought should have passed quickly; he always avoided comparisons, jealousy, or questions because he knew it would only cause suffering.
But this time, as everything ended, he held the white handkerchief, gently wiping the moisture from his lips, and asked the question.
A wu, dazed and distracted, froze at his words.
Emperor Jingxi pressed seriously, holding her chin, “Did Mo Yao taste it?”
A wu’s lips trembled, “I didn’t help him…”
Emperor Jingxi: “I’m asking if he tasted it?”
His face expressionless, he explained, “No other meaning. Just asking.”
A wu nodded vaguely.
The Crown Prince treated her well, almost holding her in the palm of his hand.
Naturally, he helped her in every way, exhausting all means to ensure her enjoyment.
Emperor Jingxi’s eyes darkened, his tone cool.
“Such a young age, already quite skillful with tricks—practically neglecting duties.”
Afterwards, Emperor Jingxi even asked how he compared to the Crown Prince.
A wu dared not say much, only praising him.
But he did not believe it and interrogated her carefully.
A wu sobbed softly, unable to hide anything.
Emperor Jingxi’s expression grew obscure.
Silent, he put her through quite an ordeal.
At last, A wu’s legs trembled, unable to bear it.
She pouted, burying her head in the soft mattress, quietly whining.
Emperor Jingxi heard her mewling like a cat in heat, his heart melting.
He wanted to crush her into pieces and swallow her whole, but how could he bear to?
He bent down, embraced her from behind, lifting her to cling to his chest.
A wu had been cozy on the brocade mattress, but now suddenly lifted, her hands flailing, legs kicking.
Yet she was pressed tightly against the man behind.
She bared her claws, which stirred a low groan from him.
Rising up, soft and close, time passed unknowingly until finally they rested.
A wu cried softly, tears running down her cheeks, her face nestled against the satisfied man’s arm.
He supported her and lowered her to the bath chamber.
As they walked, he could not help but lean down and kiss her eyes gently, wiping her tears.
A wu murmured protests.
Emperor Jingxi’s finger lightly rubbed her lips.
“So tired already, and you don’t even have to exert yourself—just lie there and be close.”
A wu still grumbled.
She suspected he might be displeased, but seeing him smile indulgently, she relaxed.
Dizzy and weak, she bit his finger.
“Still no good, A wu can’t take it.”
Her eyes were moist, and who could resist such a look?
Emperor Jingxi bent down, his nose touching hers.
The meaning in his dark eyes was clear: “Want to do it again? Will you get up tomorrow?”
A wu’s gaze was hazy, cheeks flushed.
She raised a finger to lightly touch his handsome but stern face.
She murmured, “Can’t get up? Or does His Majesty have morning court? Then, won’t the emperor skip court for me?”
Emperor Jingxi grabbed her chin and said, “That’s your problem—”
He did not finish the last word, instead swallowing her almost whole.
A night of recklessness.
The next day, A wu vaguely heard that the Crown Prince had suddenly been assigned many lessons—all imperial studies.
The emperor’s nurturing heart for the Crown Prince was just and open.
But the Crown Prince was nearly exhausted to collapse.
***
When the little prince and princess reached their hundred days, the emperor worshiped at the ancestral temple, bestowed names on his young son and daughter.
The Crown Prince was named Mo Yao.
In the Yong Family of the Heavenly House, this generation all had “Mo” in their names.
Following calculations by the Astronomer Royal based on the eight characters of their birthdates, and after Emperor Jingxi’s repeated deliberation, discussions with the Empress Dowager, and careful consultation with A wu, the names were finally decided.
The little prince was named Mo Xi, surname Yong, full name Yong Mo Xi.
The little princess was named Mo Yu, full name Yong Mo Yu, with the title Derun Princess.
Thus, the two children were usually referred to as the Second Prince and the Second Princess, or Derun Princess.
On this day, Emperor Jingxi held a Grand Offering Ceremony for the Second Prince and Second Princess.
Daoists proceeded with the rites.
Emperor Jingxi personally picked up the incense and bowed, petitioning Heaven to protect the Longfeng Twins, to ward off disasters, pray for blessings, and prolong their lives.
This ceremony was a week-long Grand Offering Ceremony, naturally a huge expenditure, involving 999 celestial Daoists chanting sutras and burning incense day and night without pause.
A wu, as the mother of the Second Prince and Princess, accompanied them.
She saw the Qinan Hall festooned with banners and flags, staircases connected, incense burning thickly on the altar along with offerings of the finest fruits.
The Daoists walked myriad steps, sang praises, recited sutras, and prayed.
Outside, the Jiaofang Bureau’s bells and chimes rang ceaselessly.
After offering incense, as imperial kin, A wu was to leave with female attendants.
But as she was about to descend the steps, she happened to glance up and saw a figure.
Tall and strong, clad in a golden and silver-thread embroidered Daoist robe, with familiar eyebrows and eyes—none other than Brother Ye Han!
A wu’s eyes widened, her whole body frozen, struck by surprise and disbelief, unable to make a sound.
The young man, bowed in recitation, seemed to sense something, raised his eyes slightly and looked toward her.
Their gazes met.
A wu opened her mouth to call out, but Ye Han silenced her with his eyes.
She hesitated, looked around, held back her voice, but inside her heart a storm raged.
Ye Han, walking with the Daoists, lowered his brows and eyes, moving with them to a tall pole where nine lamps were lit.
They circled the incense and chanted as they performed ritual steps.
A wu quickly recalled many things: Brother Ye Han was her betrothed, they had once bitten each other’s lips, once embraced—things Emperor Jingxi also knew.
Back then, she thought the emperor was far away and they might never meet again in this life, so she confessed everything at once.
But now, Brother Ye Han was right before her eyes.
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