Then A wu said, “Ah, I remember now!”
Emperor Jingxi: “Hmm?”
His deep, hoarse voice whispered in her ear, utterly captivating.
A wu felt a shiver run through her; she had always liked it when he teased her like this.
But she fought the feeling and said, “It seemed like I dreamt of the Dragon King by the sea. The Dragon King said that if you’re sick, wearing a jade thumb ring might protect you.”
Emperor Jingxi: “The Dragon King said such a thing?”
A wu deliberately clung to his large hand and said softly, “Your Majesty, A wu wants that thumb ring. Please give it to me—I want to use it to ward off disaster.”
Emperor Jingxi laughed lightly, seeing through her at once.
“You’re sick and should be resting, yet you still have the heart to invent stories to trick me into giving you my thumb ring?”
Caught, A wu felt no shame.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and said tenderly, “A wu wants it. Will Your Majesty give it to her?”
Emperor Jingxi simply laid her back on the couch and patted her cheek.
“Be good and lie down.”
A wu pouted, feeling wronged.
“I just want it! Can’t you let me wear it for a few days?”
Emperor Jingxi stroked her neck soothingly and explained softly, “I always wear this thumb ring and never take it off—it’s become a habit. Besides, it’s a man’s ring; it’s not appropriate for you to wear.”
A wu refused to listen to such a reason, stubbornly meeting his eyes.
“What if I insist?”
Emperor Jingxi: “What childish tantrum is this?”
She looked up at the man.
His expression remained gentle, his eyes full of love, but he wouldn’t change for her so easily.
His jade thumb ring would never be casually given away.
He was the Emperor.
No matter how much he loved her, there were limits even she could not cross.
Yet she clearly remembered he had once given the thumb ring to the Imperial Son during an archery contest—she had seen it from afar.
At that moment, her heart turned cold.
No matter how hard she tried, she could never compete with the Imperial Son, and neither could her children.
The day the Imperial Son ascended the throne, she would be doomed.
Why should she die?
She refused that fate.
A wu angrily turned her back to him.
Emperor Jingxi lowered his gaze, silently watching her stubbornness.
He thought of the argument he had with the Queen Mother just days ago.
There had been an incident at the Taizi Mansion: a woman had become pregnant by the Imperial Son.
Since she was expecting, she naturally requested to be made a concubine, but her identity was unusual—she was one of the Imperial Grandson’s nursemaids.
The Imperial Grandson had eight nursemaids, and she was one of them.
After recent upheavals, the Imperial Son no longer shared a bed with the Crown Princess nor took concubines.
No one expected he would become involved with a nursemaid.
The Queen Mother was displeased.
First, the Imperial Son’s refusal to be with the Crown Princess risked causing troubles; second, though he never said it, he clearly still harbored feelings for A wu.
He refused to be with the Crown Princess and would have taken concubines if he wished—but he took no concubines.
Instead, he became entangled with a nursemaid.
What he thought when facing that nursemaid was unknown—dark rumors inevitably arose.
Although delighted with his two young sons, she feared this could spark future troubles or even palace calamities that would threaten the stability of the realm.
Thus, the Queen Mother and Emperor Jingxi argued fiercely.
Remembering his words to the Queen Mother and A wu’s strange demeanor, the Emperor couldn’t help but worry.
Especially now, a faint veil of sorrow clouded her features, eliciting his pity.
He tightened his embrace and whispered softly in her ear, “A wu, what’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you?”
His deep, low voice was the gentlest imaginable.
A wu’s heart trembled slightly at his words.
What did he mean?
Did he suspect she had overheard him?
She bit her lip and looked away.
She couldn’t face him for a moment.
Such a man could be tender and ruthless in turn—but she could not.
The depths of an Emperor’s scheming were like a bottomless abyss.
She was at the edge, afraid to look in lest she be swallowed whole.
Seeing her silence, Emperor Jingxi’s heart grew heavy with understanding.
He held the fragile woman in his arms and after a long pause spoke in a low voice, “A wu, that day when I argued with the Queen Mother, I spoke harshly—that was my fault.”
A wu’s long eyelashes lifted slightly before falling again.
His eyes darkened.
“If you take my words to heart, I would be uneasy.”
Throughout, he never mentioned the word “sacrifice,” but A wu knew he was bowing his head in apology, admitting his words had been improper.
She asked herself if such humility from an Emperor was enough to forgive him.
Logically, it should be.
No one could claim justice before an Emperor, and this was already a low bow.
But in her heart, it was not enough.
What was improper speech?
Careless words?
Emperor Jingxi was no fool!
How could anyone speak so plainly unless such thoughts truly crossed their mind?
Once spoken and heard, words cannot be taken back.
She wasn’t foolish enough to think it was mere nonsense.
Even if it was just a fleeting thought or careless remark, it was enough to chill her to the bone.
Moreover, she finally realized that no matter how much he loved his wife and children, his affection was just that—affection.
Behind the height of his favor lurked lurking dangers.
No one could claim the largest share beside the Emperor of Great Hui.
When he passed, who could say what would happen?
As she pondered this, Emperor Jingxi leaned close to her ear.
“A wu, don’t you know how I feel about you? Do you really think I’m so cruel and ruthless?”
His voice was hoarse, tinged with melancholy and charm—impossible to resist.
A wu felt lost, leaning foolishly against his arm.
In the faint scent of dragon musk, she almost wanted to surrender.
Yet suddenly, she remembered that moment of despair—when he had grasped her throat with merciless hands, the pain of near death flooding back.
So she heard herself say softly, “Your Majesty treats A wu well; A wu knows that, and A wu loves you too.”
She clung to his neck and asked coquettishly, “Then, should Your Majesty spoil A wu?”
Emperor Jingxi kissed her eyelids and asked, “Hmm? What does A wu want?” Â
She tilted her head with innocent sweetness and said, “Anything I want?”
The Emperor knew better.
He chuckled, “A wu, don’t be naughty. Whatever I can give, I will give you.”
A wu caught the double meaning in his words.
She studied the man before her, whose gentle and tender expression gave the illusion she was his treasured possession, able to be cherished or taken away at will, pampered to have whatever she desired.
But was it all an illusion?
A fragile bubble waiting to burst?
She stared into his eyes and finally said, “Your Majesty, may A wu request the Crown Prince title for the Second Prince? You should depose the Imperial Son and make the Second Prince the Crown Prince.”
At her words, the smile vanished from Emperor Jingxi’s eyes.
The chamber instantly fell silent.
A wu continued to gaze at Emperor Jingxi, unwavering.
He slowly stood, his eyelids lowered as he regarded her.
“Do you understand what you’re saying?”
Standing backlit, Emperor Jingxi’s tall figure looked like a towering mountain—unfamiliar and far from the gentle lover she knew.
But she knew this was the true Emperor—unfiltered and unrestrained.
She stubbornly lifted her chin and met his gaze.
“I know perfectly well.”
Emperor Jingxi said flatly, “You shouldn’t say such things. Take them back—I will pretend I never heard them.”
A wu understood these words meant her demands were forbidden.
No one in the harem could meddle in politics, especially not in succession issues.
If her words spread, she would be condemned by court officials and censors!
But she insisted, “Your Majesty, once words are spoken, they cannot be taken back. You may deceive yourself, but I will not.”
Emperor Jingxi bent down, pressing down heavily.
His long, strong fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“A wu, tell me—what madness is this? Who told you such things?”
A wu replied, “I’m in the harem. Who could say such things to me? Don’t dodge the question!”
The Emperor’s sharp lips pressed thin, his brown eyes cold and scrutinizing.
A wu snorted lightly, “You used to say sweet things—you loved me so much, I bore you two children, and you doted on them, wanting to give them the best. So why can’t you leave your legacy to them? Make the Second Prince the Crown Prince!”
She provoked, “Or is it that your words and your heart don’t match? That I and my children are only here to amuse you, but when it comes to serious matters of succession, your heart still belongs to the Imperial Son? You don’t see us as real people!”
Emperor Jingxi’s voice dropped low, “You’re crazy. Do you know how foolish your words are? Do you know what will happen if they get out?”
A wu spoke each word with determination: “Yong Tianze, just say yes or no.”
His gaze was as sharp as a blade.
A wu gritted her teeth and silently met his eyes.
Once, she was like a floating weed with no roots—kneeling before him, begging for protection, offering her life and heart in exchange for mercy.
She had treated herself like a dog, crawling at his feet.
But now, ambition had been nurtured inside her.
She would stand up and fight.
She boldly spoke his full name and faced the Emperor’s overwhelming pressure without flinching.
The chamber fell into a deadly silence; their breaths sounded loud in their ears.
After a long time, Emperor Jingxi finally released her.
After the intense tension, A wu collapsed onto the couch like a lump of clay, weak and breathless.
Her black hair spilled over her slender shoulders, her breath heavy.
The Emperor’s thin lips uttered cold words: “The harem is forbidden to interfere in politics. If you forgot, recite that a hundred times.”
A wu bit her lips hard, her eyes stubborn and defiant.
Emperor Jingxi straightened his robes.
“Since you’re ill, rest well. Once better, clear your head and stop making such foolish mistakes.”
Having said this, he turned to leave.
At the screen, he paused, hesitated briefly, then tilted his head slightly.
In the dim light, his profile was sharp and detached, but his tone softened a little.
“I will come by later to dine with you.”
Then he strode away.
A wu watched Emperor Jingxi’s indifferent back, burning with hatred and fury.
Clenching her trembling fists, she vowed never to forgive this man in her lifetime.
One day, she would drive a blade deep into his heart.