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墨書 Inktalez
Ke Zhe did not express much, merely waving his hand and saying with a hint of sorrow, "No amount of wealth can replace Your Highness. Let’s put it aside for now; after some time, I will reconsider." As for the military token, one should not rush to demand it from Consort Rong. Taking it slowly and steadily is the best strategy.
Such a heartfelt demeanor moved Sun Zhengliang even more, filling him with admiration. He was determined to sort out the late Prince's inheritance as soon as possible and persuade the princess to accept it. "I will be going to the palace today to pay my respects to Father and Consort Qi. Please prepare the carriage, Steward Sun."
"Yes!"
One, two familiar faces. Upon returning to Bixiao Palace, Song Feiwan felt much more at ease. The palace attendants genuinely liked her and were happy for her presence. After exchanging greetings, they surrounded her as they walked into the hall.
"Princess, His Majesty and Consort Rong are already waiting for you inside."
Song Feiwan smiled and nodded before pushing open the door. Following proper etiquette, she lowered her head as she approached, greeting the Emperor and Consort Rong. "I pay my respects to Father and Consort Qi."
The chief maid of Consort Rong, Fuqu, presented a tray with two cups of tea. Song Feiwan picked up a cup and offered it forward, raising her head obediently as she said, "A toast to Father and Consort Qi."
Yesterday, under the veil, she could not see clearly; all she knew was that the Emperor was a middle-aged man who had not grown stout, with a deep and commanding voice. Seeing him today allowed her to understand why all his sons were so handsome. In his youth, he must have been an unparalleled beauty himself. It seemed that beautiful people shared certain similarities; the contours of Young Master Zhuo bore a slight resemblance to him.
The Emperor, now ten years older, had fine lines at the corners of his eyes and a deep bone structure. Well-maintained, he exuded the charm that comes with age. Clad in a bright yellow dragon robe, he appeared immensely imposing.
Yet, for some reason, when their gazes met, his pupils trembled slightly, and the smile at the corner of his mouth froze. He gripped the armrest of his chair tightly as if he wanted to stand up but was held back forcefully. The shock and confusion that flashed in his eyes did not escape Song Feiwan's notice.
Holding a slightly warm teacup, she felt sweat trickling down her back, her heart racing. Had the Emperor discovered something? If he exposed her lies right then and there, she would surely face death!
What should she do?!
In her moment of panic, Consort Rong called out softly, "Your Majesty?"
Song Feiwan had held the teacup for too long, and her hand trembled. Just before the tea spilled, the Emperor took the cup from her and took a sip. Then he smiled at Song Feiwan and said, "No need for formalities."
His expression softened again, his eyes deep like a sea shrouded in mist. Song Feiwan could not discern the complex emotions within them. She felt a sense of survival after a narrow escape and poured tea for Consort Rong as well before rising to take her seat again.
The two elders bestowed many gifts upon her and asked her various questions about whether she was accustomed to life in the Prince of Chen's residence. She answered them one by one. Most of the conversation was between her and Consort Rong while the Emperor listened quietly.
Song Feiwan always had an odd feeling that he was looking through her to see someone else. It was only when they were about to leave that he casually asked:
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