Zuo Qiurong hadn’t expected him to deny knowing her, much less to do so decisively and without leaving any room for doubt.

He had no interest in her.

Such a heartless soul resided within that elegant figure.

She immediately felt utterly humiliated, regretting that she had rashly approached him because of Meng Tinghui’s words, only to end up in this situation. She was so embarrassed that her eyes turned red. She gave him a small bow and turned to run away.

Yin Qing immediately turned back around and continued walking forward.

It wasn’t that he didn’t remember her.

That year at the Zuo family mansion in Liuzhou of Yongxing route, she had worn a bright red jacket that caught the eye. Her eyes had curved like crescent moons, and she had composed poetry with ease.

Her shyness then was just like tonight—too timid to speak to him, her face flushed red.

But now her figure was slender, and her face no longer had the immaturity of those days. She truly had the appearance of a beautiful, talented, and proper lady.

The feelings in her eyes just now had been plain to see. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand, but that he had no room in his heart for such romantic sentiments.

He hadn’t expected to pass the imperial examination in the same cohort as her, and this made him feel slightly uneasy.

At the palace banquet, she had appeared close to Meng Tinghui, but he didn’t know what she had told Meng Tinghui, or whether it would cause Meng Tinghui to become suspicious of him.

He had prepared for everything he could but hadn’t anticipated meeting this Zuo Qiurong at court.

That soft, low “Official Yin” had been like tiny snowflakes filling the air, lingering by his ears, refusing to melt away easily.

Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but stop and look back.

Snow extended along both sides of the imperial road, with stark trees and withered branches looming all around, but she had long since disappeared.

In Xihua Palace, warm curtains floated gently, and the spring bed curtains were so thin they couldn’t hide the figures inside.

On the bed, with sweat glistening, slender arms pushing aside the sheets, silken garments in disarray, the sound of their passionate breathing grew louder and more urgent as their bodies intertwined, until finally they were spent, their souls dissolved, gradually subsiding.

Suddenly, someone outside knocked gently on the door—one urgent knock followed by two slow ones.

Meng Tinghui, exhausted, heard the sound and forced her eyes open to look up at him.

Ying Gua moved her arms from around his shoulders, propped himself up, and without putting on any clothes, went barefoot to the outer hall to unlock and open the door.

As the vermilion door opened, the night wind rushed in with snow, making his bare shoulders ice-cold.

Bai Danyong’s shoulders were also covered with snow. Seeing the half-naked, sweat-covered body, he immediately knew he had come at an inopportune time and hurriedly lowered his head, saying, “Your servant followed Yin Qing but found nothing unusual. There was also no one seen leaving the Northern Envoy’s residence.”

Ying Gua frowned but didn’t comment.

Bai Danyong presented something else, saying softly, “The inner palace just received an imperial letter from Suiyang in the Western Capital. No one dared delay, so I brought it along.”

Ying Gua reached out to take it, nodding as he said, “You’ve worked hard tonight. Go and rest early.”

Bai Danyong thanked him and withdrew, closing the palace doors.

Turning around, Ying Gua didn’t immediately return to the inner chamber but leaned against the door, lowering his eyes to examine what he held in his hand.

An imperial letter from the Western Capital.

His eyes moistened as he extended a finger to break the imperial seal and remove the thin, gold-edged letterpaper inside.

The handwriting was bold like an ancient pine, with a flamboyant style.

The message was brief, but each word was like the edge of a precious sword, intimidating in its regality.

Just looking at the ink strokes that resembled a flying dragon, he could visualize his father’s handsome, chiseled face.

People said that father and son looked extremely alike. Even his Empress Mother had said that everything about him resembled his father, except for one blue eye that resembled her.

The letter in his palm was both cold and burning. He read it through in one breath, then couldn’t help but close his eyes.

“The events of the sixth year of Qiande were my plan, and your Empress Mother still doesn’t know the reason. At that time, the country had just been unified, and rebels along the borders were increasingly rampant. If not for this plan, how could we have ensured the peace of the border people? However, for over twenty years, I have also felt regret. Border pacification strategies cannot be replaced by killing and deception. My son now has good ideas, which may be unprecedented. Your Empress Mother now knows that Meng Tinghui is indeed the Qingtu County Lady of the Meng clan. She often recalls your childhood matters, sometimes worrying that you don’t understand the difficulties of worldly affairs, sometimes worrying that because of your parents, you suppress your true heart. But like father, like son—how could my son be ordinary? He must have his destiny. Although I don’t know what is beautiful, what is kind, or what is virtuous about this Meng woman, my son’s love must have found something beautiful, loyal, and virtuous in her. Even if she is not beautiful, not loyal, not virtuous, what is wrong with my son loving her? I fully understand your concerns. This world has already been entrusted to you. I have no more desires, only wishing that my son can find happiness like mine, then my heart can be at peace…”

He opened his eyes, walked to a nearby table, and burned the letter to ashes using the intense flame of a candle.

When he returned to the inner chamber, she was already lying asleep on the bed.

Through the thin bed curtains, her face looked peaceful, her cheeks delicate and translucent. Her bare back was still damp with fragrant sweat, a sight of enticing beauty.

He stood by the bedside, unwilling to disturb her.

The sixth year of Qiande.

He closed his eyes again, and suddenly, some blurred images flashed in his mind.

That year, he was only six years old. His Empress Mother visited the residence of Duke Zheng, Meng Hao, at night, taking him along.

A tiny baby girl wrapped in pink cloth was passed around but didn’t cry. His Empress Mother smiled, saying this girl was well-behaved, just like he had been as a child, and asked if he wanted a well-behaved Crown Princess.

How lively Duke Zheng’s residence had been that night. But after that, he never heard anyone mention the baby girl who had been bestowed the title of Qingtu County Lady.

As time passed, no one even remembered the talk of a Crown Princess.

Yet who would have thought that after all these years of twists and turns, she would still return to his side, becoming his woman?

Twenty-one years ago, his father had executed her entire Meng clan.

She should have died too, but by chance, she had slipped through the net and survived.

Although she survived, eight years later, she nearly froze to death because of an edict from his Empress Mother.

Yet it was precisely then that he had encountered her and saved her.

And because of this, she had fallen deeply, deeply in love with him. The connection of fate could sometimes be so ironic.

Perhaps his long-standing by the bedside made her subconsciously sense something. After a while, she opened her eyes, her gaze finding him in confusion.

“Your Majesty.”

As she propped herself up, her long hair fell to her chest, covering two delicate buds, making her appear even more enchanting.

He curved his lips slightly, lifted the curtain, got into bed, and held her in his embrace.

She touched his cold shoulders and couldn’t help but shiver, frowning as she said, “Why didn’t Your Majesty even put on a robe?” Then she hugged him even tighter, trying to warm him with her body.

“It’s nothing,” he said, lowering his head to kiss her.

Between breaths, she asked, “Was there some urgent matter just now?”

He shook his head, still saying, “It’s nothing.”

She nestled in his arms and kissed until her mind was in chaos. After a long while, she regained her senses and raised her chin to look at him.

But he reached out to extinguish the candle, held her, and turned over, saying, “You haven’t had enough rest at the Strategic Military Bureau lately? Tonight, just sleep well.”

She seemed to remember something and couldn’t help but press her lips together in the darkness, saying, “Your Majesty acted so convincingly in front of the Northern Envoy today. It’s a shame that General Fang and the others, at their advanced age, still had to play along with Your Majesty in the great hall.”

He laughed softly but only said, “Sleep.”

She lowered her head, but after a while, raised it again and said, “I seem to love Your Majesty even more now.”

His eyes suddenly felt sore, and he held her tighter.

She knew he had always struggled to express himself directly, but this gesture conveyed his feelings, making her smile inwardly as she closed her eyes peacefully.

After some time, he suddenly whispered hoarsely by her ear, “I never knew I could love so much, be loved so much.”

She nestled in the crook of his neck, smiling faintly, “Then perhaps I should have passed the imperial examination and become an official earlier, becoming acquainted with Your Majesty sooner, so that Your Majesty could have known earlier…”

He slowly raised his hand to caress her face.

If I told you that we met very, very early, would you believe me?