“Her?”

Shen Lang had just picked up one green tablet presented by the Office of Palace Attendance. He was pondering how Wen Zhaoyi’s temper had grown considerably lately, and thinking it might be better to summon Noble Lady Zhang to attend his bed tonight instead—her gentle and accommodating nature would provide a different kind of pleasure. However, when Zheng Bao stepped forward and whispered something in his ear, his eyebrows immediately arched upward.

First surprise flashed through his eyes, then amusement.

Zheng Bao hesitated somewhat: “This matter does not conform to proper etiquette. Should we send her away?”

Shen Lang raised his hand: “No. I actually want to hear what she has to say.”

Zheng Bao was slightly surprised, his heart secretly racing: With undercurrents surging through the court and countryside, at this time the legitimate young miss of the Duke’s manor, who was at the very center of the vortex, actually dared to boldly request an audience with the Emperor—what exactly was she planning?

But he dared not show his thoughts and went to announce Xiao Shu’s entry.

Xiao Shu had been waiting outside for quite some time.

She had originally thought she would feel afraid and apprehensive about her choice at this moment, but gazing at the light shining through that window in the Qianqing Palace, her mind was clearer than ever before: Aunt was wrong, terribly wrong!

The most honored person under heaven was the Emperor. Even though she held the noble position of Empress Dowager and was the Emperor’s birth mother, how could she oppose the Emperor?

Much less support Prince Linzi!

While Shen Jie was certainly refined and cultured, he wasn’t someone Xiao Shu absolutely had to marry. She had originally set her sights on him simply because of the position of Princess Consort to Prince Linzi, and because the Emperor had no sons and was planning to establish Shen Jie as Crown Prince and Imperial Brother. What she sought was not merely the princess consort position, but the even more likely future position of Empress!

But now, firstly, Wen Zhaoyi was pregnant, and secondly, through the incident of slandering Jiang Xuening, which had angered Jiang Boyou, she had already clearly tested the Emperor’s attitude toward the Xiao clan. What was there left to misunderstand?

Aunt’s words were not wrong.

In the imperial family, there was no father-son affection.

In fact, not only did the imperial family lack father-son bonds—in any household wielding power and wealth, familial affection was exceptionally thin. Common people valued filial piety and parental kindness simply because they had nothing but family bonds; whereas for those with power, they had the opportunity to possess everything under heaven—compared to that, what did family affection amount to?

Therefore, what did the rise and fall of the Xiao clan matter to her?

Moreover, she could barely protect herself!

Zheng Bao came out to announce her, and she expressed her thanks, bowing as she entered, first performing the grand kowtow.

Shen Lang looked down at her from his elevated position.

The handprint on Xiao Shu’s cheek was particularly obvious under the dim yellow lamplight, yet it also brought out a somewhat pitiable charm. The sinister Emperor toyed with the green tablet in his hand, saying with considerable interest: “Cousin has never been close to me, her cousin. Now the palace gates are about to be locked for the night, so why have you come to me?”

Xiao Shu said: “This subject has come today to pledge allegiance to Your Majesty.”

Shen Lang’s eyes flashed slightly: “Oh?”

Xiao Shu knew that life, death, honor, and disgrace all hung on today. She secretly clenched her fingers, steeled her heart, and said: “Jiang Shilang had merit in following the dragon in those years and has always acted according to Your Majesty’s expressions. If you did not give consent first, even with ten times the courage, he would not dare memorialize the throne. But Jiang Shilang is not one to meddle in affairs—without someone provoking him, he would fear wading into troubled waters. Whether it’s the marriage alliance proposal or the old relief fund case, both are within Your Majesty’s single thought. This subject has long resided in the Xiao household and knows all matters great and small without exception. Provoking Jiang Shilang to impeach the Xiao clan is the first thing this subject offers in pledging allegiance to Your Majesty. If Your Majesty wishes to raise the blade against the Xiao clan, this subject is willing to献绵薄之力.”

Shen Lang looked at her, his pupils gradually deepening, yet he gave a cold laugh: “Based on you? Speaking so high-mindedly—I’m afraid you simply don’t want to go to that barbarous land for a marriage alliance with the Tatars.”

Cold sweat immediately seeped from Xiao Shu’s forehead.

She closed her eyes and said: “This subject humbly begs Your Majesty to show imperial grace.”

Shen Lang finally stood up. The green tablet inscribed with Noble Lady Zhang’s name spun once between his fingers. He actually reached out to lift Xiao Shu’s delicate chin, narrowed his eyes slightly, and said: “Didn’t cousin want to be selected as Prince Linzi’s consort? So how exactly should I show this imperial grace?”

Though the Emperor’s fingers didn’t touch her skin, the frivolity in his actions was as if he were addressing a courtesan!

A sense of humiliation immediately welled up.

But Xiao Shu blinked, and in the end could only forcibly suppress it. Her fingers trembled lightly as she placed them at her collar, and under Shen Lang’s burning gaze, slowly unfastened all the buttons at her front and removed her garments completely.

On an early spring night, the cold air still lingered heavily.

As soon as her snow-white skin was exposed, it began to tremble. Where she was magnificent, it rose and fell like mountain ranges; where she was low and hollow, there was graceful allure; where she was full, one hand could not hold it; where she was slender, it was less than a single grasp…

Kneeling at Shen Lang’s feet, all her former pride completely shattered, yet in an instant transformed into endless hatred.

A single tear blurred into the soft carpet, and she coldly heard her own deliberately lowered, gentle voice: “This subject humbly begs Your Majesty to show imperial grace.”