Zhou Zihong left with a smile to prepare for the wedding. Ming Yi returned to the main hall alone, encountering Ji Bozai admiring flowers on the way.
He seemed in good spirits and smiled upon seeing her: “You agreed to wear the dragon and phoenix robe with me last time.”
Ming Yi smiled carelessly: “Yes, I sent two bolts to Your Majesty’s Qingming Hall. Didn’t you receive them?”
“I did,” he said with a smirk. “What about yours?”
“I’ve ordered mine to be made,” Ming Yi yawned lazily. “We’re about to go to war, yet Your Majesty still remembers this.”
“I always remember your matters,” he gazed at her deeply, suddenly lowering his voice. “It’s you who no longer remembers me.”
“How could that be?” Ming Yi laughed. “Your Majesty’s divine beauty outshines all in my rear court. How could I not think of you?”
In the past, she could never have uttered such words. But now, she found Ji Bozai’s habit of speaking nonsense quite pleasant. They could joke casually without tension, not taking anything to heart.
Sure enough, hearing this, his expression softened, his gaze growing tender: “Really?”
“How could I deceive Your Majesty? If your power wasn’t so great, I’d want to bring you into my rear court too,” she chuckled.
Ji Bozai looked at her intently, suddenly stepping forward and leaning close: “Why do you think the fire in my palace burned for months?”
Ming Yi froze, instinctively stepping back, but he caught her waist: “I’m already in your rear court, so why won’t you turn my name plaque?”
“…” As if the Imperial Household Department would dare write his name on a green-headed plaque.
Ming Yi broke free, stepping back twice, silently reflecting that her flirting skills were still lacking. Look at his technique – one touch, two glances, three whispers. He flirted so smoothly; she still had much to learn and practice.
Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him: “Please write your name on the plaque, and I’ll turn it tonight. However – lately I prefer Zhou Zihong’s type, with soft skin and a slender waist. I might not have a taste for Your Majesty’s type.”
The man’s face visibly darkened.
Ming Yi laughed, whistling cheerfully as she walked past him.
Ji Bozai stood there, stunned for a long while.
“Your Majesty?” Bu Xiu worriedly supported him.
After a long moment, he took a breath and turned to watch Ming Yi leave, asking Bu Xiu in a low voice: “Was I this infuriating before?”
Bu Xiu laughed dryly: “You and Miss Ming have always been evenly matched.”
Though he had never said such things to Miss Ming, he had said plenty to others. It wasn’t without reason that the noble ladies of Mu Xing City both loved his looks and hated his mouth.
Taking a deep breath, Ji Bozai smiled bitterly: “Fine, consider it repaying a debt.”
As long as she still gave him a chance to make up for her wedding, everything would be fine.
He used to dislike marriage, feeling as if a living person was tied to a stone pillar, unable to go anywhere or do anything. Even drinking at a brothel meant facing tears and tantrums at home – the thought alone was suffocating.
But now, he suddenly found marriage wonderful. It could keep someone by his side forever, seeing her when he opened his eyes and before sleep, sharing three meals a day, four seasons a year.
He had grown tired of outside drinks and found the daily luxurious life unbearable. Now he just wanted to be with her, eat home-cooked meals, worry about little things together, and share joy over treasures found.
The feeling of getting something good but having no one to share it with was truly worse than anything.
“Are you sure Ming Yi is willing to marry you?” Yan Xiao asked, raising an eyebrow while grinding herbs.
Ji Bozai brushed his sleeve: “Of course I’m sure. Those bolts of silk were just me giving her an opportunity. Who knew she’d agree so quickly? You know we’ve been through so much; it’s time we married.”
Yan Xiao scoffed: “But I remember you once swore to heaven that you’d never tie yourself to one tree for life.”
“You’re the tree, your whole family are trees,” he narrowed his eyes, then smiled, resting his chin on his hand. “Ming Yi is the never-setting morning sun.”
Yan Xiao: “…”
Thanks for giving him goosebumps first thing in the morning.
“Have you dealt with Princess Helun?” Yan Xiao asked.
Mentioning this, Ji Bozai’s expression turned bland: “The former Judicial Officer of Mu Xing City passed away last month. The Wise King wants to succeed, but I’ve had people stop him. He’s very anxious now and has to listen to everything I say. Not only did he bring Helun back, but he also annulled the marriage and let her marry someone else.”
“Oh?” Yan Xiao was surprised. “How could he agree? Having Helun marry you was a huge bargaining chip.”
“A chip he can’t use,” Ji Bozai sneered. “The Peace King’s son is still alive. If he insists on defying me, I can support that young child to succeed. Then he’ll get nothing.”
He hated the Peace King and would never let his child succeed. That was just leverage to control the Wise King.
Yan Xiao felt Ji Bozai was truly remarkable. He could devote himself to Ming Yi’s affairs while controlling situations everywhere as if he had eight brains thinking of everything perfectly. One couldn’t even accuse him of being consumed by love.
“You needn’t worry too much about Helun. She originally had someone she loved. She only insisted on marrying you because she was blinded by power,” he said. “You left her cold in the palace for so long, she figured it out herself. She even asked the female doctor if there was a fake death potion, wanting to leave that man-eating place.”
Ji Bozai narrowed his eyes: “When did I ever care about her?”
“Then why do you look like this every time she’s mentioned?” Yan Xiao raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you afraid she’ll cause trouble again?”
“No,” he said coldly. “I just remember that unpleasant grand wedding whenever I see her.”
Weddings were already tedious. If not marrying one’s beloved, the whole ceremony felt like torture. Though there were touching moments, thinking the person beside him wasn’t Ming Yi made it all meaningless.
Fortunately, he had a chance to make amends.
“Remember to come,” he gave Yan Xiao an invitation. “I’ll save you a top seat.”
Looking at the date on the invitation, Yan Xiao made a sound of acknowledgment. He chose well – two days before the campaign. This way, after the ceremony, they’d go to battle together without returning to her rear court to see that group of men.
He claimed not to mind Ming Yi’s harem since he was at fault first. But Yan Xiao could see Ji Bozai’s pettiness. Who knew how many jars of vinegar he’d smashed in private? It was admirable that he’d endured it all.