With Jun Yaotiao asleep in Jun Beiyue’s arms, Jun Buli sat down beside Ziqing. Hongyi had already withdrawn, leaving just the four of them in the room.
Ziqing reached out and draped her arm around her son’s shoulder, the gesture more like two old brothers than mother and son.
“Your Majesty, you’ve been run ragged these past six months, haven’t you? Look at you, you’ve gotten thinner!”
Though Ziqing said it lightly, even teasingly pinching his chin as she spoke, there was a trace of heartache in her eyes.
That was just how mothers were.
No matter who became a parent, when it came to their children, their hearts always softened.
Jun Buli shoved Ziqing’s hand away in mock annoyance, shooting a displeased look at Jun Beiyue. “Keep your woman in line…”
Jun Beiyue just smiled without a word. “How about it—want to take this little one off my hands?”
Jun Buli gave a strained smile. “No thanks.”
The family of four remained warm and cheerful together. Ziqing sometimes thought that if she hadn’t left back then, if she’d stayed in the capital feuding with Consort Li every single day, perhaps they wouldn’t have this kind of harmony today.
There were many things she’d genuinely come to terms with. Her son was grown now, and he could handle his own affairs. Still, he was getting on in years—nearly twenty-three—and he still hadn’t named an empress.
Ziqing and Jun Beiyue had both lived through enough to know: if their son truly cared for Consort Li that much, the position of empress would have gone to her long ago.
A consort, no matter how favored, no matter how esteemed, was ultimately still a concubine. Only the empress was the proper wife, the one married through formal rites.
Though Ziqing didn’t think twenty-three was particularly old, this was, after all, ancient times. If her son kept dragging his feet like this, he’d end up an old bachelor.
“Son, are those old ministers giving you trouble? The moment you got back, Hongyi mentioned you’d lost your temper at court,” Ziqing probed gently.
In truth, she and Jun Beiyue didn’t even need to press him—plenty of officials at court were already pressing him hard enough.
No empress named, and among the three thousand consorts in the harem, not a single one had borne him a child. Was this emperor really that busy?
Jun Buli was clever too—the moment his mother brought it up, he knew exactly what she meant.
He smiled and skillfully changed the subject. “Nothing much, really. Just matters concerning Nanzhao.”
Ziqing smiled and draped her arm over his shoulder again. “What’s going on with Nanzhao? Since you’re heading there anyway, take a look while you’re at it.”
A slight tightness gripped Jun Buli’s chest. This wasn’t the first time his mother had “let him off the hook” like this. Many times, when she’d bring up the matter of marriage, it was really just a passing question—she never pressed further. The moment he changed the subject, she’d drop it immediately.
This was exactly the outcome he wanted, and yet he always felt a strange sense of being abandoned.
“Reassigning officials—Nanzhao is prime territory, plenty of people scrambling for that plum post, though most of them are overreaching fools,” Jun Buli said with a cold snort.
After the war, Nanzhao had been incorporated into Da Zhou’s territory—rebuilding, restructuring, establishing prefectures and counties, stationing troops, dispatching officials. None of this was particularly difficult for Jun Buli.
The difficulty was that Nanzhao wasn’t like other regions—managing the Nanzhao tribes, especially the remnants of the various clans, required real ability, or they’d never be brought under control.
Even now, the four great poison beasts remained stationed in Nanzhao, not daring to return for fear of a rebel uprising.
Ziqing considered this for a moment, murmuring, “Guxi and Xiaosheng…”
“You mean Duku?” Jun Beiyue cut in.
A light flickered in Jun Buli’s eyes—why hadn’t he thought of them?
Baili Xiaosheng and Guxi were practically the local powers of Nanzhao these days, rebuilding Duku and recruiting talented individuals. If anyone else had been doing this, Jun Buli would likely have already marked them as his greatest threat and moved to eliminate them.
“They’re the ones for the job!” Jun Buli said, excited. A problem that had been troubling him for ages, finally solved.
Ziqing gave him a sidelong glance. “Guxi might not agree to it.”
“Baili Xiaosheng definitely will,” Jun Buli said with certainty. That troublemaker of a girl was not someone lacking in ambition.
“Any word from Haonan and the others?” Jun Beiyue asked.
“Qianqian couldn’t make it. Haonan, Jing’er, and Meng Duo’er left earlier than us—they should be arriving soon,” Ziqing answered.
“What about Uncle Scholar?” Jun Buli asked quickly.
Not just Baili Xiaosheng and Ziqing—he too had spent all these years searching for that infuriating scholar.
But strangely enough, even with the whole world essentially under their control, they couldn’t find a single trace of him.
Jinjiao’s wife had also reported that Baili Weisheng wasn’t in the sea.
A flicker of disappointment crossed Ziqing’s eyes. Over the years, the resentment over being abandoned without so much as a word had long since faded—she’d even grown too tired to blame him for it anymore. She simply hoped that, just this once, he might show up.
It was Xiaosheng’s wedding, after all. No father, no mother, just that one master she’d waited on day after day. If he didn’t come for this, he deserved to be struck by lightning.
“You don’t think something happened to him, do you?” Jun Beiyue murmured, though he quickly dismissed the thought himself. That indestructible, unkillable, poison-proof fellow—what could possibly happen to him?
Besides, he had that golden scale armor protecting him too.
“I’m more inclined to think he’s fallen asleep somewhere,” Jun Buli said, looking skyward in exasperation. He remembered Baili Xiaosheng once mentioning that Baili Weisheng could sleep for incredibly long stretches—sometimes half a year at a time.
“I’m more inclined to think he’s hiding on purpose, afraid someone will come pester him,” Ziqing said, equally helpless.
Whether Baili Weisheng would show up or not, they’d find out once they reached Nanzhao.
Ziqing chatted a bit more, then carried Jun Yaotiao off to leave. They were setting out for Nanzhao the next day; she’d only made this detour to see her son and check in on Hongyi.
She left the father and son to discuss matters of state while she went to chat with Hongyi.
Hongyi, knowing her mistress would come find her, had been waiting by the door the whole time. The moment she saw her mistress emerge, she hurried over happily, careful not to speak too loudly for fear of waking the little princess.
“My lady, the shadow guards mentioned that the little princess slipped off into the palace,” Hongyi said in a low voice.
“I know. Her brother carried her back,” Ziqing said with a smile, heading toward the tall pavilion in the courtyard.
“My lady, the thing is… the little princess went to Consort Li’s place,” Hongyi added.
Ziqing paused at the steps, her previously calm gaze darkening slightly. “What did she go there for?”
“Not sure. Consort Li’s place has a lot of shadow guards posted, but only the little princess managed to get in,” Hongyi answered.
Ziqing lowered her eyes and said nothing more, climbing the steps one by one.
But in her arms, the small figure’s long eyelashes trembled, and she cracked one eye open timidly. In truth, she’d woken up the moment Hongyi approached, but hearing her being reported on made her nervous.
Father doted on her and never raised his voice at her. But Mother—Mother could be a scary person. When she got strict, she could genuinely make her cry.
Her feigned-sleep eyes kept flickering open and shut, her lashes trembling, her little heart pounding away.
What should she do?
This was her first time coming to the capital, her first time going into the palace. Before they’d left, her mother had told her three times—she could go anywhere she liked, except Consort Li’s quarters.
But she’d finally gotten the chance to come, and it was precisely Consort Li she’d come for!