Indeed, it wasn’t pretense or deliberation, but genuine tenderness, just like how she used to look at him.
Xiao Hanjin’s throat bobbed several times. It suddenly dawned on him that over these years, he’d occasionally wondered what kind of life Empress Ronghua might be living if she were still alive.
One thing was certain, that life wouldn’t include him.
So he hoped she was doing well, yet not too well, not so well that she could forget him entirely.
But now, it seemed she was… truly doing too well.
She no longer hated him.
Yet he’d rather she still did.
“Xiao Hanjin.”
Empress Ronghua frowned, her gaze dropping to the hand he still hadn’t released. “Aren’t you letting go?”
Xiao Hanjin stared at her unwaveringly, searching for the slightest hint that she was lying.
But there was none.
Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, a touch of faint displeasure coloring her exquisite face.
At that moment, the man beside her, Feng Hua, spoke up, his voice low, rich, and clear. “The past is past. For the Emperor to cling so relentlessly to an ex who’s moved on with a new life, that’s hardly the demeanor of a ruler.”
Heh.
Xiao Hanjin closed his eyes briefly, a hoarse laugh escaping his throat.
A new life?
She’d poured all her love into him, seeping into his life and heart bit by bit.
Then she’d returned all her hatred to him with that leap off the cliff, corroding him to the marrow.
And in the end, she walked away to her new life, leaving him alone, trapped in the quicksand of his own torment?
“Ronghua,” he said, tugging at the corner of his lips in a half-smile, “since you’ve got this new life and don’t seem to hate me that much anymore, why not give Jiangjiang back to me?”
Jiangjiang.
A barely perceptible flicker of stillness passed through the woman’s eyes, then she smiled at him as if nothing had happened. “Who’s Jiangjiang?”
“The child Su Miao brought back to Xiliang.”
“That’s Miao Miao’s child. What does it have to do with me?”
“Do you think I’d believe that?”
“Oh, fine,” she said with a slight smile. “She’s your daughter.”
Xiao Hanjin’s chest jolted again.
Even though it wasn’t the first time he’d heard this, even though he’d learned of it on his way to Xiliang, back then it was just a note of dubious origin. Now, it was a fact confirmed from Empress Ronghua’s own mouth.
His mind flashed back to the little face he’d seen before leaving, carved like jade, nestled in his arms, sobbing with a red nose, pitifully asking for her daddy, his daughter.
He’d left too hastily, without even time to say a few more words to her.
But perhaps she wouldn’t feel much anyway.
After all, in her short memory, Su Miao was her mother, Emperor Beiyu her father.
And he…
Just a stranger.
“So,” he said, each word deliberate, “why didn’t you give her to me?”
“Obviously,” the woman replied, her smile casual, “you wanted my blood to save Mu Qingshuang. My daughter shares the same blood as me, and who knows if you’d be crazed enough to spare even a child? Wouldn’t that just harm her?”
Xiao Hanjin’s eyes darkened abruptly, his grip on her tightening. “Then why didn’t you keep her yourself?”
“Why should I raise your child?” she said nonchalantly. “Miao Miao likes her quite a bit and treats her well. In Xiliang’s palace, she’ll have the best life possible, that’s the greatest mercy I could give her.”
