Xiao Hanjin’s gaze darkened further. “Ronghua, I know I was wrong in the past, but she’s just a child.”
Before she could respond, Fenghua’s voice suddenly dropped, cold and heavy. “So, Your Majesty, how has Ronghua wronged her?” A fleeting chill flashed through the man’s eyes. “At least she gave birth to that child. What right do you have to judge her?”
Xiao Hanjin’s stare grew icier as he shot him a glance. “This is between her and me.”
Fenghua sneered. “Her business is my business.”
Xiao Hanjin’s eyes sharpened instantly.
Empress Ronghua caught the flicker of coldness in his gaze. “Your Majesty, this reunion should end here,” she said, her voice cool and detached. “We have matters to attend to today, so we’ll take our leave.”
As she spoke, she withdrew her hand.
His palm was left empty, hollow.
For several seconds, he didn’t react.
Only when she’d walked a few steps away did he focus on her retreating figure alongside that man. His eyes sank, nearly spilling ink with their depth.
After an endless silence, his heart, briefly filled, was once again swallowed by a relentless, terrifying void and dissatisfaction.
She was leaving again—with her new life.
Ronghua, Fenghua.
He suddenly realized their names shared a character.
And he seemed to have lost any right to interfere, lacking even a reason to chase after her.
Step by step, she drifted further away.
“There’s a new variety of crabapple flowers in the Imperial Garden.”
His low voice broke the silence, startling even himself with its abruptness. “If you have time, would you like to see them?”
Empress Ronghua paused.
After a long stretch—long enough for Xiao Hanjin to think she’d see through his flimsy excuse and refuse—she chuckled softly. “Sure.”
…
Xiao Hanjin hadn’t expected her to agree. He was caught off guard.
So when she and Fenghua actually entered the palace and stood in the Imperial Garden, staring at the near-barren expanse of withered grass, she asked, “This is what you wanted me to see?”
It was truly desolate.
Before she’d left the palace, this garden had been a sea of white crabapples, a stunning, pristine vista with a faint, sweet fragrance.
Now, aside from the remnants of those blooms and patches of dead grass, there was nothing.
No scent, not even a single petal in sight.
Meeting her astonished gaze, Xiao Hanjin suddenly regretted not crafting a better excuse.
Fenghua scoffed. “It seems the new variety His Majesty spoke of hasn’t arrived yet.”
Xiao Hanjin glanced at him, but his words were for Empress Ronghua. “They’ll be here tomorrow. Ronghua, stay the night here and see them then.”
Empress Ronghua raised a brow, turning to the man beside her. “Fenghua, is that alright?”
“If you’d like to, of course it is.”
“Alright then.” She nodded happily, her eyes curving with a smile. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”
Xiao Hanjin couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her smile like this. Now that he had, he didn’t know whether to feel joy or sorrow.
She was polite and mild with him, but she beamed and laughed for another man.
Heh.
…
Mu Qingshuang heard Xiao Hanjin had returned to the palace.
Amid her surprise, a faint panic stirred.
But she quickly suppressed it, slipping into a new light blue dress and hurrying out from her quarters.
Yet as she passed the decayed crabapple flowers, her expression darkened uncontrollably.
She’d never forget how the Imperial Garden had ended up like this.
Nor would anyone in the palace.
