Before I married into the Eastern Palace, I secretly kept a man in Jiangnan behind the Crown Prince’s back.
He had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and worked hard in bed.
His only flaw was that he bragged far too much.
He was plainly a rough country man, yet he spoke of imperial treasures with utter disdain.
He claimed the Cloud-Mist tea reserved for the imperial family tasted like swill and that he used it to feed his cattle.
Rubies worth a fortune, he said, had been nothing but marbles to him as a child.
Even when I decided to leave him, he kept boasting.
Kneeling at my feet with both arms wrapped around my legs, he begged, “Weiwei, don’t go. I’ll make you Crown Princess!”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I have no interest in being Crown Princess.”
He stared at me in shock and muttered, “Weiwei, how are you even better at bragging than I am?”
Later, I married into the Eastern Palace. I heard the Crown Prince had long cherished another woman in his heart.
Though he had lost his memory, he had remained chaste for her.
He told me coldly, “I do not love you. Expect nothing from me.”
I blinked at that familiar face. Even after he crouched down to wash my feet, he still could not make sense of it.
With an adorably baffled look, he asked, “What’s going on? How come I’m so good at taking care of you?”
