Chapter 22
Chapter 22
“Your Majesty, these are the memorials that accumulated during your absence.”
Shan Hai set a cup of tea on the desk, then gave Qingwan Xie a meaningful look.
She understood at once and naturally reached for the inkstone to grind ink for Siran Ming.
“Leave,” Siran said coldly.
Qingwan’s hand stopped.
Disbelief flickered over her face. She had attended His Majesty in this study for five years, and this was the first time he had ever driven her out.
When she still did not move, Siran frowned.
Shan quickly tugged at her sleeve.
Siran’s despotic nature meant that his commands permitted no resistance. Qingwan knew that better than anyone. However unwilling she might be, she obediently withdrew without daring to voice a single complaint.
Once she was gone, Siran asked with feigned casualness, “We need someone to grind the ink. Summon the palace maid We brought from the Zhu Kingdom.”
Understanding dawned in Shan’s heart.
Shengsheng Zhou had been waiting outside for instructions.
Since entering this world, standing around in a daze was probably the activity that consumed the greatest portion of her life.
Only after becoming a palace maid had she understood how formidable the maids in television dramas truly were. They stood for hours every day and still remained alert for the slightest command from their masters.
Shengsheng was different. The moment she stopped moving, her thoughts inevitably wandered.
When she first began serving Fusheng Duan, she had failed to hear his instructions several times in succession. He had docked her monthly wages without mercy.
Speaking of wages, she wondered how the benefits were here in the Yong Kingdom.
“Miss Zhou.”
An aged but slightly shrill voice jolted her from her daydream.
Shengsheng turned without betraying her fright. With perfect composure, she saluted.
“Eunuch Shan.”
He had nearly scared her to death.
Ignoring her pounding heart, Shengsheng offered him a courteous smile.
She had used the proper Yong greeting. The customs of the Zhu Kingdom and the Yong Kingdom differed considerably, and Shan had expected the newcomer to require instruction before she could serve the emperor.
Apparently, that would not be necessary.
He smiled in satisfaction.
“His Majesty has summoned you.”
Shengsheng nodded.
When she entered the hall, Shan remained outside and closed the door.
She had once visited Xunlan Liu’s study while accompanying Fusheng. Aside from the classics, its walls had been covered in calligraphy and paintings. A zither and flute stood beneath the window for his leisure.
Siran’s study was far larger. The shelves lining its walls held an astonishing variety of books. Alongside military treatises and the works of sages, Shengsheng’s sharp eyes spotted texts on all manner of trades and obscure subjects.
Siran sat behind the desk, holding a wolf-hair brush and frowning over a memorial.
The instant Shengsheng entered, the gloom cleared from his face. He waived her salute and urged her closer.
The stern man of a moment ago became a child as soon as he looked up.
“Can you understand all this?”
Shengsheng leaned over to inspect the memorial. The dense rows of characters made her dizzy.
Siran did not guard the document from her.
“More or less.”
It had seemed difficult at first. But the longer he studied it, the clearer his thoughts became. Fragments left behind by his older self were most likely guiding him.
That was not necessarily good.
Did it mean the man he would become in ten years was already returning?
Shengsheng looked around the study with open curiosity. Siran concealed the shadow that crossed his expression.
“Shengsheng, will you grind ink for me?” he asked coaxingly.
She glanced at the imperial inkstone, carved from green Songhua stone with a phoenix design, and began to work without hesitation.
Her long hair slipped forward, hiding half her face. From Siran’s angle, he could see only the delicate bridge of her nose and her thick lashes, long as little fans.
He stared without realizing it.
Feeling the heat of his gaze, Shengsheng reached out and pinched his cheek.
“Come back to earth.”
*Not nearly as soft as I imagined.*
Siran turned away and muttered, “That is because I’m a man.”
“Hm? What did you say?”
Siran Ming’s reply had been quieter than a mosquito. Shengsheng Zhou had not caught a word.
He shook his head and said it was nothing.
He had once heard of the tender domestic image of a wife grinding ink while her husband read.
Siran glanced at the pale hand beside him, moving the inkstick in slow, careful circles. A faint blush spread across his handsome face.
“Shengsheng?”
She answered and stopped grinding. Her lowered eyes settled on him.
The red mole beneath her eye, bright as cinnabar, lent a touch of allure to her otherwise unremarkable features.
“Let me give you a proper place at my side,” Siran said softly. “Will you become my true wife?”
The hope he had hidden in his heart since returning to the palace shone in his dark eyes, alongside her reflection.
Silence held the room.
At last, Shengsheng spoke.
“Xiao Ming, you’ve only lost your memory. When it returns, you’ll regret this.”
She paused, then tried again.
“I was the first person you saw after losing your memory, so you imprinted on me like a newly hatched bird. If it had been anyone else, you would feel the same way about her.”
“That isn’t true!”
The legs of his chair scraped sharply across the floor as Siran surged to his feet. His gaze fixed on Shengsheng.
He towered two full heads above her. Even in silence, the pressure of his unbroken stare was suffocating.
Shengsheng lowered her eyes and sighed.
*Don’t force me. How could a mother fall in love with her own son?*
Thoughts of confinement, chains, and forced marriage had been circling Siran’s mind. Desire had reddened the corners of his eyes.
That single thought brought him abruptly back to himself.
Was there anything more absurd?
The woman he loved was raising him as her son.
The feelings wound around his heart like iron thorns suddenly loosened, leaving only exhausted helplessness.
He sat down again, pressed his lips together, and silently picked up his brush. His gaze dropped to the memorials.
Shengsheng hesitated, then saluted and started toward the door.
*A young man venturing into forbidden love deserves a little time alone to calm down.*
Siran’s fingers stopped.
“Come back,” he ordered hoarsely.
“Who allowed you to leave?”
He looked up at the heartless woman before him, his eyes bloodred.
Shengsheng immediately scurried back in tiny steps.
*A-Pang, do you have medicine that cures amnesia? I think it’s time we took this problem seriously.*
A-Pang curled into themself and nodded emphatically.
Shengsheng was about to ask whether there was a gentle treatment when pain shot through her wrist.
By the time she understood what had happened, Siran had wrapped both arms around her waist. His hold was tight as iron.
Startled, Shengsheng struggled. When she could not escape, she gave up and went still.
“Don’t abandon me,” a rough voice whispered beside her ear. It sounded like the whimper of a cornered animal. “I won’t pressure you anymore. Is that enough?”
She could not see his face, but helplessness and trembling filled every word.
Outside, the last light faded completely.
Shengsheng stared at the dragon embroidered across his chest for a long time.
“All right,” she said at last.
His embrace tightened.
Shengsheng assumed his imprinting attachment was simply severe and patted his back in comfort.
*Forget it, A-Pang. Xiao Ming is clingy, but Siran Ming is far worse. Given the choice, I’d rather spend the next six months with Xiao Ming. His memories can stay lost… for now.*
A-Pang said nothing.
Siran’s embrace had forced them out of Shengsheng’s hair, leaving them directly opposite the half-shadowed side of his face.
They trembled, uncertain whether their eyes had deceived them.
The tall man had squeezed himself into Shengsheng’s arms and feigned pathetic shivers.
But his eyes were deep, still pools, gleaming with unmistakable triumph. The slight curve of his lips belonged to a villain congratulating himself for leading an innocent girl blindly in circles.