Chapter 47
Chapter 47
The moment Shengsheng entered Weiqing’s room, she sensed something was wrong.
When had it become so empty?
Where was the silver-filigree enamel basin containing the coral peony ornament?
What had happened to the white vase overlaid with red glass and decorated with peaches and bats? Even the blue-and-white openwork covered jar painted in underglaze red–the one Weiqing treasured so much that she had to dust it carefully every day–had vanished.
Had some thief stripped the Eastern Palace bare?
Having suffered the catastrophic loss of his possessions, Weiqing currently reclined upon a couch with his upper body naked.
The clean lines of his abdominal muscles and the sharp grooves at his hips made Shengsheng’s head grow hot.
*I burned my tongue on porridge earlier. Does anyone happen to have ice-cold abs?*
At once, the formerly frail-looking Weiqing yanked his robes closed, even though the imperial physician was still applying medicine to his arm.
He often felt terribly out of place because he could never match Shengsheng’s depravity.
The physician gave him a resentful look but dared not speak.
There had been no need to undress for an injury to the arm. The physician had told him so repeatedly.
And look. He had put his clothes back on in the end.
Shengsheng immediately looked away.
*Stingy.*
“Your Highness, what happened? Where is the thief?”
Weiqing froze. “What thief?”
Faced with his honest bewilderment, Shengsheng answered innocently, “The thief who stole every ornament from Your Highness’s room…”
Weiqing fell silent.
If he had known, he would not have smashed them.
His mind raced for an explanation, but the imperial physician spoke first.
“Your Highness, the wound must not touch water. Avoid spicy and sweet foods, and do not drink wine.”
The final instructions were clearly directed at Shengsheng, who committed them carefully to memory.
She escorted the physician outside.
“Physician Zhang, His Highness’s injury…”
“A shard of broken porcelain accidentally cut him. Do not worry, miss. His Highness enjoys abundant fortune and a long life. He will come to no harm.”
A shard of porcelain?
When Shengsheng returned, Weiqing was holding a storybook in his uninjured left hand.
“Is Your Highness not busy today?” she asked.
Weiqing looked at her reproachfully. “I am injured.”
Shengsheng said nothing. She simply removed every plate of pastries from in front of him.
Weiqing’s hand stopped halfway toward one, awkwardly suspended in the air.
With an inward sigh, Shengsheng explained, “The physician said you must not eat sweets. If Your Highness is hungry, this servant can make something else.”
Weiqing shook his head. “Read the storybook aloud to me.”
Helplessly, Shengsheng accepted the volume and glanced at its cover.
*The Domineering Crown Prince and His Soft Little Palace Maid.*
Shengsheng stared at it.
Was there any hope left for this kingdom?
Urged on by Weiqing’s gaze, she cleared her throat and began to read.
“‘Insolent servant! You damned woman! Are you playing hard to get with me?’ At the sound of his fury, Murong Yuxin stubbornly lifted her chin and declared, ‘Ouyang Xiong! Do not flatter yourself! I, Murong Yuxin, would rather die than ever surrender to you!'”
Shengsheng fell silent.
Under normal circumstances, a servant who spoke to her master like that would somehow still be alive?
Weiqing nodded. “A truly spirited woman. If Ouyang Xiong obtained her too easily, he would never treasure her.”
From where she sat, Shengsheng could openly regard him with extreme contempt.
“Your Highness, would you like a sour plum?”
The classic line had barely formed in her thoughts when Weiqing refused with remarkable speed and absolute firmness.
Fine.
Unable to deliver the punch line, Shengsheng felt terribly stifled.
She read until her mouth was dry.
At last, night arrived. It was time for Weiqing to attend the welcoming banquet.
The Spring Banquet would not begin until the following day, and the delegation from the Zhu Kingdom had yet to arrive.
As a matter of courtesy, the emperor of Zhen held a special welcoming feast for Siran Ming.
Weiqing, as Crown Prince, naturally had to attend.
Shengsheng went with him.
Before leaving, she deliberately changed into a plainer dress. She also told Zhiyu Jiang that she would return late that night.
As soon as Shengsheng finished dressing, Pecky did something rare: he voluntarily crawled into her sleeve.
She laughed and scolded him.
“You know there will be good food, so now you want to come along?”
The bird in her sleeve looked openly disdainful.
Fool.
***
At the feast, Siran and the emperor of Zhen, Lianmin Song, sat together in the place of honor.
Weiqing occupied a lower seat. Across from him sat the third prince, Weicen Song, along with several younger princes and princesses.
Shengsheng stood behind Weiqing like part of the backdrop, entirely inconspicuous.
She stole a glance upward.
This was the first time she had seen the emperor of Zhen. His health appeared poor. Deep illness marked a face that resembled Weiqing’s by three parts.
Siran had been speaking with Lianmin when he suddenly sensed her gaze and looked directly at Shengsheng.
She hastily lowered her head.
Then another burning stare from across the room made her deeply uncomfortable.
When she looked up, Weicen’s rebellious, handsome face split into a grin that displayed every one of his bright white teeth.
Weiqing abruptly raised his wine cup.
Shengsheng quickly knelt beside the low table and poured for him.
Taking the opportunity, Weiqing lifted his eyes and sent Weicen a warning look.
Weicen seemed unconcerned. He raised his own cup in salute and drained it.
Weiqing pretended not to notice. Instead, he plucked a piece of fruit from the table and placed it in his mouth.
“Quite sweet.”
Weicen, who was waiting for him to return the toast, stared at him.
“Your Highness,” Shengsheng whispered, “Prince Shen seems to be waiting for you to drink.”
Weiqing slowly moved his injured arm.
Shengsheng fell silent at once.
She was beginning to suspect he had hurt himself deliberately to avoid drinking.
With two stares boring into her from different directions, Shengsheng felt uncomfortable all over.
*I changed clothes for nothing. A beauty like me shines wherever she stands, no matter how plainly she dresses. I! Am! The! Light!*
Siran, who was drinking wine, and Weiqing, who was drinking tea, began coughing at precisely the same moment.
For a moment, Lianmin had no idea which one he should ask after first.
Once he recovered, Weiqing slowly addressed Shengsheng.
“There is something I have always wondered.”
“Please ask, Your Highness.”
“What do you think of the woman in the center?”
He pointed toward the Western Regions dancer spinning gracefully below.
Shengsheng studied her.
“She moves like a startled swan and a swimming dragon.”
“I am asking about her face.”
Shengsheng looked puzzled. “Is it not rude to judge another person’s appearance?”
“You are only telling me. No one else will know.”
He had not yet realized how intimate the word *else* made them sound.
Shengsheng thought for a moment and looked more carefully.
“A blush like a fine red thread brushes her peach-soft cheeks. She is an uncommon beauty.”
Weiqing understood.
Her eyes judged everyone else perfectly normally. Why was her opinion of herself so absurd?
They had leaned very close. Viewed from above, they appeared to be nestled together, whispering intimately into each other’s ears.
Siran’s face darkened at once.
Even Lianmin followed his gaze and noticed them.