Chapter 78
Chapter 78
“Your Gra–ptui–Your Grace! Don’t look!”
Shengsheng’s terrified voice nearly cracked beside Fusheng’s ear.
She clung to him so he could not see, while one arm shot up and five frantic fingers covered his eyes.
Fusheng pressed his lips together, jaw tightening.
With his sight blocked, every other sense sharpened.
The smooth touch beneath his palms, and the soft…
Before the thought could continue, a faint sound came from the window.
Fusheng immediately snatched up the cloak he had tossed aside and wrapped it around Shengsheng.
Lately, Weiqing could visit Fusheng only through the window because an irritating eunuch now shadowed him.
He had come to report that his father finally learned the truth: his third son had not disappeared, but died.
Instead, the moment Weiqing opened the window, his eyes met Shengsheng’s terrified stare.
He narrowed them.
The cloak had clearly been thrown over her in a panic. Otherwise, most of one round shoulder would not remain exposed.
The whiteness was blinding.
Shengsheng squirmed atop Fusheng.
“Don’t move.” For some reason, his voice had deepened.
Ordinarily, a heroine should freeze at those words. Weiqing instead watched Shengsheng shift again the instant Fusheng spoke. Forced to change his hold, Fusheng wrapped an arm around her waist and pinned her securely against him.
“My apologies for disturbing you.”
Weiqing gave Fusheng a dark look, then closed the window with cold courtesy. Footsteps receded.
On the roof, a figure dressed in black–plainly a woman–wrote furiously:
“Zhou sat completely naked in the Noble Consort’s arms. Song witnessed her insufficiently covered body, kindly closed the window for them, and departed. One man and one woman remain alone together inside.”
Jian Zhang had intended to tell the Crown Prince that the frontier tribes seemed to be secretly raising troops and planning something. But when Weiqing entered the Eastern Palace without expression, Jian closed his mouth.
The thick-headed man occasionally possessed remarkable sensitivity to his master’s moods.
His Highness was currently in a terrible mood.
An extremely terrible mood.
Terrible beyond measure.
Jian meant to bow and withdraw, but after remembering something, he gritted his teeth and followed.
When Weiqing passed the screen and entered the inner room, Jian performed a solemn bow. At his master’s icy “Leave,” he turned with practiced ease.
Before going, he swept up several of the room’s most valuable ornaments.
After the eunuch shut the door, Jian ordered every servant away.
He looked down at the ornaments he had rescued. A foolish smile appeared on his otherwise murderous face.
Papa saved you.
Weiqing knew he had misunderstood.
He was not an idiot. Shengsheng had clearly returned to her original form without warning.
Yet whenever he closed his eyes, he saw that smooth pale shoulder and her startled face.
Weiqing’s eyes snapped open. He rose and grabbed something to smash against the floor–
Only to close his hand on empty air.
Had there not been a sancai three-legged dish with a water-chestnut-flower rim here when he entered?
He withdrew his hand and somehow wandered to the desk.
At the familiar cover lying there, he picked up the book.
The latest volume?
Jian was becoming increasingly efficient.
Some of Weiqing’s anger faded. He casually opened to one page.
“Murong Yuxin lay naked and imprisoned in Shangguan Tie’s arms. Holding the voluptuous woman close, Shangguan Tie slowly gave the furious Ouyang Xiong a triumphant smile…”
Snap!
Weiqing slammed the book shut and flung it away in one fluid motion.
His chest rose and fell. For a moment, he did not know where to begin.
Should he complain about the damned plot mirroring reality with such unexpected precision?
Or about this inexplicable new character named Shangguan Tie, who had appeared from nowhere?
As Weiqing turned, something caught his eye. He looked back.
A sheet of paper had slipped to the floor. His sharp eyes noticed that it was not the kind he usually used, so he picked it up.
“To my respected Crown Prince: your former palace maid, Shengsheng Zhou, crossed a thousand miles to bring you the newest volumes of your favorite series. As for the cost of purchasing them–oh, this servant has said too much. Her purse is merely a little empty, that is all. Please do not concern yourself. Truly.”
Weiqing fell silent.
He retrieved the book he had thrown and brushed away the dust. His anger vanished.
However…
He would not pay her wages.
He would learn from Siran Ming and make sure Shengsheng could never forget him.
Take Siran’s road and leave Siran nowhere to walk!
The thought improved his mood.
“Jian Zhang! Bring back everything you took and get in here! Then arrest the person who writes these storybooks!”
* * *
By the time the great Zhu delegation prepared to depart, Shengsheng had changed into the standard uniform of a Zhu palace maid and stood beside Fusheng.
She had also learned which woman had caused him to lose favor.
An unparalleled beauty gifted to Xunlan Liu by the emperor of Zhen.
Lu Xi.
When Shengsheng first heard the name, she nearly blurted, “Lucy?”
She had expected a foreigner.
Instead, Lu Xi was simply a woman who greatly resembled Fusheng.
How greatly?
The same red clothes. The same brilliant features. Uncannily similar brows and eyes.
Anyone with a functioning mind could guess what was happening.
From a distance, Shengsheng studied the emperor of Zhen and suspected that gifting Xunlan a beauty was his way of telling the man to pack up and get out.
That scoundrel Xunlan was an emperor, yet used the Spring Banquet’s prohibition on warfare as an excuse to remain in another kingdom and sponge off his hosts.
The emperor of Zhen had an excellent temper. He had not even used the opportunity to arrange Xunlan’s death.
Never mind. Xunlan had been known as a foolish ruler for years. The world could permit him a few more days of foolish life.
Perhaps someone would usurp his throne and kill him tomorrow.
Shengsheng did not see Weiqing.
With Lu Xi beside him, Xunlan uncharacteristically dismissed Fusheng to his carriage early.
Fusheng naturally had no objection. Seeing Xunlan’s face one less time probably prolonged his life.
Shengsheng did not miss the momentary distortion of Xunlan’s expression when Fusheng turned away without hesitation.
The devoted dog had changed course.
She helped Fusheng into the carriage. When his steps paused, she hurried after him.
“Your Grace? What is–”
Warm fingers caught her chin.
A familiar, handsome face suddenly appeared before her. Before she could cry “Your Highness,” the man bent down.
Something soft touched her earlobe, sending a brief shiver through her.
Then he darted away and vanished from sight.
Fusheng withdrew the foot that had failed to kick him and gave a beautiful, cold smile.
Weiqing had managed to steal a bargain.