Chapter 8

Chapter 8

My Lady was gone.

The way she had acted made me give up on her completely.

There were a few manservants in the manor who often accompanied Han Mo into the palace, and from time to time they would gossip and joke about secret affairs of the imperial court.

I heard them say that His Majesty doted on Consort Liu in particular. Now she alone held his favor in the harem night after night, her status surpassing even the Empress’s, and she had long since drawn the displeasure of the other consorts.

The more I heard, the more I hated her.

How could she become the favored consort of our enemy?

Had she forgotten how Master and Madam had loved their daughter, treasured her like a pearl, and given her everything she ever asked for?

Had she forgotten the Crown Prince, who had grown up with her, who had lived in such perfect harmony with her, and who was killed when Zhao Rui seized the throne?

Now she was still living a life of glory, wealth, and luxury, while I had truly become a stray cat wandering outside.

I had no home anymore.

As the weather gradually warmed, my hands and feet finally healed properly. I could walk out of the courtyard on my own and look around the nearby garden.

Han Manor was built on the outskirts of the capital and occupied a vast stretch of land. It even had a Peach Garden, a quiet refuge amid the bustle. Once spring arrived, pink blossoms covered the branches, with several snow-white pear trees scattered among them. When the wind blew, pink and white petals drifted down and scattered all over the ground.

Step on them, and even your shoes would carry their fragrance.

I was sulking beneath the trees, treading on fallen flowers, when a clear, tinkling bell rang out from far away. Slowly, it drew closer and clearer.

I looked up and saw an ox cart rolling slowly through the peach trees. Pulling it was a rare, snow-white divine ox. Its hooves tapped against the ground with a steady clop-clop, and wherever it went, it would stop there to graze.

Curious, I moved closer to take a look.

Through the fluttering gauze curtains, I saw someone half-reclining inside the cart, his chin propped on one hand, as though he had fallen asleep.

His brows were pale as mountain mist, yet the corners of his eyes tilted slightly upward, like a jeweled dagger in gold filigree-oppressively noble, with a cold gleam sunk deep within.

With his eyes closed, that chill drew back, leaving behind an elusive fragility.

Han Mo.

He truly was a singular person.

Many years later, what still surfaced in my mind was the sight of him traveling with the White Ox through the Plum Garden, robes and hair fragrant in the breeze, carriage and mount moving with unhurried grace.

Only, I never understood what that glance before he left had meant.

Was it disdain after learning I was female?

Or unwillingness because his wish had fallen through?

I did not know how long I hesitated there.

In the end, I could not restrain my curiosity. I reached into the cart and secretly touched those rouge-red lips.

The next moment, his lashes trembled faintly at the roots, as if he were about to wake.

At the sight, I turned and ran.