A delicate pavilion stood by a corner of the emerald lake. Within, gauzy curtains fluttered. A man in white, one leg propped against the carved railing, sat poised, facing the wind. It lifted his long hair, his white robes and black hair creating an aura of ethereal elegance.
Though his face was hidden, one could imagine a man like a banished immortal.
Mu Qingyao and Mochou were lost in thought when someone suddenly appeared beside them, exclaiming, "Who's there?"
Mu Qingyao turned, recognizing the figure who had leaped out—it was Chief Eunuch A Jiu, looking astonished at Mu Qingyao and Mochou.
"This servant greets Her Majesty the Empress."
"Rise," Mu Qingyao said, momentarily stunned, pointing a finger at the man sitting by the railing, playing the flute. Could it be the Emperor?
"It is His Majesty," A Jiu answered preemptively.
Why was Her Majesty here so late? This area was usually guarded, and no one was permitted entry. Tonight, because His Majesty was here, he had ordered everyone to retreat far back. He hadn't expected Her Majesty to get in.
"Oh, it's him," Mu Qingyao said, greatly surprised. In her mind, anyone who played the flute was likely someone detached from worldly affairs, driven by deep emotions.
She hadn't expected Emperor Xian, whom she'd always perceived as cold, unfeeling, wise, and astute, to play such a melancholic and lingering melody. How many unknown secrets did he hold?
As Emperor, he possessed astonishing cunning. In both his methods and strategies, he was remarkable. His martial arts must surely be formidable, and now, to play the flute so beautifully, his music in the night seemed to carry countless unspoken thoughts.
Mu Qingyao listened, captivated, a sense of longing stirring within her. She walked slowly, step by step, along the bluestone path towards the pavilion.
Mochou tried to follow her, but A Jiu reached out and stopped her. The two of them retreated behind the rock garden.
A tear slid down unnoticed, feeling icy cold in the night wind. She was utterly unaware.
The flute music abruptly ceased. The man playing the flute turned his head, the silvery moonlight illuminating his astonishingly beautiful features.
"You're crying?" His voice was deep, tinged with surprise and disbelief. In his understanding, a woman as wise and extraordinary as her would not shed tears.
Just as, in her understanding, he would never play the flute, let alone so masterfully, easily stirring the most tender part of her heart.
Tonight, they had both witnessed a different side of each other, and an unknown emotion surged simultaneously within them, flowing like water.
"Your flute music is so beautiful, it made me cry."
"I didn't think you were a sentimental woman," he smiled. His posture remained unchanged, seated on the railing. The wind tousled his dark hair and billowed his white robes, a vivid and lifelike portrait of a handsome man.
"How much do you understand women?"
She smiled. It felt so good to speak so casually, not as Emperor and Empress, but like friends, unrestrained. The Emperor and Empress bore too much, the burdens they carried were too heavy.
He smiled and extended a hand. "Come up and sit."
"Alright," Mu Qingyao said without hesitation, placing her hand in his. Mu Rong Liu Zun reached out and pulled her to sit beside him on the railing. They sat in the wind, listening to the wind, the water, admiring the flowers, the moon, and the handsome man.
"I didn't expect you to play the flute. I thought just now...?" Mu Qingyao didn't finish. She had thought he might be some kind of rakish intruder. She had intended to teach him a lesson. But it turned out to be His Majesty, and he possessed this hidden side, so beautiful, gentle, and elegant.
"Why aren't you sleeping so late?" Mu Rong Liu Zun asked softly, his gaze drifting dreamily over the beautiful artificial lake.
"You know I slept all day. How could I possibly sleep now?"
Mu Qingyao finished speaking and looked at the Emperor beside her. He seemed weighed down by worries tonight. He was neither the gentle, water-like man nor the high and mighty Emperor. He exuded an infinite sorrow, pain evident in his eyes.
"What's wrong, Your Majesty?"
A night breeze stirred, causing gentle ripples on the emerald lake, which shimmered enchantingly under the palace lanterns.
"Do you know? My mother, the Empress, was once pulled from this artificial lake. When she died, her face was so pale. Such beautiful grace, yet she died so tragically."
His voice was dark, eventually trailing off into a murmur. He unconsciously buried his face in his hands, his tall frame trembling slightly in the night.
Mu Qingyao was stunned. She hadn't expected this dynamic man to have such a tragic past. The palace was truly terrifying. She reached out and patted his shoulder.
"It's all in the past. Don't dwell on it, Your Majesty."
"Yao'er," perhaps it was due to Mu Qingyao's gentle voice, or perhaps because of his profound sadness.
Mu Rong Liu Zun suddenly released his hands and turned to embrace Mu Qingyao, burying his head in her neck. "Let me lean on you for a while, okay? Sometimes I feel so sad, and no one knows."
His low, childlike plea froze Mu Qingyao, who had been about to push him away.
The night was as fluid as water, and they huddled together for warmth. The moonlight cast a soft glow, enveloping the entire artificial lake. Reflections shimmered on the water...
After a short while, Mu Rong Liu Zun released Mu Qingyao. "Thank you."
He had finally regained his composure. Mu Qingyao let out a sigh of relief. She truly wasn't accustomed to being held. Just moments ago, she had almost pushed him into the lake.
"Don't think about the past. One cannot live in the shadow of the past forever; it's too tiring," her voice was quiet, seemingly directed at him, but perhaps also at herself. She truly needed to let go of her past grievances; her previous life was already very distant.
"No, that's not it. It's because the person who harmed my mother is still living well. That's why I'm sad. My mother died so tragically, yet the one who harmed her is still alive. Can you not understand why I'm sad?"
The Emperor's voice became urgent, his handsome face contorted, his pupils seeming to thirst for blood.
Mu Qingyao was startled. If he knew who killed his mother, why didn't he kill that person and avenge his mother? He wasn't someone who would let such a thing slide. Could that person be... Mu Qingyao's mouth fell open, and it took a long moment for her to speak.
"Could that person be the current Empress Dowager?"
"It was her? Back then, she and my mother were close friends. They both entered the palace to serve the former Emperor. The former Emperor was instantly captivated by my mother's intelligence and kindness, while she was merely a lowly sixth-rank noble lady. In the palace, my mother always treated her like her own younger sister. Yet, that venomous woman actually caused my mother's death."
Mu Qingyao looked at his face, distorted by anger, and felt a touch of pity. She hadn't expected this man to have such a painful childhood. But if he knew the Empress Dowager had harmed his mother, why didn't he kill that detestable woman and allow her to become Empress Dowager?