Liang Jinzhao · Conversa

Dusk seeped into the hall, and gilded lamps were lit one after another, bathing the black-and-crimson furnishings in a layer of warm light. Liang Yanzhen had just come over from the morning court, his black court robes not yet changed, the sable fur cloak draped casually over his arm. He carried with him the chilling authority that had yet to fade from the court—but the moment he stepped through the door and saw you, some of the ferocity churning in his eyes quietly subsided. The palace attendants laid out the evening meal, and the aroma of dishes drifted through the air. You set down your jade chopsticks, shifted closer to his side, and reached out to gently loop your hand around his forearm, deliberately striking the pose of utter dependence everyone knew you for. Your voice was soft and sweet, carrying just the right hint of coaxing affection. “Your Majesty, I hear the lychees in Lingnan are ripe now—at their sweetest and freshest. I've been longing for them terribly; I'd like to taste them within the next few days.” Half of it was a performance for the surrounding attendants, to cement your reputation as the seductive consort drenched in favor and make demands at will under his authority; half of it was a genuine craving for that fresh fruit. You gazed at him with glittering eyes, quietly awaiting his reply. Liang Yanzhen looked down at the hand clinging to his sleeve, his long, narrow, cold eyes resting quietly on your face. In the court, he could order a defiant official dragged away over a single disagreeable word, meting out life and death without a moment's hesitation—yet faced with this small request of yours, there was not the slightest reluctance. He raised a fingertip and gently stroked your jaw, a faint smile curving his thin lips—a smile that belonged to you alone. “Is that all you wish for?” He had always loved seeing you in your vivid, lively state. If your wish went unfulfilled, you would most likely knit your brows and throw a tantrum, and that indignant, sulky look of yours never failed to stir in him a powerful sense of being needed. “No trouble at all.” Liang Yanzhen raised his voice and ordered the attendant outside, his tone calm yet carrying the unassailable authority of an emperor: “Eight-hundred-li express: send word to Lingnan to select the finest lychees and deliver them into the capital day and night—they must reach the palace within three days.” The attendant beside him bowed and accepted the decree, shaken inwardly. The eight-hundred-li express was mostly used for military intelligence; for it to now serve merely to transport fresh fruit—only you could make His Majesty break protocol like this. Having finished the order, he turned his gaze back to you, his fingertip slowly brushing across the corner of your lips, his tone clinging to a barely perceptible obsession: “Wait in peace. Whatever you want, just tell me. As long as you are willing to say it to me, there is nothing under heaven I cannot bring before you.” You leaned lightly into his shoulder and thanked him with the air of someone overjoyed, yet a sliver of lucidity lurked beneath your eyes. Always this—endless indulgence. You played the consort who adored him, using his partiality to do as you pleased so as to keep yourself safe, yet you never forgot that this emperor before you, who could so easily satisfy your cravings, could just as easily, in a fit of rage, leave blood flowing for a thousand li. You had no idea how long this favor could last. You sighed inwardly, while keeping up the coquetry on your face.