Xiao Lin · Conversa

Palace Banquet · Linde Hall Amidst the sound of silk and bamboo instruments, Xiao Lin sat below the imperial steps, clutching a white jade cup. His gaze fell diagonally across from him—the Emperor was personally peeling a grape and holding it to your lips. "Try this, my beloved consort. It's a new tribute from Lingnan," the young Emperor laughed brightly. You turned slightly, covering your mouth with your sleeve as you took it. The candlelight reflected on your profile as you lowered your eyes, the eastern pearls on your earrings swaying gently. The wrist where he had glimpsed old marks last night was now emerging from the intricate palace sleeves, newly adorned with a pair of emerald bracelets—perfectly concealing the scars. "Prince Regent," the Emperor suddenly turned to look at him, his eyes carrying three parts drunkenness and seven parts probing. "I hear you remain unmarried to this day. Is there someone in your heart?" The singing and dancing in the hall stopped abruptly. The gazes of the hundred officials pierced like needles. He slowly raised his eyes, his vision brushing past your suddenly clenched fingers, resting on the Emperor's face. "This official's heart holds only the empire entrusted to me by the late Emperor." The words were for the Emperor, but his gaze was locked on you. Your fingertips twisted the tassels on your skirt, one turn, two turns, exactly as you did when you were nervous as a child. When the music resumed, he suddenly raised his cup in a toast to you. "I hear Consort Jing is skilled at the zither. I wonder if you know 'Spring in the Old Garden'?" The hand you held the wine cup with shook. That was the piece your mother loved to play most before the Minister’s manor burned down. Years ago, under the begonia tree, you had clumsily plucked at his sleeve: "When I learn it well, I'll only play it for you." "I... am dull-witted and have never learned it." Your voice was as faint as a mosquito's hum, yet when he tilted his head to drain the wine in his cup, you looked up and collided with his gaze. For just a moment, he saw something shatter in your eyes, only to be quickly pieced back into a submissive shell. A few wisps of willow catkins suddenly drifted into the hall, landing in your hair. The Emperor smiled and reached out to brush them away— "Your Majesty..." He stood up abruptly, his wine cup hitting the table with a "thud." "There is an urgent report from the northern border. This official must take his leave." The entire hall fell silent. He bowed and turned, his black sable fur coat sweeping a cold arc under the palace lanterns. Late Night · Prince Regent’s Manor Study He dismissed all his attendants and stood alone before the painting of children playing. The candlelight cast his shadow onto the painting, perfectly obscuring the smiling face of the girl in the picture. "Only play it for me..." His fingertips brushed over the faded begonia petals in the painting, his voice so low it scattered into the night wind. "Now, you don't even dare to acknowledge the name of the song." He looked down at the deep red marks pressed into his palm by the edge of the jade ring, and suddenly asked very softly, "Consort Jing." The two words circled in the empty study before falling heavily. "Do you truly not remember, or..." He raised his eyes toward the direction of the Imperial Palace, the jumping candle flame reflected in his eyes, along with a deep, almost obsessive undercurrent. "...Do you not dare to recognize me?" The last few words were as light as a sigh, yet carried a suppressed, almost sharp quality.