After being reborn, the aloof prime minister was once again forced by a tyrant.

He was only eight years old when his mother died. He remembered her lying in bed, as thin as a withered branch, holding his hand, and saying in a weak voice, "Jingyuan, you must not be like your father in the future."

He didn't understand, so he asked his mother, "What?"

The mother did not answer.

Those once gentle eyes slowly lost their luster, and her hand slipped from his palm, never to be held again.

As he grew older, he gradually understood the meaning of his mother's words.

What kind of person was his father?

Emperor Jing'an, Xiao Heng, was the fourth emperor of the Northern Shuo. He was a peerless warrior, expanding the territory and excelling in both civil and military affairs. However, he had one flaw—he was lustful to a pathological degree. He would get his hands on any woman he fancied, regardless of who she was or whether she wanted him or not.

Xiao Jingyuan's mother, Consort Shen, was originally the wife of Shen Chong, a high-ranking official in the court. Shen Chong and Consort Shen were childhood sweethearts, deeply in love, and a well-known couple in the capital. Emperor Jing'an saw Consort Shen once at a palace banquet and could never forget her.

He found a pretext to frame Shen Chong for treason, resulting in the execution of his entire family. Shen Chong's head was displayed on the city gate for three days, and then Shen's family was carried into the palace in a small sedan chair.

Shen refused.

She went on a hunger strike, she banged her head against a pillar, she cut her wrists with shards of porcelain, and she wept for three days and three nights while holding Shen Chong's memorial tablet. Emperor Jing'an did not kill her, did not beat her, and did not scold her—he simply locked her in Tingxuexuan.

Tingxuexuan is the most remote and desolate palace in the Beishuo Imperial Palace.

In summer there was no cool breeze, and in winter there was no warm charcoal. In spring, the old plum tree in the courtyard bloomed, and the petals fell all over the ground, but no one swept them away. Shen was imprisoned inside, day after day, year after year, like a flower whose roots had been cut off, slowly withering away.

Later she became pregnant.

Xiao Jingyuan didn't know whether it was his mother's own choice or his father's coercion. He dared not ask, and would never know the answer. He only knew that after his mother became pregnant with him, she stopped starving herself, stopped banging her head against the pillar, and stopped cutting her wrists with shards of porcelain. She began to eat properly, take her medicine properly, and take good care of her pregnancy.

She was recuperating for him.

After giving birth to him, his mother's health deteriorated. Tingxuexuan was too cold, so cold that she caught a cold during her postpartum period and developed a chronic illness. The imperial physician said that she was deficient in both qi and blood and needed to recuperate properly, but Emperor Jing'an already had a new favorite and had no idea that the old and faded concubine in the cold palace was still there.

Shen lived in Tingxuexuan for nine years before she died.

On her deathbed, she called Xiao Jingyuan to her side, took a jade pendant from under her pillow, and placed it in his hand. The jade pendant was warm and translucent; it was the only thing she had brought with her when she entered the palace, a family heirloom of the Shen family.

"Jingyuan, keep this jade pendant safe." Her voice was already very soft, as soft as the wind blowing through withered leaves. "In the future... if you find someone you love, give this jade pendant to him."

"The one you love?" Xiao Jingyuan was still young at the time and did not understand what his mother meant by "the one you love."

Madam Shen gave a weak smile, a smile that held too many things he couldn't understand: "Your mother doesn't know what kind of person you'll like in the future, whether he's male or female, noble or lowly, it doesn't matter. What matters is—you must treat him sincerely, and not be like your father..."

She didn't finish speaking.

She said this many times, but each time she never finished. Because every time she got to this point, she would cough, coughing until she couldn't breathe, coughing until her cheeks turned a sickly red.

Holding the jade pendant, Xiao Jingyuan knelt before his mother's bedside and nodded solemnly.

But he was too young then, too young to know what it meant to "treat him sincerely".

All he knew was that if his father wanted something, he would just take it. Once he got it, it was his. No one in this world could refuse the emperor, and no one dared to refuse the emperor.

He was the emperor's son, and Emperor Jing'an's blood flowed in his veins.

Later, he killed his father and brother, ascended the throne, and sat on the dragon throne, holding the power of the world in his hands. He thought he was different, he thought he wouldn't be like his father—he didn't want three palaces and six courtyards, didn't want three thousand beauties, he only ever wanted one thing.

But when that person actually stood in front of him, his first thought was the same as when his father saw Lady Shen at the palace banquet.

possession.

The thought, like a caged beast that had been confined for too long, burst forth from his chest, shattering all his reason.

So he did the same thing as his father.

He took that person by force.

He locked that person in the Moon-Viewing Pavilion, guarding her day and night, thinking that this was love.

He didn't know how to pursue someone, how to please someone, or how to make someone willingly stay by his side. He only knew the most foolish method—piling up the best things in the world in front of that person, then squatting on the rooftop, listening to that person's breathing through the tiles.

He thought that person would eventually soften their heart.

But that person never smiled at him until he died.

Xiao Jingyuan lay on the dragon bed, staring at the dark curtains above his head, the four old wounds in his palms throbbing faintly.

He recalled Xie Qinglan's expression when she slapped him in Tingxue Pavilion. The man was trembling all over, his eyes were red as if they were about to bleed, but not a single tear fell.

It was exactly the same night he pinned her down in her past life.

That person never cried in front of him.

Xiao Jingyuan turned over and put the back of his hand over his eyes.

What can he do to make that person happy?

What exactly does he need to do to get that person to stay willingly?

What exactly does he need to do to ensure that person lives a good life?

he does not know.

He really didn't know.

He didn't know in his past life, and he still doesn't know in this life.

Xiao Jingyuan lowered his hand, turned to the side, and looked out the window.

The late spring sunlight streamed in through the window, scattering across the floor tiles like golden foil. The faint chirping of birds drifted in from outside, the only remaining sign of life in the palace.

He suddenly remembered the last winter of his mother's life.

He was wrapped in a patched old cotton-padded coat, squatting under the eaves of Tingxue Pavilion, looking at the old plum tree in the courtyard. His mother sat by the window, her pale face reflected in the window paper, like a faded painting.

"Mother, why doesn't Father come to see you?"

His mother remained silent for a long time, and then said something he couldn't understand at the time.

"Because he doesn't love me. He only loves himself."

Xiao Jingyuan closed his eyes.

Does he love Xie Qinglan?

Of course he loves it.

He loved her to the bone, to the blood, to the point that he was willing to die for her.

But how is his love any different from that of his father?

The Emperor imprisoned the Empress Dowager in Tingxue Pavilion, and he imprisoned Xie Qinglan in Lanyue Pavilion. The Emperor used violence to take everything away from the Empress Dowager, and he also used violence to take everything away from Xie Qinglan.

My mother lived in Tingxuexuan for nine years before she died.

Xie Qinglan lived in Lanyue Pavilion for three years before she died.

What's the difference between him and his father?

Xiao Jingyuan suddenly opened his eyes and sat up.

The bedchamber was empty, and the brocade quilt on the dragon bed was crumpled up by him.

He looked down at the overlapping old and new bloodstains on his palm.

He remembered his mother's last words: "You must treat him with sincerity."

He got up and went to Chang Le Palace.