My brother entrusted his child to me, and I livestreamed raising the baby, making the Empress cry wi

Yao Jingyuan quickened his pace, almost jogging, as if he could leave the sky behind and never see it again in his life.

But that image was already etched into his mind, and he couldn't shake it off no matter what he did; it was like it had taken root and sprouted in his mind.

That cloud-like couch, those fluffy clothes and rabbit-ear shoes—

His daughter has none of these things.

There isn't a single one!

He had been proud of his carved wooden bed and four-layered mattress, and proud of his daughter's silk jacket and brocade shoes. He was still smug and gloating.

Now it seems—

It's all a joke!

What a big joke!

But the square in front of the palace was deathly silent.

All the civil and military officials knelt on the ground, holding their tablets, and not one of them uttered a sound.

Everyone's heads were tilted back at an incredible angle, their necks stretched out as far as they could, their eyes glued to the sky.

Some people had their mouths agape, their chins almost reaching their chests, and saliva was overflowing from the corners of their mouths, dripping onto the scepter without them even noticing.

Some people maintain the same posture for too long, and their necks begin to tremble uncontrollably, as if being twisted by an invisible hand.

Shu Jingwei stood at the very front, her dragon robe gently lifted by the morning breeze before slowly falling back down, revealing the white jade beads on her twelve-tassel crown hanging before her eyes, swaying slightly with her suppressed breathing.

She remained completely still, like an emperor statue nailed to a white marble staircase, frozen from head to toe.

She stared intently at the image on the screen.

That cloud-like couch, that candlelight radiating warm light, that fluffy pink dress, those rabbit-ear shoes, and—

Her daughter.

It was her daughter, whom she hadn't seen for many, many years.

"Empress Mother—"

A crisp voice rang out from behind, like a needle, unexpectedly piercing the frozen air in front of the hall.

Shu Rou wriggled out of Yao Jingyuan's arms like an eel and ran to Shu Jingwei with her short legs.

The embroidered shoes made a rapid, soft sound as they stepped on the white marble.

She tilted her head back, chin held high, and pointed a finger straight at the sky as she spoke urgently.

"Mother! Rou'er wants that! She wants that little beggar's couch! And clothes like hers! And rabbit shoes!"

The childish voice echoed in the quiet square in front of the palace, clearly penetrating the ears of everyone present.

The air suddenly seemed to freeze.

The ministers all lowered their heads in unison, wishing they could shrink their heads into their necks, curl themselves into a ball, and roll into a corner where no one could see them.

Shu Jingwei slowly lowered her head, her movements slow and deliberate, like a rusty guillotine falling bit by bit.

She looked at Shu Rou at her feet.

Her little face was full of resentment and self-righteousness, with tear stains still hanging from the corners of her eyes from her earlier crying, her lips pouting so much they could hang an oil bottle, and her eyes looking arrogant.

Shu Jingwei narrowed her eyes.

"That's not a little beggar," she said slowly, her mind filled with the tiny figure in the sky.

Then she heard her voice suddenly rise, like a thunderclap striking out of nowhere, making the air in the square in front of the palace tremble three times.

"That's your imperial sister!"

"She's the eldest princess of the Great Flame Kingdom!"

"She is my daughter!"

She practically yelled that last sentence.

Each of the three sentences was heavier than the last, like three muffled blows striking Shu Rou's head. Each blow made the air buzz and the ministers' tablets tremble in their hands.

Shu Rou shuddered violently from the shout, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. Her fur stood on end, her eyes widened, and her pupils shrank to pinpoints.

Tears streamed down her face instantly, large drops falling, her little face scrunched up, and her mouth opened wide—

"Waaah—" she burst into tears.

"No!" she cried, stamping her feet, the embroidered soles of her shoes making a "thump-thump" sound on the white marble.

The cries were shrill and piercing, like fingernails scratching a bronze mirror, hurting one's eardrums. "Rou'er doesn't want a little beggar to be her elder sister! She's not an elder sister! Rou'er doesn't want to! No, no, no!"

Shu Jingwei's face turned ashen. She suddenly raised her hand, her sleeves billowing in a gust of wind, her fingers spread wide, palm facing down.

The hand was raised high in the air, then abruptly stopped.

She didn't continue.

With that slap, Shu Rou would roll several times over.

After all, she was her daughter. With that thought in mind, Shu Jingwei finally put her hand down.

But the cold wind stirred up by the sleeves and that frighteningly pale face still made Shu Rou choke with fear.

The crying stopped abruptly.

It felt like someone had grabbed my throat, blocking all my voice, leaving only a suppressed sob deep in my throat.

She curled up into a ball, her face covered in tears and snot, but she bit her lip tightly, not daring to make a sound.

She had never seen her mother like this before.

Never...

Yao Jingyuan's expression changed, and he rushed forward in three steps, bending down to pull Shu Rou into his arms.

His palm patted her back lightly, one pat after another, the sound quick and urgent:

"Your Majesty, please calm down! Rou'er is young and speaks without thinking; her words are just childish talk and should not be taken seriously!"

As he spoke, he raised his head and looked at Shu Jingwei.

Those eyes were like spring water, full of tender affection, brimming with heartache and care.

She felt sorry for her trembling daughter in her arms, and also cared about the furious emperor before her.

This is Shu Jingwei's favorite look—gentle, tender, and reverent, as if she were the only one in his world.

Yao Jingyuan's lips curled up slightly, forming a perfect arc.

"Rou'er is pure and kind-hearted, and the most sensible person of all. She's just curious because she's never seen such novel things before. I'll teach her properly, and she'll definitely respect the First Princess as her own sister."

He spoke with heartfelt sincerity, every word seeming to come from the depths of his heart, warmly and tenderly presented to Shu Jingwei.

His gentle and considerate demeanor would earn praise from anyone who saw him—what a wise and righteous father, what a loyal subject who shares the burdens of his ruler.

But Shu Jingwei didn't even look at him.

Her gaze had long since returned to the sky, back to the little boy in the pink dress who was laughing happily, not even sparing him a glance.

Yao Jingyuan's smile froze for a moment.

But he quickly regained his gentle smile, lowered his head, rested his chin gently on Shu Rou's head, and moved his lips slightly to comfort the little one who was still sobbing in his arms.

His hand continued to pat her back gently, the rhythm neither too fast nor too slow, as gentle as the March breeze.

Beneath her half-closed eyelids, something was secretly churning—black, thick, and viscous, like ink dripping into clear water, spreading silently.

That was hatred!

Hatred for Lin Ye!

I hate that bastard!