Chapter Twenty: A Childhood Encounter

“Rest assured, this matter concerns only Lo Lo and me. Besides, I shall have no harem; among all the women in the world, I want only Lo Ningsang. Whatever I say, I shall fulfill.”

Mo Youli’s gaze remained fixed on Lo Ningsang’s face. Seeing her growing uncertainty, he took the initiative to express his feelings.

“Lo Lo, you are the finest woman in my heart.”

He kissed her forehead, his eyes full of tenderness and solely focused on her.

“I trust you, my little Mo Mo.”

In an instant, Lo Ningsang’s radiant smile returned—indomitable and carefree, like a resilient little spirit, always surrounded by boundless joy.

Xiao Ze’an, seeing his schemes fail, angrily dragged Shen Shuwan away.

“Some have pursued me half their lives, and when they can’t win me over, they find others to vex me. Wan’er... you’re the best.”

At that moment, Shen Shuwan said nothing in response. Her eyes glinted with a fierce red; jealousy was driving her near madness.

Why? Although she excelled beyond Lo Ningsang in every aspect, surpassing her at every turn, Xiao Ze’an’s recent behavior revealed more than even he realized—he cared for Lo Ningsang. His heart belonged to her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have lost control seeing her with another man.

And as for Mo Youli—how could it be? He was the prodigy who rose to fame at eight, dazzling the world with his literary talent and strategic mind. He became an emperor at a young age, ruthless and cunning, feared by all under heaven.

Today, clad in red, he appeared like a deity descended—a beguiling yet formidable presence, every gesture capable of overshadowing mountains and silencing courts. His imperial aura dazzled all.

Even she felt unworthy beside such a man—so unattainable—and yet he had chosen Lo Ningsang, a mere maid.

Why was it so? Why did all the exceptional men in the world revolve around Lo Ningsang?

“Let’s go, little Mo Mo.”

Having achieved today’s purpose, Lo Ningsang prepared to deliver a final blow.

“Oh yes, Young Master Xiao, don’t forget to settle your birthday banquet bill.”

Leaving that lethal remark behind, Lo Ningsang and Mo Youli walked away hand in hand, leaving Xiao Ze’an standing bewildered in the wind.

Such an enormous expense—and Lo Ningsang hadn’t paid a cent!

Lo Ningsang was truly straightforward. Last life, she had been foolish—carefully preparing a birthday banquet, only to be a bride for another.

Her confession rejected by Xiao Ze’an, who openly embraced Shen Shuwan, she clung stubbornly, even using military power and status to win Xiao Ze’an’s favor, threatening her beloved emperor with death, only to end with her entire family destroyed.

Shen Shuwan and Yu Xiaoxiao conspired to frame her, leaving her speechless. She was bullied to tears, then expelled from the banquet for “shameful behavior” by Xiao Ze’an.

Yet even when driven out, she obediently paid the bill. The silver her father gave her was precious and rarely spent—but when it came to Xiao Ze’an, she was willing to give everything.

So this time, early in the morning, Lo Ningsang came to the Gathering Sage Hall and made all the arrangements.

First, she found the innkeeper and showed her princess token, demanding the highest standard for the banquet—whatever was costly, it must be lavish.

If Xiao Ze’an refused to pay, she would bring a crowd to the Grand Tutor’s residence to demand the money—the more, the louder, the better.

Then she had the innkeeper arrange a few clever maids to secretly slip the jade bracelet into Shen Shuwan’s gift box when Yu Xiaoxiao tried to plant it on herself.

Shen Shuwan, watching the show, paid no attention to the tampered box.

From the start, Lo Ningsang knew the bracelet came from Consort Liu—her treasured heirloom for her future daughter-in-law.

Consort Liu had little else of value to offer. Though Xiao Ze’an had taken much silver from her over the years, she knew nearly all went to the Grand Tutor’s residence.

Whether household expenses or the monthly stipends for Madam Yu, the Grand Tutor’s lawful wife, and their legitimate son, Xiao Guchi, it was no small sum. Otherwise, Xiao Ze’an and his mother wouldn’t live so comfortably there.

Madam Yu’s son had suffered leg ailments for years, treated by the best doctors at great cost. To continue his care, she tolerated the mother and son, accepting their silver.

Madam Yu firmly believed her son would walk again someday. Xiao Ze’an was but a bastard, and his power would fade soon enough, so she had long disregarded him.

This time, Xiao Ze’an had finally had enough—having spent her money so freely, now he would have to settle the bill himself.

“The princess looks so happy.”

Seeing Lo Ningsang bounce out gleefully, Mo Youli couldn’t help but smile. He vaulted onto his horse and extended a hand to her.

“Princess, will you accompany me a bit?”

Lo Ningsang suddenly remembered that today was the day he was leaving—there was a hint of reluctance.

“Are you returning to Great Qi today?”

She didn’t reach for his hand but stood beneath the horse, looking up.

“Yes.”

A soft reply, as if afraid to shatter this fleeting moment of happiness.

“Little Mo Mo, I don’t know how to ride.”

Lo Ningsang grew up in the Grand Tutor’s residence, where martial pursuits like riding and archery were frowned upon.

“Come up; I’ll protect you.”

Mo Youli’s large hand swiftly gathered her into his embrace. Now, he had accepted the pet name “Little Mo Mo” as naturally as she accepted being called Lo Lo.

The horse galloped swiftly, startling Lo Ningsang into clutching his neck tightly, her breath whispering softly against his skin.

This intimate gesture left Mo Youli momentarily stunned, frozen in place.

From childhood, immersed in political intrigue and sibling rivalry, he had never had time for romantic closeness. This was his first such intimacy with a woman.

Blushing fiercely, he urged the horse to run faster, letting the wind cool his flushed cheeks, lest Lo Ningsang see his embarrassment.

“That pendant of yours looks familiar.”

The horse’s jolts caused the pendant at Mo Youli’s chest to reveal itself.

Lo Ningsang recalled she had a pair of earrings just like it—pale purple beads set in a delicate, hollowed butterfly design. Her father had specially made them for her. The butterfly motif was exquisite.

She was very young then, accompanying her father on a visit to Great Qi. Upon returning, she lost one earring and could never find it, crying over it for days.

Growing up in the Grand Tutor’s residence, such beautiful, delicate earrings were treasured possessions.

“Do you recognize it?”

Mo Youli lowered his head, eyes gentle as if melting, his deep gaze endlessly profound.

“What?”

Lo Ningsang raised her head, her lips brushing lightly over Mo Youli’s throat. The subtle touch deepened the unreal emotions stirring within him, gradually eroding his reason.

A faint flush colored the corners of his eyes, his breath growing heavy and uneven.

“Do you remember going to Great Qi with your father when you were little? We met a little boy then?”

Lo Ningsang shook her head, puzzled.

Mo Youli recalled:

The bitter winter’s chill blanketed the palace in white, the suffocating atmosphere freezing every corner.

Crown Prince Mo Youli, clad in plain clothes, looked small and fragile in the vast, icy palace.

He stood silently before the coffin of his birth mother, the Empress, his eyes full of confusion and sorrow. Once lively and bright, now his gaze was like still water—bereft of any ripple.

His birth mother had been the most honored and powerful figure in the harem, skillfully maintaining order with her family’s strong influence and her own wisdom, securing the throne for her son.

But now, a sudden illness cruelly took her life, stripping Mo Youli of his strongest support.

With her passing, the family forces that had backed her began to waver like grass in the wind.

In court, ministers who once treated Mo Youli with respect now regarded him coldly, even disdainfully.

To them, a crown prince without the Empress’s protection was a broken bird, unlikely to regain his former glory.

Within the palace, other princes bullied him relentlessly; even servants mocked the crown prince.

Mo Youli bit his lip, holding back tears. He knew he had no power to resist; any show of weakness would only invite more humiliation.

That day, he curled up in a corner of the carved bed. Formerly attentive servants lazed in and out, bringing tasteless broth, muttering “bad luck.”

He felt wronged and angry but powerless, fleeing the palace.

On the path, other princes jeered, “Oh, the Crown Prince. Without the Empress’s backing, why still keep up that airs?” They shoved him, and he fell, scraping his palm but swallowing the pain and tears silently.

He looked toward the study room—where was his father? Since the Empress’s death, his visits to the Eastern Palace were rare and brief, his gaze distant and cold as shards of ice.

Despair filled Mo Youli’s heart. Helpless against the abuse, he longed to join his mother in death.

Seizing a moment when servants napped, he slipped out of the Eastern Palace. His steps were unsteady but resolute, heading straight for the quiet river behind the palace.

The water was dark and chilling, mirroring the abyss of his despair. Step by step, he waded in—ankle, knee, waist deep. The cold bit sharply but was nothing compared to the chill in his heart.

Meanwhile, outside the palace gates, a carriage rolled slowly along. Inside sat Lo Ningsang, dressed in a soft pink gown, her eyes bright with curiosity at the palace’s wonders.

Beside her, the old emperor kindly admonished, “Sang’er, remember to follow the rules in the palace. Don’t be reckless.”

She nodded obediently but her gaze was drawn to the scenery outside.

At the riverbank, she happened to see a boy struggling in the water. Her face went pale as she cried out, “Stop! Someone’s fallen in!”

Before the carriage could halt, she lifted the curtain and leapt down, running to the riverbank, shoes sinking into mud unnoticed. She shouted into the water, “Hold on!”

Turning to the guards, she ordered, “Go quickly, save him!” Seeing the danger, she bit her lip and jumped in.

Mo Youli’s consciousness faded; in a haze, he saw someone swimming toward him. He tried to call for help but choked on water.

Lo Ningsang swam fiercely to his side, grasping his arm, struggling to speak, “Don’t be afraid, I’m pulling you out!”

Together they bobbed in the water until the guards arrived, pulling them ashore amid a flurry of hands.

Exhausted, they collapsed on the ground, gasping.

Mo Youli coughed till his face flushed crimson, utterly disheveled. Lo Ningsang’s hair was loose, her skirt damp, but her eyes were full of concern.

“Are you alright? Do you feel unwell?”

Mo Youli turned his head away, eyes red-rimmed. “Why save me? Life has no value…”

His voice was hoarse, filled with profound despair.

Lo Ningsang widened her eyes, steadying his posture. “Don’t talk nonsense! Life is hope.”

Mo Youli smiled bitterly. “You don’t understand. Without my mother, everyone bullies and abandons me...” Tears spilled uncontrollably; he tried to wipe them but they only multiplied.

Lo Ningsang’s heart tightened; she grasped his icy hand. “I understand. I’m the princess of Yan Chi but was sent to the Grand Tutor’s house as a child. I was bullied too. I felt abandoned by my father and mother.”

“But I still have friends who care. With them, I feel I can endure.”

Her gaze was sincere and unwavering. At that time, her friend was Xiao Ze’an, who truly treated Lo Ningsang as a playmate.

Mo Youli was stunned, looking up at the unfamiliar yet earnest girl before him. A warmth stirred within.

“Friends who care?”

“Of course! You’re so handsome; you must be blessed.”

Mo Youli was as delicate and beautiful as a porcelain doll.

Lo Ningsang patted her chest. “If you have no friends, then I’ll be your first. If anyone bullies you, I won’t let it slide!”

Mo Youli’s lips curved slightly; he nodded softly. “Thank you… I don’t even know your name yet.”

Just then, Lo Ningsang’s father urged her, “Sang’er, it’s time to go to the Great Qi palace. Don’t be late, or it’ll be a breach of Yan Chi’s customs.”

She hurried to her feet; as her skirt swayed, one earring silently slipped off.

Mo Youli noticed, reaching out to pick it up. He wanted to call after her but hesitated, clutching the earring tightly, whispering to her retreating figure, “Sang’er...”

On the way to the palace, Lo Ningsang’s thoughts lingered on the boy who had fallen in.

“Father, that boy looked so pitiful. Can I visit him again someday?”

The old emperor stroked her head. “He’s from Great Qi. If there’s time, I’ll bring you to see him.”

Back in the Eastern Palace, Mo Youli washed and changed, then sat alone by the window. Opening his palm, he gazed at the delicate earring—the butterfly seemed to flutter in his hand.

He threaded it on a red cord, fastening it tightly lest it be lost, and placed it close to his heart as if it bestowed courage.

He secretly inquired about the visitor to Great Qi’s palace and learned she was the princess of Yan Chi. The name Lo Ningsang was etched in his heart.

He murmured, “Sang’er, you are the only light in my darkness… When I have power, I will not fail you.”