Chapter 137: Of Myriad Solutions, Letting Her Go Was Not One
The banquet ended, and Xiao Yang ambled toward his bedchambers. He had been followed by a group of palace attendants, but somehow, they gradually fell back until Rong Yin was the only one beside him.
Xiao Yang glanced at him without a word, and Rong Yin, too, remained silent.
"Your Majesty."
On a small path ahead, someone knelt and bowed from a distance.
A closer look revealed that he was still in his dancing costume.
It was the man who had danced earlier.
Xiao Yang looked at the spot and raised an eyebrow slightly. ’He chose his spot well.’
Any further and he would have been out of the garden and within the precincts of Zichen Palace, where he would be seized the moment he appeared.
Xiao Yang withdrew his gaze and walked straight on.
The man saw this and quickly raised his head, desperate to speak. But the person following the Emperor swept a glance his way. It was just a single look, but it was filled with such darkness and killing intent that it felt like a sharp arrow piercing through him, pinning him to the spot.
’That was... the Regent King?’
Xiao Yang took a few more steps before turning back. "How long are you going to follow me?"
’What kind of subject follows the Emperor around endlessly?’
Rong Yin lifted his gaze, his deep, profound eyes looking calmly at her. "I have not yet presented Your Majesty with your birthday gift."
Xiao Yang looked him up and down. "The gift?"
Rong Yin immediately took a box he had long prepared from his sleeve and handed it over.
Xiao Yang took it and glanced inside. It was a jade pendant carved from the finest mutton-fat white jade. It was a delicate, milky white, its superb quality apparent at a single glance.
As the Emperor, Xiao Yang had no shortage of jade pendants and wasn’t particularly dazzled by it. She closed the box after just one look.
"You’ve given your gift. You should go back now."
Rong Yin suddenly grabbed her hand. "This Jade Pendant... it was a reward from Emperor Taizhong, given to me in my second year in the Capital City for my academic achievements. That year... happened to be the year you were born."
This was no randomly purchased piece of jade.
It was a treasure he had kept for many years, and it held extraordinary meaning for him—a meaning that, as it happened, included her.
"When you had your one-month celebration, the late Emperor held you for me to see. Afterward, even though I was busy with my studies and didn’t see you often, you were the late Emperor’s only son, so I was still able to see you a couple of times a year. In a way, I watched you grow up..."
As he spoke of this, his voice grew somewhat strained.
"That day... Meng Xuechen’s words tore apart the self-deception in my heart, forcing me to face a truth I had refused to see. I... I call the late Emperor my brother. By age and by blood, I am your elder..."
At this, a trace of dejection colored Rong Yin’s expression.
’Before, he had only seen the Emperor as a junior. He had indulged her when she acted out, only because she was his brother’s child. He had saved her when she cried for help, only because she was his brother’s child.’
’She was his brother’s only child...’
’He didn’t know when it had started, but he had somehow developed such delusional fantasies, even daring to harbor the treasonous desire to possess her.’
’He was no better than an animal!’
’He was in agony, filled with self-loathing, wishing he could draw his sword and atone for his sins. And yet, of all the possible solutions, the one he could never choose was to let her go.’
"I am guilty."
He lowered his head, pressing his forehead against her palm like a surrendered beast. "When my time is done, I will personally go to my brother and beg for his forgiveness. Even if it means an eternity in the eighteen levels of hell with no hope of reincarnation, I will have no regrets."
It was clear he was deeply conflicted and in pain. Xiao Yang hadn’t intended to engage, but his words made the corner of her mouth twitch.
"Liking me doesn’t have to land you in the eighteen levels of hell."
’Their blood ties were distant already. The only reason he felt such a close connection was because he had grown up in the Imperial Palace—it was a closeness of sentiment, not blood.’
’Xiao Yang had never cared about such things. To her, his inner conflict was nothing more than him borrowing trouble.’
Her fingertips drifted down, gently hooking his chin and tilting his head up.
Rong Yin was in agony, but his beautiful face—now bearing an expression of shattered resolve and all-or-nothing desperation—suddenly stirred a wicked impulse deep in Xiao Yang’s soul.
A smile touched Xiao Yang’s lips. "Forget it. Perhaps you should go to hell after all."