'Boom!'
Another peal of thunder rumbled through the skies, startling Song Zhao so much that she couldn't help but shudder violently.
At that time, she was kneeling in front of Xiao Jingheng, her frail figure curled up into a ball. Her clothes were soaked and she was trembling all over.
Tears welled up in her eyes, overflowing as her long eyelashes fluttered. The tears rolled down her cheeks in big drops,
staining her indigo clothes as they spread into a wet patch.
"Your Majesty...this concubine...," she spoke in a breathy voice, as if trying hard to hold back her sobs. It made one's heart ache to hear her.
Xiao Jingheng saw all this.
Men are always inclined to cherish frail women.
The more delicate a woman is, the more she arouses their protective instincts.
Of course, the prerequisite is that the woman has to be alluring enough that when she cries, her tears appear like pearls and dew drops, evoking pity in those who see her.
And the thing Song Zhao was most blessed with was precisely her looks.
Xiao Jingheng hid the ferocity in his eyes. He reached out to help Song Zhao up from the icy floor.
Her hands were smooth, fair, and cold,
like a piece of flawless jade being clasped in his hand.
Xiao Jingheng gripped her hand tighter and softened his tone, "Don't be afraid, I'm not a fierce beast."
Song Zhao shrank her shoulders and nodded. In an extremely aggrieved and soft voice, she murmured, "Th-thank you, Your Majesty."
Xiao Jingheng asked her, "My lady is so beautiful, why pretend to still have a rash when it's clearly faded?"
"This concubine is afraid...," Song Zhao pursed her lips, and her breathing gradually became uneven. She had been holding back her emotions for a long time, but they suddenly spiraled out of control. She covered her face with a handkerchief and began to quietly sob.
She cried very skillfully,
shedding tears while remaining beautiful.
At what angle should she face Xiao Jingheng, how often should she blink, should the tears fall from the corners or lower lids of her eyes, and what tone should she use when sobbing,
so that she sounds pitiful?
Song Zhao had practiced countless times in private.
In Xiao Jingheng's eyes, there were no flaws at all. Her crying only made his heart churn.
"Don't cry," he reached out to gently wipe away her tears, "Tell me, what are you afraid of?"
Song Zhao took a few deep breaths, trying hard to steady her emotions.
She didn't want to say it, but under Xiao Jingheng's repeated urging, she reluctantly began,
"This concubine is afraid of gaining favor, which is why I had those crooked thoughts."
Xiao Jingheng asked, "Others fear not gaining favor, yet you fear gaining it?"
Song Zhao said sadly, "My aunt gained my father's affection, thus incurring my mother's disfavor. When I was six, my aunt made a small mistake, and my mother beat her to death right in front of me... This concubine is afraid of gaining favor, for fear that one day I will end up with the same fate as my aunt..."
(Note: According to ancient etiquette, children of concubines must address the primary wife as "Mother," while concubines, regardless of whether they are the child's birth mother, should be called "Aunt".)
After listening to Song Zhao's words, Xiao Jingheng gently comforted her on the surface:
"Don't be afraid. Your father didn't protect your aunt back then, but now that you are my concubine, I will naturally protect you. Moreover, within the palace, propriety prevails, and no one can arbitrarily beat or scold you without reason, understand?"
Inwardly, he was thinking:
This Song Zhao is truly beautiful, but not very clever.
She blurted out such shameful family matters right in front of me, isn't she worried I'll think badly of Song Shichen?
Being an imperial consort is like being with a tiger. With one careless word, she could ruin her father's prospects at any time.
But compared to his other consorts, Song Zhao's "lack of cleverness" was perfectly to Xiao Jingheng's liking.
The consorts in the harem, from the Empress down, which of them didn't have ulterior motives?
Even just chatting casually, who knew how many times they had deliberated in their hearts about what to say from their mouths?
Sometimes being with someone too proper and clever could be tiring, having to constantly be on guard against their schemes.
Of course Xiao Jingheng didn't know that Song Zhao was eager to drag her maternal family down to hell, and make them accompany her birth mother in death.
'Boom!'
The rainstorm showed no signs of letting up, and the capital hadn't seen rain this heavy in years.
With each peal of thunder, Song Zhao would shudder involuntarily.
Xiao Jingheng gazed at Song Zhao.
The tear tracks had washed away most of the rash on her face, revealing her original, exquisite, silk-smooth skin, looking even more vivid and enchanting, impossible to part from.
"Still saying you're not afraid of thunder?" He smiled indulgently, stroking Song Zhao's head as if soothing a child,
"Crying like this, your eyes will be swollen tomorrow, and others will think I bullied you tonight if they see you. Go wash your face, I'm here with you, don't be afraid."
Xiao Jingheng held Song Zhao's hand and led her from the heated platform to the vanity.
Beside the vanity was a pure gold, dragon engraved basin filled with morning dew steeped with rose and camellia petals.
Xiao Jingheng asked her, "You're only allergic to peach blossoms, other flowers don't affect you?"
Song Zhao shyly shook her head, then accepted the plain handkerchief Xiao Jingheng handed her and began gently washing her face.
Xiao Jingheng watched as the rash on her face gradually faded with each rinse until the last trace of makeup was washed away, revealing her true complexion, fair and delicate.
As an emperor, he had of course seen countless beauties,
and the women in his harem, with Consort Chen at their lead, were each peerless beauties.
Even so, after seeing Song Zhao's real appearance, Xiao Jingheng couldn't help the shock in his heart, silently thinking - a natural beauty.
Like a lotus blossoming out of clear water, free of any ornamentation.
Song Zhao was somewhat embarrassed by Xiao Jingheng's burning gaze.
She lowered her head, a flush creeping into her cheeks, and murmured softly,
"Your Majesty..."
Xiao Jingheng swept her into his embrace, circling her slender waist as he carried her and gently placed her on the dragon bed.
Before setting her down, his finger had already hooked the sash at her waist,
with a slight tug, the sash came loose, and spring's glory was laid bare before his eyes.
His fingertips gently glided across Song Zhao's shoulder. Accompanied by the rumbling thunder outside, Song Zhao's body trembled uncontrollably.
Xiao Jingheng leaned over her, bringing his warm breath to her earlobe, and whispered by her ear,
"If you're afraid, hold me tighter."
Then he grabbed Song Zhao's wrist and placed it around his lean waist.
Song Zhao let out a soft 'mm' and slowly slid her hands up Xiao Jingheng's firm back.
With each peal of thunder, her slender fingers gradually tightened their hold.
The night grew deeper,
yet the lights in Chaoyang Palace remained lit late into the night.
