Hearing Xiao Jingheng's voice, Song Zhao was shocked.
She suddenly loosened her arms around his waist.
The inner chamber was pitch black, lightning and thunder outside the window. She had nowhere to retreat.
The thunder that rumbled one after another almost shattered Song Zhao's soul.
In hesitation between advancing and retreating, she had no choice but to hide in Xiao Jingheng's embrace again,
as if only this way could she gain a moment of peace.
Xiao Jingheng held her tightly and whispered gently,
"Don't be afraid, I am with you, I have always been with you."
Song Zhao just kept shivering. Her heart almost jumped out of her throat. She didn't care what Xiao Jingheng was saying at the moment.
She waited until the rain poured down vigorously before the thunder outside stopped. She slowly regained her senses
"Didn't you go back to the palace? How come you are here?" She asked.
Xiao Jingheng gently stroked her messy bangs and said, "Every time there was a thunderstorm, I would accompany you. At that time, you were like now, like a frightened deer, clinging closely to my arms."
Song Zhao blushed with shame and wanted to get out of Xiao Jingheng’s arms immediately,
but he refused to let go. Instead, he held Song Zhao even tighter, lowered his head to her ear, and hoarsely whispered unbearably:
"Zhao’er has forgotten the past. Why are you still unwilling to give us a chance to reconnect?"
The man’s warm breath circled Song Zhao’s ear, making her shiver.
She seemed to have softened and whispered, "Yun Shan and Xiao Fuzi told me that you and I were very affectionate in the past, but I don't remember any of it at all. Actually I don't dislike you, I avoid you only because...I'm afraid of you."
She took a breath and added another sentence, "It seems like everyone here is very afraid of you."
"But Zhao’er doesn’t need to be afraid."
Xiao Jingheng turned her shoulders to face him, with their noses touching.
"You said you regarded me as your husband, so why are you still afraid of your own husband? I will always cherish you and treat you like a pearl in my palm. I will never let you get hurt again."
He approached inch by inch, trying step by step.
Finally, he managed to embrace his beauty and enjoy the spring night.
That night, after gracefully accepting Xiao Jingheng’s favor, Song Zhao felt that her relationship with him had obviously become much closer.
He treated her so gently, even asking her opinion every time they changed positions, he was very considerate.
At the time, Song Zhao was lying in Xiao Jingheng's arms without a hint of sleepiness. She listened to the pitter-patter of rain outside the window.
Xiao Jingheng caressed her thin shoulders and asked, "What is Zhao’er thinking?"
Song Zhao was silent for a while and said, "I'm wondering why don't you call me Imperial Concubine, but Zhao’er instead."
Xiao Jingheng smiled, "Naturally because I call you by your name, which is more intimate."
Song Zhao disagreed and said, "I know, I am your wife, you call me Zhao’er to show intimacy and closeness. But I always have to call you ‘Your Majesty’. Don't you feel estranged?"
"Oh?" Xiao Jingheng became interested, sat up halfway, looked at Song Zhao with a smile, "Then what does Zhao’er want to call me?"
Song Zhao thought for a while with her cheek in her hand, "How about Xiao Lang? I saw in folk operas these days that wives call their husbands that."
Xiao Jingheng was stunned for a moment, and a bright light flashed across his eyes.
He seemed to be very satisfied with this title. Soon he smiled knowingly. His fingers gently brushed Song Zhao's cheeks, and he spoke softly like the warm sun,
"Xiao Lang, that's perfect."
It was expected that Song Zhao would receive such favor.
But no one could have expected that Xiao Jingheng would spoil her beyond measure this time.
Every day he would either spend the night at Changle Palace, or have Song Zhao accompany him in Chaoyang Palace. It seemed that he could not rest assured without having Song Zhao by his side all the time.
As a result, it naturally incurred the jealousy of the other concubines.
They talked privately, "In the past, no matter how favored Imperial Concubine and Lady Shun were, His Majesty still did not neglect us that much. You see now? We can hardly even see His Majesty once!"
"After all, Lady Song is so fortunate. She fell in the Cold Palace and lost her memory, so His Majesty treats her especially well. He even disregarded the three-year filial period for Empress Jia Rui and immediately made her the Imperial Concubine."
"I heard that she became more charming after losing her memory. Calling His Majesty 'Xiao Lang' so coquettishly in public and in private. His Majesty still indulges her?"
"Alas, seeing that she’s so favored now, our days will only get more difficult..."
Whether their days would get better or worse, Song Zhao didn’t know.
She only knew that her good days were just beginning.
On the seventh day of the sixth month was the anniversary of Empress Jia Rui’s death. Xiao Jingheng observed mourning that day and did not summon Song Zhao at night.
Taking advantage of her free time, Song Zhao took out brush, ink, paper and inkstone to practice calligraphy in her room.
Yun Shan brought in freshly brewed soothing tea and said softly to Song Zhao,
“Young Lady, nowadays the whole palace is talking about you calling His Majesty ‘Xiao Lang’. Their tones, both explicit and implicit, are dissatisfied with you."
Song Zhao just focused on writing calligraphy and didn’t even lift her head. She indifferently let out a sentence,
“If they are dissatisfied, let them suffocate.”
Yun Shan saw that Song Zhao was quite passionate about practicing calligraphy today and became curious, “What is the young lady writing?”
She leaned over to take a look. Delicate handwriting came into view.
“Once entering the grand door it's as deep as the sea, from now on Xiao Lang is just a passerby.”
After reading this line, Yun Shan knew what it meant.
“Xiao Lang is just a passerby. This is now His Majesty’s position in the young lady’s heart.”
Song Zhao's expression became stern, her eyes filled with only hatred.
She casually placed the corner of the paper on the candle flame and watched it blaze furiously before scoffing,
“Is he worthy? Now in my heart, he doesn't even have the qualifications to be a passerby. Seeing him only makes me nauseous.”
