The atmosphere suddenly froze.
Jiang Zhiyu's cold sweat soaked through her back.
"Your Majesty is joking," Duan Fusheng said, moving his fingers. Though his words were said with a smile, his eyes were filled with warning as he looked at Ming Siran.
Ming Siran chuckled nonchalantly and continued drinking, as if the previous words had never been spoken.
The servants in the room were already trembling, their legs nearly giving out.
Would they be silenced?
That was the only thought in everyone's mind.
Zhou Shengsheng had thought she was off the hook, but soon, Xiao Pingzi came to call her, saying that Ming Siran's clothes had been accidentally wetted.
Her eyes lit up, and she immediately offered to take care of it!
There were no men's clothes in Qianyi Palace, but as a resourceful palace maid, Zhou Shengsheng managed to procure a brand-new, high-quality set of clothes for Ming Siran.
She walked past the screen painted with beautiful women and softly said, "Your Majesty, I've brought your clothes," before approaching him.
Ming Siran was half-naked, his muscles well-defined and firm, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and a back that exuded masculine charm.
Unfortunately, a gruesome scar running from his shoulder blade to his lower back marred this beauty.
Feeling the intense gaze on his back, Ming Siran raised an eyebrow.
"What are you standing there for?" His cold voice snapped Zhou Shengsheng back to reality.
Seeing that he remained with his back to her, she boldly focused her gaze on the scar.
"Pang, I remember in the original book that this scar on Ming Siran was caused when he heard the news of Yu Yanyan's death and, while on the battlefield, was distracted and got cut, right?"
She was so engrossed in talking to Pang that she didn't notice the momentary stiffness in the body she was touching.
At the same time, another, more childish voice echoed in Ming Siran's mind.
[You have such a good memory, Shengsheng]
Zhou Shengsheng had to walk around to Ming Siran's front, so she restrained her smug expression.
"Of course, I read this part several times. After all, I spent a long time guessing who the murderer was who poisoned the white moonlight and disguised her death as a fatal illness..."
A hand suddenly grabbed Zhou Shengsheng's wrist without warning, squeezing it like a vice and making her eyes water in pain.
Confused, she looked up and met a pair of blood-red eyes.
Zhou Shengsheng was startled.
"Did Ming Siran get drugged with aphrodisiacs?" Thinking this, she discreetly shifted her gaze to his lower body.
Shock, rage, and a hint of annoyance filled Ming Siran's mind.
Was Yanyan really poisoned to death? Who was the culprit?
But could he trust this woman's words? What was this "original book" she mentioned?
His thoughts whirled in his mind, and he pushed Zhou Shengsheng away, wanting to ask how she knew Yu Yanyan was poisoned.
But the words that came out were: "Get out!"
Zhou Shengsheng obeyed and quickly left.
If it weren't for her own purposes, she wouldn't want to serve this tyrant.
The fourteen slaps she received wouldn't be forgotten so easily.
Ming Siran was still in shock over his inability to voice his true thoughts, so he didn't notice a small flying creature named Pang sprinkling some powder on him.
Zhou Shengsheng went to find Duan Fusheng, but the room was empty, with only Jiang Zhiyu eating alone.
Seeing her enter, Jiang Zhiyu waved at her. "Shengsheng! Come over, this is so good!" She picked up a golden shrimp ball and offered it to Zhou Shengsheng.
Zhou Shengsheng ignored her overly familiar address.
"Where's the Empress?" she asked.
Jiang Zhiyu replied, "She said she was tired and left."
This didn't make sense. In the original book, Duan Fusheng couldn't get enough of Jiang Zhiyu's presence.
Could he be sick?
Oh no, if Duan Fusheng fell ill, she wouldn't get a good night's sleep.
"Hey! Shengsheng!" Seeing her about to leave, Jiang Zhiyu grabbed her.
"Um... can you plead with the Imperial Noble Consort for me? That psycho Ming Siran wants to take me to the Yong Kingdom, but I don't want to go!" At this, tears welled up in her eyes.
Zhou Shengsheng gave her a compassionate look, knowing she couldn't escape, but she comforted her nonetheless. "I'll ask for you."
She wasn't lying; she would ask for the female lead, but in the original book, even Duan Fusheng couldn't protect her. Jiang Zhiyu eventually followed Ming Siran back to the Yong Kingdom as a favored concubine.
Duan Fusheng usually rested in the west wing room with excellent lighting. Without the constraints of his identity and the interference of Liu Xunlan, Zhou Shengsheng felt he could sleep there forever.
Indeed, looks were everything.
Without that face, how could a lazybones like Duan Fusheng rise to the position of Imperial Noble Consort?
However, today, the usually quiet west wing room had quite a few people.
There were also many Yong Kingdom guards and a tall, capable-looking woman.
Zhou Shengsheng remembered her.
She seemed to be named Li Rong.
Seeing Zhou Shengsheng, Li Rong recognized the red mole under her eye and nodded at her.
Zhou Shengsheng responded and pulled aside Xiangxiang, who usually followed Duan Fusheng.
"The Emperor of the Yong Kingdom is inside, discussing important matters with the Imperial Noble Consort, so we were asked to leave," Xiangxiang explained.
Ming Siran?
Thinking of his beast-like gaze earlier, Zhou Shengsheng had an ominous feeling.
Inside the room,
Duan Fusheng usually liked to nap in the sun but was afraid of the heat. Zhou Shengsheng had hung gauze curtains in front of the large, almost anachronistic floor-to-ceiling windows to reduce the light.
He didn't like bedding with floral patterns, so Zhou Shengsheng had custom-ordered a quilt with a qingniao pattern based on her own design, placing it on Duan Fusheng's favorite chaise longue.
Even the unique fruit tray was designed by Zhou Shengsheng.
In a sense, Duan Fusheng's surroundings were filled with Zhou Shengsheng's influence.
Rubbing his fingertips, Duan Fusheng, who had been half-closing his eyes, finally spoke as the man across from him grew impatient.
"Half a year, and return her unharmed," he said, his voice unusually decisive, devoid of his usual lingering charm.
Ming Siran frowned.
"If you gift her to me, I can give you two clues. But if you're lending her, I can only give you one. Are you sure?"
"No need to trouble Your Majesty," Duan Fusheng chuckled lightly, unconcerned.
Ming Siran could have just taken her by force, but he didn't.
He was wary of the mysterious and powerful backing behind Duan Fusheng. This man couldn't be his enemy... for now.
"Moonside Lake," Ming Siran said softly before standing up and leaving.
Left alone, Duan Fusheng lay sideways in the hazy light, his long lashes fluttering, hiding the complicated emotions in his eyes.
Seeing Ming Siran exit, Zhou Shengsheng followed suit and performed a perfunctory bow. But unexpectedly, a pair of embroidered dragon boots with gold trim stopped in front of her.
A deep, magnetic voice came from above her: "Your master has given you to me."
