“Your Majesty, these are the documents that have piled up during your absence,” Haishan placed the tea on the desk and gave Xie Qingwan a meaningful glance.
Xie Qingwan understood and naturally began grinding ink for Ming Siran.
“Leave,” Ming Siran commanded coldly.
Xie Qingwan’s hand paused, seemingly in disbelief.
Five years. She had served in His Majesty’s study for five years, and this was the first time he had ever dismissed her.
Seeing that she hadn’t moved, Ming Siran frowned.
Haishan, noticing the situation, quickly tugged at the still-stunned Xie Qingwan.
Ming Siran’s autocratic nature meant his orders were not to be defied. Knowing this, Xie Qingwan, no matter how unwilling, had no choice but to retreat without a word of complaint.
Once she was gone, Ming Siran casually remarked, “I need someone to grind ink. Call the maid I brought back from the Zhu Kingdom.”
Haishan understood immediately.
Zhou Shengsheng had been waiting outside the door, ready to be summoned.
Since arriving in this world, the thing that consumed most of her time was standing around and daydreaming.
After becoming a maid, she realized just how impressive the maids in dramas were—standing for hours on end, always ready to heed their master’s commands.
She, on the other hand, would stand there and let her thoughts wander. In the beginning, she often missed Duan Fusheng’s instructions, which resulted in deductions from her monthly allowance.
Speaking of money, she wondered how the salary system worked in this imperial palace.
“Miss Zhou,” a sharp yet aged voice snapped her out of her reverie.
Zhou Shengsheng turned calmly and bowed gracefully to Haishan. “Eunuch Haishan.”
She was startled.
Ignoring her racing heart, Zhou Shengsheng smiled politely.
She performed the Yong Kingdom’s etiquette. The cultural differences between the Zhu Kingdom and the Yong Kingdom were significant. Haishan had initially thought this new maid would need some training before serving the emperor, but it seemed that wasn’t necessary.
Pleased, Haishan smiled and said, “His Majesty is calling for you.”
Zhou Shengsheng nodded.
She entered the hall, but Haishan did not follow, instead remaining at the door.
Liu Xunlan’s study, which she had visited with Duan Fusheng, was filled with books of sages and walls adorned with calligraphy and paintings. A qin and a flute were placed by the window for leisurely entertainment.
Ming Siran’s study, however, was much larger. The shelves were lined with a wide variety of books, ranging from military strategy and philosophy to miscellaneous works from various fields.
Ming Siran was currently holding a wolf-hair brush, frowning as he reviewed a memorial. When Zhou Shengsheng entered, his expression softened, and he waived her formalities, urging her to come closer.
The once stern man transformed into a childlike figure in an instant.
“Can you understand this?” Zhou Shengsheng leaned over to take a look.
The dense text made her eyes blur.
Ming Siran didn’t hide it from her, letting her read freely. “It’s manageable.”
It had initially been challenging, but after a while, he found his thoughts becoming clearer, likely due to residual memories from the past.
But this wasn’t a good sign—it meant that his future self might soon return.
Noticing Zhou Shengsheng’s curious gaze as she surveyed the room, Ming Siran masked his somber expression.
“Shengsheng, could you grind the ink for me?” he asked, almost pleading.
Zhou Shengsheng glanced at the imperial phoenix-patterned inkstone beside her and began grinding the ink naturally. Her long hair fell, partially obscuring her face. From Ming Siran’s angle, he could only see her delicate nose and long, thick lashes.
Ming Siran’s expression softened, and he found himself staring at her.
Feeling his intense gaze, Zhou Shengsheng pinched his cheek. “Snap out of it.”
[This texture isn’t as soft as I imagined.]
Ming Siran turned his head away, muttering, “Because I’m a man.”
“Huh? What did you say?” Zhou Shengsheng didn’t catch his barely audible words.
Ming Siran shook his head, saying it was nothing.
He recalled hearing about the saying: a wife grinding ink while her husband reads.
Glancing at the slender, pale hand holding the inkstick as it ground the ink, Ming Siran’s face flushed slightly.
“Shengsheng?” he suddenly spoke up.
Zhou Shengsheng responded, pausing her movements and lowering her eyes to look at him.
The red mole beneath her eye added a touch of allure to her otherwise plain features.
“I’ll give you a title. Will you be my real wife?” he whispered, voicing the hope he had harbored since returning to the palace. His dark eyes reflected her image.
The air grew still.
After a long pause, Zhou Shengsheng finally spoke. “Xiao Ming, you’ve just lost your memory. When it returns, you’ll regret this.” She paused before continuing, “I’m the first person you met after losing your memory. You’ve developed a ‘first imprint’ attachment to me. It could have been anyone, and you’d feel the same way.”
“That’s not true!” The chair legs screeched against the floor as Ming Siran stood up, his gaze fixed intently on Zhou Shengsheng.
He was tall, towering over her by two heads, and his silent stare carried an overwhelming pressure.
Zhou Shengsheng lowered her eyes and sighed.
[Don’t push me. How could a mother fall in love with her own son?]
The thoughts of confinement, chains, and forced marriage that had been swirling in Ming Siran’s mind vanished instantly.
How absurd.
The person you adore sees you as her son.
The emotions that had tightly coiled around his heart like iron thorns suddenly dissipated, leaving only a sense of exhaustion.
He sat back down, lips pressed together, and silently picked up his brush to resume reading the memorials.
Seeing this, Zhou Shengsheng hesitated for a moment before bowing and turning to leave.
[Ah, he needs some time to cool off after stepping into this forbidden love.]
Ming Siran’s fingers paused, and he commanded in a hoarse voice, “Come back.”
“Who said you could leave?” He looked up at the woman who had so callously turned away, his eyes red.
Zhou Shengsheng, seeing his expression, quickly shuffled back.
[Ah Pang, is there any medicine that can treat memory loss? I think we need to address this issue.]
Ah Pang, trembling, nodded in agreement.
Just as Zhou Shengsheng was about to ask if there was a gentle remedy, her wrist suddenly ached. Before she could react, his arm had tightly wrapped around her waist, firm as an iron clamp.
Zhou Shengsheng was startled but stopped struggling after a few futile attempts.
“Don’t leave me. I won’t pressure you, okay?” His voice, hoarse and pleading, sounded like the whimper of a cornered animal.
Zhou Shengsheng couldn’t see his face but could hear the desperation and tremor in his voice.
The sky outside had completely darkened. After staring at the dragon embroidery on his chest for a long time, Zhou Shengsheng finally whispered, “Okay.”
Immediately, his embrace tightened further.
Zhou Shengsheng, assuming it was just his ‘first imprint’ attachment, patted his back in comfort.
[Forget it, Ah Pang. Although Xiao Ming is clingy, Ming Siran is far worse. I’d rather spend half a year with Xiao Ming. We’ll deal with the memory issue... later.]
Ah Pang didn’t respond. Ming Siran’s embrace had sent him flying out of Zhou Shengsheng’s hair, and he now faced Ming Siran, whose face was half-shrouded in shadow.
Ah Pang trembled, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him.
Because the man who, despite his towering stature, was pretending to be pitiful and trembling in Zhou Shengsheng’s arms, now had eyes as deep as a black abyss, filled with unmistakable triumph. The slight curve of his lips resembled the smirk of a villain who had successfully deceived an unsuspecting girl.
