The Slender Waist-Chapter 830 - 583 United Efforts_3

Ping’an and Jixiang dared not utter a word.

Distant hatred, everlasting...

Such a fine tea bearing such an ominous name.

Yet, the Emperor seemed to favor it deeply.

In these years, Xiao Cheng had been industrious, avoided indulgence in women, and had a keen passion for the art of tea.

Jixiang often thought, the Emperor was savoring not tea but a state of mind.

A tangled emotion suspended between love and hate.

This campaign against Da Yong had stirred considerable opposition within Qi Country.

Although reclaiming the lost Xinzhou from years past was undoubtedly justified, the people of Qi Country were only just beginning to recover; focusing on development was the proper course, and there was no need to engage in an unwinnable war.

The People of Qi State described Xiao Cheng as benevolent, wise, and steadfast.

An Emperor who could lead the nation to prosperity and ensure the people lived well was one they genuinely respected and revered...

Yet, this war against Yong, from top to bottom, was considered too impulsive.

Only those by Xiao Cheng’s side knew...

His Majesty had simply waited too long.

The wind after the rain carried a slight chill; it stirred Xiao Cheng’s umbrella with sporadic flutters.

Tall as he was, Jixiang worried the umbrella might bump against the Emperor’s head and lifted it higher on tiptoe, struggling to hold it steady.

"Put it down." Xiao Cheng waved the umbrella away.

The rain had lightened further.

The gentle breeze brought an unusual coolness.

Xiao Cheng gazed far into the distance.

At the edge of the lotus pond, a woman stood poised and graceful. Her jet black hair, dark eyes, slightly lowered gaze, and the delicate smile on her lips as she admired a rain-soaked lotus...

Xiao Cheng’s throat tightened.

"Ayun..."

His voice startled the woman.

She paused briefly, "Your Majesty?"

The delicate tone of her voice dimmed Xiao Cheng’s eyes. The hand he had raised halfway froze in the air, then slowly retreated to his back. His expression turned cold as the damp hem of his robe brushed against him, and the gold-embroidered python dragon on his robe seemed to grow fiercer.

"What are you doing there?"

The woman approached.

Jixiang bowed, "Lady Hua Man."

Daman retained a faint smile as she bent to salute Xiao Cheng, simultaneously extending a bamboo basket toward him.

"I came to pick lotus flowers, Your Majesty. My elder sister used to gather lotus blossoms every year after the rain."

She adjusted the flowers in the basket, her demeanor gentle, her voice quiet, diligently keeping her emotions from surfacing.

"After so many years of practice, I’ve finally managed some semblance of skill in tea-making. I hope His Majesty might try it someday."

She lowered her gaze and did not notice Xiao Cheng’s changing expression. When she sensed something amiss in the air above her, she looked up, only to catch Xiao Cheng staring at her with a transformed gaze.

"Your Majesty."

Xiao Cheng closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.

"I lead troops to war, not to drink tea."

Daman felt a chill run through her heart.

Why had his mood shifted so abruptly?

She glanced at his refined yet ire-filled eyes, then at the uneasy Jixiang beside him. Biting her lip, she lowered her head to apologize.

"Brother-in-law, please forgive me. I had nothing else to do and simply wished to lighten Your burden..."

Xiao Cheng cast an indifferent glance at her and turned to leave.

The fine rain and mist greeted him, extinguishing the tiny spark ignited in his heart, leaving only strands of smoke drifting soundlessly into the void.

Perhaps it was the prolonged separation, or perhaps it was what Feng Yun had once said — words too cold, too cutting. On most days, Xiao Cheng would deliberately forget her; amid the busyness of state affairs, he would not even think of her.

But in that fleeting moment...

Seeing that shadow resembling hers, his heart — already ravaged to shreds as if sliced by a dull blade — became entangled in the lingering rain, nearly consuming him.

He was not a man of sentimental attachment.

Not in his past life.

Nor in this life.

But when the pain pierced to his very core, the yearning to possess her swelled uncontrollably.

It expanded to the point of seemingly overthrowing all reason.

He wished he were the kind who could abandon all inhibition.

"Safe travels, Your Majesty—"

Daman placed the basket on the ground and bowed properly. It was only after the figure disappeared into the rain and mist that she let out a bitter laugh, lifted her rain-soaked skirt hem, and poured the lotus flowers from the basket into the pond.

She had overstepped her bounds.