Chapter 27: My Favorite Aunt

The bus stop heading into the city was set right beside the central garden. As Qian Lai passed by the garden, a few children were playing tag within, while the flowerbeds nearby were lined with grandparents watching over them.

Suddenly, with a sharp slap, one child raised his hand and struck another across the face. The boy on the receiving end immediately burst into aggrieved wails.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” The adults on the flowerbed rushed over as soon as they heard the crying.

Wang Yan caught the underlying meaning in Zhang Ji’s words; as ordinary folk would say, Zhang Ji had slept with the late emperor’s wife, and she hadn’t even been unsealed—a truly remarkable feat.

“At present, the only ones holding military power at Chu Shiyan’s side are you, General, and Tiger Jingzong, the commander of the Left Guard Battalion,” Chu Zhaoan did not conceal anything, speaking plainly.

The enemy soldiers, startled by the sudden noise, were thrown into chaos and tried to retreat, only to find their way back already blocked. The path forward was likewise cut off.

With nothing more to say, he led his troops away, paying no further heed to Shi Nian, whose face had turned ashen with fury.

A suffocating pain and the burning sensation of her skin struck her all at once. She struggled, eyes wide, staring at the handsome face before her, weak whimpers escaping her lips.

The sign for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Commerce had already been hung; at the entrance, constables—handpicked from the City Management Brigade—stood guard.

He thought he was merely a pretext, that the Hongzhi Emperor was looking for an excuse to kill his nephew Zhu Youyuan, so he gritted his teeth and endured, not realizing he had unwittingly aligned himself with Zhang Ji’s true intentions.

Zhang Ji had put her in charge of the salt permits; she knew exactly how much silver that entailed. At the thought, she pressed for more details.

After leaving the room, she discovered Zeshan Chunye was gone. She returned to her own room, idly played with her phone for a while, and then came back once more.

It was a banquet, after all; appearing too plain would be inappropriate. Yet Chu Liangrao already possessed crimson lips and pearly teeth, her features exquisitely delicate. Too much makeup would only mask her natural beauty. In the end, she merely touched her brows with a hint of black and dabbed on a little rouge—enough to make her radiantly lovely.

Seeing the couple so deeply in love, Madam Du realized she was superfluous. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but in the end, quietly withdrew.

At first, Su Nan would answer the calls, but later she stopped completely. Eventually, he switched to texting—day after day, sending messages. To Su Nan, her phone was always just an accessory. Unless for work or family, it was of little use.

Hearing such stories, Princess Yinhua stirred something in Chu Liangrao’s heart. She knew Huo Tainan; ordinarily, he would never be so circumspect. That he acted so cautiously now was surely because he had heeded her instructions and wished to return safely.

Each word struck a heavy blow to An Yujing’s fragile heart; the color drained from her face, the smile froze on her lips, and her hands unconsciously clenched into fists as the pain seeped through her being.

All the information was learned and understood from the computer system, much as one studies a map of North America.

“Do you believe in past lives?” Leaning against the trunk of a great tree, Fenghua gazed at the figure slumbering soundlessly in the distance. The secret in her heart had been buried for a long time.

By keeping him behind, as expected, at the contest Second Consort broke through, defeating all others and became the most trusted warrior-guard at the side of the Venerable One.

“I’ll go and have a look first. Husband, wait here a moment,” Chu Liangrao said, rising to straighten her attire.

Resolutely tossing aside the pastry, Fenghua wanted to flee, but as she ran, her gaze kept straying uncontrollably toward the pot of rabbit stew.

“Mad God, even as a ghost I will never let you go…” Yan Tian howled in madness, but before he could finish, Shi Sansheng’s blade flashed coldly, cutting him off at once.

Though the height of summer brought no chill to the early dawn, everyone at the dock felt as though they stood amid glaciers.