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That night, Xiao Yu had a strange dream. In the dream, he still looked like the twenty-year-old he was, but his demeanor and actions resembled those of a small child. A woman spoke to him gently, stroking his head as if she were checking his pulse. However, apart from himself, everything else in the dream—the images and sounds—was blurred.
He felt an inexplicable familiarity and closeness to the woman, accompanied by an indescribable sense of fear and palpitations. Yet, the more urgent his feelings became, the less clearly he could see her face. When he finally woke up, he felt a sense of loss, as if all his strength had been drained away. He searched his memory for a moment, confirming that there was no trace of that segment from his dream. What was going on? He furrowed his brow.
Today was the first day of the new year, and he still needed to visit Consort Rong in the palace. With little time to ponder deeply, he slowly sat up from his bed. The palace was bustling with numerous festivities; after much ado upon entering, he finally found himself seated with Consort Rong in the Bixiao Palace.
Consort Rong had applied some makeup on her face and appeared to be in good spirits, but the weariness in her eyes was unmistakable. The recent death of Song Feiwan, Xiao Yu's unusual behavior, and his nephew's estrangement—all these matters weighed heavily upon her like stones piled on her shoulders, leaving her physically and mentally exhausted.
She had tried to advise them, but now that the children had grown up, their outward respect belied their true thoughts, which would not change easily. After dismissing those around them, Consort Rong rubbed her swollen temples and sighed: "At last we can have a proper conversation. How have you been lately?"
"Everything is as usual," Xiao Yu replied tersely.
Consort Rong noticed his silence over these past days; as a mother, she naturally felt pained by it. However, words like "death cannot be reversed" had lost their meaning after being repeated countless times. Especially since Xiao Yu had experienced death himself; she understood his feelings all too well.
They exchanged questions and answers for a while until Consort Rong brought up Xiao Yan. "Haven't you already gathered enough evidence against him? Why not present it all to the Emperor at once?"
Xiao Yu let out a cold smile: "Wouldn't that be too easy for him? It's far more interesting to chop meat with a dull knife, isn't it?"
Consort Rong sighed complexly, disapproving: "As your mother, I understand your thoughts since I've lived longer than you. But I hope you can heed my advice. Dealing with someone like Xiao Yan—watching him lose power and be despised by the Emperor will indeed bring him immense torment both physically and mentally, but it also carries great risks."
You are swift and precise, striking true to avoid prolonged troubles and drawing unnecessary fire.
Seeing Xiao Yu's dismissive smile, Consort Rong realized her words had fallen on deaf ears.
"I understand your concerns, Mother," he replied politely.
Consort Rong's heart grew heavier; in just a few months, she felt as if she had aged several years. She couldn't help but reminisce about Song Feiwan. If she were here, she would surely understand her struggles and wouldn't be as stubborn as Xiao Yu.
Xiao Yu was naturally intelligent, and he understood the reasoning behind Consort Rong's words. However, he was not worried about Xiao Yan's retaliation; rather, he simply did not care.
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