“I… In Your Majesty’s heart, does this concubine not even compare to a person who has been dead for years?”
The Emperor’s inquiry left Empress Sun looking somewhat awkward. Ever since she ascended to the position of empress, the man before her had constantly asked her to make osmanthus cakes—all kinds of osmanthus cakes. He even specifically instructed her to have them delivered to the Empress Dowager for tasting.
Unfortunately, every time the person sent to deliver the cakes returned, they reported that the Empress Dowager had merely glanced at them, sometimes not even taking a single bite before ordering them removed. It was clear that these cakes were not the ones the Empress Dowager had requested.
Hearing him specifically summon her today to ask about the cakes, though Empress Sun didn’t understand why he insisted she make osmanthus cakes daily—and always with the exact ingredients he specified—she knew this man well enough to feel an unbearable sense of loss and sorrow. She looked at him and asked, her voice tinged with melancholy.
“It seems you truly are clever. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have joined Ye Mei that day to persuade me. Indeed, in my heart, no one has ever been able to compare to her…”
The Emperor showed no hesitation in revealing his disdain for Empress Sun’s expression. After speaking, he sighed softly, clasped his hands behind his back, and gazed at the grandeur in the distance with another long sigh.
“What a fine sentiment—’no one can compare to her.’ Did you have me make osmanthus cakes all these years just to remember her? Was it because she once made them for you with her own hands that you miss her so deeply?”
The Emperor’s words felt like a knife plunged straight into Empress Sun’s heart. Yet she neither cried nor complained. Her figure swayed violently for a moment before she steadied herself, forcing a bitter smile as she turned to face him again.
“What does this have to do with you? After all these years, you still can’t replicate that taste… Enough. Rest now. I have matters to attend to and won’t disturb you further.”
Despite Empress Sun’s visibly pained and desolate expression, the Emperor showed not a shred of sympathy. His response was cold, laced with a reproach that carried an inexplicable sense of loss and melancholy—even he seemed unable to articulate it. With that, he turned and left, leaving Empress Sun in utter despair.
“Your Majesty, are you alright? Your Majesty…” As the Emperor departed, Empress Sun could no longer hold herself together. She collapsed to the ground, her face streaked with tears. Her personal maid, who had entered after the Emperor’s exit, rushed to her side in alarm, supporting her with deep concern.
“No wonder they say emperors throughout history are heartless. Who would have thought… after all these years of careful planning, after sacrificing so much for him… this is the result? Hah…”
With her maid’s help, Empress Sun rose, her expression a mix of sorrow and resentment. It was as if all her strength had been drained in an instant. She laughed bitterly, though her face looked more wretched than if she had been crying.
“Your Majesty…”
Her maid was bewildered and anxious at the sight of her laughing through tears.
“Enough. You may leave. This Empress is fine—just weary. Emperor… how could you be so cruel to me? Haven’t I done enough for you all these years? Why must you be so heartless, so cold? Why? Why?”
As her maid nervously questioned her, Empress Sun’s earlier despondency faded, replaced by an indescribable weariness and resignation. She dismissed the maid with a composed demeanor, but once alone, she collapsed onto the divan and wept uncontrollably. Gone was her usual grace and dignity—now she was just a heartbroken woman, abandoned by the man she had loved so deeply.
“Your Majesty, you’ve returned. The Empress Dowager requests your presence…” Just as Leng Yingjie stepped out, his personal eunuch, Xu, hurried over with a message from the Empress Dowager.
“The Empress Dowager? What’s the matter? Didn’t Second Miss Mu already cure her ailment?”
Hearing this, a rare flicker of irritation crossed Leng Yingjie’s face. After a pause, he turned to Xu and asked, puzzled by the Empress Dowager’s summons.
“I’m not certain, Your Majesty.”
Xu noticed the Emperor’s unusual reaction to the mention of the Empress Dowager but remained respectfully deferential.
“Very well. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to visit.”
With a resigned expression, Leng Yingjie nodded and followed Xu to the Empress Dowager’s quarters.
“My son, there’s no need for formalities. Rise quickly. Today, your mother is truly happy. Try this pastry.”
Upon seeing the Emperor, the Empress Dowager greeted him warmly, her joy evident. Her chronic headaches had finally been cured, and she had just tasted the osmanthus cakes she had longed for over the years.
Though she was puzzled—how had these cakes suddenly appeared in the palace and reached her hands? Who could have made them? The only people she knew capable of crafting such delicacies were her son and her most trusted, beloved daughter-in-law, who had long since passed.
Assuming it must be her son’s doing—perhaps a deliberate surprise—she beamed at him and offered the half-eaten box of cakes.
“Osmanthus cakes?”
Seeing that his mother had summoned him just to taste osmanthus cakes—which looked no different from those he usually had the palace chefs prepare—Leng Yingjie was perplexed. Yet, noticing her excitement, he picked up a piece and took a bite.
“Delicious, isn’t it? How does it taste?”
The Empress Dowager smiled as she watched him chew thoughtfully.
“This… this cake is…”
The familiar flavor spread across his tongue—precious to him, yet he stared at the Empress Dowager in confusion.
“Wasn’t this your surprise for me, your mother?”
His puzzled expression mirrored hers, and she chided him lightly.
“I… Ah, how forgetful of me. Indeed, Mother, you’ve often mentioned missing the osmanthus cakes Liu Li used to make. These years, I’ve been preoccupied with state affairs, and the court physician advised against you consuming too many sweets due to your health, so…”
The Emperor’s eyes flickered briefly before he adopted an expression of sudden realization. He continued chewing the cake slowly.
“Oh, you foolishly filial child. If the physician said so, you could have just told me! I thought that after Liu Li’s death, you had abandoned your old self entirely, burying yourself in work. Seeing you like this now, I can finally rest easy. Though her passing grieves me deeply, the departed are gone. Life must go on.”
The Empress Dowager gazed at him with tender affection, her tone a mix of reproach and relief. She was genuinely comforted to see her son finally letting go of his sorrow.
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