My Sin

Reminiscing

The next morning, as the children ran into the emperor's chambers for breakfast, they saw their father already there.

Tao'er immediately ran over and jumped into his father's arms, clearly wanting to be cuddled. Ruan'er greeted him warmly, while Hu Feng offered a cold greeting before sitting down.

"How is Tao'er liking his poetry buddy?" the emperor asked dotingly as he fed him.

"Good. I wike him. Vewy cawing," Tao'er said.

"Really? What did you write about?" the emperor asked with interest.

"About Ling gege. Good looks," Tao'er replied innocently.

The empress chuckled, and Hu'er shook his head helplessly. The emperor knew this son of his liked anything pretty and cute. That was why he liked his poetry buddy, Ling Wu. He knew it was only childish words, yet he still felt as if his little cabbage was being stolen away. How come no poems were written about him?

With just one glance, the empress could tell what he was thinking and snorted. The emperor truly had no favorites among their children, but their closeness was different. All the other six had grown up to be more attached to their mother. Only Tao'er had grown into a true daddy's boy.

In their last life, when Ruan'er wanted to marry, she simply brought it up. The emperor rejected it at first, but two months later she married anyway, with a tearful father personally preparing her dowry. The same could be said for Hu'er. Only Tao'er stuck to his father so much that it became a saying: the way to the Third Prince's heart was through the emperor. If the emperor did not approve, one could forget about catching his eye. But in this life, it seemed this Ling gege was already one step ahead.

Seeing the emperor look slightly lost made the empress feel pleased. Didn't you want to act distant and forget about us all? Look where that got you.

The emperor looked at the empress and immediately understood what he was thinking from his gaze alone, which made him too embarrassed to complain about his little cabbage.

"Tao'er, who is more important, daddy or Ling gege?" the emperor asked shamelessly.

Ruan'er looked away in embarrassment. Hu'er simply got up and left. The empress stared at him in disbelief.

"Hmmm," Tao'er pondered.

The emperor felt his heart crack a little. His Tao'er used to answer "daddy" without hesitation. Now he had to think?

The empress snorted again. Serves you right.

"Daddy is," Tao'er finally said.

Ling gege was pretty, but he did not give him gold pens encrusted with jewels, did not watch the moon with him, or build him sparkling little stars. Only daddy did that.

"Daddy is glad," the emperor said happily, kissing Tao'er.

"Does daddy's Ruan'er want a kiss too?" the emperor teased, as he noticed Ruan'er looking at them.

This eldest daughter of his was supposed to be his little cotton jacket. Instead, she gave him endless trouble. No one raised his blood pressure like she did. In their past life, she even approved her own marriage decree and left him behind to marry some northern prince across the empire. That little girl had made this old man cry more than anyone else. How could he not tease her a little now?

"Who is your Ruan'er?" Ruan'er blushed deeply, her face turning red, which made the empress chuckle. The empress also felt satisfied. When she married, she did not even stay long enough with them, rushing off no matter how much he begged her to remain a few more days. She decively said she found love, and that she shouldn't be held back. 

 She returned three years later with a daughter, casually announcing she had divorced because her feelings had faded. They had expected their son to cause trouble, yet it was this daughter instead. In this life though she was somewhat a bit timid, the empress knew deep down how she would end.

Seeing both her parents teasing her, Ruan'er puffed up and hurriedly left. Tao'er left soon after, and the lively atmosphere faded.

"Hu'er will never forgive me, huh?" the emperor said quietly, his eyes downcast.

"If he truly did not want a relationship with you, he would not even sit at the table," the empress replied. "You know your son better than that."

The emperor nodded, holding back tears.

The empress sighed. This man had never been cold by nature. He was someone who cried for affection, who fainted from pain during childbirth, who would give his life again and again for his family. Yet somehow he had failed to see that the emperor he became had long been only a shell.

The same man who once called his eldest son his heaven and doted on him endlessly. Hu'er, who had always been a quiet, cold-faced child, had shocked many because the emperor never treated him harshly. He never saw him as just a crown prince to be trained, or a future ruler to be hardened. He was simply his child. His heart. He had always said that Hu'er, as the eldest, held a special place within him.

A man who once would have plucked the moon for his Hu'er had treated him so coldly. He should have known better.

"You're right. My Hu'er is still as decisive as ever," the emperor sniffled.

"Instead of sitting here crying, how about you go take care of the empire, Your Majesty?" the empress said dryly, though there was no real sharpness behind it.

The emperor lifted his head and looked at him for a moment, as if weighing whether he could ignore the suggestion. In the end, he gave a small, obedient smile.

"If that is what my empress wishes, then that is what I shall do."

"No," the empress scoffed lightly. "It is your responsibility. Do not push it onto me."

The emperor rose slowly from his seat, still lingering beside him. "My responsibility," he said in a lower voice, "is to belong to you and listen to you."

The empress rolled his eyes, though the corner of his lips almost moved. "Get out before I truly strike you."

"You may," the emperor answered without hesitation. "If it pleases you."

"I do not want to."

The emperor paused at that, looking strangely let down, as if he had genuinely been prepared to accept the blow.

Seeing his expression, the empress finally sighed. He reached up and pressed two fingers against his temple, already feeling the faint headache this man used to cause him daily.

"Go," he said more softly this time, shocking even himself.

The emperor stood there for a breath longer, as though reluctant to leave, then finally turned toward the door. Even as he stepped away, he glanced back once, making sure the empress was still watching.

Author's note: This chapter is not edited, so it might be a little lack luster.