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Weariness of Spring Flowers — Chapter 22.2


Murong Jing He would never admit that he was feeling uncertain and hesitant. Absolutely not.

As soon as he left the morning court session, he saw the guards from Mianchun Garden waiting outside the Taihe Hall. His heart skipped a beat, fearing that something had happened to Mei Lin. It wasn’t until he noticed the smiles on the guards’ faces that he finally relaxed. Hearing that she had woken up, he didn’t even bother to change out of his court robes before rushing toward Mianchun Garden.

Mianchun Garden wasn’t within the palace grounds, so running there in his formal attire would undoubtedly cause a commotion. Qing Yan, seeing that he couldn’t stop him, quickly ordered a carriage to be prepared.

However, when Murong Jing He arrived at Mianchun Garden and found himself pacing outside Mei Lin’s room for some time, he suddenly turned around and walked away.

Qing Yan, who had been following him, was stunned and soon realized that he had left to change his clothes.

After Murong Jing He had returned to the capital from his campaign in Xiyan, he had spent most of his time in Mianchun Garden whenever he wasn’t attending court. As such, he had a few everyday outfits there.

When Murong Jing He, now dressed in a fine blue robe, found himself once more standing outside Mei Lin’s room, he knew he could delay no longer. He let out a long breath before finally stepping inside.

Inside, Mei Lin was alone, still sleeping deeply as she always did. Murong Jing He was momentarily taken aback, and in that instant, all the excitement, nervousness, and joy he had been feeling dissipated, replaced by a profound sadness. He walked over to her, gently sat on the edge of the bed, and reached out to caress her face, then leaned down to kiss her softly.

Mei Lin was awakened by the slight disturbance and the dampness on her face. She blinked open her eyes, only to be greeted by a sight she would never forget.

“Why are you crying?” she asked, utterly bewildered. This was the same person who, even when paralyzed and in excruciating pain, or facing life-threatening situations, could still speak harshly to her without a hint of sorrow. She couldn’t recall ever seeing a trace of sadness or helplessness in him. So, this sorrowful face before her… Could it be that she was still not fully awake?

At the sound of her voice, the man who had been kissing her face, filled with reluctance and sorrow, suddenly froze. Then, as if he had encountered something terrifying, he sprang back, quickly turning away from her.

Mei Lin rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up. She had only recently woken up, and after a brief walk earlier, she had felt quite tired, so she had taken another nap. She hadn’t expected to see him when she woke up again. And certainly not this version of him.

In her mind, their separation had only lasted the twenty or so days after Murong Jing He had left for Nanyue, up until her feigned death. It didn’t feel like a long or distant separation at all.

“You must be seeing things,” Murong Jing He said, turning back around, his face once again composed, with no trace of tears. Only his slightly reddened eyes and hoarse voice betrayed the truth he was trying so hard to deny.

Mei Lin could see the unease and nervousness beneath his calm exterior. She thought for a moment and decided not to press the issue further. But then she remembered something else and hurried to get out of bed.

To her, it felt like she was moving quickly, but to anyone watching, her movements seemed slow and stiff. Murong Jing He frowned slightly, stepped forward, and picked her up.

“What are you trying to do?”

Mei Lin was startled. Her original intention had been to get up and bow, after all, he was now the emperor. But before she could even get out of bed, she found herself being lifted off the ground. In this unexpected situation, she decided to play dumb.

“I’ve been sleeping for too long. I wanted to go for a walk.”

Murong Jing He gave her a suspicious look, not entirely convinced, but he still took a cloak from the wardrobe and wrapped it around her before carrying her outside.

“Hey… I can walk by myself,” Mei Lin protested, feeling somewhat helpless. She wasn’t an invalid. But before she could finish her sentence, she realized she didn’t know how to address him—by name? “Prince”? “Your Majesty”? “Emperor”? The first two were no longer appropriate, but the last two felt so awkward and unnatural that she couldn’t bring herself to say them.

Murong Jing He merely grunted in response but didn’t put her down. Instead, he held her even tighter, so close that she could almost feel his intense heartbeat. What she didn’t know was that his thoughts were, I carried the rotting corpse of a stranger for days; I can surely carry you a little longer. Of course, he would never allow her to know such an embarrassing truth.

It wasn’t until they reached the garden, under a rose trellis, that he finally set her down in the chaise longue that a servant had just prepared for her, releasing his hold.

Mei Lin found it difficult to relax and immediately tried to sit up, only to realize she had no shoes on. She froze for a moment, then quietly placed her bare feet on the fur rug that had been laid out under the trellis.

Moments later, someone brought her shoes. Murong Jing He took them and was about to put them on her himself, which frightened her so much that she quickly pulled her feet back onto the chair. When she looked up, she was surprised to see that it was Qing Yan who had brought the shoes. He hadn’t changed at all. She smiled at him.

Qing Yan nodded slightly in return, his eyes filled with joyful amusement.

“Qing Yan, go back to the palace and bring me the memorials,” Murong Jing He said sternly, his tone tinged with displeasure.

Mei Lin turned to see his expression, which was now dark and sullen. She had to admit that when he referred to himself as “I,” a natural imperial majesty radiated from him. The distance between them seemed to be growing ever wider, though in truth, they had never been close. Still, this realization left her feeling a bit disheartened.

“You… you really became the emperor?” she asked hesitantly, even though she already knew the answer.

“Mm,” Murong Jing He responded nonchalantly, reaching out to grab her foot and begin putting on her shoes.

This time, Mei Lin froze, unsure whether to refuse or not. But seeing his expression remain calm, as if becoming emperor wasn’t such a big deal, and as if an emperor putting on a woman’s shoes wasn’t such a big deal either, she decided she could still think of him as the same stubborn, childish Jingbei prince he had always been. So she asked, “Now that you’re emperor, does what you said before still count?”

Murong Jing He paused, as if trying to remember what he had said before. After a moment, he replied, “The divorce letter is in your room. From now on, you have nothing to do with Qing Yan.” So, don’t smile at him so brightly.

Mei Lin blinked, waiting for him to continue, but he said nothing more. He simply finished putting on her shoes and stood up.

“What about… can I leave whenever I want?” she finally couldn’t resist asking. She had never expected him to marry her, just as she had never expected to stay by his side now that he was no longer paralyzed.

Murong Jing He’s expression darkened slightly at her question, but he didn’t lose his temper. After a long pause, he turned away, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked up at the sky, speaking nonchalantly, “I don’t recall ever promising you that.”

“But… but you did promise… you did…” Mei Lin became flustered, standing up quickly, but she was still not fully in control of her body and nearly fell.

Murong Jing He, as if he had eyes on the back of his head, swiftly turned and caught her, holding her securely in his arms.

“If you can’t stand, don’t push yourself,” he scolded gently, his tone unexpectedly soft, leaving Mei Lin momentarily dazed. Then she heard him continue, “What exactly did I promise, hmm?”

Mei Lin, regaining her composure, thought back on everything that had happened and suddenly found herself at a loss for words.

Indeed… he had never promised her anything at all.

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