With a loud bang, the door closed and the world quieted.
Si Fuqing turned around to inspect the young man's face.
The imperial noble consort had slapped hard, with a clear imprint of a hand left behind.
Yet, he neither cried nor showed any change in expression.
His calm demeanor only made him seem more pitiable.
Without wasting a moment, Si Fuqing rushed to the imperial medical office, rather impolitely grabbing the best medicine available.
As she applied the ointment to the youth's face, she wrote on the ground with her other hand.
—She struck you, why didn't you dodge? She bore you but didn't raise you; she's no mother of yours.
She recalled the historical records detailing the latter half of the imperial concubine's life.
Not deposed, but confined in the cold palace, a life worse than death.
The youth coughed lightly and said indifferently, "Because I knew you would come."
