Page 74

With every demand for an answer, he drew an inch closer. His whitening knuckles clenched Li Chenjing's clothes tighter and tighter, as though he wanted nothing more than to drag him outside and give him a beating. Yet the man reflected in his dark eyes remained utterly calm. The faint smile at his lips never changed; it betrayed neither joy nor anger, neither grief nor pain.

"Do you truly think of yourself as the emperor?"

The low voice, faintly hoarse, struck Zhu Bafu in the chest. Those few words made her look up at him despite herself—Young Master...

Suddenly, she understood something... why everyone said only Young Master could bring His Majesty back, and why everyone said only Young Master could make His Majesty listen.

"Answer me. Do you truly think of yourself as the emperor?"

"...I am the emperor. Of course I do!"

"Then why are you smiling?"

"..."

"You're angry, aren't you? You're unhappy with me, aren't you? You want to beat me senseless, don't you? And you can still smile at me?" Calm and unhurried, he spoke as if discussing some ordinary household matter. "Even after everything's out in the open, you don't dare show what you feel. Do you think a fake smile fools anyone? You're afraid of losing face if people see through you, so you hide here and lick your wounds. You run to a lover's arms just to feel that you matter. What kind of emperor does that make you?"

"...Young Master..." Kneeling on the floor, Zhu Bafu could not help tugging at Li Chenjing's robe. Every word was true, but the man before them was still His Majesty. Giving counsel—especially to an emperor—meant wrapping ugly truths in pretty words. Young Master was not offering counsel at all. He was courting death. He