"Your son takes his leave."
Once he was alone in the hall, Zhao Mingyan rubbed his throbbing temples.
Besides lifting Yuan Heng tonight, he tried to recall the last time he had held him.
It was when Yuan Heng was still in swaddling clothes, a baby who wouldn't stop crying.
The little guy was so much like his mother—not in looks, but in temperament. A timid little crybaby.
He was also very clingy. If you were gentle with him, he'd grab your arm and not let go, demanding to be held and soothed wherever he went.
But he was a Prince. And the one thing a prince could not afford to be was weak.
*
Ji Qingwu took "Chang Lu" to Prince Yong's Mansion.
She planned to follow the scheme of the person pulling the strings, to see what tricks they had up their sleeve.
In Jinmo Residence, the lights had not been extinguished since Prince Yong's departure.
