TRBDM -Chapter 135 The Northern Jianger

Zhao Kuang never imagined that one day, he would hear those words from Zhao Lingchen.

She had changed.

Why?

What had happened?

Zhao Kuang could not fathom it, but Zhao Lingchen’s steps were brisk, leaving him only her back.

“Recently, has anything happened at the Princess Mansion?” Zhao Kuang asked the steward.

“Your Majesty, nothing has occurred,” the steward replied.

“That’s strange… Chen’er seems to have changed,” Zhao Kuang murmured.

Zhao Lingchen paid no attention to Zhao Kuang’s speculations. At his age, with his health failing, his biggest worry was whether the imperial power could pass smoothly to the Crown Prince.

Even if Zhao Kuang doubted her, he was powerless to intervene and could only let things be.

No one in the capital knew that Zhao Lingchen had a child with Fu Wei.

Once Xie Yu’s identity was exposed, he would be thrust into a storm of blood and chaos.

For now, he was in the Marquis Mansion, carefree, surrounded by people he trusted, with books to read, happy like a little bird.

Chirping constantly, he flitted between Xie Lan and Xie Wanrou, occasionally landing near Wei Zhaorong. Zhao Lingchen watched with envy, wishing she could experience even a fraction of that joy.

To have a beloved child in her lap… she wouldn’t even dare dream of it.

Zhao Lingchen silently vowed that one day, she would repay everything owed to Yu’er—hundreds of times over.

“Princess, shall we return to the mansion?”

“No, let’s go to Liuxiao Palace.”

Liuxiao Palace was the residence of Consort Ling, mother of Fifth Prince Zhao Jingrui.

Consort Ling clearly had not expected Zhao Lingchen’s visit; the panic on her face could not be concealed.

“Why are you so flustered, Consort Ling? Did I disturb you? I just happened to pass by and thought I’d drop in,” Zhao Lingchen said.

Consort Ling’s features were sharp and deep, her blue eyes like glass, strikingly beautiful.

Though wrinkles had begun at the corners of her eyes, her beauty still carried immense impact.

No wonder when she was sent from the Northern Frontier for a political marriage, Zhao Kuang immediately agreed.

Even Zhao Lingchen had to admit—she was stunning.

“Please, Princess, sit,” Consort Ling said softly.

Zhao Lingchen relaxed into the seat, unabashedly taking in every detail of Liuxiao Palace.

Every utensil in the palace bore Northern Jianger style. Even the bed curtains, tablecloths, and canopy were intricately patterned in the bold, elaborate Northern Jianger aesthetic.

“#”

An unfamiliar Northern Jianger language sounded.

The personal attendants serving Consort Ling had been brought from the Northern Frontier; they usually spoke Northern Jianger among themselves.

Others could not understand it—but Zhao Lingchen could.

Thus, the Northern Jianger attendants’ conversations with Consort Ling reached her ears word for word.

“Your Highness, Fifth Prince is about to arrive. What if he sees the Princess?”

Consort Ling stole a glance at Zhao Lingchen, who was quietly sipping tea, and whispered in Northern Jianger: “Go wait by the door. If you see him, send him elsewhere. Only return after an hour.”

The attendant nodded and prepared to leave.

“You—come here.”

Zhao Lingchen spoke suddenly.

The Northern Jianger attendant stopped, confused, and turned back. “Princess, please command.”

“My feet are sore. Massage them.”

The attendant hesitated, then knelt at Zhao Lingchen’s feet, beginning to massage them.

Consort Ling endured Zhao Lingchen’s audacious behavior, frequently glancing toward the door.

“Consort Ling, what are you looking at? Speak to me; let me see too,” Zhao Lingchen said.

Her words sent a chill down Consort Ling’s spine. She quickly made an excuse: “Nothing. My neck is a bit stiff; twisting it makes it feel better.”

“If your neck hurts, see the imperial physician. Don’t endure it.”

“It’s nothing serious. It feels fine now.”

Consort Ling lowered her head and drank tea, no longer looking at the door.

Zhao Lingchen also fell silent, as if this visit was solely for having someone massage her feet.

After a while, footsteps approached outside the door.

“Mother, mother, it’s me,” Zhao Jingrui’s voice rang out, full of excitement.

It seemed the bond between mother and son was very strong.

Consort Ling stood abruptly, about to greet him, but her eyes met Zhao Lingchen’s.

“The Fifth Prince is here. Let him in quickly. The last time I saw him was at Father’s birthday banquet. Time flies—half a year has already passed.”

Zhao Lingchen’s smile was flawless, but Consort Ling felt a hidden chill within it.