The young prince was gravely wounded and fell into a coma. When he woke, he learned that the woman he loved had entered the palace.
She had become a concubine of his late imperial brother, and the people in the palace called her Consort Qing.
Li Xuangan's eyes burned with fury.
When they met again, Xie Yaoqing wore a consort's rose-colored gown and greeted him, "Greetings, Prince Regent."
Li Xuangan stared at her. "Consort Qing..."
He stepped closer, his dark embroidered robe almost brushing her hem, and said hoarsely, "Who agreed to this? Is he even worthy of you?"
Xie Yaoqing had always thought he was incorrigible. Now he was worse than ever.
The boy who used to follow her around, climbing walls and breaking branches, had somehow grown into this man.
Broad shoulders, long legs, sharp features, and a jawline that could cut paper. When he stood there, even the three bronze cranes in the hall seemed three inches shorter.
And he was utterly unreasonable.
He said he was taking her out of the palace, and out she went. He said he was lifting her onto his horse, and into his arms she went.
He snatched his late emperor's concubine without a shred of guilt, brazen and domineering.
Yet her heart raced, and she could barely manage to say, "How dare you."
He had always been like this.
No one had ever been able to stop him from taking what he wanted.
Propriety? Li Xuangan sneered.
Let his dead imperial brother climb out of his coffin and stop him, if he could.
But who had indulged him in the first place...? Xie Yaoqing felt guilty.
Amid the rising steam, he held her close. The dignified Prince Regent lowered his voice and pretended to plead.
"Yaoyao, don't make me beg you."
"Yaoyao... please, I'm begging you!"
