SRAD Chapter 7

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【Extra: This Lifetime】 

"Your Majesty, the carriage of the Marquis of Chang’an has passed through the Chaoyang Gate."

At these words, the young emperor lifted his head, finally setting down the red brush he had been holding all morning. "Is Haiqing Pavilion ready?"

Le Ping, usually solemn, actually smiled as he responded, "Everything is in place, just as Your Majesty instructed. From the furnishings to the decorations, every detail has been arranged. The attendants have also been personally selected by me—each one as reliable as can be."

"Good." Duan Mingzhang stood up and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back. It was as if, through the lattice, he could already see the person approaching in that rolling carriage. "You’ve done well."

Le Ping grinned like a blooming flower. "I understand!"

Others might not know, but he did—this person was no ordinary guest. This person was the future Empress!

There was no way he could focus on reading memorials anymore. Duan Mingzhang paced the room back and forth. After nearly the time it took for an incense stick to burn, a young eunuch arrived with a report: the Marquis of Chang’an had settled into Haiqing Pavilion.

The emperor cleared his throat, his tone full of authority. "In that case, I shall go and take a look."

Duan Mingzhang did not send word ahead—he only wished to see Rong Huaizhen from afar. The Haiqing Pavilion, where he had arranged for Rong Huaizhen to stay, was very close to the imperial bedchamber. Walking through the back garden from his study, he was merely one main hall and one side hall away.

Through the garden’s archway, he saw him—the person sitting under the veranda, lost in thought. If it wasn’t Rong Huaizhen, who else could it be?

Softening his footsteps, he quietly approached. So, this was the young man who had been fiercely protected by his two elder brothers, who had yet to witness the treacherous nature of the world. Why was he furrowing his brows? Was he worried about his brother, who was about to set off on a campaign? Or was he anxious about the uncertainties of life in the imperial palace?

At this thought, he unconsciously took another step forward, but the small sound he made startled Rong Huaizhen from his daze. Their eyes met for only a moment before Rong Huaizhen hurriedly stood up and bowed. "Minister Rong Huaizhen greets Your Majesty…"

Duan Mingzhang froze.

Slowly, he blinked, as if in disbelief, yet deep inside, he already understood—

In their past life, at this moment, Rong Huaizhen had never seen him before. He was dressed in an ordinary plain robe, the same kind worn by noblemen and officials who frequently walked through the palace. Yet Rong Huaizhen had recognized him as the emperor at a single glance.

There could only be one explanation—

Staring at the young man’s jet-black hair and snow-white nape, his voice trembled uncontrollably. "…Rise, my dear minister."

Inside Haiqing Pavilion, the two sat facing each other. Rong Huaizhen, still uneasy, kept his head slightly lowered. Duan Mingzhang, on the other hand, gazed at him unblinkingly, his heart burning with emotion, as if lost in a dream.

He wondered—had Rong Huaizhen, in their past life, ever looked at him with these same feelings?

These past days, he had been terrified that this was all just a dream. That once he woke, he would still be the lonely sovereign standing above all, with only a solitary grave accompanying him on his birthday each year. But now, from the moment he saw Rong Huaizhen, he resolutely told himself—this was not a dream.

And even if it was a dream, he would see it through to perfection before waking.

Softly, he said, "I had some refreshments sent over. Try them, my dear minister."

He wanted to know what Rong Huaizhen liked to eat.

The ever-resourceful Le Ping brought over a selection of sixteen pastries. Rong Huaizhen hesitated briefly before picking up a persimmon cake. As he took a bite, the rich red filling contrasted with his pearly white teeth, a sight inexplicably endearing.

Duan Mingzhang was momentarily dazed. When Rong Huaizhen, feeling uneasy, finished all four persimmon cakes in the box, the emperor cleared his throat and said, "Since the Marquis of Chang’an likes them… Le Ping, bring more persimmon cakes."

As long as Huaizhen liked it, he was willing to provide it.

"…"

Eating a whole box of persimmon cakes under the emperor’s unwavering gaze, Rong Huaizhen was on the verge of tears—he had only picked it because it was the closest to him! He didn’t even particularly like persimmon cakes!

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