novelraw Chapter 1862 - 438: Ups and Downs, Begonias Remain
Chapter 1862 - 438: Ups and Downs, Begonias Remain
Cilin’s biggest hobby is having some drinks, particularly a fan of Country Hua’s spirits, from Erguotou to Laobaigan, he’s a loyal fan and can’t stand people drinking it like that, it’s simply a waste.
Mo Sang wiped her mouth, quietly said, "Another bowl."
"Do you think this is a prize? Another bowl." Cilin rolled his eyes at her, suddenly Mo Sang snatched the entire wine jar.
Mo Sang started drinking directly from the wine jar, making Cilin’s eyes red with envy.
Mo Sang finished all of it, burped but her face remained indifferent, a stark contrast to Ah Fu who got completely drunk after just three bowls, truly a marvel.
"You you... you’re simply not human."
Mo Sang raised an eyebrow, she had never drunk such a thing before, although the taste wasn’t great, the aftertaste was endless and it was quite addictive as it grew on her.
Yun Miao had always been good at drinking, but he forgot he was no longer alive; this current body probably couldn’t handle alcohol. Just a little bit had him feeling tipsy.
Half-supporting his head, he felt dizzy as if he was floating on clouds.
He had no idea how red his face was now, under the bonfire glow he looked flushed and slightly drunk, as splendid as the sunrise and evening glow.
"He’s drunk, I’ll help him back." Mo Sang went over to support Yun Miao, who suddenly looked up, the instant caution and iciness in his eyes made Mo Sang’s heart tremble, instinctively letting go.
Realizing the person in front posed no threat, the danger in Yun Miao’s eyes instantly dissipated, turning back into a deep, dreamy ocean.
Mo Sang supported him back to the tent; the man staggered entirely drunk, unconscious. For the first time, Mo Sang was so close to him, close enough to touch his warm skin, and the faint fragrance floating around his nose...
Mo Sang’s heart pounded like a drum; she wished this journey had no end.
But they arrived at the tent, Mo Sang laid him on the bed, tucked him in, and was about to prepare some water to wipe his face when suddenly, his warm hand grabbed hers.
Mo Sang’s heart suddenly skipped a beat, half-kneeling by the bed, gazing intently at the man so close.
"Yaya...."
The hot breath mixed with the scent of wine poured onto her face, making her dizzy, her other hand grasping the bed edge, nails dug into the sheet to avoid collapsing.
Her hand was tightly held in his warm grasp.
His hand seemed to possess some magic, causing her half-body to feel numb.
Who is Yaya?
Is she the one he loves?
His brows relaxed in his sleep, appearing delicate and picturesque, eyelashes long like butterfly wings, exceptionally attractive, she never knew a man’s beauty could be so alluring.
Mo Sang gazed at him foolishly, gently reaching out to touch his brow, cool to the touch, she quickly retracted her hand as if electrocuted, her heart running fast.
In a semi-dream state, Yun Miao seemed to dream of Yun Ya, she cried as she ran towards him, yet a chasm seemed to separate them, with Yun Ya never able to reach him.
He panicked, yet seemed shrouded in a mist, unable to escape no matter how he struggled.
He and the real Yun Miao shared memories, so even things from long ago he remembered clearly, feelings for Yun Ya were even stronger than those of the original Miaomiao.
One part pity, one part guilt.
They were identical twins, and fate dealt them such misfortune; the real Yun Miao was dead, yet Yun Ya knew nothing...
Yun Miao didn’t know how to face Yun Ya, if Yun Ya knew the truth, would she see him as a demon... or hate him for occupying Miaomiao’s body?
Gradually, drifting from one dream to another, the April Imperial Palace was adorned with lavish blossoms, splendid in color, and Deyun Hall with its Begonia Blossoms still bright and dazzling.
Consort Rong especially loved begonia flowers, once rated as one of the four great beauties of the capital, as a beauty she made others pale by comparison, earning her the title of Begonia Beauty, overshadowing even the most beautiful women wherever she went.
As the Emperor’s childhood sweetheart, the moles on his heart, with both affection and beauty, when she was favored above the six palaces, it validated that ancient poem.
A bitter short spring night rise after late, henceforth the monarch no longer held court early.
Back then, there was also a saying among the people, happy to have sons, anger not for daughters, Consort Rong ruled the world.
Even the Empress had to swallow her anger, showing how favored Consort Rong was back then.
But in the year she was pregnant, suddenly she was cold-shouldered by the Emperor, the once sought-after Deyun Hall fell into a cold palace, no one knew what happened, from Heaven to Hell, from favored consort to abandoned, Consort Rong’s life had its rise and fall.
The following year, Consort Rong low-key gave birth to a boy in Deyun Hall, who became the Seventh Prince of Great Xia, and later the Emperor of Great Xia.
His childhood memories were full of ridicule and abuse, the woman he should have called mother always glared at him with cold eyes, as if he weren’t the son she bore after ten months of pregnancy, but a sworn enemy.
At that time, he didn’t understand, even cautiously expected and longed for her embrace and care, until once, he was schemed by several brothers, badly bullied, a little child with bruises and blood, hoping for his mother’s concern, only to encounter a nightmare he could never forget.
"Cry cry cry, you still have the face to cry? Why don’t you just die?"
From then on, he knew, his mother was not like others; he had no right to cry.
He remembered the sky was very blue that day, white clouds like soft cotton candy, the begonias in Deyun Hall withered in the cold wind, and big snowflakes fluttered in the sky, the world dressed in white.
He retorted her with one sentence, punished to kneel in the ice and snow.
He saw his mother’s maid leading a cloaked little figure walking under the eaves, a little shorter than him, the oversized cloak couldn’t hide the person’s thin figure, face hidden under the hood, the circle of white fox fur adding some innocence and charm.
As they passed by, he instinctively reached out to grab the hem of his clothes.
He noticed his clothes were made from the most precious cloud brocade silk, extremely rare even when offering in gold, as the technique was complicated, only two bolts were tributed every year, even the Empress rarely obtained one.
And on him, coarsest cloth.
The little figure instinctively shrank back, an ethereal...deer-like sound was heard.
"Brother...."
He instinctively froze there, the little figure’s hand gently brushed, it was fair and slender, soft, boneless, delicate and beautiful...
The close maid glimpsed at him, softened her tone when looking at the little figure.
"Young Master, don’t keep the lady waiting."
The little figure nodded, walked away quickly.
The wind lifted his cloak, skirted and flared like waves and butterflies.
A trail of small footprints gradually faded into the snow, he stared blankly at that trail for a long time, the soft voice echoed in his mind.
"Brother...."
It was the first time he saw him; he later found out, that was his half-brother...