In the quiet Imperial Study.
Muffled sobs drifted about intermittently.
The western window next to the desk separated two individuals.
Inside the window stood a young Confucian Scholar with arms crossed, outside, a youngster knelt, burying his head among the flowers.
The latter seemed not to have noticed the former's arrival.
Zhao Rong thought for a moment and then emitted a slightly loud cough.
The young Emperor jerked his head up, his swollen eyes widening. On seeing the visitor, his tear-stained face filled with panic.
"Zhao... Teacher Zhao! I, I..."
Zhao Rong gently shook his head, turned around, stepped out of the study, and walked around to the flowerbed outside the western window, standing in front of the panicked, tear-wiping youth.
The young Emperor used his sleeve to cover his face and fumbled to stand up, but in the next second, his head was gently pressed down by a warm, large hand.
This supremely noble youth of the Li Territory was taken aback.
