At first, there was the Fourth Imperial Prince; then, there was Consort Xian; now, it was the Eldest Imperial Prince and the Eldest Imperial Princess. She would have never dared to even think about these high-profiled figures, yet suddenly all of them were crossing paths with her and gradually changing her life.
Was this all a mere coincidence? Or perhaps… did Lu’er manage to deliberately influence them and thus lead to these changes?
Xiao Lan had mixed feelings about this.
For a long time, she had not wanted for anything. In fact, she wanted to stop worrying as she was feeling sluggish from thinking about the matter too much. She waited for Imperial Physician Feng to leave after finishing his consultation, then sat alone in the room for a long time. Finally she remembered Lu’er’s behaviour started to change from the time she fell into the pond at Linxing Pavilion.
She did not pay much attention at first because the changes were subtle, but now after thinking through the situation thoroughly, they were still different.
An impossible theory gradually emerged in her thoughts — so impossible that she herself denied its possibility.
Such delusions are absolutely impossible, I must be thinking too much!
However, suspicion had already settled in; it stayed submerged within her thoughts and would not go away no matter how hard she tried. Later that night, as Xiao Lan went to feed Lin Feilu her medicine, she noticed something was wrong.
She was constantly appraising herself; yet sometimes she seemed to be preoccupied with her thoughts. The expression within her eyes were always changing: sometimes they were sad, sometimes they were in a daze, sometimes they looked confused. Looking at her, it was as if she was seeing an entirely different person.
Finishing her medicine, Lin Feilu asked softly, “Mother Consort, what are you thinking about?”
Xiao Lan was taken aback. She forced a smile to her face. “Nothing, I’m just feeling a little lightheaded.” Stretching out her hand, she fiddled with the quilt then leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Lu’er, be good and sleep early.”
As Xiao Lan got up, Lin Feilu grabbed her wrist.
Xiao Lan turned to look at her. Her eyes were fearful and confused. As if she were afraid of what her daughter was about to say, her body began to tremble.
Lin Feilu originally wanted to tell her the whole truth, but suddenly she just could not bring herself to do so.
Since childhood, she had never received a loving mother’s attention. Her original family was so broken that it affected her personal growth and personality. As a child, she would observe her classmates’ interactions with their mothers, only to feel extremely envious of them.
Once, she read somewhere in a book, that in this world there were no parents who did not love their children.
At that time, she shook her head in disbelief.
She whispered in her heart: No, that’s not true. They do exist, and there are many of them.
It’s just that some people were just unworthy of becoming parents.
Her own parents had never kissed her, never hugged her; when she came home, happily holding a certificate of honor for a perfect test score, they were not even proud of her, nor had they bothered to compliment her.
The only thing they ever gave her was money.
But Lin Feilu did not despise them. People were ultimately meant to be self-reliant, thus they had no obligation to treat her nicely. Having said that, she did not love them either. Any feeling of love she could have had, long since disappeared with every apathetic response she received from them.
It was only when she arrived here that she had, for the very first time, felt the warmth of a home.
This utterly unfamiliar Great Lin Empire, this harem life where food and clothing were not ensured, where one’s life could be endangered at any time, this little side palace — Mingyue Palace — that had nothing at all.
Her brother loved her, her mother Xiao Lan also loved her.
Despite their shortcomings — one was a fool, the other was a milquetoast — but they poured out all of their love for her unconditionally.