Luo Wushuang couldn’t care less whether Feng Liuli would eventually regret her choices; she was far too preoccupied with the joy of being comforted by her dear sister.
“I agree. Perhaps…” Wushuang paused, reflecting for a moment before continuing, “Feng Liuli does feel differently about Liu Yun. It’s just that since the General has always been by her side, she likely overlooks her presence subconsciously.”
Shangguan Liqian did not refute her. She merely glanced at Wushuang and spoke softly. “That which can be easily overlooked was never love to begin with.”
Perhaps reminded of her past life, Liqian lowered her gaze. After a long silence, she added, “Even if it is love, it cannot be very deep.”
She thought of herself in her previous life. She had certainly harbored feelings for Wushuang back then, but those feelings had been buried under a mountain of conflicting emotions and endless misfortunes. She had never truly allowed herself to examine them.
Since her rebirth, she had often wondered: when exactly had she fallen for Wushuang?
At first, she even doubted herself, wondering if her feelings were merely the result of being moved by the scenes she had witnessed after her death. To find the truth, she had tested herself with a simple method. She would repeatedly imagine what it would be like if Wushuang fell in love with someone else—if the Empress directed all that fervent devotion toward another woman.
The mere thought was suffocating.
In that moment, she realized she felt a deep sense of possessiveness toward Wushuang. She could not bear the thought of the Empress’s heart belonging to anyone else, nor could she tolerate her being meticulously kind and loving to another.
Yet, possession did not equal affection, and it certainly did not equal love. So, she began to analyze her feelings even more carefully.
When she was with Wushuang, her heart felt relaxed and at peace. When they were apart, she felt a lingering sense of loss and longing. Seeing Wushuang happy brightened her own mood. Seeing Wushuang disappointed or acting pitiful made her want to indulge the woman just a little more, and then a little more after that. She couldn’t stand to see a trace of sadness on that face.
But even that wasn’t enough. She continued to probe, bit by bit, using her own shattered heart to test the waters.
Until that day they had left the palace, when she had asked Luo Wushuang what the Empress would do if she tried to run away again.
It had been a clash between pride and love.
Anxiety, grievance, confusion, and unease—a torrent of complex emotions had flooded her heart. She had regretted the question the moment it left her lips, yet she had stubbornly persisted, driven by a masochistic need to know the outcome. She needed to know if her choice to stay firm in this life would lead to another disappointment.
Fortunately, that time, she received an answer entirely different from the one in her past life. It brought a sense of joy mingled with profound relief.
Looking back, she realized she hadn’t disliked Wushuang in her previous life; rather, she hadn’t understood her well enough, and she hadn’t been brave enough. She had feared that once the Empress obtained what she desired, she would discard Liqian like a used rag. If that were the case, it was better to never have hope to begin with.
It was only after witnessing Wushuang’s unreserved favoritism with her own eyes that she finally dared to respond to those feelings. She and Wushuang had already wasted one lifetime; they could not afford to waste another.
Liqian lowered her eyes, her gaze falling softly upon Wushuang’s delicate, porcelain-fair face. Her lips quirked, but she said nothing aloud.
Wushuang, ever sensitive to Liqian’s shifting moods, immediately sensed the softening of her attitude and seized the opportunity. “Sister is right. I love you deeply, so no matter the time or place, I could never overlook you.”
Liqian’s heart stirred, yet a strange flickered of guilt passed through her. Perhaps her feelings for Wushuang had never been as deep as the Empress’s. That was why she doubted, why she tested…
Slightly averting her eyes from Wushuang’s burning gaze, Liqian focused on the slight ache in her chest. She felt like a villain who had stolen someone else’s emotions, shamelessly enjoying a devotion she had done nothing to earn.
Of course, this was merely Liqian’s own perspective. In Luo Wushuang’s heart, there was no one better in the entire world than her sister. She loved her—truly, deeply. Just seeing Liqian was enough to put her in a good mood. If Liqian spoke softly to her or gave her a kiss, Wushuang would be happy enough to spin in circles.
Even now, though Liqian remained silent, Wushuang could sense her attitude softening and immediately began to coax her. She admitted her faults regarding the previous night’s “excesses.”
She accepted the blame! But as for the next time…
Wushuang’s narrow red phoenix eyes flickered with a mischievous glint. Cough… Next time, she would simply apologize again.
Liqian knew exactly how wicked this woman could be, but even she hadn’t expected Wushuang to be plotting more mischief even while trying to act sweet.
By the time Wushuang had fully smoothed things over, the restorative tonic she had brought was cold. Fortunately, the small kitchen had been keeping more warm. Wushuang diligently served Liqian her soup and meal.
Only then did they return to the topic at hand.
Aside from the war between Liang and Qi, Wushuang wanted to discuss the candidates for the political marriage. She knew next to nothing about the ladies of the Imperial Clan and wanted to see if Liqian had any suitable choices in mind, especially since the proposal had originally come from her.
However, after asking, Wushuang discovered that Liqian didn’t know much more than she did.
To Wushuang, this was an unexpected delight. It meant Liqian didn’t pay attention to anyone else—she only had eyes for her. Her sister truly loved her!
After grinning like a fool for a while, Wushuang returned to the problem. Selecting a Princess Consort was a thorny issue. Which high-ranking lady of the Imperial Clan would actually want to go through with such a marriage?
In the eyes of the nobility, being the wife of a prince from some tiny border nation was a title that only sounded good on paper. It meant leaving the luxury of the capital and living without the support of one’s maternal family. It was hardly the future a young noblewoman dreamed of.
Yet, Baili Xuan was still the Prince of Baiyue. She couldn’t just appoint any random woman to the role.
As for the Western Regions, Wushuang had other plans. That prince was honestly quite pathetic. If they followed the original plan to have him sire a “little figurehead,” the child would likely grow up to be just as much of an eyesore under his influence. That wouldn’t just be an embarrassment for the Western Regions, but for the Kingdom of Luo as well.
Recalling the Prince of the Western Regions’ bizarre fashion sense and styling, Wushuang grimaced. She absolutely could not pin her hopes on him.
Luckily, the Western Regions had also sent a Princess…
Thinking of her secret discussion with the Western Regions Princess in the Imperial Study, Wushuang’s expression relaxed.
But for now, the priority was choosing a suitable Princess Consort for the Prince of Baiyue. Not only did her status need to be somewhat prestigious, but more importantly, she had to be someone who understood the bigger picture.
Bestowing a Princess Consort was only the first step. The chosen woman would need to keep her home and country in mind, using herself and her future children as leverage to tether the Prince of Baiyue’s heart to the prosperity of the capital. If the woman was too foolish, it would jeopardize their future plans.
Wushuang hadn’t forgotten Liqian’s earlier words: the ultimate goal of sacrificing these Imperial Clan women for marriage was cultural assimilation.
A total integration from top to bottom, inside and out—whether through marriage, trade, or other means. They would conquer without shedding a drop of blood.
By utilizing the bonds of family and the lure of wealth and power, they would fold these two small nations into the Kingdom of Luo, turning them into a single people.
Years from now, when people chatted in the streets, someone might laugh and mention that their ancestors had Western Regions or Baiyue blood. And the person next to them would naturally reply: “Western Regions? Baiyue? What does it matter? Aren’t we all citizens of Luo now?”
Therefore, the choice of Princess Consort was paramount. If they picked a total waste of space, forget about integration—she might even ruin the advantageous position they currently held.
