Wen Mingyu dashed off to play with the two dumplings, ignoring the scorching gaze that followed him like a shadow.
When they grew tired of playing, Wen Mingyu led them to eat and rest, putting an end to their sulking.
“Big brother says he’ll play with you more from now on. What do you say?”
Little Chilli’s face beamed with happiness as she grabbed Little Rice Cake’s hand with unabashed sincerity, offering a sweet, obedient smile. “Thank you, big brother!”
Wen Mingyu nodded, continuing his gentle instruction, “From now on, speak your mind properly. You can’t just throw tantrums at your big brother. And big brother must also do the same, alright?”
Both dumplings nodded in unison, agreeing in their sweet, babyish voices.
After that, whenever Little Rice Cake read for too long, Little Chilli would scurry over, her chubby hands braced against the edge of the chair as she struggled to climb up. Her stubby legs kicked in the air twice, trying to propel herself onto the seat.
Little Rice Cake saw this and gave her a gentle tug.
Little Chilli managed to perch on the chair, blinking her eyes as she said, “Big brother, let’s go out and play together?”
Sometimes, Little Rice Cake would agree and take her out to play. Other times, he would grab his little sister and make her sit with him to read and study. Little Chilli would yawn through the lessons, but when her brother reached passages that piqued her interest, she would become excited, chattering away and firing questions. The two got along very harmoniously.
As a Hanlin Editor, Wen Mingyu grew increasingly familiar with court affairs through his daily duties. Frequent interactions with high-ranking ministers allowed him to accumulate considerable experience and broaden his network. Recognizing his capabilities, these ministers sometimes forgot his status as the Emperor’s husband, scheming instead on how to win him over to their side.
The three who passed the imperial examinations that year were all exceptional. As a woman, Chu Shuli worked tirelessly to prove herself and not fall behind others. While as a child, Wei Chen possessed an innate passion for learning and an ambition to climb the ranks. Thus, despite facing hurdles and setbacks along the way, both rose to prominence through their own merits, drawing widespread attention.
People could not help but acknowledge their exceptional calibre.
Even later, when Mu Zhan issued an edict promoting them to the position of Hanlin Secretaries, although voices of opposition arose within the court, there were also those who supported the move.
(people who compose imperial edicts)
As scholars privy to state matters, their influence grew daily, and they also possessed some of the powers of the Chancellor and served as the Emperor’s trusted confidants.
Mu Zhan’s promotion of Wen Mingyu and others to this office stemmed not from personal whim, but from their genuine competence. While perhaps less seasoned than the cunning veterans of the bureaucracy, they were individuals he had personally cultivated. Men of unblemished backgrounds who held their own convictions regarding the reforms.
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Mu Zhan understood their fervour for the changes, but he resented the constant absence of Wen Mingyu. Deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.
But whenever Wen Mingyu discussed the proposals with him, his eyes would sparkle with starlight, his passion surging so fiercely as though his entire being radiated light.
Mu Zhan could not find the words to speak.
On his day off, Wen Mingyu still had matters to attend to and buried himself in work, proving himself more diligent than the emperor himself.
Mu Zhan stepped into the hall and saw him scribbling furiously, so absorbed that he failed to notice his arrival. His eyes darkened, and he turned to leave, heading to the side hall to speak with the two little ones.
Before long, Little Chilli and Little Rice Cake came trotting over, each clutching something. They hopped over the threshold, clambered onto the edge of the desk, and carefully placed their offerings upon it.
Wen Mingyu was lost in thought when he casually lifted his gaze to find a profusion of small flowers appearing at his desk. Brightly colored and splendidly blooming, they seemed to blossom directly from the tabletop itself.
But clearly, it was a chubby little hand that had been sneakily placing them there, arranging the colorful blossoms neatly for him to see.
Wen Mingyu paused in surprise, then uncontrollably smiled. He reached out and gave the little hand a gentle poke. Instantly, as if a switch had been flicked, a clear, childish giggle echoed from beneath the table. The little hand opened like a blossoming flower, fingers unfurling wide.
“What are you two up to?”
Wen Mingyu propped his chin on his hand, struggling to hide his amusement.
Two small heads peered out together. Little Rice Cake pushed a piece of paper to him, his face taut yet clearly expectant. “My sister and I drew a picture.”
Wen Mingyu took a look and saw it depicted four figures. Although it was somewhat abstract in style, he could still recognize the features: himself and Mu Zhan, along with two dumplings. A family portrait of four.
“Daddy, is our drawing pretty?” Little Chilli asked eagerly, tilting her face up, her face begging for praise.
Even though the faces in the drawing were larger than washbasins and the legs were as stubby as a Corgi’s, Wen Mingyu nodded without reservation. Ruffling both their heads, he praised, “Absolutely. Very pretty.”
The two dumplings immediately broke into smiles, looking rather bashful.
Little Chilli then pointed again at the flowers arranged by the table, as if afraid he might forget. “I also picked the prettiest flowers for Daddy. The yellow ones were picked with my brother’s help. Does Daddy like them?”
Wen Mingyu smiled. “Very much.”
“Then… may we make a request?” Little Chilli wrung her chubby hands, stealing glances at Wen Mingyu.
Wen Mingyu nodded unhesitantly. “Of course you may. What would you like?”
Little Chilli piped up brightly. “I want Daddy to play with me after he’s finished his work.”
Little Rice Cake nodded vigorously too. “I want to hear a story.”
Upon hearing this, Wen Mingyu felt a pang of guilt, realizing he had neglected them. He immediately dropped his tasks and declared, “I’m done with work now. I’ll play with you both.”
Little Chilly cheered up and bounced up and down, while Little Rice Cake, who restrained himself a little, still showed happiness that was impossible to hide.
He led the two dumplings out, and before long, Mu Zhan joined them too, transforming it into family recreation time. The atmosphere was unbelievably cheerful.
Zhao Dequan, having witnessed the whole sequence from the sidelines, wore a very subtle expression.
Why did it strike him that the emperor’s behavior so closely resembled that of an imperial consort vying for favour, deliberately using the children to capture His Majesty’s attention? It seemed as though the roles of the two had been reversed.
Zhao Dequan shuddered, hastily banishing this dreadful notion from his mind.
Mu Zhan remained oblivious that he had single-handedly destroyed his own image beyond repair. Long since cast out of the tyrants’ group, he had been relegated to the group of befuddled rulers, and now he had even found himself mingling in the concubines’ favor-seeking channel.
Even if Mu Zhan were to learn of it, he would have paid it no mind. He had never cared for others’ opinions. The opinion of others could never compare to the importance of Wen Mingyu’s attention being fixed on him.
Within the chamber, only their family of four remained.
Little Rice Cake had transformed into a dragon cub—a plump little body, tiny dragon horns, and a pair of wings unfurling behind him. At that moment, he was flapping his wings, slowly lifting off the ground and taking flight.
Little Chilli watched with envy, constantly glancing behind her, wishing she too could sprout a pair of wings.
Her shoulders slumped dejectedly, her spirits dampened.
Spotting this, Little Rice Cake flew over, seized the little dragon-rabbit’s paw, and lifted her skyward. The moment her stubby legs left the ground, Little Chilli giggled with joy, kicking excitedly.
As a result, the fledgeling Little Rice Cake, still unsteady in flight, was buffeted around by her until both dumplings tumbled down with a flop. Fortunately, they had not flown very high, and the plush, fluffy carpet cushioned their fall, so they didn’t hurt themselves.
They tumbled about in a daze, but once they sat up, giggles erupted once more, their faces beaming with pure, contented joy.
Seeing them enjoying themselves so much lifted Wen Mingyu’s spirits too, until he felt something wrap around his wrist. Turning his head, he noticed that at some point, Mu Zhan had also changed form. Covered in golden scales, he transformed into a golden dragon. However, his form was miniature, barely longer than Wen Mingyu’s arm. His majestic aura had diminished, making him appear rather endearing instead.
The dragon’s tail curled around his wrist. Mu Zhan lifted his eyes to stare at Wen Mingyu, his meaning unmistakable: he wanted Wen Mingyu to also transform into a lop-eared rabbit.
Yes, Mu Zhan had long since mastered controlling the size of his dragon form. When Wen Mingyu first discovered this, he was both surprised and incredulous, but Mu Zhan’s focus was evidently different from his own.
Mu Zhan smiled and said, “Do you remember what you once said?”
It took Wen Mingyu a moment to recall, then his eyes widened slightly, his ears flushed, and he opened his mouth to protest.
But Mu Zhan cut him off. “You said it yourself.”
Wen Mingyu had indeed uttered those words, but how could he have known back then that one could actually alter one’s form at will? It defied reason. They were merely alphas and omegas, not mythical beings.
Yet it happened, nonetheless. Mu Zhan added with a chuckle, “Perhaps my sincerity moved the heavens.”
Wen Mingyu felt like clapping a hand over his mouth. What sincerity!
Regardless, in the end, the dragon still coiled around the lop-eared rabbit, wrapping him tightly in his embrace, brimming with possessiveness.