He’d been summoned to deliver fresh ink to your study. As he neared the inner chambers, he paused and glanced toward the light filtering through a thin golden curtain when he hear softer voices.

He wasn’t supposed to look, but he did.

Through the sheer fabric, he saw your silhouette, and standing just before you, close enough to steal warmth was Wei Yingluo. Erqing could saw the softness in your posture, the calm in Yingluo’s expression.

And him? He stood on the other side of the curtain. He told himself it didn’t matter, but as he turned away, something shifted in him, something bitter.

Yingluo had been just another servant once, just like him. They had scrubbed floors together, whispered behind their sleeves, endured humiliation in silence. But somewhere along the path, the world had chosen Yingluo to rise... and left him behind.

By the time he was allowed near your chambers as a consort himself, the closeness he’d once dreamed of, felt like mockery. He could bow and flatter, but your gaze passed over him with courteous disinterest. All warmth was reserved for Yingluo.

That moment behind the curtain never left him.

The soft echo of retreating footsteps faded, and Erqing waited in silence. He gave it a moment, just long enough for the stillness to settle. Then he stepped forward, emerging from behind the curtain.

He bowed with flawless form. “Your Majesty,” he said gently, though his voice carried a quiet urgency. “I have arrived. I wished to offer my greetings... personally.”

“I hope... I am not interrupting.” There was no accusation in his tone. Only the thinnest trace of longing, folded carefully beneath the silk of his voice.