The Spoiled Consort Courted Death Again Today

Behind an artificial hill in the Imperial Garden.

Huarong was craning her neck, anxiously looking around as she waited for something.

“Are you sure? The Emperor will definitely come here?”

Beside her, the palace maid Suxin nodded with a somber seriousness. “I’m certain. The lotuses in the Imperial Garden are in bloom, and His Majesty has come to admire them every day after court recently.”

“Excellent,” Huarong replied without turning her head.

Suxin eyed the object in front of her, exasperation written all over her face. “My Lady, it’s not wrong for you to wait here for the Emperor, but could you at least dress a bit more… normally?”

Huarong refused solemnly. “That’s where you’re mistaken. If I act like everyone else, the Emperor will never remember me. Only by being unique can I leave a lasting impression.”

Suxin glanced up and down at Huarong’s “unique” attire, her mouth twitching uncontrollably. “My Lady, you…”

“He’s coming, he’s coming!”

At once, both mistress and maid held their breath and looked up.

The very next second, their breaths caught in unison.

Wow! So handsome!

At the head of the procession walked a young man, clad in a bright yellow dragon robe, his tall, noble figure exuding an aura that forbade disrespect. His features were exquisitely carved—an elegant nose, thin lips, and, most striking of all, a pair of eyes as deep and cold as a bottomless winter lake, unfathomable and remote.

No wonder he was hailed as the most handsome man in all of Fengling Dynasty.

Huarong marvel