Qing Yao slipped her arm free of Mo Tian's and dropped her head, exposing the most delicate curve of her face. Tears tracked down her cheeks; her voice trembled as she spoke. "Your Majesty, this concubine has broken the rules. I beg Your Majesty to punish me." She bowed low.
Mo Tian's reply was flat and indifferent. "You will be punished." Then he turned and strode into the palace; Eunuch Chen and the other attendants hurried after him.
Qing Yao made no move to wipe her tears. A hard, vicious light passed through her eyes and her hand clenched into a fist beneath her sleeve. The thought of his punishment made her shiver, But she dared not run—she knew better than to defy him.
Inwardly, she steadied herself. Among all the concubines, only she could withstand the emperor's wrath. "Liúlí, Mèng'ér—prepare the bruise ointment and the usual medicine, just in case we might need them," she ordered in a low voice.
