Yan Wanqing, holding the little prince in her arms, emerged from the Empress Dowager's sleeping quarters. She draped a shawl over her shoulders to shield them from the intense sun as she walked toward Sun Imperial Consort's chamber.
The palace maids looked on curiously, but still could not clearly discern what exactly she was holding in her arms.
The little prince clutched her little finger, a transparent bubble forming at his mouth—so adorable one couldn't help but mention it.
As Yan Wanqing walked, she couldn't help but think.
If that child she was fated to be without were still here, by now she herself would likely be close to giving birth.
The more she thought about it, the more sour her heart felt.
Arriving at a shaded spot, she felt some dampness on her arm and hurriedly stopped to check.
"It seems it was you, you little rascal."
The little prince had wet himself.
