The Seventh King knew that he didn't possess extraordinary talent nor the intellect to govern a country. Compared to the power struggles of the royal court, what he truly enjoyed was the leisurely life of a rich man he had now.
The capital city was a place full of intrigue and deceit, a place he despised.
When he escorted the coffin southward, leaving the capital, he didn't feel the slightest bit of reluctance; on the contrary, he felt a sense of relief.
But now, it was almost certain that his birth mother, the noble concubine, had met her death because of the Emperor, and as a son, how could The Seventh King sit idly at home?
Yet, he clearly realized that, as a powerless prince like himself, without an imperial summons, he could not return to the capital. Even if he did, what could he do?
He might even become a burden to Xiao Chenyuan.
