Chapter 211: Stubbornness

Chapter 211: Stubborn

And inside the Imperial Study, Zhou Mingqi was also being tormented by this constant "harassment."

While reviewing memorials, he could almost see the stubborn figure through the window lattice.

When he took a short break, Fu Quan would cautiously inform him that Cheng Ge was still kneeling outside.

He even felt as though the very air was filled with that annoying stubbornness.

The two were engaged in a silent tug-of-war across the palace wall, each waiting for the other to compromise.

That day, outside the vast palace, red walls soared high, and the sky loomed dark and heavy.

The first snow fell without warning, quietly dusting the glazed roof tiles and the white marble plaza with a thin layer of white.

Standing just inside the palace gate, Fu Quan tucked his hands slightly into his sleeves—

Watching the figure outside, almost a snowman but still keeping his back straight, he couldn't help but sigh softly.

Palace attendants quietly placed a blazing charcoal brazier in the hall, dispelling some of the chill, with silver-thread charcoal crackling softly.

Zhou Mingqi, who had been leaning back in his chair with eyes closed, suddenly stirred. He slowly raised his head and was silent for a moment.

He didn't look outside; he just said in a low voice, tinged with a hint of barely hidden exhaustion.

"Is he... still out there?"

Fu Quan immediately turned and bowed in reply: "Your Majesty, Censor Cheng... is still kneeling."

"The snow... is getting heavier." His tone carried a subtle note of persuasion.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Mingqi finally turned his gaze toward the closed palace gate, as if he could see right through the door and see the stubborn figure in the wind and snow outside.

His fingers unconsciously tightened, gripping the armrest until his knuckles paled.

An even longer silence fell within the hall, broken only by the occasional soft crackle of the charcoal fire.

After a long moment, Zhou Mingqi rubbed his pounding temples and slowly got up and walked toward the palace gate.

Zhou Mingqi stood at the high palace door, the hem of his black dragon robe fluttering slightly in the cold wind.

He gazed into the distance at the crimson figure almost entirely covered in snow, amidst the vast white.

That lone, stubborn spot of blue-green seemed glaringly conspicuous—small, and yet so stubborn.

Snowflakes fell on his shoulders, but he seemed unaware, his gaze heavy and unreadable.

Below the steps, Cheng Ge knelt in the icy snow. The cold seeped through his thick knee pads, sending a sharp numbness into his knees.

He let out a soft puff of white breath, watching the mist quickly dissipate in the cold air.

In his mind, he mused that the snow was getting heavier; today probably wouldn't achieve anything.

Maybe... he should make a strategic retreat? If it clears up tomorrow, he could come back and kneel then?

Just as he wavered and was about to retreat for the time being to rethink his strategy, the faint crunch of snow being compressed reached his ears.

He instinctively looked up—

A simple, elegant cyan oil-paper umbrella silently covered him from above, shielding him from the falling snow.

But before he could see the face of the person holding the umbrella, a heavy, warm fox-fur cloak was draped over him with a force that allowed no refusal.

The cloak's collar was trimmed with soft, dense silver fox fur, and the hood was large.

When it settled over him, it covered nearly his entire head and half his face, leaving only his eyes visible, wide with surprise.

The cloak seemed to have been carefully warmed over a brazier beforehand, and it was pleasantly warm inside.

It carried a faint scent of plum blossoms, instantly shutting out the biting cold.

Then, a delicate cloisonné hand warmer was gently pressed into his stiff, frozen hands.

The warmer was pleasantly warm, and the heat quickly spread through his fingertips, thawing his nearly frozen blood.

This series of actions came so quickly and naturally, carrying a kind of natural care and… familiarity?

Cheng Ge was stunned. Which "snail maiden"... I mean, snail colleague, was this?

He tried to look up, wanting to see the person beside him from inside the huge hood.

But due to the limited view, he could only catch a glimpse of an equally elegant cyan hem and a slender hand with distinct knuckles holding the umbrella handle.

The person did not look at him, nor did they speak—

He saw Lin Nanshu holding an umbrella to shield Cheng Ge from the snow, while he himself remained fully exposed to the wind and snow.

He slightly raised his head, his gaze passing over the kneeling Cheng Ge, gazing into the distance at the figure on the red palace steps.

The wind and snow fell silently, as if nothing else existed in the world except the sound of falling snow.

After a moment of silent confrontation, Lin Nanshu finally moved—

He gently handed the umbrella handle into Cheng Ge's hand that was not holding the warmer, signaling him to hold it himself.

Then, he brushed off the non-existent dust on his robes, and step by step,

He ascended the snow-covered white marble steps, walking toward the emperor at the highest point.

His steps were steady, his footprints clearly marked on the pure snow.

His figure stood straight as a pine, as if this snowstorm was nothing out of the ordinary.

Zhou Mingqi’s gaze shifted from Cheng Ge to Lin Nanshu, who was ascending the steps.

A faint, elusive emotion flickered in his deep eyes.

Cheng Ge knelt foolishly in the snow, holding the warm hand warmer and wrapped in the heated fox-fur cloak, with a piece of sesame candy resting in his palm.

Cheng Ge knelt in the snow, the small sesame candy in his palm still carrying the warmth of the person who had just arrived.

It was a different kind of warmth from the cloisonné hand warmer—a more secretive heat that made his fingertips tremble slightly.

He instinctively closed his fingers, firmly grasping that little bit of sweet warmth.

The huge fox-fur hood blocked most of his vision, making it impossible to see clearly.

At the same time, it seemed to hide the sudden, unacknowledged flutter in his chest.

Yuli... why is he here?

Before he could dwell on it further, all his attention was pulled to the green-clad figure climbing the steps.

Lin Nanshu walked with composure, snow settling on his shoulders and hair, but he acted oblivious.

He went straight to the imperial presence, stopped ten steps away from His Majesty, and bowed to pay his respects.

His voice was clear, like jade striking jade, cutting through the thick curtain of snow: "Your servant pays his respects to Your Majesty."

Zhou Mingqi's gaze fell on him, his face betraying no expression.

"Master Lin, what brings you here?" His tone was calm, yet carried an unseen weight.

Lin Nanshu straightened up. Without directly answering the emperor's question, he met his gaze calmly, his voice still steady.