The sound of the heavy palace doors closing echoed through the vast hall, and finally, the footsteps of Prince Chongjing faded away completely.
Weimo stood where she was, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the gold thread on her sleeve. The promise she had just blurted out weighed heavily on her heart. She dared not look up, fixing her gaze instead on the mottled patterns of light and shadow on the floor. In one month, where was she supposed to conjure up an imperial heir?
The sound of Zhao Yan’s footsteps drew near, stopping a single step away from her. "How do you intend to give the Seventh Imperial Uncle an answer within a month?"
Chapter 165