My Unique Emperor (Part 2)

Princess Mirai

Zhou Keung, had found solace and joy in his letters to Princess Mirai. Through heartfelt words, he expressed his deepest affection, painting vivid images of his love across the parchment. The princess, captivated by his eloquence, eagerly awaited each letter, yearning for his presence even when distance kept them apart.

However, a disquietude had settled in Emperor Zhou's heart. He couldn't help but notice a recurring pattern of delayed replies from Princess Mirai. This unexpected gap between their exchanges gnawed at his soul, breeding seeds of doubt.

It troubled him deeply, for he believed their love should know no bounds, including the timeliness of their responses.

Seeking solace in the truth, Zhou summoned his loyal confidant, Tianlan, to deliver his desire for a final meeting with Mirai.

As the emperor entered the princess's chamber, the air became heavy with unspoken words. Mirai, with grace and poise, welcomed her esteemed guest.

Instead of pleasantries, she spoke candidly, questioning why his replies were often delayed and why his letters seemed scarce in comparison. Zhou, taken aback by her inquiries, sifted through his memories, realizing he had indeed replied late on two occasions. But he had always sent a profusion of letters, believing that his love would be clear through the sheer quantity of his messages.

As Zhou Keung grappled with Mirai's words, a wave of emotions washed over him. His love for her had been unwavering, and yet, it seemed that their connection had been marred by misunderstandings. A mix of sadness and frustration welled up within him, but his love for the princess compelled him to explain the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Emperor Zhou Keung revealed his feelings to Princess Mirai. He confessed that he had sent her at least a hundred letters over the course of two years, fervently pouring his heart into every word. Confusion clouded her eyes as she realized the extent of her misjudgment.

In a tone laden with sincerity, Zhou Keung assured her that he had always treasured their correspondence and had never intentionally sent fewer letters. On the contrary, the emperor's face bore an expression of genuine perplexity as he tried to comprehend the situation.

Princess Mirai's eyes widened in surprise, her brows furrowing as she absorbed the emperor's response. She leaned forward, her voice laced with a mixture of confusion and concern. "But," she began, "I never received your letters, let alone replying to them late. How is it possible?"

Zhou Keung's brows knitted together as he attempted to make sense of the princess's revelation. He retraced his steps, replaying the moments he had entrusted his letters to his loyal servant Tianlan, believing they would reach Mirai's hands promptly. The realization slowly dawned upon him that something had gone awry, that their sacred correspondence had been lost or intercepted along the way.

The emperor's eyes met Mirai's, and the weight of their unspoken words filled the room. A myriad of emotions flickered between them—disbelief, frustration, and a tinge of sadness. Zhou Keung's heart ached as he considered the possibility of their intimate thoughts and confessions floating adrift, never reaching their intended recipient.

As the weight of their mutual longing settled in the air, Tianlan stepped forward, breaking the silence. He presented a small, elegantly crafted box, its exterior adorned with intricate patterns. Inside lay a collection of letters—sealed, untouched, and forgotten. These were the letters that had never found their way to Princess Mirai, letters that contained the emperor's deepest thoughts and unwavering devotion.