It appeared that those people had targeted him alone and had not troubled Yue Mingxuan.
Noticing the calm in Rong Qinglei's brow, Yue Mingxuan understood that he had been worried about her. "You don't need to think about anything right now. Just focus on recovering. Once your health is fully restored and you succeed in inheriting the throne, remember to pay me a year's tax from Beirong as your medical fee."
Rong Qinglei knew Yue Mingxuan was trying to cheer him up, so he half joked, half seriously replied, "Rather than a year's tax as a fee, why not offer all of Beirong as a dowry and have me marry you as Empress? I wonder if you would be interested."
Yue Mingxuan laughed. "Oh my, the Emperor has chosen so carefully, yet he ended up selecting you, this prodigal son. If he ever heard that, he would surely be furious."
Rong Qinglei responded somewhat gloomily, "But I don't wish to hold a high position."
