“What are you thanking me for?”
A flash of sharp mockery curved the Emperor’s lips.
Yirong stared at him in a daze. The Emperor had let her decide the fate of the person who harmed her, even permitting her to discuss it with her mother before informing him. What was wrong with expressing her gratitude?
The entire Faxuan Temple had fallen utterly silent.
As their eyes met, Yirong looked away first.
“Do you think Zhen did this for you?”
His voice was low, sounding like an accusation, like a denial.
Yirong was utterly baffled. She couldn’t fathom what he meant, nor why his face had darkened with anger in an instant.
She restrained herself from looking at the Emperor or asking what he truly intended.
But he pinched her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze and respond.
A faint shadow of exhaustion bruised the skin beneath the Emperor’s eyes, as if he hadn’t slept properly in days.
Yirong said softly, “No matter who Your Majesty did this for, I am deeply grateful. I am also profoundly thankful to you and Eldest Miss Pei for saving my life.”
As she spoke, she lightly furrowed her brows.
The man before her looked even more displeased.
Yirong truly couldn’t understand what she had said wrong.
The last time, she had vaguely hinted at wanting to kill him in his presence—though she hadn’t said it outright, and she would never dare act on it.
But facing him again now, she felt deeply uncomfortable.
“You’re grateful to Zhen? Planning to fawn and flatter again, offering yourself to Zhen’s bed?” By the end, he bit out the words one by one.
At his words, Yirong’s vision blurred instantly. She whipped her face away, biting her lip.
Strands of hair fell across her temples, and she lifted a hand to brush them aside, like a curtain over her face.
The Emperor didn’t notice her discomfort. He rose abruptly and strode away.
“Your Majesty,” her soft voice called from behind him, “I heard that this was originally your sleeping chamber. I can leave—please let me move somewhere else.”
Zheng Yan didn’t turn back. “Stay here,” he said coldly. “Don’t entertain any other ideas.”
With that, he departed in long strides.
Yirong bit her lip hard, unwilling to shatter the night’s silence, unwilling to make a single sound, unwilling to disturb anyone.
Facing the wall, her shoulders shook as she wiped her face. It came away wet.
Yirong sat up and dropped the bed curtains, pretending she had never woken.
She cried soundlessly for a while before gradually stopping.
There was nothing in the Emperor’s words worth crying over. He had called her an ignorant, foolish woman before. Returning to the Capital City meant she could at least see her mother soon—nothing could be better than that.
As for her uncle—no, the Marquis Pingyang’s family…
Yirong clutched the silk quilt and pondered for a moment. Footsteps sounded outside, and lamps were lit, their glow filtering through the gauzy bed curtains like drifting mist and clouds.
“Miss, the Imperial Physician instructed you to drink a bowl of mung bean soup.”
The bed curtain lifted, revealing Shuilian’s smiling face. “Are you hungry? It’s late—you should have something. Xingxiang is watching the evening meal. Drink this mung bean soup first.”
Yirong smiled. “All right.”
Then Shuilian noticed the traces of tears on her face and hesitated. “Did His Majesty just say something to upset you?”
“No,” Yirong replied, feigning cheer. “Quickly tell me— what’s everyone outside saying about what happened to me?”
As Shuilian fed her, she said puzzledly, “No one outside knows about it. There’s nothing to gossip about. If people are talking, it’s about His Majesty’s order to free the Xiling slaves.”
Yirong took the bowl herself and drank. “It’s good. You go have a bowl too.”
She added, “What was that other matter you mentioned just now? Tell me all about it.”
Seeing how much Yirong enjoyed it, Shuilian went out to ask the nearby Imperial Physician if she could have another bowl. Upon receiving approval, she fetched one and brought it back, then earnestly recounted what she knew.
But she didn’t know much. After Yirong listened in silence for a moment, several palace maids entered with trays of exquisite evening dishes.
She had Shuilian and Xingxiang dine with her. When she was seven or eight parts full, Yirong suddenly remembered something and asked, “Aren’t we traveling during the day tomorrow?”
Xingxiang laughed. “His Majesty ordered a five-day stop. We’ll head back to the Capital City in another two days.”
Was it because the matter with the Xiling people had dragged on too long and proved too thorny, requiring discussions before resuming the journey?
It was good for her recovery, at any rate. After the meal, Yirong quietly told Shuilian what the Emperor had said.
The two whispered back and forth for a long time, unable to decide how best to handle it.
Once her initial shock faded, Yirong wasn’t too saddened by the news. But she worried her mother wouldn’t be able to accept it. Pondering how to break it to her gently, she gradually drifted into a deep, sweet slumber.
Perhaps from sleeping so much these past few days, she woke after the third watch and could no longer rest.
Yirong lay with her eyes closed, thinking for a long while. Her thoughts grew more tangled, until she finally resolved to go to one of the halls up ahead to light incense and pray.
She dressed quietly. Shuilian and Xingxiang slept soundly by the bed. A young palace maid in the room was still awake; Yirong shushed her softly and asked for a lantern.
Moments later, lantern in hand, she stepped outside.
Yirong walked slowly. Silent, steadfast Imperial Guards stood at intervals along the covered walkway, every ten paces, but none stopped her.
She wondered if residual poison still lingered in her system, compounded by her recent poor eating and sleeping. That must be why she felt so weary, needing to pause and rest after only a short distance.
Better not go all the way to the front halls. She’d find a nearby incense hall or pavilion instead.
She wanted to pray for herself and her mother.
As for others… The moonlight fell like scattering snow, and amid the boundless silver glow, she thought of Cui Cheng.
In the deep compounds of Duke Qiao’s Mansion, they always took a stroll after dinner to aid digestion.
The moonlight in Guanxian Courtyard was always serene and beautiful. Cui Cheng would hold her hand as they walked and talked amid the flower-laden trees, beneath blossoms and moon—nothing more enchanting.
It was her favorite time of day.
Because Cui Cheng had returned, from after dinner until the next morning’s dawn, that stretch of time belonged entirely to the two of them.
Their last joyful meeting, he had taken her over the wall for fun, playfully interrupting a pair of lovers in a tryst…
The night had deepened, lanterns aglow, with fine moonlight too.
Back then, she had been happy from Cui Cheng’s efforts to cheer her, yet pained by the secret she had to keep from him. Who could have imagined it was their final moment as an ordinary couple?
She wondered where he was now.
Yirong tightened her collar and told herself not to dwell on it.
She continued onward in tiny steps. Just as she was about to turn a corner, a sword suddenly thrust out before her.
Then a youth stepped out from behind it. Seeing her, he immediately sheathed his blade, clasped his fists, and bowed. “Madam Lu.”
Her lips trembled as she stared at him in shock, her scream caught in her throat.
Cheng Ye cursed inwardly. He seemed to have terrified Madam Lu to death. He dashed toward the incense hall ahead, shouting, “Your Majesty!”
The Emperor was nearby.
No wonder someone had tried to stop her. Yirong knew she should leave, but her legs felt like jelly, refusing to obey.
A sword slashing out in the silent, pitch-black night!
She had never witnessed such a scene. Clutching a pillar, she steadied her breathing for a moment. Hearing footsteps approaching, she hurried back the way she had come.
Only the Emperor arrived. Seeing her frail back, as if unable to bear the weight of her clothes, he scooped her up by the waist from behind. “What are you doing out so late!”
Yirong let out a soft “Ah!” The Emperor smirked faintly. “What, do you think someone besides Zhen would carry you like this?”
Her heart pounded wildly, but she refused to speak.
“You came out alone? Where are your attendants?”
Yirong said, “They’re asleep. It was my fault—I shouldn’t have… What’s wrong with a nighttime stroll?”
She glanced at the Emperor, who was looking down at her.
Unwilling to lean against his chest, she craned her neck. A few strands of hair dangled by her ear.
“Your body hasn’t recovered yet. Why come out in the wind?” He shielded her head and face. “Speak—what did you come out for?”
She had lost all desire to visit the Buddha or pray, and had no intention of telling him.
“Just to clear my mind. Is that not allowed?” Yirong said sullenly.
The Emperor studied her for a moment, plainly skeptical.
Just to clear her mind, yet Cheng Ye had scared her witless? He didn’t look that frightening.
“Your Majesty, I want to go back.” She struggled to escape his arms.
Beneath the molten moonlight, her lips were pursed, her expression deeply displeased.
Slowly, the Emperor set Yirong down.
Yirong arched a brow slightly, surprised he had released her so readily. She didn’t move for a moment.
“What, do you want Zhen to escort you back?”
At his mocking words, Yirong fell silent, stepped back a few paces, curtsied, and said, “I wouldn’t dare.”
She picked up the palace lantern she had dropped earlier; mercifully, the candle still burned. She forced herself to walk faster, eager to leave the Emperor’s sight. After several turns, her legs trembled uncontrollably. Realizing he couldn’t possibly follow, she collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.
Fortunately, this stretch of walkway had no night guards, or she would never let outsiders—especially men—see her in such an undignified state.
Sweat beaded on her forehead like dewdrops. Indeed, she hadn’t recovered fully. She really shouldn’t have come out.
Leaning against a rounded pillar, Yirong clasped her hands and prayed silently.
She had never committed great evils. Why had she endured all this? Her peaceful, happy life had been shattered in an instant—even her own uncle had wanted her dead.
As she thought on it, sorrow welled up unbidden.
She sat for a while longer until she heard Shuilian calling and searching for her. She raised a hand and waved.
After being helped back, Yirong washed her face again and fell asleep with her eyes closed.
Over the next two days, she spent half her time lying in bed. The imperial physician diligently checked her pulse several times each day, and even on the road back to the capital, he took it twice daily to ensure all was well.
Her body was gradually recovering.
She no longer had to endure wind and rain while traveling or eat cold flatbread for every meal. Servants attended to her needs, she rode in a comfortable carriage, and at night she had soft bedding for restful sleep.
But the closer they drew to the capital, the more bewildered she felt.
Since that night, the Emperor had not appeared again.
She wanted to ask the Emperor how he planned to arrange things for her, but then she thought better of it. No matter what arrangements the Emperor made, did she have any room left to object?
They had left in early summer, and now it was mid-autumn upon their return.
On the final day, she simply kept her eyes closed, unwilling to dwell on where the carriage would ultimately stop.
In truth, it didn’t matter where they went; it was all the same to her.
The carriage rumbled along, and she truly drifted off to sleep.
After some time, Shuilian excitedly shook her awake. “Miss, wake up! We’ve arrived at Lingshi Town!”
Afraid she might still be groggy, Shuilian added, “We’re almost at Madam’s residence!”
Yirong scrambled upright. “Help me dress and do my makeup.”
–
While Yirong made her way back to the capital, a thousand miles away, sea winds swept in as massive waves crashed against the rugged reefs.
The sunlight blazed brightly, and the air carried a salty tang.
A dozen tall, sturdy men stood on the beach, laughing boisterously. Their skin was rough and dark.
Among them was one who stood out starkly from the rest. It was indeed his first time here, and soon he would board the great ship.
Tall and slender, with a face as handsome as carved jade, he narrowed his eyes against the blazing sun and gazed out at the boundless sea.
His expression remained calm.