Chapter One Hundred and One
The sun had just risen behind the mountains, and the bamboo grove behind Shuxiang Temple was shrouded in morning mist. The rustling of bamboo leaves in the wind grew louder, yet the surroundings felt even more serene. Coupled with the chanting from the temple, it carried an air of transcendent tranquility.
Before a newly erected grave stood a man and a woman. The man was tall and broad-shouldered—none other than Feng Suige. He silently watched Fu Yixiao standing motionless beside him. After a long while, he softly urged, "The mist is heavy. Your outer robe is already damp. Why don’t you go back and change first before returning?"
Fu Yixiao’s gaze remained fixed on the cold, soaked ashes of paper offerings in front of the gravestone, as if she had entered a trance. There was no response from her for a long time. Feng Suige sighed inwardly and gave up on persuading her.
The woman before him was a blend of ice and fire. At this moment, the fiery passion she usually carried had been buried deep beneath layers of ice, painfully suppressing her grief and refusing to let anyone share the burden.
"My mother was originally a servant girl of the Fu family," Yixiao suddenly spoke. "Even after she followed Father, she never had a single good day. The other concubines, relying on their higher family status, often bullied her. The first wife treated her like a servant, and Father, biased and credulous, would scold her too."
"Later, I joined the army and earned military merits. His Highness granted me a small, independent courtyard. I was so overjoyed I nearly went mad. I requested leave and rushed back to the Imperial City, wanting to bring Mother to Lucheng," Yixiao’s lips curled faintly, but it was full of bitterness. "But my mother said she had taken care of Father’s daily needs for so many years and worried he wouldn’t adjust if she left."
"She saw herself as the one and only in Father’s life," Yixiao’s voice grew quieter, as if something had caught in her throat. "But in his eyes, she was never the only one." As she finished speaking, tears welled in her eyes.
Ever since she was old enough to understand, no matter how great the blows or injustices she faced, no matter how desperate the setbacks or unfairness, she had always reminded herself not to shed tears easily. Yet now, before her mother’s grave, the pain she had suppressed for so long finally burst forth like a flood. Instinctively, she tilted her head back, refusing to let the tears fall.
Feng Suige listened quietly, his eyes filled with understanding.
The mist lingering in the bamboo grove seemed infused with boundless sorrow. The morning light filtered through the dense layers of bamboo leaves, casting a golden glow over the grave. A breeze swept through the grove, and the nearly burnt-out white candles at the grave flickered weakly before extinguishing in the wind. Feng Suige took out a fire striker from his sleeve, crouched down, and relit the candles.
Before he could fully straighten up, a faint rustling came from behind the grave—the sound of footsteps lightly treading on fallen leaves. Feng Suige tensed and growled low, "Who’s there?" The footsteps paused briefly before continuing, and a cautious voice called out, "Your Highness…" Yixiao snapped out of her daze and looked around. "Who is it?"Another gust of cold wind stirred the stone-blue hem of a robe by the graveside. Feng Suige lunged forward instantly, grabbing the newcomer by the collar and slamming him against the stone wall. "My men are all around here—how did you get in?" he demanded coldly. The man offered no resistance, allowing himself to be pinned against the icy tomb wall as he spoke calmly, word by word, "I am Lieutenant General Xing Ye, deputy to General Ning. I've been waiting here for Her Highness the Princess for a full day and night."
By then, Fu Yixiao had wiped away her tears and hurried over. Recognizing the man, she gasped, "Lieutenant General Xing..."
Feng Suige slowly released his grip. Xing Ye fell to his knees with a thud, his voice choked with grief and fury that still couldn't fully express the anguish in his heart. "Your Highness, both General Ning and His Highness have been detained. News came a few days ago that the Holy Emperor intends to execute them on charges of treason..."
Yixiao and Feng Suige exchanged glances before stepping forward to help him up. "Don't panic yet," Yixiao said softly. "There might still be a way out—are you alone in the city?"
Xing Ye shook his head slowly. "There were four of us originally, but a few days ago, after hearing about His Highness, Hong Bo refused to listen to reason and insisted on going to the Criminal Supervision Bureau to plead his case. He never returned. So now, there are only three of us left."
Yixiao fell silent for a moment, then glanced at Feng Suige. Seeing him give an almost imperceptible shake of his head, she turned back. "Go back today and stay hidden with the other two. This matter involves too much—one wrong move could endanger everyone. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power to plead for His Highness and Ning Fei before the Emperor."
Yixiao leaned against the windowsill, her gaze following a withered leaf as it drifted across the ground until it came to rest against the wall. Lost in thought, she didn’t turn when Feng Suige entered from outside and gently knocked on the door. "Your Highness," he said in a hushed voice, "I have urgent matters to report..."
Without turning, Yixiao cut him off. "In reply to the Imperial Son, Her Highness the Princess has gone out."
Feng Suige froze, nearly missing the threshold and only steadying himself by grabbing the doorframe. "Then who’s speaking now?"
Yixiao finally turned and arched an eyebrow in imitation of his usual manner. "Wasn’t it the Imperial Son himself just now?"
"Fine," Feng Suige shrugged and turned to leave, muttering loudly as he went. "Well, it’s not that urgent anyway. Just that a certain official surnamed Fu has come to see Her Highness. Since she’s not here, then—"
"My father?" Yixiao stiffened, then dashed after Feng Suige like a gust of wind. "Where is he?"
"Has Her Highness returned?" Feng Suige chuckled, pinching the tip of her nose. "Yes, it’s your father. But he seems troubled—I tried to have him escorted to the main hall, but he refused. He’s still waiting at the gate of the residence. You should go see him."
Yixiao stood stunned for a second before lifting her skirts and running out.
Outside the residence, amidst the bustling palace road, stood an official’s blue silk sedan chair. Fu Sihong, his hair long since turned gray, paced anxiously beside it, frowning. Out of breath from her sprint, Yixiao caught sight of him and couldn’t help exclaiming, "Father!"Instinctively responding halfway, Fu Sihong suddenly realized his mistake in a flash and hurriedly knelt down, "Your servant, Fu Sihong, pays respects to Her Highness the Princess. May you live a thousand years, ten thousand years—"
The clamor of the surrounding crowd suddenly seemed distant. Yixiao stared blankly at Fu Sihong's back, lost in thought. After what felt like an eternity, a warm hand gently supported her elbow. She heard Feng Suige whisper, "What's wrong?" "I don't know," she heard herself reply.
"Lord Fu, please rise," Feng Suige said, stepping forward to help the flustered official up when Yixiao remained unresponsive. "This place is crowded and noisy. Wouldn't you prefer to step inside—" "No, no," Fu Sihong retreated slightly, unable to resist stealing another glance at Yixiao before gritting his teeth. "The weather in Brocade changes frequently. Please take care of your health, Your Highness—This old servant will regularly send people to tend to Madam's grave. Please don't worry about it!"
With that, he bowed deeply to Fu Yixiao and Feng Suige before turning decisively and disappearing into his palanquin. Amid the shouts of attendants, the blue palanquin weaved through the crowd, gradually fading into the distance.
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