Madam Xu had seen the Guanyin statue carved by Zhou Zihong—solemn and divine, with heroic grace in its brows and eyes.
At first, she had praised it, saying her husband's rendition of Guanyin was unlike any other, possessing a unique artistic conception. But today, after meeting Mingyi, Madam Xu realized Zhou Zihong hadn’t been carving Guanyin at all—he had been carving Mingyi. It was just that for a minister to covet the emperor’s woman was far too audacious, so he carved her as a deity instead, avoiding any grounds for accusation.
So profound was his love—truly, so profound.
What Madam Xu couldn’t understand was this: if he loved Mingyi so deeply, why had he spent seven years with her? During those years, they had shared intimate moments, whispered sweet nothings, and strolled beneath the moonlight. If he truly couldn’t forget Mingyi, why hadn’t he erected a chastity arch for himself and sworn off women entirely?
Some might say, "Well, men will always need women to relieve their urges." But were women born as stone statues, devoid of desire? If so many women could live decades under the weight of a chastity arch, why couldn’t men do the same?
Madam Xu had loved the scent of ink and books that clung to Zhou Zihong, loved his composure in the face of adversity, loved the rare flush of emotion that would rise to his usually detached face.
But all of this had been built on the premise that she had loved him from the very beginning.
Now, she suddenly found him rather uninteresting.
Either he shouldn’t have married her in the first place—she wouldn’t have minded. With her family’s status, she could have lived comfortably without ever marrying.
Or, if he had married her, he should have treated her well. Yet bowl after bowl of contraceptive soup had been forced upon her, bitter enough to seep into her heart.
She was nothing but a joke, traveling thousands of miles just to bear witness to his undying love.
Madam Xu said nothing more, letting Zhou Zihong tidy away his Guanyin statue while she retreated to the inner chamber to prepare the bed and rest.
Mingyi had originally planned to celebrate her birthday with a few close friends, setting just one table. But word spread, and the number of guests grew far beyond expectation.
"When you two came to witness our wedding, my wife and I had only just become husband and wife," Zheng Tiao sighed as he looked at Ji Bozhai. "Now, in the blink of an eye, nine years have passed. My son is already eight, and my daughter is six. How is it that you still haven’t married?"
The smile on Ji Bozhai’s face stiffened.
Gritting his teeth, he forced out the words: "If you didn’t speak, no one would mistake you for mute."
Zheng Tiao shook his head. After exchanging a few moves with him in the courtyard and realizing Ji Bozhai’s skills had advanced to an outrageously high level, he abandoned all thoughts of defeating him and instead offered, "Do you want me to give you some advice?"
"You? You, who back then didn’t even know what love was, who was so troubled you had to drink with me to sort it out?" Ji Bozhai scoffed. "And now you have the nerve to offer me advice?"
Zheng Tiao raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Your Majesty was once a man of countless romantic conquests, having dealt with more women than I’ve faced opponents. So how is it that you still haven’t succeeded?"
Masters sparred by striking at the vital points.
Ji Bozhai pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and smirked. "I won’t use those old tricks on her anymore."
She wanted sincerity, and he wanted to give it to her. But stripped of all his flashy tactics, his sincerity felt clumsy, too embarrassing to present to her. He had mustered the courage to offer it a few times, but she hadn’t taken it.
Truthfully, their current arrangement was quite good—living in separate palaces, working together, dealing with the court officials, planning for the Six Cities, occasionally sharing meals or taking walks.
They got along comfortably.
But still, Ji Bozhai wanted to hold her.To openly fend off all the "well-meaning" people around her.
To see her the moment he opened his eyes.
To occupy even the smallest space in her heart.
Every time these desires arose, he would dig out his youthful portrait, hang it on the wall, and punch it fiercely.
Serves you right for being young and foolish! Serves you right for not seizing the opportunity! Serves you right for not cherishing the one before you!
Now, even if he yearned to marry her with every fiber of his being, Mingyi wouldn’t easily agree.
In truth, he had planned to propose to her today—on her birthday, with all her friends gathered. It would surely be easier than doing it in front of the rulers of the Six Cities.
But before he could find the right moment, they started pouring him drinks.
“How rare to share a table with Your Majesty. This humble woman offers you a toast.” Zhang Tai sighed as she looked at him. “Back then, I truly thought Your Majesty and Mingyi would end up together. Who’d have guessed I’d marry before you two made any progress? Come, bottoms up—may Your Majesty’s wishes come true.”
Ji Bozhai downed the entire cup.
Then came Meng Yangqiu: “Thanks to Your Majesty’s grace, I’ve ascended to the position of Star Yearn City’s ruler today. This toast is for Your Majesty—and for Ming Guniang.”
Just toast me, why drag Mingyi into it? His eyes kept darting toward her— please, his child is already three years old!
Ji Bozhai scoffed, blocking his line of sight, and downed another cup.
Xiuyun, instead of sitting with Zheng Tiao, had taken a seat by herself. When her turn came, she took Mingyi’s hand and frowned. “Life was freer before marriage. Now, I’ve got two kids chasing after me calling ‘Mother,’ and a husband who never stops nagging.”
Ji Bozhai drained his cup in one gulp and gestured for her to sit. “Next.”
Behind her were Fan Yao and Chu He. Over the years, these two, along with Luo Jiaoyang, had formed Ji Bozhai’s most steadfast Shield. No matter what schemes others devised, they never betrayed him. Naturally, Ji Bozhai was generous in return, downing another cup without hesitation.
Drinking too quickly was dangerous—even the strongest tolerance would falter under such an assault.
So when Ji Bozhai leaned against her, Mingyi wasn’t surprised. She let him rest his head on her shoulder, barely turning as she continued entertaining the others.
“Pay attention to me,” he mumbled incoherently.
After finishing her drink with Luo Jiaoyang, Mingyi responded half-heartedly, “Mm.”
He rested his chin on her shoulder, his eyes glistening with emotion, murmuring earnestly and tenderly, “They told me to renovate the imperial mausoleum. I reserved a spot for you—right beside me, sharing the same tomb.”
Mingyi paused slightly and turned to look at him.
“I know you resent me. You don’t want to marry me now. But I want to be with you—alive or dead.” His voice was thick with grievance. “Last time I proposed in front of the troops, you asked if I was trying to reclaim the 130,000 soldiers’ loyalty. I wasn’t. Now I’ve gathered another 150,000—all for you.”
The palace buzzed with lively chatter. Below, Luo Jiaoyang and Meng Yangqiu were egging everyone on to toast Headmaster Qin and Master She, so no one paid them much attention.
Ji Bozhai, swaying unsteadily, tried to stand and call them over as witnesses, but he collapsed back onto Mingyi’s shoulder before he could rise.
“I want… I want to walk the Yellow Springs with you,” he stammered.Mingyi laughed upon hearing it: "Is this a proposal or a death wish?"
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