The moon waxes and wanes; people meet and part.
Zhou Fu and Wei Jin had shared a loving marriage for many years, but in the autumn when their daughter turned six, Wei Jin died while investigating a corruption case.
In the first few days, Zhou Fu wept daily, unable to think—even a fleeting thought would bring silent tears streaming down.
She lived numbly, showing gratitude when others offered comfort, yet finding herself unable to cry when they shed tears of sorrow.
Her mother-in-law was even more grief-stricken and fell ill, confined to her bed.
For several days, their daughter Wei Rao became a pitiful little soul, with no one truly attending to her except her nursemaids and maidservants.
One day, after lying in bed for so long that her head ached, Zhou Fu stumbled drowsily out of her room and saw her daughter crouching under a crabapple tree, using a small twig to poke at ants crawling busily on the ground.
Children are quick to forget. Though she had cried herself hoarse right after losing her father, within days, her playful nature had resurfaced.
"Mother," little Wei Rao called out nervously, standing up and hiding the twig behind her back upon seeing her mother.
She was a girl, and Grandmother had said girls shouldn’t play with such things.
Zhou Fu smiled, walked over, and knelt on one knee beside her daughter. A line of little black ants scurried about—some carrying broken leaves, others grains of rice.
Having something to do keeps life from growing dull.
The less one knows of the world, the easier it is to find wonder in it. At her daughter’s age, Zhou Fu, too, could have played with insects all day long.
"Rao Rao, do you know what these ants are doing?" Zhou Fu asked her daughter gently.
Seeing that her mother wasn’t scolding her, little Wei Rao’s eyes lit up. She leaned in obediently, waiting for her mother’s explanation.
Zhou Fu began to describe the structure of an ant nest to her daughter.
From that day on, Zhou Fu no longer shut herself away in her room. She devoted herself wholeheartedly to her daughter.
She always maintained a smile in front of her child, but inwardly, Zhou Fu felt trapped—as if locked in a cage. Within that cage, only her daughter offered a sliver of solace. Everyone else seemed to remind her constantly: Wei Jin was dead, she was a widow now, and this was how her life would remain.
Zhou Fu yearned for the carefree days of her youth, for the joy of outings with Wei Jin when he was alive. She didn’t want to be a widow confined to a cage, to endure others’ pitying glances, or to see dresses she loved hanging in the wardrobe, rendered unwearable because their bright colors were deemed unsuitable for a widow.
All her desires were suppressed, and Zhou Fu felt that if this continued, she might go mad.
She no longer wanted to be the widow of Cheng'an Marquis’s household. She wanted to go home, back to her mother’s side, back to the days when she could go out freely.
But her daughter was still young—she couldn’t abandon her.
By the time her daughter turned ten, Zhou Fu was twenty-six.
Having been a widow for over three years, Zhou Fu had had enough. Her ten-year-old daughter was growing more understanding and might comprehend her feelings.
Zhou Fu first discussed it with her daughter.
Wei Rao knew her mother was unhappy. Sometimes, after finishing her calligraphy practice, she would look up and see her mother staring blankly out the window. Only upon noticing her gaze would her mother force a smile.
If returning to the Secluded Manor could make her mother happy, then Wei Rao supported her. She, too, loved the Secluded Manor and Cloud Mist Mountain.
With her daughter’s support, Zhou Fu went to the Secluded Manor to discuss it with her mother, Shou An Jun.Shou An Jun naturally felt for her own daughter. She knew that if her daughter returned home, her granddaughter's reputation might be affected. Yet she couldn't just think of her granddaughter and force her daughter to continue living in a cage. The mother comes before the child. Raorao was already sensible, and with a good grandmother and father, her marriage prospects wouldn't be too difficult. But if her daughter continued to suppress herself, she might fall ill.
Some illnesses manifest outwardly, while others are hidden within the heart. They may seem fine on the surface, but if they erupt one day, a person could go mad.
Thus, in early March of spring, Zhou Fu left the Cheng'an Marquis residence and resumed her identity as the Second Miss of the Zhou family.
She had wanted to take her daughter with her, but her mother-in-law forbade it. Zhou Fu had no choice but to make a pact with her daughter to meet every year at the Secluded Manor.
Little Zhou's return home caused quite a stir in the capital.
Master Wei the Second was a respected and upright official. The fact that Little Zhou was unwilling to remain a widow for him must mean she was relying on her beauty and restless nature, intending to follow in the footsteps of her elder sister, Big Zhou, who had remarried the richest man in Jincheng.
Shou An Jun's reputation had never been good, and with Little Zhou's return, the common people immediately began gossiping about Shou An Jun and her two daughters.
The rumors reached the palace, and the Empress Dowager said to Emperor Yuanjia with great disappointment, "How did Li Shi raise her daughter? Had I known she would be so unfaithful to her duties as a woman, I would never have chosen her to be Your Majesty's wet nurse back then. Now she has only tarnished Your Majesty's illustrious name."
The thirty-six-year-old Emperor Yuanjia merely smiled faintly upon hearing this, as if the affairs of Shou An Jun and her daughter had nothing to do with him.
In private, however, Emperor Yuanjia dispatched two covert guards from the palace.
By April, the capital's weather had become even more suitable for outings than in March. Peonies and herbaceous peonies bloomed in succession, and Cloud Mist Temple became a popular destination that people flocked to.
For Zhou Fu, Cloud Mist Mountain was like the back garden of the Secluded Manor. Early one morning, she entered the mountains with Ying Gu and her martial arts-trained female guard, A Man. A Man was a little beggar Shou An Jun had taken in. This girl had no interest in the tasks of other maids, preferring instead to spend her days mingling with the guards of the Secluded Manor. Perhaps she was naturally suited for martial arts, for as she grew up, she became quite skilled in combat, surpassing even ordinary ruffians.
There were several types of wild vegetables on Cloud Mist Mountain that made excellent fillings for buns. April was the best time to harvest them. Zhou Fu entered the mountains with a basket, both to enjoy the scenery and relax, and to gather wild vegetables to take back.
The wild vegetables in the outer areas had already been picked clean by the local farm children. Zhou Fu, accompanied by Ying Gu and A Man, ventured deep into the mountains. Pilgrims didn't come this way, the common people were busy with their crops, and even children didn't venture into the deep mountains.
The three of them wandered through the mountains, and when tired, they rested by a stream.
By this time, their three vegetable baskets were nearly full. Just as Zhou Fu had rested enough and was preparing to descend, the sound of footsteps suddenly came from within the forest.
A Man and Ying Gu immediately shielded Zhou Fu behind them.
Zhou Fu frowned slightly. From the sound of the footsteps, it seemed there was only one person.
A moment later, a tall and straight figure emerged from the woods. The man was dressed in dark everyday attire, and amidst the lush green foliage, his skin was as fair as jade, exuding an air of nobility.
Both Zhou Fu and Ying Gu had met Emperor Yuanjia before, but it had been twelve years since their last encounter. The mistress and her maid exchanged glances, neither quite certain.
Emperor Yuanjia smiled at Zhou Fu and revealed his hand from behind his back, holding a black eagle kite.
Zhou Fu was taken aback.Ying Gu covered her mouth in shock—it was truly the Emperor!
Seeing that they had recognized him, Emperor Yuanjia continued walking toward the three women.
Only Aman remained unaware of the situation. Ying Gu glanced at her mistress, and receiving a confirming look from Zhou Fu, she led Aman a short distance away—close enough to see Emperor Yuanjia and her mistress, yet far enough to ensure they couldn’t overhear their conversation.
Zhou Fu curtsied to Emperor Yuanjia, her gaze fixed on the Emperor’s black boots. Her heart was filled with astonishment and doubt: “Why has Your Majesty come here?”
Emperor Yuanjia remained silent, his eyes lowered as he studied Zhou Fu before him.
The last time they met in Cloud Mist Mountain, she was only fourteen, dressed in boy’s clothing, bright-eyed and innocent. Now, reunited, she was the mother of a ten-year-old girl. Yet, a woman of twenty-six could hardly be considered old, especially one as beautiful as her. The twelve years had only enhanced her radiance and allure.
Back then, Emperor Yuanjia had concealed his admiration, but this time, he had no intention of hiding anything.
Zhou Fu sensed the intensity in the Emperor’s gaze. She was no longer an ignorant young girl. Noticing the worn-out hawk kite in Emperor Yuanjia’s hand, she felt an inexplicable unease.
“Let’s sit and talk,” Emperor Yuanjia said, walking to a stone by the stream and placing the kite on his lap.
Zhou Fu sat stiffly opposite him.
Emperor Yuanjia’s slender fingers gently brushed the black kite as he looked at Zhou Fu. “A-Fu, do you remember this kite?”
Zhou Fu’s heart tightened. “A-Fu” had been acceptable in their youth, but now, such familiarity was inappropriate.
She lowered her eyes to hide her fluster and forced a bitter smile. “It couldn’t be the one I lost back then, could it?”
Emperor Yuanjia replied, “It is. That day, after I returned to the palace, I couldn’t stop thinking of you, so I sent guards to the mountain to retrieve it. All these years, it has hung in my study.”
Zhou Fu looked up in disbelief.
Though Emperor Yuanjia was physically close, an invisible chasm of twelve years lay between them. He was the Emperor, with countless matters to distract him, yet in the stillness of night, he would recall the little mushroom who had burst into his life, their brief encounter on Cloud Mist Mountain, and the meaningful glances she exchanged with Wei Jin during the Mid-Autumn Festival.
He was the Emperor. If he had wanted A-Fu, he could have taken her into the palace back then.
But Emperor Yuanjia remembered—she loved little red carp, not the vast confines of a fish tank.
So, that year, he restrained himself. He would rather lie awake all night than prevent her from marrying Wei Jin.
He had regretted it, but regret was futile. She was already married, and he would never cause her sorrow.
Then Wei Jin met with an accident.
Emperor Yuanjia had executed all the corrupt officials involved in Wei Jin’s case, but nothing could bring Wei Jin back to compensate her.
Guilt kept him from indulging in wild thoughts or disturbing her—until this year, when she left the Cheng’an Marquis estate.
“A-Fu, I am sorry for Wei Jin’s death,” Emperor Yuanjia began with an apology. If he hadn’t sent Wei Jin on that mission, Wei Jin wouldn’t have died. He didn’t know if she resented him for it.
His sudden mention of Wei Jin disrupted Zhou Fu’s tangled thoughts. After a pause, she shook her head calmly. “Your Majesty need not blame yourself. Second Master often told me how much you valued him, entrusting him with that case precisely because you trusted him. No one could have foreseen the treacherous officials assassinating the imperial envoy. This matter has nothing to do with you. Second Master would not hold it against you, and neither do I.”Emperor Yuanjia gazed at the kite in his hand, remaining silent for a long while before finally saying, "Yet I still feel guilty toward him."
Zhou Fu cautiously refrained from asking.
She didn’t ask, but Emperor Yuanjia insisted on speaking. Lifting the kite, he looked directly at her and said, "A-Fu, back then, I wanted to return this kite to you—to give it to you myself. But the Empress Dowager was in the palace. She would not have liked you, and I did not want to trap you in the palace to suffer. So I hid this kite and watched helplessly as you married someone else."
Zhou Fu closed her eyes, rose to her feet, and knelt before him once more. "Your Majesty, please say no more. In my heart, you are my elder brother."
"But I do not wish to be your brother."
Discarding the kite, Emperor Yuanjia stepped forward, placed his hands on Zhou Fu’s slender shoulders, and forced her to look up at him. "Perhaps when we were young, I also saw you as a sister. But as you grew up, the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you. A-Fu, twelve years—I’ve endured for twelve years. Now I am almost forty. I do not wish to endure any longer, nor do I want to watch you marry someone else again."
Zhou Fu turned her face away, her expression pained. "Who said I intend to marry someone else? Others suspect I returned home out of restlessness, seeking to remarry. Does Your Majesty believe that as well? But I have not. I have no intention of remarrying. I only wish to be myself again—to go wherever I please without seeking permission from anyone, without worrying that gossip will implicate my husband’s family elders."
Emperor Yuanjia listened silently. This was the first time he had heard her reason for returning home. He naturally did not believe the rumors outside, nor did he care. All he knew was that she was now the Second Miss of the Zhou family, and he could bring her into the palace.
"If you will not marry another, then in your heart, am I another?" Emperor Yuanjia cupped her face, his expression sorrowful. He had known her since she was a little girl. If she dared treat him as an outsider...
Zhou Fu still remembered their time together in Yunhai Residence and the Eastern Palace. Gazing at his familiar yet distant face, she said sincerely, "Your Majesty is not an outsider. I regard you as my bro—"
Before she could finish, Emperor Yuanjia’s breath hitched, and he suddenly kissed her.
It was a kiss suppressed for twelve years—domineering and fervent, urgent yet unskilled, carrying a hint of testing, afraid she might dislike it, yet unwilling to let her escape. He held her tightly in his arms, as if having regained something lost. No matter how she resisted and pushed, Emperor Yuanjia would not allow her to break free.
Zhou Fu could not break away, her mind swirling with the kite he had brought.
Had he truly hidden it for twelve years?
Tears suddenly streamed down her face. He had never been an outsider. She did not blame him; she only ached for him.
But unsuitable was unsuitable. With the Empress Dowager present and the palace walls standing tall, she would not have chosen him before her marriage, and she would not choose him now. Even with his deep affection, she was destined to be unable to bear it.
Though Emperor Yuanjia restrained her physically, at this moment, he felt no lust—he only wanted her to know he was serious.
Zhou Fu’s tears made him release her in panic. Meeting her tear-filled eyes, Emperor Yuanjia felt a moment of regret, hating himself for hurting her.
"I only regard you as my elder brother. Let us pretend today never happened. Your Majesty, please do not come again."
Zhou Fu spoke with her head lowered, then hurried away.
Emperor Yuanjia turned and watched her like a white butterfly, flying out of his sight.
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