Chapter 117: The End

Chapter 117: Main Story Conclusion

Pei Zhang was observant by nature. Though Huai Yi never explicitly stated it, Pei Zhang could glean hints from their few interactions and the boy’s still-unconcealed expressions. He gradually reduced his visits to the bookstore, naturally distancing himself from Huai Yi.

Even though Qi Huai Yi was now the Crown Prince, few knew that he and Pei Zhang had once been friends despite their age difference.

...

Long, pale fingers turned the title page. After studying it for a moment, Pei Zhang smiled and said, “Your Highness’s calligraphy has become more assured—truly impressive improvement.”

The once-loose strokes had tightened into a precise and structured form, with a newfound strength in the ink. There was even a faint resemblance to Lu Feng’s style.

Pei Zhang asked gently, “Are you still copying His Majesty’s calligraphy?”

Qi Huai Yi lowered his head sheepishly. “Yes.”

After practicing under Pei Zhang for a time, his handwriting had been praised by his tutors. But when Lu Feng scrutinized his submitted work, he frowned deeply and, after a long pause, declared, “Weak, without strength. Rewrite it.”

So he had no choice but to switch back to Lu Feng’s copybooks. Now, facing Pei Zhang, Huai Yi felt an inexpressible embarrassment. Pei Zhang didn’t comment on it, only saying, “His Majesty’s technique is undoubtedly exquisite, but if you merely imitate it, you risk losing your own innate elegance. Handwriting reflects the person. As Your Highness grows older, you should follow your own inspiration.”

“Follow my own inspiration...”

Huai Yi murmured the words to himself. Since becoming Crown Prince, he had been diligent and studious, his heart always taut with tension, never daring to slacken even slightly. But it wasn’t enough—far from it! His father loomed like an insurmountable mountain before him. He often thought: Perhaps he would never surpass his father’s achievements in this lifetime.

Yet Lord Pei told him not to blindly emulate his predecessors—to find his own voice.

A spark lit up Huai Yi’s dark eyes. He bowed deeply again. “I am enlightened. Thank you, Lord Pei.”

He truly adored Lord Pei. So much so that, despite knowing his father would never allow it, he had once requested Pei Zhang to be his Crown Prince’s tutor—only to be sternly rebuked by the Emperor.

Overwhelmed with guilt, Huai Yi knew Pei Zhang was already adept in court politics and didn’t need his help. After racking his brains, he recalled that Lord Pei had no other hobbies but cherished Zhuangzi’s *Discourse on the Equality of Things*. So he painstakingly transcribed a copy by hand as a New Year’s gift, a modest gesture of his regard.

Pei Zhang flipped through the pages briefly. Each one was immaculate, without a single smudge, a testament to the transcriber’s care.

He carefully tucked it back into his sleeve and smiled. “In that case, I thank you, my young friend.”

Here, in this secluded corner of the night, they were no longer ruler and minister. It was as if they had returned to the bookstore, sipping tea across from one another—back when Lord Pei was the only one who never treated him like a child.

Huai Yi was delighted. In Pei Zhang’s presence, he set aside all royal formality. “It’s just that this book is too profound. I... I’m still too slow to grasp its deeper meanings.”

He remembered Pei Zhang once telling him the story of Zhuang Zhou dreaming of a butterfly. As he copied the text exactly, he pondered it, hoping to discuss it with Lord Pei—yet still couldn’t comprehend it. He had even asked his father, but the Emperor dismissed Huang-Lao philosophy as “detached from worldly affairs” and unsuitable for him, urging him to focus on Confucian and Legalist texts instead. So he could only transcribe the words without adding his own annotations.

His cheeks coloring, Huai Yi said, “Lord Pei, when I’m older and wiser, may I discuss it with you then?”

Pei Zhang froze. After a long pause, he reached out and—breaking protocol—rested his hand atop Huai Yi’s head.

Under the bright moonlight, his voice carried a note of melancholy. “No need. I already understand.”

From their very first meeting, her child had given him the answer. It was just that he... had been unwilling to accept it.

Huai Yi didn’t know what Pei Zhang had come to understand, but he was clever enough to sense the man’s sudden melancholy. Just as he was floundering for a response, Pei Zhang suddenly crouched down, meeting him at eye level just as he had when they first met.

With long fingers, Pei Zhang adjusted the cloak around Huai Yi’s shoulders and said gently, “The night is cold and the wind harsh. You should return quickly, lest Her Majesty the Empress... and His Majesty worry.”

...

Pei Zhang returned to his residence alone. He preferred quiet, and the Pei residence was already located away from the city's bustle. After Jiang Wanying’s death, the household became even more subdued. There were few servants, and the rear courtyard housed only Pei’s mother and a cousin who was staying there. Even during the lively New Year festivities, the compound was filled with deep quiet.

Pei Zhang sat straight-backed in his study, the warm candlelight highlighting his sharp features. Before him lay a book—the *Discourse on the Equality of Things* given to him earlier by Huai Yi.

In the silence of the deep night, Pei Zhang’s thoughts drifted far away, recalling a scene from half a year ago.

After completing Jiang Wanying’s funeral, he was weighed down by grief. Normally so rational, in a moment of desperation, he sought solace in the divine. As if drawn by fate, he traveled beyond the capital to Huiguang Temple, the very place Jiang Wanrou had once visited.

The abbot, who smiled like the Maitreya Buddha, said to him: *The causes of the past life bear the fruits of this one. The ties of your previous life have already ended—let go.*

But he couldn’t let go! They were so deeply in love, destined to grow old together—how could their connection just disappear? And what connection did she have with Emperor Wu? They had never even met—how absurd!

The abbot offered no answer, only saying, *Fate isn't logical. If two are joined as husband and wife, it is by the will of heaven.*

He left Huiguang Temple no less troubled. Now, in the stillness of this late night, he revisited the abbot’s words on karma. According to the abbot, in their past life, she and he had settled all debts, but she and Emperor Wu still shared an unresolved bond—hence their marital fate in this life.

An emperor and a subject’s wife—they had never even laid eyes on each other. Pei Zhang pondered again and again, until at last, from the faint traces of memory, he grasped a hidden clue.

His wife was clear-eyed and strong-willed, yet one thing had tormented her—the death of her mother.

During their three-year posting outside Luoyun Town, life had been simple but joyful. There, they had welcomed their first child—as bright as the Crown Prince himself. But upon their return to the capital, they were met with the devastating news of her mother’s passing.

He'd never seen her cry with such raw grief before. She had cried bitterly, *It was them—they killed my mother!*

She meant the Marquis of Ning’an and his principal wife, Madame Qin. He knew of her father’s cruelty and her stepmother’s malice, and he had once promised that upon their return to the capital, he would bring her mother to live in comfort with them. But he had been a step too late—a regret that would haunt him forever.

From then on, she cut all ties with her family. Later, when order broke down at court and chaos reigned in both the imperial court and the inner palace, Prince Gong and his descendants were executed, his wives and concubines exiled to guard the imperial tombs. As relatives of Prince Gong, the Marquis of Ning’an’s household was stripped of its titles, its members banished three thousand li to hard labor.

The Marquis of Ning’an and Madame Qin did not survive the harsh journey, perishing along the way. When she received the news, she lit a single stick of incense for her mother. He tried to console her, but she only said, *It’s all in the past.*

She never spoke again of her ill-fated mother or her family. She was the daughter-in-law of the Pei family, his wife, the mother of his child—until her last breath. He had always believed that, like him, she harbored no regrets.

Was it possible Emperor Wu, through some strange twist, had avenged her, forging a bond between them?

Pei Zhang rubbed his temples wearily. Beyond this, he could think of no other explanation. Emperor Wu had little interest in women—he barely knew his own concubines by sight. Their only meeting must have been after Emperor Wu’s death, when chaos erupted in both the imperial court and the inner palace. While he struggled to stabilize the court, she, unable to bear seeing him so exhausted, stepped in to help shoulder his burdens.

*Let me keep vigil for His Majesty. With me there, the consorts will stay calm.*

She kept watch over Emperor Wu’s spirit late into the night. The wind had been cold that evening, and he had draped his cloak over her shoulders…

*Cousin—*

A gentle voice broke into Pei Zhang's thoughts. He rose and opened the door to find a woman dressed in an elegant brocade jacket, carrying a bowl of soup.

It was his cousin, Ruan Zheng.

Setting the hangover remedy on the desk, she said gently, *I thought you might have drunk tonight, so I prepared this. Drink this before sleeping to prevent a headache.*

Pei Zhang, ever courteous, nodded and asked, *And Mother?*

His mother had always been close to Ruan Zheng. She smiled and replied, *She dined early and has already retired.*

*She worries for you. On this New Year’s Eve, she asked me to make sure you're not working too late.*

Pei Zhang gave a rueful chuckle. *Her health has been poor lately. I owe you much for your care, Cousin.*

A faint blush colored Ruan Zheng’s delicate features. *We are family, Cousin. There’s no need for such formalities.*

Pei Zhang shook his head. *You are a benefactor to the Pei family, yet you do not bear our name. All these years tending to Mother have left you unmarried.*

*The fault is mine.*

Ruan Zheng suddenly froze. That venomous woman Jiang Wanying had sent her to Qingzhou when she came of age—a poor place full of unworthy suitors. She would rather delay marriage than leave the Pei household. After finally outlasting Jiang Wanying, her aunt had repeatedly hinted that she should marry her cousin as his second wife. Her cousin was filial, and in her heart, she had already assumed the role of the mistress of the Pei residence.

Could it be that her cousin had finally come to his senses?

Ruan Zheng lowered her head, biting her lip, stealing glances at Pei Zhang’s jade-like face. Pei Zhang paused and said, "I’ve looked into a few promising young men around your age—exemplary in conduct, of sterling character, and from decent families."

"Meet them. If any catch your eye, let me know, and I’ll arrange the match."

"The night is cold and the dew heavy. Go rest early."

……

Under Ruan Zheng’s disbelieving gaze, Pei Zhang closed the door and silently placed the book *Discourse on the Equality of Things* on the shelf. Suddenly, he chuckled softly, shaking his head as he murmured, "No other clouds are worth admiring after seeing the ones over Mount Wu." [A classical allusion to unmatched love from Yuan Zhen’s poetry.]

In the end… his heart could not find peace.

***

After the New Year’s banquet, Jiang Wanrou barely rested for two days before another major event arrived—the Matriarch’s birthday.

Since she had left the capital with Lu Feng and returned to a flurry of matters, she hadn’t visited the Lu residence in a long time. Back when Lu Feng had reclaimed his family name, they had deceived the Matriarch into thinking he was away on business. To this day, the old lady still didn’t know her eldest grandson was actually the new emperor!

Jiang Wanrou discussed it with Lu Feng: "For this undercover visit, don’t wear the imperial robes. To put it bluntly, how many years does the Matriarch have left? Let’s not startle her."

In such trivial matters, Lu Feng usually indulged her. Jiang Wanrou picked out his old clothes. His wardrobe was dominated by dark hues—black, deep purple—somber and imposing. Since becoming emperor, his demeanor had grown even more austere and intimidating. Even without the imperial robes, as Cuizhu put it: "Just standing there, if His Majesty so much as lifts his eyelids, knees buckle and people want to kneel in prostration."

After several changes, Jiang Wanrou remained unsatisfied. Under Lu Feng’s increasingly dangerous gaze, she quickly selected a pale blue brocade robe, its collar embroidered with delicate silver clouds and *ruyi* patterns, softening his sinister aura. His hairline sharp as a blade’s edge and striking features only accentuated his handsomeness.

Lu Feng glanced disdainfully at the robe and was about to undo his belt when Jiang Wanrou pounced on him, wrapping her arms around his waist and cooing, "Husband, you look so dashing in this. I can’t take my eyes off you."

Lu Feng stiffened, peeling her off as he said sternly, "Such sweet-talking is unbecoming!"

Jiang Wanrou pouted. Lu Feng had his own rigid code of conduct. For instance, during the late emperor’s mourning period, though they often slept embracing, he was a man in his prime and inevitably had moments of weakness.

With the late emperor barely in the grave, they couldn’t break the taboo. But she could still relieve him in other ways—something she’d often done while pregnant. She only helped him out of pity, seeing how he suffered. Yet he scorned her kindness, preferring cold baths over her touch, making Jiang Wanrou wonder: Had her beauty faded? Or was she simply too shameless, lacking filial piety?

Later, when he finally broke his abstinence, nearly breaking her, she realized—he was just hardheaded! Like now, on the Matriarch’s birthday, he insisted on propriety, refusing to overstep.

*Hmph, playing the gentleman now?* The glaring bite marks on her chest hadn’t even faded yet. *An animal in bed, but all prim and proper once dressed.*

Suppressing her inner grumbles, Jiang Wanrou coaxed him into wearing the robe with a sweet smile. Today was a joyous occasion—she couldn’t let him terrify the children like Yama.

She then clung to his arm and said, "Look at these embroidered patterns—so exquisite. I stitched every thread myself."

"Back then, my fingers were pricked raw making this robe, husband—darling~"

Lu Feng frowned, abandoning his concerns over propriety, and grabbed her hands to inspect them. Her fingers were plump and smooth, her long nails painted with vibrant henna dye. She had even removed her finger shields.

Jiang Wanrou blinked her dark eyes innocently. "The wounds healed long ago. You never wore the clothes I made before."

Lu Feng gave a low "Hmm" and said, "The palace has the Imperial Wardrobe Bureau. There’s no need for you to labor."

Lu Feng could never understand why Jiang Wanrou was so fixated on doing needlework for him when he lacked nothing. Just as Jiang Wanrou couldn’t fathom how someone as sharp as him had never noticed her poor embroidery skills.

Once, he had even seen Jintao working on a pair of boots. Picking them up for a closer look, Jiang Wanrou grew nervous, scrambling for an explanation—only for Lu Feng to set them down and remark indifferently, "This maid’s embroidery… isn’t as refined as yours."

Jiang Wanrou: “… *The audacity of his lie!*”

She smiled—there was no need for "honesty" over such trivial matters. Let Lu Feng continue misunderstanding; it might come in handy later to play the victim, and indeed, it proved useful now.

Under Jiang Wanrou's sweet words and coaxing, Lu Feng frowned and reluctantly accepted the outfit he deemed too "bookish and delicate."

Huai Ling and Mingzhu had been taken under Lady Li’s care. The twins were two years old now, at the babbling and toddling stage. Lady Li adored children and had personally stitched small shoes for them, teaching the brother and sister to walk. Jiang Wanrou entrusted the twins to her without worry, and the couple quietly set off from the palace with Huai Yi, heading to the Lu residence.

The once-glorious "Duke of Lu's Mansion" had now become "Earl Lu’s Residence," yet it remained bustling and lively. The matriarch's birthday had always been a private affair, with no outsiders invited. The second and third branches of the family had been informed in advance to welcome the emperor and empress. Jiang Wanrou held Lu Feng's arm and laughed, "What emperor and empress? We're all family. Now that the head of the household is back, let’s not stand on ceremony."

"Master, don’t you agree?"

Jiang Wanrou smiled brightly, while Lu Feng gave her a sidelong glance and said coolly, "No formalities today. Let’s go in."

He strode through the gate, and Jiang Wanrou nodded at the Second Master, Third Master, and their wives before hurrying after Lu Feng. The tension eased among the family, finally settling into the celebratory mood.

The matriarch had taken a fall months ago and had been recuperating since. Rumor had it she’d become forgetful. Jiang Wanrou worried she might not recognize anyone, but the moment Lu Feng appeared, the old lady chuckled and said, "Jun Chi is back too. Good, good, good."

She repeated "good" three times, then glanced at Jiang Wanrou behind him, her eyes crinkling into slits. "Ah, my eldest daughter-in-law! Oh, this old woman is so happy today—I must have a drink or two!"

At her age, she shouldn’t be drinking—clearly her mind was slipping. Jiang Wanrou exchanged a helpless look with Lu Feng before gathering her skirts and sitting beside the matriarch to chat. Yet, for all her supposed confusion, the old lady’s words were surprisingly lucid.

She waved a hand. "Go to your husband. What do you have to say to an old woman like me?"

Lu Feng gave a quiet chuckle, and Jiang Wanrou shot him a glare from across the room before turning back to the matriarch, softening her voice. "Grandmother, how have you been feeling lately?"

The matriarch beamed. "All’s well. How does Jun Chi treat you? That boy may seem cold, but his heart is warm—a good lad."

Now it was Jiang Wanrou’s turn to laugh. Only the matriarch would call Lu Feng a "boy." The old lady was nearly deaf, so Jiang Wanrou had to raise her voice when replying, "He treats me very well," nearly shouting it for the whole hall to hear. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

She returned to Lu Feng’s side, flustered. The seating arrangement remained unchanged—Lu Feng, as the head of the family, took the central seat, with Jiang Wanrou beside him. Huai Yi sat next to the matriarch. He was a well-mannered child, carefully considering each of her words before responding, making her face light up with joy.

Lu Feng smirked and shook his head lightly. "The boy’s quite the charmer."

Jiang Wanrou refilled his wine, her tone pointed. "Since his father won’t bother, the child has to work harder."

Lu Feng raised a brow. "His father treats his mother... very well."

Jiang Wanrou: "..."

She stealthily slipped her hand beneath the table, hidden by the tablecloth, and dug her fingers into his side—hard.

The mix of pain and tingling made Lu Feng grunt, his face contorted. "Not here."

He naturally interpreted her flustered anger as flirtation, especially after she had publicly declared, "He treats me very well."

Tsk. Such private words should be whispered to him later—why broadcast it to everyone?

Ah well. A family banquet—he’d indulge her this once.

Lu Feng’s lips quirked as his large hand closed over Jiang Wanrou’s. Their hands wrestled under the table in a silent struggle until Jiang Wanrou suddenly froze, catching sight of a familiar maid.

It took her a moment to recall the girl’s name—Zhou Miaoyin, a distant relative from the second branch.

The spy she had caught just before giving birth. She had left her to Lu Feng’s handling, leaving the matter to him without further thought. She’d heard from Lu Feng that the girl was a spy for Prince Chen. With Prince Chen’s entire line eradicated, how was she still alive? That wasn’t Lu Feng’s style.

Lu Feng remained outwardly composed, absentmindedly tracing her fingers. "Didn’t you say to spare her life?"

Jiang Wanrou blinked. Since when—? Ah, right. She had captured Zhou Miaoyin first, hoping to recruit her. To prove her sincerity, Zhou Miaoyin had exposed Lu Feng’s past, shocking Jiang Wanrou so much that the twins came early.

True to her word, she had apparently actually mentioned it to Lu Feng: "She's just a young girl—a pitiful thing. If her involvement isn't too serious, let her live."

Even she had forgotten, yet Lu Feng remembered! Every word she spoke, he took to heart.

Jiang Wanrou stiffened slightly, her chest clenched as if squeezed by a fist, aching and tight.

At this moment, she realized that Lu Feng cared for her more deeply than she’d ever realized.

Jiang Wanrou remained silent for a long while. Sensing something amiss, Lu Feng bent down to ask, "What's wrong? Are you unhappy?"

She shook her head, lowering her long lashes as she whispered, "Lu Feng, have I ever told you how deeply I love you?"

"Hmm?"

A hint of confusion flickered across Lu Feng’s stern face. Jiang Wanrou smiled, raising her wine cup before him. "Husband, we have been bound as husband and wife for seven years, blessed by your devotion, keeping each other warm through hardship. This cup is to you—may you enjoy health and happiness, with each year as joyful as today."

Lu Feng clinked his cup against hers and said solemnly, "You can’t hold your liquor. Don’t overindulge."

He couldn’t understand why a simple spy would send her veering between joy and sorrow. That night, Jiang Wanrou was in high spirits, drinking cup after cup despite Lu Feng's attempts to stop her. By the time they returned to the palace, she was indeed drunk.

Jiang Wanrou's drunkenness was unlike others—she didn’t flush, and her speech remained smooth. Only later, behind the bed curtains, did she bite his shoulder sharply and cry out, "It hurts, you brute!"

Sweat beaded on Lu Feng’s forehead. He paused before thrusting deeper, making Jiang Wanrou wail even louder, "Not there! The matron said it's not there—move somewhere else!"

Before Lu Feng could process the mention of a "matron," Jiang Wanrou, her dark lashes wet with tears, wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed against him slowly.

The matron had said women could take pleasure too—if only they found the right spot. Sober, she had been too shy to explore, but now, drunk, her boldness knew no bounds.

...

The long night stretched on as the long-married couple tangled together, ascending the heights of bliss. As for facing Lu Feng's dark expression the next morning? Jiang Wanrou thought: Who cares? Seize the day—joy now, worries later.

After all, he loved her.

—The End

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