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After Emperor Wei asked this question, he subtly observed Xiao Ziyu’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.
There had long been rumors about an ambiguous past between the sixth princess of Liang and Qi Jingchen. Though these tales had circulated for years, their veracity was uncertain. While matrimonial alliances were not based on love and Emperor Wei did not expect genuine affection from Xiao Ziyu, he still disliked the idea of being cuckolded. Thus, he deliberately probed her with his words.
After he spoke, Xiao Ziyu showed no visible reaction, continuing to admire the flowers as if she bore no concern for Qi Jingchen. This reassured Emperor Wei somewhat, leading him to believe that the rumors might be exaggerated or false. Even if there had been something between them, it was likely a thing of the distant past—no longer capable of causing trouble.
Han Feichi appeared oblivious to Emperor Wei’s probing intentions and responded respectfully: “Your Majesty is most benevolent. Allow me to convey my gratitude on behalf of the Left Chancellor. However, Lord Qi has already recovered and will be fully well after a few more days of rest. There is no need to trouble the imperial physicians.”
Emperor Wei nodded upon hearing this, saying, “That is good.” He then added, “The eighth day of the fourth month is the Buddha Bathing Festival—a grand occasion not to be missed. If he has not fully recovered by then, I shall send the imperial physicians to check on him.”
Han Feichi bowed in thanks, and both sides exchanged polite formalities. Emperor Wei then chuckled, saying, “Come to think of it, Jingchen still owes me a match. Before his return south, he must take to the polo field once more to settle the score with Wenruo. This contest has been postponed for five or six years—it’s time for a resolution.”
Everyone laughed along, the atmosphere warm and convivial. Xiao Ziyu also smiled, saying, “I’ve long heard of the fierce spirit of the northern people. It’s said that Your Majesty excels at polo. May we have the honor of seeing you play?”
This flattery pleased Emperor Wei immensely. He found this princess of Liang quite charming, making their matrimonial alliance seem less dull than expected. In high spirits, he intended to exchange a few more jests with her.
Unfortunately, just then, a palace attendant arrived with news that Empress Zou was suffering from a headache. The crown prince had already been informed and gone to see her, and the emperor was requested to attend as well.
Upon hearing this, Emperor Wei grew visibly anxious and immediately abandoned his playful banter with the delicate flower of Liang. After issuing a few hasty instructions, he declared his intention to visit the empress. Xiao Ziyu feigned surprise and concern, offering to accompany him, but Emperor Wei declined, suggesting she enjoy the garden alone for now and promising to apologize later. With that, he hurriedly departed.
As soon as Emperor Wei left, Xiao Ziyu dropped her enchanting smile. She casually plucked a branch of flowering apricot, her expression growing colder as she muttered a curse under her breath.
It wasn’t surprising that Xiao Ziyu was angry. She had little regard for Gao Mian but was forced to feign cordiality for the sake of her future. To make matters worse, the empress, who had enjoyed decades of favor, chose this moment to intervene, further irritating her.
She was even more frustrated with herself for having to lower herself to such pitiable behavior.
But enough of that. She lacked the energy to continue pretending with Gao Mian anyway. His departure actually brought her some relief. Once she managed to avoid the palace attendants assigned to her by Emperor Wei and the accompanying officials from Liang, she discreetly asked Han Feichi: “Is he… truly fine now?”
The imperial garden was vast, and the flowering apricots, vibrant and delicate, bore a striking resemblance to the cherry blossoms behind Qingji Mountain. Looking at them evoked a sense of nostalgia, as if she had returned to Jiangzuo and the carefree days of her youth.
Back then, he was still her “Brother Jingchen,” and they had a widely acknowledged betrothal. Her brother and he had not yet fallen into irreconcilable conflict—everything was still good. As a pampered princess, she could openly chase after him wherever he went and have Su Ping arrange secret meetings with him in the imperial gardens of the Liang Palace.
But now… she had become a marriage pawn, forced to curry favor with others. Even asking about him required great caution.
Upon hearing her question, Han Feichi furrowed his brow. His demeanor, which had been courteous and respectful in front of Emperor Wei, turned cold and aloof.
He sneered, saying, “How could His Highness not know how he fares?”
His tone carried an accusatory edge, almost rudely so. Although Han Feichi shared close ties with Xiao Ziyu, the distinction between ruler and subject made such speech highly inappropriate.
Yet Xiao Ziyu did not grow angry. Instead, she flinched slightly under his rebuke, unconsciously crushing the apricot blossom in her hand. The sticky juice made her palm feel unpleasantly slick.
She lowered her head.
Han Feichi sighed, his gaze tinged with sympathy—but beneath that sympathy lay a deeper layer of cold indifference.
He said sternly, “Emperor Wei has begun to probe your intentions, Your Highness. If you wish for smoother days ahead, you must completely let go of the past. Otherwise, you risk harming yourself and others, and may ultimately reap bitter consequences.”
He paused, then added, “Besides, if we’re being honest, can you really say you share much of a past with him?”
These words cut deep, causing Xiao Ziyu’s nails to dig painfully into her palm. Yet she could not refute him and remained silent.
Han Feichi said nothing further, bowing to her and saying, “Your Highness should settle comfortably into the Wei Palace. Should you have any orders, you may summon me at any time.”
Xiao Ziyu did not respond. Without waiting for her reply, Han Feichi turned and walked away. After taking a few steps, however, he heard her call him back. Her voice was low as she asked, “Are you blaming me? But you know very well… it wasn’t my decision…”
Her words were cryptic, leaving those unaware of the situation utterly confused. However, Han Feichi understood exactly what she was referring to. His expression grew even colder as he replied without turning around: “This humble servant would never dare.”
His tone carried a hint of sarcasm. After a brief pause, he turned back to face Xiao Ziyu, his gaze now tinged with hostility. “If it had truly been Your Highness’s decision, he wouldn’t have come personally to see you off.”
Xiao Ziyu reacted strongly to this remark. She let out a cold laugh and violently threw the crushed flowers in her hand to the ground, retorting: “See me off? He clearly came for her —do you think I don’t know?”
Han Feichi remained unfazed, replying coolly: “Your Highness, please choose your words carefully.”
Xiao Ziyu trembled with anger, glaring at him. “You blame me, but not her? Are you blind to the calamities she has brought upon him?”
The mere mention of “her” caused Xiao Ziyu’s emotions to spiral out of control. Her voice grew shrill, drawing curious glances from palace attendants passing through the imperial garden.
Unwilling to continue arguing with Xiao Ziyu, Han Feichi appeared somewhat irritated. He turned his back on her once more and began walking away. As he distanced himself, he left behind one final remark: “That was his own choice. What about everyone else?”
These words hit Xiao Ziyu like a thunderclap.
She stood there, momentarily stunned, as Han Feichi disappeared into the distance. Alone in the unfamiliar and desolate imperial garden, surrounded by the towering, impenetrable walls of the Wei Palace, she gazed after him, overcome with sorrow and helplessness.
________________________________________
After leaving the palace, Han Feichi quickly returned to the Envoy’s Guest Villa.
Five years had passed, and many things had changed. Yet the Envoy’s Guest Villa remained unchanged, just as it had been when Qi Ying first came north for peace negotiations.
Han Feichi stepped down from his carriage and entered the villa gates, already noticing numerous spies and informants lurking around the premises—undoubtedly sent by the Wei to monitor the movements of those inside. Though Emperor Gao Mian appeared affable, the depths of an emperor’s mind were always inscrutable. He was highly suspicious of the Liang delegation; every move they made in Shangjing was under close scrutiny.
Han Feichi lowered his eyelids, maintaining a composed demeanor as he entered the villa alongside several officials from Liang.
Upon entering the guest villa, he immediately headed toward the quarters where Qi Ying was temporarily residing. Ba Song stood guard outside the door, sword in hand, and greeted Han Feichi politely upon seeing him.
Han Feichi nodded at Ba Song and glanced at the tightly shut door before asking hurriedly: “How is he?”
Ba Song’s expression was tense, his brows furrowed, and he shook his head.
Just then, Qingzhu emerged from the room, his countenance equally grave. Han Feichi dispensed with formalities and inquired about the condition of the person inside. Qingzhu replied: “He had improved somewhat, but after returning from that place , he…”
At this point, he couldn’t help but sigh deeply.
Hearing this, Han Feichi’s brows knitted tighter. Just as he was about to speak, a voice came from within the room.
“Zhongheng?”
It was Qi Ying’s voice—low, clear, and cold as ever, though faintly… weaker.
Han Feichi immediately responded from outside the door: “Second Brother, it’s me.”
“How is Her Highness faring in the palace?”
Through the closed door, Han Feichi replied: “Everything is well. Today, Emperor Wei discussed the wedding arrangements in detail and seemed quite attentive.”
“That’s good.”
Han Feichi hesitated for a moment before cautiously continuing: “Today, Emperor Wei also inquired about you. It seems he expects you to attend the Buddha Bathing Festival on the eighth day of the fourth month. This…”
A muffled cough interrupted him from within the room.
Qingzhu instinctively moved to enter, but a firm voice stopped him.
“There’s no need for anyone to come in. I’m fine.”
He forbade them from entering. Qingzhu grew anxious, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, yet he dared not disobey. He could almost picture the scene inside the room and knew that entering would do no good.
Master…
Everyone present felt weighed down by the gravity of the situation.
“The eighth day of the fourth month is essential—I must attend to avoid arousing suspicion from the Wei,” the calm voice continued from within. “Besides, if I remain secluded, she will have no opportunity to act.”
Though his words were calm, the underlying implications hinted at great peril. Even someone as fearless as Han Feichi listened with a solemn expression.
He said: “Second Brother, the Wei Emperor has stationed many spies around the villa. I fear we won’t be able to receive news from our family. Relying on the Chamber of Military Affairs will also be difficult. In case something goes wrong…”
His voice carried deep concern, as if urging caution. But the man inside was resolute, replying: “Zhongheng, there’s no time left.”
These words sent a chill through everyone’s hearts. For a moment, they were unsure of what he meant.
“No time left”?
Did he mean that missing this chance would leave no further opportunities? Or was he referring to himself…
No one dared to ask.
Han Feichi’s eyes filled with even deeper worry as he questioned: “And Gu Wenruo—is he trustworthy? If he betrays us, everything will be lost! There are too many variables, too much danger. Second Brother, reconsider!”
Silence stretched from within the room. Those outside, familiar with him, knew well that silence did not indicate hesitation. On the contrary, it meant he had already made his decision—one that would not waver, no matter what.
They all felt powerless.
It wasn’t that they doubted him—it was that the cost of failure was unbearable.
He would die.
Of all people, he understood this best. Yet, paradoxically, he seemed the most indifferent to success or failure, even to his own life or death.
“Bai Song.”
His sudden call startled everyone. Bai Song immediately responded, and he heard him say: “On the eighth day of the fourth month, the grounds will undoubtedly be chaotic. At that time, make sure to keep a close eye on her.”
Her.
No one needed clarification—they all knew who he referred to. They were merely astonished: despite his apparent indifference to success, failure, or even life and death, he still thought of her.
A man of iron resolve, yet…
Bai Song obediently acknowledged the order, and the room fell silent once more.
Perhaps he was too exhausted to speak any further.
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