Feng Yun sneered, "So, are you saying I ruined your grand plan?"
Wen Xingsu said nothing, silently handing her the peeled pear.
Feng Yun did not take it.
He offered it again.
These days, his emotions had remained steady, dealing with everything ticulously. Apart from restricting her freedom of movent, he never forced Feng Yun into anything, as if he were still the caring older brother who cherished his sister.
He sighed, "I know I am flawed, but I want you to be well."
"Well, much appreciated." Feng Yun sneered.
Wen Xingsu remained unperturbed, set the pear aside, and wiped his hands.
"What about now?" Feng Yun looked at him and asked, "How do you plan to take Xinjing? Which puppet emperor are you grooming this ti, or are you finally preparing to ascend the Dragon Throne yourself?"
Wen Xingsu calmly looked at her.
"Yaoyao, you’re being unfair."
Outside, the spring rain fell gently, its patter audible. When he had entered, his sleeve was half-drenched, his hair touched with mist. Now, as he lingered in thought, there was a subtle bitterness in his gaze.
"In these chaotic tis, anyone can rise to power and rule. Pei Jue can, Xiao Cheng can, Chunyu Yan can—why can’t I?"
For decades, the land had remained the sa; the Dragon Throne had seen one occupant after another. Fortune turned its cycle—is it really impossible for him?
"Didn’t you teach that power must be held in one’s own hands to have peace of mind? I followed your advice, so why are you unwilling anymore?"
Under the dull light of the day, his deanor was refined and understated, yet dignified and commanding.
Every word, he spoke with forthright conviction.
Feng Yun was speechless.
To avert the tragic outco of her past life, she had forcibly reshaped fate. Yet, unknowingly, her efforts had nurtured Wen Xingsu’s ambition...
-
As March began, the weather grew warr by the day.
The climate was pleasant, but the atmosphere within the Qi Army Camp was suffocatingly tense.
Yan Buxi sat on the mat, eyes half-closed, scrutinizing the Qi Emperor before him.
A white piece was placed on the board.
There was no response from the other side for a long ti.
"Your Majesty, it’s your move."
"Mr. Yan," Xiao Cheng’s voice was slightly hoarse—he hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and weariness was evident in his expression.
"The world says she has rebelled, but I don’t believe it."
Yan Buxi raised his eyes and said, "This... I am only half sure."
Xiao Cheng’s face improved slightly. "I misjudged Wen Xingsu. I never thought he would stir the winds and clouds, harboring such ambition."
Yan Buxi sighed softly, "Your Majesty need not worry. Feng Shi Er Niang is in his hands; her life is not at risk."
Xiao Cheng remained silent.
He made no attempt to deny it...
The chessboard was quietly laid out, yet his thoughts were evidently elsewhere.
Yan Buxi studied him closely a little longer. Suddenly, the voice of a guard ca from outside the tent.
"Your Majesty, Consort Xian and mbers of the Feng Family seek an audience."
Xiao Cheng’s face darkened slightly.
After the events at Suo Yue Ridge, Xiao Cheng had shown no gratitude for Wen Xingsu’s backhanded betrayal that secured a safe withdrawal for the Qi Army. Instead, he imdiately arrested Lady Chen and mbers of the Wen Family from Jiangdong...
No one knew why he did this.
But upon hearing her mother was taken away, with her fate uncertain, Feng Ying panicked instantly. Thus, together with Feng Jingteng, she set out with the entire clan from Tai City to plead with the Qi Emperor.
The Feng Family had fallen, and they no longer held sway in the Imperial Court. Without high-ranking officials among their circle, they had lost their voice. Yet as a noble family with centuries of history, their pride remained. Feng Ying was still an Imperial Concubine, and for her to kneel at soone’s doorstep—it was indeed unseemly.
Yan Buxi raised his eyes, "Your Majesty, why not et with them? This ga can wait."
Xiao Cheng furrowed his brows and nodded.
Just as last ti, he chose to summon only Feng Jingteng.
He offered fine tea and spoke with polite persuasion.
"Minister Feng, go ho. Your wife conspired with the traitor Wen Hui to stir trouble, nearly causing the Qi Army to be lost at Suo Yue Ridge... Treasonous cris cannot be pardoned, so pleading with is useless."
Feng Jingteng clasped his hands and bowed repeatedly.
"My wife is timid; it is absolutely impossible for her to commit such heinous rebellious acts. There must be so misunderstanding here—I implore Your Majesty to look into this..."
Xiao Cheng’s face darkened, "So, Minister Feng, are you suggesting I am framing her?"
Feng Jingteng flinched, his lips quivering, unable to form words.
Slowly, Xiao Cheng cast him a glance, his gaze steady.
"What’s more, your daughter is still in the hands of the traitor Wen Hui. Don’t you want to save her?"
Feng Jingteng let out a startled gasp, his expression deeply shocked.
"Your Majesty ans... Shi’er Niang, she... She, along with my stepson—no, that traitor Wen Hui—wasn’t part of the rebellion?"
Xiao Cheng replied coldly, "You, as her father... Hmph!"
He waved his hand, unwilling to say more.
"Withdraw. I’m weary."
Feng Jingteng hesitated for a mont, reluctant to leave entirely.
"Your Majesty, if I may trouble you with one last question—may I ask, my wife... where is she being held? And at present... is she alive or dead?"
"She won’t die." Xiao Cheng glanced at him indifferently and said flatly, "She is Wen Hui’s birth mother. How could I let her die?"
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