Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Her consciousness, once lost in a haze of flickering lights, was slowly pulled back by her soft call.
Only then did Feng Zhongyan lower his gaze to look at her.
Her face was pale and weak, lips tinged with white, eyes moist as they met his, carrying a trace of gratitude. It was as if an invisible barrier had been erected between them, dulling the intimacy that once existed.
A year ago, when they reunited, he had failed to offer her an embrace to cling to. Now, a year later, it seemed that bridge could no longer be rebuilt.
A surge of unfamiliar pain welled up—whether it was a remnant of past memories or a new wound, he could not tell. His expression faltered slightly as he tried to examine her more closely, but she averted her eyes and asked, “Governor, are you injured too?”
“Nothing serious.” The pain in his back would occasionally tug at him, but he had no intention of leaving. Instead, he asked, “What did you eat today?”
She smiled faintly, “Lian Sheng made many of my favorite dishes. I ate a little of everything.”
“That’s good.” He asked again, “Are you still hungry?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Thirsty?”
“Lian Sheng just fed me.”
“Good.”
He struggled to find words, hoping to erase the gap of the past year between them, but it was all in vain.
The day she came to the Feng residence a year ago, he hid his feelings and did not recognize her—not because he did not recognize her face, but because he was no longer the carefree youth he had been.
Now, with the misunderstanding cleared, she did not rush into his arms for shelter, because she was no longer the girl who once longed to depend on him.
They had both grown up.
Even though memories of the past were etched deeply in their minds, clear as ever, they were now intertwined with the marks of time, making a return to the old days impossible.
Feng Zhongyan bent down to reach for a medicine bottle, but before his hand touched it, Shen Mingsu spoke softly, “Governor, you are also injured. You should let me tend to your wounds first. I have Lian Sheng here; there’s no need to worry.”
When she was unconscious, he had been indifferent to propriety and lifted her clothes to apply medicine himself. Now that she was awake, that was no longer appropriate.
“Alright.” He turned back to her, his voice gentle, “Call me anytime if you need anything.”
“Mm.”
He stood up, and as his footsteps slowly faded away, and the door creaked open, the fist clenched beneath the quilt finally relaxed. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow as the pain in her wound flared, as if a thousand ants were biting at her flesh.
Lian Sheng entered and, seeing the fine sweat on her forehead, hurriedly took a cloth to wipe it away. “I’ll apply the medicine for my lady. If the pain gets worse, just call out.”
—
The moment Feng Zhongyan stepped out, Master Yan pulled him into the adjacent room. “If the wound isn’t treated soon, your back will rot.”
In the two years since arriving at the Feng residence, Master Yan had become not only Feng Zhongyan’s aide but also, under his tutelage, a skilled healer. Yan was sharp and had some medical background already, so he quickly took on the role of the household physician.
The twenty lashes he had received were an imperial punishment, one which Feng Zhongyan had requested himself. No one dared to take it lightly—it had been truly hard and painful.
Feng Zhongyan shed his clothes and lay face down on the bed, passing himself over to Master Yan’s care, while instructing Qiao Yang nearby, “Check who Liang Er has been associating with recently.”
Hearing this, Qiao Yang understood that Feng Zhongyan did not believe Liang Er was cunning enough to act alone.
The Liang family had three branches, with Liang Yu being the legitimate heir.
Under Liang Yu were three sons, with Liang Er the youngest. He was extreme in temperament—lacking brains but ruthless and daring. The family entrusted him with their darker dealings.
This time, Liang Er had interrogated Lady Shen without authorization. Judging by Liang Yu’s reaction, he was clearly unaware of it, and Liang Yu was no fool—he wouldn’t risk his own death.
Therefore, someone else must be pulling the strings behind the scenes.
Who could that be?
Years ago, when the Zhao family ascended to the throne, the Feng family was the first to pledge their loyalty, averting a conflict among noble houses and reaping the rewards of power. Their influence quickly surpassed that of the Liang and Shao families.
Until five years ago, when the elder master Feng suffered defeat on the battlefield and was falsely accused of secretly expanding the army. The emperor, enraged, stripped the Feng family of their status. The other two families seized the opportunity to rise, eager to consume them entirely.
But before they could divide the spoils, the Feng family struck back.
With their prize lost, the other two families refused to accept defeat. The Shao family, weakest among the three, was powerless. But the Liang family was different—they were allied with Prince Kang.
Where Prince Kang prospers, so does the Liang family.
The Liang family provided funds to help Prince Kang gather supporters, among them the national tutor, Ling Mochen.
From the recent Zhou Shu incident, it was clear that the provincial administration had already sided with Prince Kang.
Yet, few knew the secret of the Shen family back then.
Only Prince Kang and the Liang family.
Now, Prince Kang’s heart was set on Qingzhou, eager to win military glory. The prince’s residence would not act at such a time.
Then who was it?
Who was so eager to push the Feng family into the spotlight?
—
That night, just as the emperor was about to retire, Gao An rushed in to report, “Your Majesty, Liang Er has arrived.”
“Feng Zhongyan?”
Gao An nodded.
The emperor sighed, “Let him vent his anger. From now on, he’ll know his place.”
The Feng family had built its reputation on loyalty and righteousness. That could not be tarnished. Likewise, the wise emperor relied on loyal noble houses like the Fengs.
Feng Zhongyan was his public face, a mirror for countless scholars from humble origins and those sacrificing themselves for the great city of Dà Yè. They supported and completed each other; neither could do without the other.
“Lord Feng is wise; he will understand Your Majesty’s intentions.”
The emperor reached out, and Gao An quickly handed him a cup of tea. Suddenly, the emperor’s fingers stiffened for a moment. Realizing it, the cup slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.
Gao An was startled and knelt down, trembling, “Your Majesty... your servant deserves to die.”
But the emperor seemed momentarily dazed, staring intently at his hand. After a long pause, he said, “Call Master Ling here tomorrow.”
—
Shen Mingsu’s wounds took half a month to heal. Feng Zhongyan visited her daily.
At first, Shen Mingsu would strain to say something, but realizing the conversation always circled the same few pleasantries, and that silence was awkward, they both ended up pretending to sleep.
Feng Zhongyan would still come, sitting quietly by her bedside, lingering for the time it took an incense stick to burn before leaving.
Before leaving, he would always tuck the blanket around her carefully.
Lian Sheng felt sorry for her. “Why does my lady always fall asleep at the worst moments? I think the governor has something he wants to say.”
Though she lacked her father’s skill in healing, Lian Sheng knew enough to recognize the medicine Feng Zhongyan used was excellent, and that the wounds were healing fast, some scabs even beginning to fall off.
It was truly time for her to stop sleeping so much.
She told Lian Sheng she wanted to go out for a walk today.
Knowing her injuries had mostly healed and that staying indoors all the time was no good, Lian Sheng hurried to prepare clothes for her.
As Lian Sheng fastened her sash, the door opened, and Feng Zhongyan entered. Lian Sheng’s face brightened, “Governor, you’ve come back early today. Lady Shen was just saying she wanted to go out for a walk.”
“That’s good.” Feng Zhongyan smiled. Having changed out of his official robes, he stood by the door waiting.
The provincial office was a place for work; nobody came here idly, and there was no special garden for strolling. Feng Zhongyan asked her, “It’s still early. Shall we walk through the marketplace?”
Shen Mingsu nodded, “Yes.”
Spring rain drizzled softly. After a spell of clear weather, it had returned to light, misty rain. Feng Zhongyan stood beneath the covered corridor and first opened his umbrella, then stepped back. Shen Mingsu opened her own umbrella and held it over her head.