Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

After several days of contention, the military honor for Qingzhou ultimately fell to Prince Kang.

When Feng Zhongyan supported Prince Kang’s request to volunteer for Qingzhou during the morning court session, the entire assembly of civil and military officials exchanged bewildered glances; no one could make sense of it, not even Prince Kang himself, who was surprised by the turn of events.

Exiting the main hall, intoxicated by the joy of fulfilling his wish as if having drunk fine wine, Prince Kang staggered, called out to Feng Zhongyan, and cheerfully patted his shoulder. “Boying, come visit my residence sometime. I have a treasured wine collection that even Master Ling can’t stop praising...”

Ling Mochen stood not far away. Prince Kang’s face brimmed with delight, and as he spoke, he glanced back.

In the court, the two most dazzling figures were none other than State Preceptor Ling Mochen and Feng Zhongyan.

Young and talented, both enjoyed the emperor’s deep favor.

Ling Mochen was affable and could converse with anyone, sometimes moody, but always reasonable and open to negotiation.

Feng Zhongyan was different. His smiling face masked a hard core—once he turned, he cut ties completely, and you might find yourself betrayed in the darkest ways; Rong Xiu was a prime example.

He had once hoped that since the princess and Lady Feng were close, he could win over Rong Xiu by requesting the emperor to grant her hand in marriage to him a year prior, but was gently declined on the grounds of a prior engagement with the Shen family.

Unfortunately, the words had already been spoken, and Rong Xiu refused to retract her decision, to the point of preferring to become a concubine rather than comply.

Such losses had cost Feng Zhongyan dearly. This Qingzhou expedition was no sure thing either, as it involved the interests of the Feng family’s second son. How Ling Mochen persuaded this ironclad figure was a mystery.

Feng Zhongyan smiled. “The heads of the barbarians await Your Highness’s capture. We shall toast to your triumphant return.”

“Good. When I bring back the heads of the barbarians, we shall drink until we are drunk—the State Preceptor, you, and I.”

Prince Kang strode with the vigor of a battlefield hero who had slain thousands. Yet, outside the hall, he could not mount his horse unaided; two servants each held one of his hips, pushing him up.

Behind him, the officials averted their eyes, and Zhou Guandao hung his head in shame.

When Ling Mochen had visited that day and after a few drinks, the provincial governor had agreed to yield. Had it not been for his son causing trouble, the governor would not have relented. The military honor that belonged to Feng’s second son was lost so easily. Zhou Guandao blamed himself and had scolded his son harshly, who was still confined indoors.

Lost in self-reproach, Feng Zhongyan quietly approached and whispered, “Tomorrow, have Zhou Shu collect his post at the Ministry of War’s armory.”

Zhou Guandao was taken aback.

His son, though lacking in literary and martial skills, was obsessed with weaponry—the cold steel of knives and spears. His reckless act was meant to gain merit in Feng Zhongyan’s eyes and secure a post at the Ministry.

After losing such a great honor, the provincial governor not only did not blame his son but sought to accommodate him?

Zhou Guandao stared at Feng Zhongyan for a long moment, unable to discern whether his emotions were gratitude or shame. “Provincial Governor...”

“Lord Feng,” interrupted a voice—the emperor’s attendant Wen Gonggong.

Feng Zhongyan turned and departed.

Zhou Guandao looked after him. Were there no one else present, he would have knelt right there in thanks.

—

The emperor summoned Feng Zhongyan also to discuss Qingzhou.

Seeing him kneeling outside, the emperor had a eunuch help him onto a wheeled chair and smiled warmly. “Boying, come in.”

Feng Zhongyan rose and entered.

The emperor patted the wooden chair beneath him. “This chair you crafted for me last time is very convenient; it serves well.” He then ordered a seat prepared.

Once Feng Zhongyan was seated and tea served, the emperor asked, “You know well Prince Kang’s capabilities. With his corpulent frame, how can he fight on the battlefield? Yet you encouraged his antics today, forcing me to agree. What is your intention?”

Feng Zhongyan replied, “Your Majesty forgets that the prince once captured a snow wolf alive, his fame spreading across the four great families. Though his fighting skills have waned in recent years, the blood and spirit engraved in his bones remain.”

Mention of the four great families stirred the emperor’s memories.

Once, the four great families—Liang, Zhao, Shao, and Feng—had all pledged loyalty to the royal Zhou family.

Later, as the royal line dwindled, when Emperor Huijing personally led a campaign to Dingzhou, only a young child was left to guard the palace, leading ultimately to the dynasty’s demise. The Zhao family seized the realm.

The other three great families, including the Fengs, bowed to the Zhao family.

Seventeen years later, the three great families are not as noble as the Zhao, but their lineages thrive, each descendant showing unique merit.

And the Zhao family?

Many have died or fallen ill, leaving only the crown prince and Prince Kang.

The crown prince, stationed in the Eastern Palace for years, has but one son—intelligent, yet weak-willed and melancholic over the tragic demise of a fallen hero, unable even to kill an ant.

Prince Kang, however, has a son and daughter.

The city prince is dissipated, spending time in pleasure districts.

Rong Xiu is even more promising—destined to become a concubine.

And himself?

His legs are crippled; he can no longer stand.

From start to finish, apart from the crown prince, not a single member of the Zhao family in court can uphold their stature.

It’s as if they are retracing the tragic steps of the previous dynasty.

The emperor pondered briefly, then understood Feng Zhongyan’s thoughts.

Not only must the Feng family gain merit; as the royal house, the Zhao family should also establish achievements in the hearts of Daye’s people.

Now, Feng Zhongyan had willingly ceded that opportunity.

He had once failed Emperor Huijing’s trust by not supporting his young son’s ascension. When he took the throne himself, he was met with scorn, accused of betrayal and ingratitude. Only Feng Yuanji knelt silently in the hall, offering the first “Long live the Emperor.”

Later, Feng Yuanji helped him establish his administration, gathering worthy men, inviting the esteemed scholar Bai Elder to serve as a respected advisor.

On the day Bai Elder died, Feng Yuanji went to the palace overnight to pay respects, then accompanied the emperor to Bai’s residence.

He knelt in the rain all night to see Bai Elder off, his sincerity moving several veteran ministers and earning the support of several former generals.

The turbulent court gradually stabilized, and the emperor’s reputation grew into that of a wise ruler.

But after Feng Yuanji’s army was decisively defeated, the emperor, in anger, demoted the Feng family to commoners, nearly causing a grave disaster.

Yet the Feng family saved him once more.

Two years ago, to stabilize the military’s morale, he personally led a campaign to Qingzhou, only to be ambushed and surrounded by barbarians. Feng Zhongyan, eldest son of the Feng family, set aside old grudges and rescued him.

To this day, the Feng family remains loyal, still caring for the Zhao family. Such fidelity moves him deeply. “Boying, with you here, I can rest easy.”

Feng Zhongyan raised his arm to salute. “Relieving Your Majesty’s burdens is my duty.”

The emperor ceased discussing state affairs and smiled, asking, “When will the wedding be held?”

“I report, Your Majesty, we are currently selecting an auspicious date.”

“It’s time to settle down. Someday, I want to see this Miss Shen who is so fortunate—even outshining Rong Xiu.”

Feng Zhongyan rose, lifted his robe, knelt, and replied, “She is but a common girl, naturally not comparable to the princess in grace and nobility. But I have a prior engagement with her and have sworn to her father to wed her. I must honor that.”

The emperor hastily extended a hand to support him. “A promise is a gentleman’s bond. I should reward you. Why kneel? Rise quickly.”

—

At midday, Feng Zhongyan emerged.

Just outside the palace gate, Fu An reported, “Princess Rong Xiu has found Miss Shen.”

Feng Zhongyan frowned. “Why seek her?”

Fu An lowered his head, saying nothing further.

Previously, Miss Shen had a marriage agreement with the provincial governor and still resided in the residence. Even if the princess was resentful, she could only endure. Now that Miss Shen had renounced the marriage, the princess could take this chance to vent her anger.

Feng Zhongyan seemed to realize this, stepping briskly out and ordering coldly, “Get in the carriage.”

—

Qiaoshi Street, one of the nine main streets of the capital, was home mostly to ordinary folk and usually peaceful. Today, however, disaster struck, and everyone was too frightened to speak.

Shen Mingsu stood calmly to the side, watching as the furniture inside the house was torn apart and a box of shadowy figures scattered like fallen leaves, trampled in the mud, their radiance completely gone.

Rong Xiu came seeking to confront her sorrow, but seeing Shen Mingsu’s composed demeanor, she was not satisfied and demanded, “You’ve already returned the marriage contract—why do you still linger?”

Shen Mingsu smiled. “Will you send me out of the city?”

Rong Xiu was speechless, cheeks flushed. “Fine, then fight me.”

Seeing Shen Mingsu being seized by guards, Aunt Wang couldn’t help but plead, “Noble guests, please, the young master Shijin is well-regarded here and has never caused trouble...”

“What are you?” a guard shoved her aside roughly.

The blacksmith Wei and several stall owners’ faces darkened, stepping forward, but Shen Mingsu quickly interceded, “Any grievances are because of me. Aim at me.”

Rong Xiu had smashed things all this while, yet Shen Mingsu remained unmoved. At last, a crack appeared on her face, and feeling relief, Rong Xiu turned to Aunt Wang’s stall, lifted her toe, and slowly placed it on a pot lid. “Isn’t this aimed at you?”

With a kick, “Clang!” The whole pot of eggs, broth and all, spilled onto the ground.

“Oh heavens...” Aunt Wang’s legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees.

Rong Xiu gazed at the fury etched on Shen Mingsu’s face and the defiant arrogance deep within, then raised her head. “This whole street, smash it all.”

Shen Mingsu’s expression changed. “Rong Xiu, don’t forget your status.”

Status? She was hardly qualified to mention status to her. She nearly called her “sister” and offered tea!

Having been mocked for so long, she must reclaim her dignity. Rong Xiu stepped forward and kicked Shen Mingsu’s bent knee. The sudden pain numbed her sinews; unable to stand, Shen Mingsu crumpled to the ground.

Rong Xiu stepped on her back and pressed down, leaning close with a smile. “The disgrace I lost, you should return it, right?”

Her toe slowly moved up from her spine to the back of her neck.

Shen Mingsu smiled bitterly. If Rong Xiu wanted to injure her pride, she would be disappointed.

Her dignity had long been lost.

Those clean knees, nurtured for sixteen years by her parents, had been sullied the moment she left the Shen family.

Her father had told her, “Ajin, remember: kneel to heaven, to earth, to your parents, but no one else in this world can make you kneel. Understand?”

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand or didn’t want to kneel. The more she resisted, the more the world forced her down.

She had knelt to many—held her dying father and knelt before passersby, knelt before a bun shop owner, a restaurant servant, and just days ago, knelt before Lady Feng...

Now, one more was no matter.

The pain in her neck grew, creeping toward her face. She closed her eyes, bracing for the final humiliation. Suddenly, the weight on her back lifted.

Then a sharp cry of pain came from Rong Xiu.

Straining to lift her head, Shen Mingsu caught sight of a half-body figure she recognized—Feng Zhongyan.

When Rong Xiu regained her senses, she was already pushed to the ground. Seeing who it was, her face drained of color. “I...”

The surrounding noise fell silent. Feng Zhongyan slowly knelt, staring unblinking at Shen Mingsu’s disheveled state. His deep, calm eyes trembled with mounting coldness and fury. Veins bulged on the back of his hand hidden within his wide sleeve. He remained silent for a long time.

Shen Mingsu could not read his thoughts.

Suddenly, she recalled that in the three years with the Shen family, even when she fell, he would brush the dust off her.

He had said, “Our Ajin should always be clean.”

He had likely never seen her in such a pitiful state.

But fortunes turn. She had witnessed his disgrace as well. Now that he saw hers, it was even.

Avoiding his offered help, Shen Mingsu rose, dusted herself off, and looked up at his eyes, flushed with some unknown emotion. She smiled helplessly. “Lord Feng, don’t say anything. This feeling you describe as unpleasant—is no worse than this.”