Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Choice

At noon, the Empress Dowager held a small banquet at Changxin Palace, inviting the two princes of the Kimura clan and Sakura Xuanyu, among others, as a gesture of respect and gratitude for their long journey and the hardships they endured along the way.

In truth, Feng Qiuji had been mulling over what sort of relationship existed between the Empress Dowager and Kimura Xinghen. Were they partners in crime, lovers bound by adultery? It seemed unthinkable that the dignified Empress Dowager of the mighty Ling Dynasty could be consorting with a prince from a vassal state—the mere rumor would be a stain on the royal family’s honor. Though she was privy to this secret, in the present circumstances, she could only pretend ignorance and bury it deep within her heart.

Yet, such affairs were hardly rare. The lives of the court and nobility had always been extravagant and disordered; it was merely that outsiders seldom glimpsed the truth. Many who appeared innocent and harmless on the surface might well be engaged in despicable deeds behind closed doors. In history, not to mention Empresses Dowager, even emperors themselves had their share of scandals; Feng Qiuji was simply too inexperienced to have seen it all.

The banquet was set in the waterside pavilion of Changxin Palace. A gentle breeze stirred the air, the lake shimmered under the sunlight, but Feng Qiuji had little desire to attend. Still, given that the Empress Dowager had invited only a few, she had no choice but to comply.

The meal was dreadfully dull. No one spoke; everyone was preoccupied with their own food.

Feng Qiuji glanced left and right, searching for any sign of something amiss between the Empress Dowager and Kimura Xinghen, but found nothing. Eventually, she gave up her attempts at investigation—there was little point, and after all, it had little to do with her.

After the meal, everyone else departed, and Feng Qiuji was preparing to leave as well when the Empress Dowager unexpectedly asked her to stay.

“Qiuji, the weather is quite pleasant today. Stay and accompany me as I admire the lake and mountains,” the Empress Dowager instructed. Feng Qiuji had no choice but to comply, slumping back into her seat.

Ling Zetian cast her a glance but said nothing, leaving with Yu Fan in tow.

The weather truly was delightful. The last days of summer had passed, and the early autumn air was crisp and clear. The sky was a deep azure, stretching high and far; the sun was warm rather than harsh, and the occasional breeze was invigorating.

The Empress Dowager leaned back with her eyes closed, ignoring Feng Qiuji entirely. For a long while, Feng Qiuji waited, but with no orders given, she could only sit in silence, basking in the sun—the so-called privilege of accompanying the Empress Dowager to enjoy the scenery.

After a time, the Empress Dowager suddenly spoke. “Xiaozhu, give her the item.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the maid called Xiaozhu replied, stepping forward to hand Feng Qiuji a small bottle.

“This contains a slow-acting drug. From today onward, add a little to the Emperor’s food each day,” the Empress Dowager commanded, her eyes still closed.

Feng Qiuji was startled. Was the Empress Dowager truly preparing to act?

“May I ask, Your Majesty, what kind of drug is this?”

The Empress Dowager chuckled at her question. “Of course it’s poison. Or did you think it was some elixir of immortality?”

“But…” Though Ling Zetian had never treated her especially well, he had always been just enough. To ask her to do such a thing—she truly couldn’t bring herself to it. What’s more, he was the Emperor, the sovereign of the realm; if anything happened to him, chaos would surely follow. Feng Qiuji had no wish to go down in the annals of Ling Dynasty as a villain, forever reviled.

“What, you’re unwilling?” The Empress Dowager saw through her hesitation and smiled faintly.

“Willing, willing,” Feng Qiuji replied hastily. For now, it was best to return to her own chambers and formulate a plan.

“If there is nothing else, you may go.”

“Yes.” This was precisely what she wanted. Without another word, Feng Qiuji took the small bottle and walked gracefully toward Chaoyun Palace, her heart heavy with sorrow. What was she to do? How could she bear this?

Upon returning to Chaoyun Palace, Feng Qiuji saw Anuo standing upright against the wall, while before him stood the tall figure of Ling Zetian, hands clasped behind his back.

“Ling Shunuo, why have you fallen so far behind in your lessons?” Ling Zetian’s voice was cold and carried an unmistakable authority.

Anuo kept his head lowered, silent, and Feng Qiuji felt that Ling Zetian was being far too harsh. After all, Anuo was only four—a child, prone to mischief and ignorance. The Emperor’s expectations were simply too high.

“And why were you not sleeping in Jinxiu Palace last night? What were you doing wandering about?” Because of this, Ling Zetian had already punished everyone in Jinxiu Palace, ordering them to keep a closer watch on Anuo and forbidding him from wandering at will.

Though there were few concubines in his palace now, caution was still needed. If anything happened to Anuo, how could he face the departed Yan Wuying and Qin Rushui?

“Father, Anuo knows he was wrong.” Feng Qiuji heard the child’s plaintive voice, full of grievance, and her maternal instincts surged. True, the boy could be proud and troublesome at times, but on the whole, he was a good child. Seeing his distress, she decided to help.

“Prince Kimura is a prince of Fusang. Why did you push him into the lake last night?”

“I don’t like him…” At this, Anuo raised his head, his large eyes determined.

“And because you don’t like him, you think you can push him into the lake?” Ling Zetian’s tone grew more forceful, the exchange clearly becoming an adult’s bullying of a child. Feng Qiuji could bear it no longer and stepped in.

“All right, all right, Your Majesty, Anuo’s just a child. Children are straightforward in their likes and dislikes—what’s the point in being so harsh? He’s already admitted his mistake—what more do you want?” She stepped forward, pulling Anuo behind her, her actions that of an indulgent mother.

“I am disciplining Anuo. Who are you to interfere? Who do you think you are?” Ling Zetian’s irritation flared at Feng Qiuji’s unexpected intervention.

His words stung. Who was she to interfere? If not for the fact that she cared for both Anuo and Ling Zetian, she wouldn’t have bothered wasting her time. But his tone left her resentful. Indeed, she was no one—just an uncouth and reckless girl. Her happiness, status, and wealth were all gifts from Ling Zetian; without him, she would be nothing.

But did he have to speak so harshly?

“If Your Majesty deems me a nobody, then so be it. Anuo, let’s go—Mother will take you to eat,” she said, glancing coldly at Ling Zetian, then left with Anuo in tow.

Ling Zetian watched the two figures, one tall and one small, and sighed.

Born into the imperial family, his special status had deprived him of a childhood. While other children were coddled by their parents, he had begun studying the classics at age three, reciting scriptures at five, composing poetry by seven. It was a harsh reality. He remembered once sneaking out to play and, when discovered by his father, being made to copy the Three Character Classic a thousand times as punishment—he was only five then, just a year older than Anuo was now. He had once tossed aside brush and paper in anger, but in the end, reality forced him to pick them up again. As the future heir, he had to endure countless trials and hardships from an early age.

The way he treated Anuo now was only because he wished to fulfill Yan Wuying’s dying wish—to raise Anuo into a true man, one who would serve the country, become a worthy talent, and live up to Yan Wuying’s illustrious reputation. When the day came for Anuo to reclaim his heritage and take back the Yan name, he did not want him to be a weakling, mocked by all.

But would Anuo ever understand such intentions? He was only four. Ling Zetian did not expect understanding now, only that in time he would study well, practice martial arts, and become a man of both civil and martial virtue.

Such thoughts tumbled endlessly, but to nurture a talent was never easy.

“Your Majesty,” came a voice—at some point, Wei Long had arrived. “We have just apprehended an assassin who broke into the palace. She says she wishes to see you.” As he finished, a figure entered from outside.

Dressed in fluttering green robes, it was none other than Qin Ruyan.

Since their parting at the Longshan retreat, Ling Zetian had heard nothing from her. He supposed his intentions had been made clear enough that day, and she had wisely chosen to give up.

Though Ling Zetian appeared cold, he was, in truth, sentimental. He knew Qin Ruyan’s lowly origins—she and her mother had long suffered mistreatment in the household, and her mother’s background had been a source of ridicule. He had always felt great sympathy for her and had done much to help her in the past.

Back then, the Qin Ruyan he knew, though bullied, had a heart full of hope and positivity, not bitterness. She looked forward to the future, and at one time Ling Zetian had even thought that, when he ascended the throne, he would grant her the happiness she yearned for. Alas, people change. Now, Qin Ruyan’s heart was blinded by hatred—her only desire was revenge.

She approached him in her green robes, looked at him, and spoke a single sentence. “Aye, do you remember that you still owe me a wish?”

These words startled Ling Zetian. Yes, he did owe her a wish—a promise he made on her eighteenth birthday, that he would grant her whatever she desired.

“What is it you want?” Ling Zetian’s gaze swept lightly over her face, memories of old times flooding back.

“I want to be your consort.” Qin Ruyan’s lips curved into a breathtaking smile as she reached out to clasp his hand. “Marry me.”

---A side note---In truth, Qin Ruyan is the true female supporting character, haha.