“Shouldn’t be, ah,” Prince Xuan tilted his head, furrowed his brows, an expression of utter confusion, he said, “This prince hasn’t even done anything yet, ah.”
He thought for a moment and added, “If His Majesty knew that this prince secretly came to the Imperial Capital, judging by His Majesty’s temperament, he would definitely have directly sent people to capture this prince. As for the previous matter with the remnants of the former Crown Prince plotting rebellion, although this prince did interfere, it’s impossible for any evidence to be left behind. Even those rebel parties didn’t know this prince’s identity—how could His Majesty possibly know?”
For every possibility of exposure Prince Xuan thought up, he immediately refuted it himself. He sat down on the chair, feeling that His Majesty wouldn’t suspect him, and he asked again: “But then why did he smile at you?”
The subordinate thought for a bit and said to Prince Xuan: “Your Highness, could it be that Nanny Liu gave us up?”
“Impossible. Nanny Liu didn’t even know it was this prince meddling, and every time, this prince would send someone to keep watch on her and destroy all the correspondence.” Prince Xuan rested his chin on his hand. Could it be Nanny Liu made wild accusations and, like a blind cat running into a dead mouse, randomly mentioned himself to His Majesty?
He liked smiling so much, surely his luck wasn’t that bad. Prince Xuan consoled himself inwardly for a long time and couldn’t help but ask again: “Did His Majesty really smile like that?”
“Replying to Your Highness, it’s absolutely true.” The subordinate hesitated for a moment, then said, “Actually, that day when this subordinate attended court, His Majesty also seemed to smile.”
Prince Xuan’s brows furrowed even tighter. This Li Yue fellow wasn’t someone who couldn’t smile—it’s just that he rarely did. Especially after becoming emperor, he was like a firecracker—poke him and he explodes. Where would there still be any smiling face to give people? What kind of joke was this? Moreover, this imperial nephew of his didn’t really like him and almost never hid his preferences in public. What wind did he catch this time?
The subordinate suggested: “Your Highness, why don’t we quickly return to Yecheng?”
Prince Xuan pondered for a moment and said: “This prince still has matters to take care of in the Imperial Capital. You may withdraw for now. Let this prince think about it some more.”
To Prince Xuan, this was destined to be a sleepless night.
But if Prince Xuan knew that the real emperor inside the Xuanping Marquis Manor would also be unable to sleep tonight, perhaps he would feel a bit better.
When Li Yue returned to the Marquis Manor, as soon as he got off the carriage, he saw Xie Wenzhao and his three concubines waiting at the door.
This was actually the first time Xie Wenzhao stood at the door late at night not sleeping, waiting for Meng Fu to come home. It wasn’t that he suddenly grew a conscience and started caring about his wife’s safety, but ever since he took Meng Fu into the palace last time, her bold and reckless behavior had unsettled him. He couldn’t calm his mind, couldn’t read his books—afraid she might have done something outrageous at the banquet and implicated the Marquis Manor. Now that he saw Meng Fu return unscathed, Xie Wenzhao finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Back then, when the old Marquis and old madam persuaded him to marry Meng Fu, they praised her as a proper noble daughter, virtuous and gentle. She truly used to be like that—but now, there wasn’t a trace of her former self on her. He even heard that his mother had suffered humiliation in front of Meng Fu. Perhaps now, there was a sliver of regret in his heart.
Seeing that Meng Fu didn’t seem to have stirred up trouble, Xie Wenzhao didn’t say a single word and just turned to go back inside.
Sun Yulian was a bit dumbfounded. What did the Marquis mean by this? He had stood at the door of the manor for several hours waiting, and now that the Madam came back, he didn’t even say a word before leaving? What was this all about?
Men’s thoughts are so hard to guess. Sun Yulian politely said her farewell to Li Yue and hurried off to chase after Xie Wenzhao.
Hua Xiaoling and Qu Hanyan, on the other hand, still wanted to show off a bit in front of Li Yue, but Li Yue found the two of them annoying and directly sent them away.
He returned to Jixue Courtyard, but in his mind he was still thinking about how Meng Fu smiled at him in the Imperial Garden later that night.
At that time, the moonlight was like flowing water, the fragrance of flowers thick and rich, and the swaying shadows of the trees moved gently with the evening breeze.
Clearly it was Li Yue’s own face, but when she smiled, he suddenly felt she looked completely different from himself.
Why did she smile at him?
Li Yue sat in front of the mirror and imitated the smile Meng Fu had shown him later, but no matter how he smiled, it didn’t look like her.
Li Yue rubbed his face. Might as well let her smile again for him in the future.
Qingping finished making the bed and came over to ask him, “Madam, did you encounter something good in the palace? You’ve been smiling ever since you got back.”
Li Yue said, “It’s nothing, just saw someone—smiling looked quite nice.”
“Was it a man or a woman?” Qingping pressed.
Li Yue was silent for a moment, then said to Qingping, “Where do you get so many questions from? Hurry back and go to sleep.”
Qingping was just casually asking, but seeing Li Yue’s attitude now… could it have been a man?
Madam thinks a man’s smile looks good—doesn’t this seem a bit suspicious?
She still wanted to ask a couple more questions, but was glared at by Li Yue, and immediately obediently withdrew.
After Qingping left, Li Yue lay properly on the bed, lifted the long ear of the rabbit plushie beside the pillow, and again thought of the drunken Meng Fu in the Imperial Garden.
Still stubbornly said she wasn’t drunk.
Next time, not even a single cup will be allowed for her.
Eunuch Gao was helping Meng Fu walk toward the Zichen Hall. Whether it was because the alcohol’s delayed effect was too strong, or because her soul wasn’t compatible enough with Li Yue’s body, Meng Fu walked shakily the whole way, and even kept seeing many versions of herself standing around her—some near, some far—some talking, some laughing.
Meng Fu opened her mouth, wanting to call them, but didn’t know how to address them.
How should she call herself?
Those versions of herself suddenly turned into the appearance of His Majesty. Meng Fu tilted her head and called softly, “Your Majesty.”
Eunuch Gao helped Meng Fu onto the couch. Hearing her murmuring under her breath, he perked up his ears and listened for a long while before finally making out the words “A’Fu” and “Your Majesty.”
Eunuch Gao, although no longer possessing that thing, had served in the palace for so many years that he still understood a bit about matters of affection between men and women. His Majesty this time truly had fallen for that Madam of the Xuanping Marquis Manor—drunk and still calling her name.
Meng Fu quickly fell asleep. She started dreaming. In her dream, she returned to the Lantern Festival night of the eleventh year of Wenkang. That night, her father Meng Yanxing originally didn’t want to go out, but couldn’t withstand the spoiled coaxing of his younger daughter and ended up taking the family of four out to enjoy the lantern festival.
When Meng Fu was young, she was sent to live away from home with her grandmother. It wasn’t until she was eight years old that she was brought back to the Meng family. By then, Meng Yu was already six. Meng Yu had grown up under their parents’ knees, so her temperament was livelier and more unrestrained, and thus she was more favored by their parents.
That night as they walked down the street, Meng Yu held Father Meng Yanxing’s arm with her left hand and Mother’s hand with her right. Meng Fu followed behind them. The lantern lights around them were dazzling and brilliant, lighting up the streets as if it were daylight. She felt like a complete outsider, someone who had nothing to do with them.
Suddenly there came a loud bang from the front. The crowd surged madly in this direction, and Meng Fu was separated from her family. By the time the surrounding area was less crowded, she lifted her head and couldn’t see any trace of Meng Yanxing or the others.
At that time, although she knew she had gotten separated from them, Meng Fu didn’t feel particularly anxious or scared. She just had no more interest in strolling and began walking back toward the Meng residence. The road back wasn’t crowded, but she did run into a group of thugs. Meng Fu was caught by them; they covered her mouth and dragged her to the outskirts.
Meng Fu thought she might die on the Lantern Festival night of Wenkang Year Eleven. It was such a lively day—one could still hear the sounds of firecrackers even in the outskirts—yet she was about to die.
Back then, Meng Fu was only thirteen years old. Her life nearly ended at thirteen.
Just as she was falling into despair, a youth dressed in black descended from the sky and rescued her from the hands of those thugs.
Under the moonlight, the youth held a long staff in his hand. His gaze was sharp, his expression unruly. With just a few moves, he beat the thugs to their knees, begging for mercy.
He walked to Meng Fu’s side, looked down at her where she had fallen to the ground, and asked her, “Can you stand up on your own?”
Meng Fu nodded, but her body wasn’t in good shape. She tried for a long time but still couldn’t get up, finally sitting on the ground again. The youth, unable to bear watching anymore, stretched out his hand toward her. Meng Fu hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand into the youth’s palm. His palm was warm and full of strength. With one tug, he pulled Meng Fu to her feet, and the moment she was stable, he immediately let go.
“Many thanks,” Meng Fu said. She knew this phrase was far from enough to repay the youth’s life-saving grace, but the few valuable pieces of jewelry she had on her had already been taken by the thugs, and she didn’t know how else to repay him.
“It’s nothing,” the youth waved the wooden stick in his hand carelessly, “Upon seeing injustice on the road, one should draw the sword to help. Where do you live? Once I’ve met someone, I’ll send you back.”
Meng Fu truly didn’t dare go home alone anymore, but also didn’t want to trouble the youth too much. Under the urging gaze in front, she eventually still said the location of the Meng residence.
That night’s moon was very round. For many years afterward, whether it was the Lantern Festival or the Mid-Autumn Festival, Meng Fu never again saw a moon as round as the one that night.
On the surface of the Xun River floated many river lanterns, like stars fallen from the sky, one by one linked together, forming a stretch, like the glowing evening clouds at the edge of the sky.
The youth picked up a stone, weighed it in his hand, then threw it toward the water, splashing up bursts of water flowers.
Meng Fu silently followed behind the youth. When she saw him turn back and look at her, she subconsciously lifted the corners of her mouth and smiled at him.
The youth said with some dislike: “Still scared? That smile of yours looks worse than crying.”
Meng Fu didn’t know whether it was from the earlier fright or because the youth had saved her life, but she felt the youth was very kind. Sensing he had something weighing on his mind, she replied to him: “You didn’t smile either.”
The youth gave a surprised “ya” sound, and said, seemingly a bit amazed: “Didn’t expect a little girl like you could talk back.”
“Sorry,” Meng Fu said.
“Sorry for what?” the youth pursued.
Meng Fu lowered her head, unable to answer.
The youth walked to the thugs, revealed a rather vicious smile, and said to them: “Smile.”
The thugs were a bit dumbfounded, lifting their heads to look at the youth blankly. Xiao? They had already knelt and called him grandpa earlier—was that not filial enough? Now were they supposed to call him ancestor?
[The word “笑” (xiào) sounds like “孝” (xiào), which means filial piety—pun.]
The youth squinted slightly, his tone a little dangerous: “Weren’t you all laughing pretty happily just now?”
Before the thugs could figure out what exactly the youth meant, he raised his hand and slammed a few punches down on them bam bam bam. Maybe those few punches knocked some sense into their heads—because the thugs quickly stretched their mouths into wide grins and started laughing ha ha.
The youth gave them a few more solid punches, and when he saw that they were laughing properly, with enough infectiousness, only then did he withdraw his hand.
Meng Fu, like the thugs, didn’t understand what the youth was doing all this for. Then she saw the youth turn back and say to her: “Little girl, today is the Lantern Festival. In a year, there aren’t many days this lively—you’ve got to smile more. Look how happy they’re all laughing!”
At that, Meng Fu really couldn’t help but laugh, and it looked much better than before.
The youth walked over and asked Meng Fu: “How did you run into those beasts? Where are your parents?”
Meng Fu lowered her head and softly said: “We got separated.”
The youth continued asking her: “Separated, so why didn’t you stay where you were and wait for them to come back for you?”
Meng Fu didn’t answer. Based on how much attention they usually gave her, it was entirely possible that Meng Yanxing wouldn’t notice she was missing until he got home.
She had always been sensible, knew her place, could carry out everything her parents told her perfectly, and never caused trouble for anyone. She knew her parents treated her differently than her younger sister, yet she never made a fuss.
She had thought she wouldn’t feel wronged—that even if she had almost died today, it wouldn’t matter. But suddenly, she realized that she was actually sad. Sad that no one cared about her, sad that if she died, everyone would probably forget her quickly, sad that in her family she seemed to carry no weight at all. She wanted to be praised by her father like her sister was—but she never received it. Meng Yanxing was always particularly strict with her. Sometimes she felt as though her entire self had been compressed into a small little box—the smaller she made herself, the less others noticed her. If she wanted to be seen, she had to burst out of the box—but she was afraid of seeing those disappointed, blaming eyes.
Unknowingly, Meng Fu’s eye sockets were already brimming with tears. As soon as she blinked, the tears slowly flowed down along her cheeks.
The youth had originally still wanted to properly scold this little girl—how could someone so young run around alone? But the moment he saw her cry, he suddenly became at a loss, patting himself down yet failing to find a clean handkerchief. He sighed: “Why are you crying now? I really can’t stand seeing people cry.”
Meng Fu slightly turned her body to the side, not wanting the youth to see her crying. She apologized: “Sorry.”
The youth said helplessly, “Sorry for what? Don’t cry, don’t cry. How about I make those guys cry miserably so you can hear it?”
As soon as he said it, he did it—he lifted his stick and went over to violently beat up the gang of thugs. The thugs wailed miserably, snot and tears streaming down, kneeling on the ground and begging as if for their lives.
Seeing this scene, Meng Fu really couldn’t cry anymore.
After beating the thugs, the youth clapped his hands and walked back. Meng Fu had already used a handkerchief to wipe away the tears on her face. She wanted to properly thank the youth, but didn’t know what he needed, and when she tried to probe indirectly, she failed completely.
The youth interrupted her and said: “So young, don’t act so old and stiff. Wanna go release a river lantern together? Write down your wish on it, maybe it’ll come true.”
Meng Fu gave a soft “mm.” She didn’t actually have any wish, and holding the brush, she didn’t know what to write on the river lantern. She turned her head and looked at the youth’s side profile beside her, and after a long time, she lowered her brush.
She still didn’t know the youth’s name, didn’t know where he came from, but she hoped that he would live a long life, be safe and happy, from now on without worries, and everything would go smoothly for him.
After the river lantern was released, the youth waved at her and said: “Come over here, I’ll teach you a few moves. If you run into this kind of people again, even if you can’t make them cry and call for their moms and dads with one punch, at least let them feel a little pain.”
The person he was waiting for never came, and with nothing better to do, he really started teaching Meng Fu how to fight.
The youth praised her as having talent, said maybe he could consider taking her as a disciple in the future.
Meng Fu didn’t know if the youth was speaking seriously or joking, but in the end they agreed to meet at the same place tomorrow, so he could teach her a few more moves.
Meng Fu had thought that so many years had passed, even if she remembered, she would only recall a few fragmented words the youth had said. But tonight, this short memory resurfaced clearly in her dreams. Later, the youth brought her to the street west of the Meng residence. Before they even reached the gate, she saw the household servants come out searching for her. The youth handed her over to them and said he would take care of those thugs.
She had thought they would still meet again the next day—but after that, she never saw him again.
That dream ended amid the fading lights of the Lantern Festival.
—
The next day, Meng Fu woke from her dream before dawn. She sat quietly alone on the couch. From Wenkang Year Eleven to Xihe Year Three, nine years had already passed. She actually could no longer clearly remember the youth’s face, but after having this dream last night, she felt he looked somewhat familiar.
She rubbed her temples, forcing herself to wake up quickly—she still had to attend court later.
There weren’t really any difficult matters in today’s court session. But after court was dismissed, Tang Mingqi came over to Meng Fu and began complaining. He said his private stash of money had been discovered by his wife last night. Not only was it all confiscated, but he’d also been punished with a ban on drinking alcohol for six months.
Yesterday he had drunk too much, returned home and collapsed into sleep. When he sobered up, he saw the little purse he used to hide money hanging above his head—and Madam Tang sitting at the edge of the bed, her mouth wearing a cold smile.
Tang Mingqi instantly sobered up, his scalp nearly splitting open. With a “swoosh” he sat straight up on the bed. He had originally wanted to argue and explain a little, but under Madam Tang’s oppressive gaze, he didn’t hold out for long before confessing his guilt.
Meng Fu knew very clearly that this was His Majesty’s doing—he had even bragged about it to her just yesterday. Now she feigned surprise and said with a hint of sympathy: “Really? That’s so tragic.”
Tang Mingqi said, “Your Majesty, only a few people know where this subject hides his private money—could it be that you told my wife?”
Meng Fu said, “How could that be? Why would Zhen tell your wife about this matter?”
Tang Mingqi thought about it—His Majesty indeed had no reason to do so. Yesterday he’d even been tricked out of several jars of good wine by His Majesty. For the sake of those few jars, His Majesty shouldn’t have gone so far as to mess with him.
Thinking of this matter, Tang Mingqi felt both heartache and regret—how did he fall for His Majesty’s scheme yesterday? Actually believed that the wine in the palace was no good, and ended up sending over those few jars he had painstakingly saved up.
Drinking causes trouble! Drinking causes trouble, ah!
Tang Mingqi, for some reason, still didn’t feel at ease, and asked again: “It really wasn’t you who told?”
Meng Fu said, “It really wasn’t me.”
What His Majesty did—what did it have to do with me?
At this, Tang Mingqi was now certain that His Majesty was innocent. His Majesty had always dared to act and dared to take responsibility—if he had done it, he would never shy away from admitting it. He said, “Then it can only be Ji Yun. That brat has always been full of bad ideas. I’ll go home and try to trick a confession out of him.”
Tang Mingqi felt that he could already confirm it—this whole thing was definitely Ji Yun’s dirty work. Just wait until he got back and settled the score.
Meng Fu advised: “Ji Yun might have just been joking around. Don’t make it too hard on him.”
Tang Mingqi let out a cold snort. When he got back, he’d tell Madam Ji where Ji Yun hid his private stash of money.
Come on then! Let’s hurt each other!