Only one thought remained in her head: The Emperor had just been squatting in their warehouse hammering a hoe?!
Li Yue sat down beside Meng Fu, lowered his gaze to look at Xie Wenzhao kneeling on the ground, and said in a deep voice:
“Zhen heard that the Marquis of Xuanping is to be wed tomorrow. Why is there time tonight to come here?”
“Your subject… your subject…” Xie Wenzhao’s mind was a mess, and a fine layer of sweat beaded on his forehead.
He had no idea how to explain—more importantly, why was His Majesty here?
“Hmm?” Li Yue raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is this question so hard to answer?”
The mottled shadows of trees fell over Xie Wenzhao’s body. He told himself over and over to stay calm. Right now, there was no need to think about anything else—he just had to focus on answering the Emperor’s questions. Only by doing so could his mind settle a little.
He answered: “Your subject came to visit Meng Fu.”
“To visit A’Fu?”
Li Yue stroked his chin and said: “Coming to visit A’Fu the night before your wedding—Marquis of Xuanping, how lively your spirits are.”
Meng Fu turned her head to glance at His Majesty—why did it feel like there was a hint of jealousy in his words? Even such bland vinegar he had to eat? [“eat vinegar,” a Chinese idiom meaning to be jealous, especially romantically]
She grasped His Majesty’s hand, and her fingers lightly scratched his palm.
Li Yue immediately turned his head, leaned slightly toward Meng Fu, and just as he was about to touch her, he suddenly froze—he hadn’t changed his clothes yet. He feared he might dirty Meng Fu’s clothing.
Meng Fu used her other hand to take out a handkerchief and wiped his face for him.
Xie Wenzhao was still kneeling on the ground, head lowered, looking toward the floor. He hadn’t noticed any of their interaction. He was racking his brains for a reason, and finally replied:
“Replying to the Emperor, this subject merely heard that Master Meng removed Meng Fu from the clan registry. I feared she might be struggling alone outside, and thus came to check whether she needed help.”
Li Yue, having just been soothed by Meng Fu’s gestures, nodded and said:
“I see. The Marquis of Xuanping is indeed thoughtful. But you’re to be wed tomorrow, and yet you’re still wandering around in the middle of the night—what if something happened?”
That wedding tomorrow—Xie Wenzhao must go through with it no matter what!
Xie Wenzhao quickly begged for forgiveness: “This subject has acted without proper consideration—may Your Majesty be lenient.”
Li Yue said: “No need for Zhen’s leniency. As long as you properly attend your wedding tomorrow, that’s enough.”
Xie Wenzhao didn’t quite understand why His Majesty was so invested in his marriage. Perhaps it had something to do with Meng Fu, but this wasn’t something he ought to concern himself with. He responded:
“Your subject will not fail to meet Your Majesty’s expectations.”
“That’s good.”
Li Yue reversed his hand and held Meng Fu’s, smiling at her.
Seeing the Emperor’s tone softening, Xie Wenzhao couldn’t hold back and boldly asked:
“Your Majesty, you and Meng Fu…”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he suddenly snapped awake and immediately said: “This subject has misspoken.”
Not to mention that he had already heard the Emperor refer to Meng Fu as “A’Fu” just now—just looking at how the Emperor was dressed and staying here, everything was already clear.
Past memories flashed rapidly through Xie Wenzhao’s mind, but at this moment, he dared not delve any deeper.
Li Yue said: “Not quite misspoken—but what words should be said, and what words shouldn’t be said—Marquis of Xuanping, you’re a clever man. You should understand it in your heart, right?”
“Your humble subject understands.” Xie Wenzhao bowed deeply.
What happened back then—he owed Meng Fu. Now that Meng Fu could receive His Majesty’s protection, there was nothing bad about it. This was her own zaohua. [“fortune bestowed by fate,” often implying a kind of divine blessing or lucky destiny]
Li Yue said: “If there is nothing else, then withdraw.”
“Your humble subject takes his leave.” Xie Wenzhao rose from the ground and left the courtyard in proper form.
Only, just as he turned, the corner of his eye happened to catch sight of His Majesty holding Meng Fu’s hand and playing with it.
Xie Wenzhao didn’t dare look further and quickly left.
As soon as Xie Wenzhao left, the matter was considered over. But the moment Meng Fu looked up, she saw Qingping still standing dumbly in place, like she had lost her soul. Meng Fu raised her voice and called: “Qingping?”
Qingping came back to her senses. She still wore a face of shock and stammered: “You… you… you’re the Emperor?”
Li Yue cleared his throat and said in a deep voice: “Impudent Qing—”
Meng Fu hastily reached out and placed her hand on His Majesty’s lips. Thus, before His Majesty could begin speaking, his words had already come to an end. Meng Fu said: “Alright, stop teasing Qingping.”
She then turned her head to comfort Qingping: “It’s fine. He was the one who deceived people first. He won’t blame you.”
Seeing Qingping still looking like she was sleepwalking, Meng Fu felt she probably needed a little time to calm down. So she said: “The bookshelf in my room is a bit messy. Qingping, go help me tidy it up.”
“Yes, Miss.” Qingping answered by habit. She turned around and walked into the house with both her hands and feet moving together.
“I didn’t deceive anyone.” Li Yue held the hand Meng Fu had placed before his lips and gave the back of it a small kiss. He smiled and said: “I’m just a broken steward who fancied the young miss.”
Meng Fu pressed her lips together and shook her head with a helpless smile. Her gaze was gentle as she withdrew her hand from Li Yue’s, lifted his chin, and nodded: “This steward of mine does look fairly decent—can he serve people well?”
Under the intermingling glow of moonlight and lamplight, Li Yue’s pair of eyes shone as if glowing. He smiled and said: “Young Miss, I’m very good at serving people.”
It was a pity that Young Miss didn’t seem inclined to let him serve tonight.
The “broken steward” slumped over the table, suddenly changed his tune and said: “A’Fu, I want to hear you play the qin.”
“What would His Majesty like to hear?” Meng Fu asked him.
“Whatever A’Fu plays, I like it all.”
There was a soft smile on Meng Fu’s face. She turned and sat upright, her slender fingers plucked the strings, and the zhengzheng qin sounds began to flow from between the strings.
The scent of flowers drifted tenderly, tree shadows swayed gently.
Xie Wenzhao walked along the desolate long street. The shadows of high courtyard walls pressed him into the darkness. His mind was in turmoil, like countless tangled strands of hemp thread. He couldn’t unravel them, nor could he say clearly what kind of outcome he truly wanted.
He was going to marry Meng Yu tomorrow. What would happen to Meng Fu afterward—actually didn’t have much to do with him anymore.
Thinking that, Xie Wenzhao’s steps still unconsciously slowed. At this moment, a clear and distant guqin sound suddenly drifted from behind him, and Xie Wenzhao’s steps halted at once.
He was familiar with this qin sound—far too familiar.
Xie Wenzhao was quite accomplished in qin art, and had always been proud of his skill in recognizing people through their playing. He had once heard His Majesty play the qin atop Fengji Mountain, so was the one playing the qin in that courtyard now also His Majesty?
That guess was perfectly logical, but Xie Wenzhao just felt that something wasn’t right.
Moonlight flowed like water, scattering across this cold world. The guqin melody continued, but it was far more relaxed and cheerful than any he had ever heard before.
He suddenly turned around and ran back like a madman. It was as if he had returned once again to that torrential rain in Xuzhou. The evening wind lifted his long robe, and his figure was printed across the long expanse of time, his shadow struggling and collapsing again and again among tens of thousands of shadows. Borrowing the snow-white moonlight, he ran down this long road to the end.
He finally reached the courtyard from which the guqin sound had come. Just now, he had left from here, and now he was once again standing in front of this door, breathing heavily, both hands trembling. His mind was in chaos, as though some kind of ghost or spirit was luring him in the dark. He gently pushed open the door in front of him.
The moonlight was as bright as ever—but Xie Wenzhao felt some disgust for this moonlight now. It allowed him, at a single glance, to see clearly that the one playing the guqin in the courtyard was not His Majesty—but Meng Fu.
So it turned out Meng Fu could also play such music.
To Xie Wenzhao, this was no different from a thunderclap on a clear day. And yet, perhaps because he had just been scared by the Emperor once already, his mind at this moment was incomparably clear—and it seemed like it had been a long, long time since he had felt this clear-headed. The mist that had always surrounded him seemed to completely dissipate in this instant. All of Meng Yu’s strange demands when playing the qin in the past, and the odd vow Meng Fu had made during their wedding—all of it now had an explanation.
Only…
That year in Xuzhou, the person who played the guqin—who was it exactly?
Was it His Majesty, or was it Meng Fu? Or… was it someone else entirely, and from beginning to end, the problem had always been his own ears?
Xie Wenzhao suddenly felt that he himself was like a complete joke. All these years—just what had he been so obsessed with?
If it had been someone else, perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered. But if it was Meng Fu…
Xie Wenzhao’s heart felt as if it had been gripped tightly by an icy hand. That hand only had to squeeze slightly, and his heart would bleed profusely, flesh and blood splattering. At this moment, even breathing became difficult.
He couldn’t help but take a step forward, wanting to ask Meng Fu whether she had ever been to Xuzhou.
He started to regret it. He regretted that in all these years, he had never once tried to get close to Meng Fu, to understand Meng Fu.
But in truth, the answer had already sprouted in Xie Wenzhao’s heart. Back then, Meng Yu had once told him she had gone to Xuzhou to visit her elder sister. Her elder sister had been raised in Xuzhou when she was little.
So laughable. Truly laughable!
What he had longed for all his life—he had already achieved long ago. But in the end, he still let her go.
Xie Wenzhao staggered a step, almost falling onto the stone steps.
In the courtyard, His Majesty saw Xie Wenzhao standing at the door. He merely lifted a hand slightly, and a secret guard appeared behind Xie Wenzhao. With one move, he dragged Xie Wenzhao out of the courtyard and said to him:
“Marquis of Xuanping, His Majesty does not wish to see you right now. Please leave at once.”
Xie Wenzhao opened his mouth. His throat felt as though it was stuffed full of sharp gravel—he couldn’t speak, couldn’t make a single sound.
“Oh right,” the secret guard’s face was expressionless, his tone nearly devoid of any inflection. He said to Xie Wenzhao, “His Majesty also said—he does not wish for there to be any mishaps in tomorrow’s marriage.”
Xie Wenzhao stood frozen in place. The biting moonlight seemed to have sealed him in ice right where he stood.