After taking the medicine, Li Fuxiang gradually settled down, and the heat on his body subsided. Perhaps feeling hungry, he groggily turned over and climbed up. His eyes weren’t fully open yet when he reached out for the plate of snacks by the bedside.
The lacquered redwood tray was divided into eighteen compartments, each holding a different kind of delicate pastry or candy, always freshly prepared that day.
Li Fuxiang grabbed a piece at random and stuffed it into his mouth, leaving his hand covered in sticky crumbs. Just then, a soft little hand gently lifted his own, and Gao Yuexing carefully wiped his hand clean with her handkerchief.
Li Fuxiang stopped eating the snacks and stared at her intently.
Gao Yuexing’s delicate features were like a meticulously cultivated white peony in a flower conservatory—both beautiful and pristine. Something so perfect naturally inspired admiration but also an inevitable sense of self-consciousness.
However, Li Fuxiang, with his pure sincerity, had no concept of “self-consciousness.” When faced with something beautiful, he simply reached out to touch it. Without hesitation, he grabbed a handful of her cascading black hair.
Gao Yuexing’s hair was exceptionally well-maintained, cool and silky as it spilled across his palm.
The palace maids stood silently on either side, while in the corner of the hall, Ding Wenfu rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, watching the two children interacting as if no one else were there. He let out a sigh.
Gao Yuexing was the first peer Li Fuxiang had ever truly interacted with, and the only one. Li Fuxiang’s childish ignorance made him clingy, while Gao Yuexing, still so young herself, indulged his whims.
As the Book of Rites states: “At seven years old, boys and girls shall not share seats or meals.”
Li Fuxiang, now ten, still didn’t understand etiquette or social norms.
Ding Wenfu couldn’t help but think ahead—what would become of this child in the future?
When the Emperor returned to the palace and saw that Li Fuxiang was in good spirits, his own mood lifted. He instructed the attendants to dress Li Fuxiang, saying he would take him out for a walk.
Ding Wenfu instantly grew alert. “Leave the palace?”
The Emperor glanced at him with a smile. “Don’t make a fuss.”
Ding Wenfu nearly lost his composure. The Emperor leaving the palace in plain clothes—how could this not be a big deal? If anything were to go wrong, how could he possibly bear the responsibility?
A palace maid placed Li Fuxiang on the carpet and began dressing him. Just as she tied the sash around his waist, Li Fuxiang, lost in thought, gently tugged at it, causing it to unravel completely.
The maid silently tied it again.
Li Fuxiang silently undid it again.
The Emperor had already changed into his casual attire and emerged from behind the screen, only to find Li Fuxiang’s clothes looking worse and worse.
Only Gao Yuexing noticed that the maid had tied a pipa knot around Li Fuxiang’s waist.
In his previous life, Li Fuxiang had always disliked pipa knots. Whenever he saw one, he couldn’t resist untying it. Gao Yuexing hadn’t expected that this peculiar little habit of his had persisted since childhood.
Was the pipa knot really that detestable?
Unable to watch any longer, Gao Yuexing tapped the maid’s skirt, signaling her to step aside. She pulled Li Fuxiang toward her and deftly tied a tuanjin knot instead. After smoothing it out and examining it for a moment, she still felt it was missing something. She removed a pearl from her own sachet and hung it on the knot.
All of this was observed by the Emperor.
The natural familiarity between the two children as they interacted made for an extraordinarily—pleasing sight.
Before nightfall, a carriage exited the palace gates.
It was impossible for the Emperor to leave the palace without an escort. Ding Wenfu accompanied him openly, while in the shadows, the Imperial Guard had quietly tightened city defenses.
The weather had grown increasingly cold in recent days, and Li Fuxiang had just recovered from a cold. The Emperor was determined to take him out of the palace, not for any other reason but to let him experience the Lantern Festival in the capital—a three-night celebration that began on the first day of the twelfth lunar month and continued without pause.
He should see it; it was, after all, his by right.
Gao Yuexing had seen the Winter Moon Lantern Festival many times before.
But this time was different.
It was her first time experiencing it as a child.
Li Fuxiang clung to the window lattice, peering outside.
As the crowd grew, the carriage slowed, stopping and starting as it followed the riverside. At one stall, an elderly woman selling sugar figurines reached through the window and handed the two children a candy figurine. The Emperor waved his hand and tossed down a silver ingot.
The sugar figurine was exquisitely crafted. Gao Yuexing held hers in awe, reluctant to take a bite.
Li Fuxiang, on the other hand, had no such delicate sentiments. His sugar figurine depicted a sweet and chubby little girl. Without hesitation, he bit off half of its head.
Gao Yuexing stared at him in shock.
Li Fuxiang met her gaze for a moment. As if understanding something, he thoughtfully offered the half-bitten sugar figurine to her.
An overwhelming curiosity suddenly surged within Gao Yuexing—she desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.
Leaning close to his ear, she whispered softly, “Can you really not speak?”
Li Fuxiang felt ticklish and shrank his neck, looking at her with a confused expression that seemed genuine. Gao Yuexing felt a fleeting disappointment, sadness welling uncontrollably in her eyes. Li Fuxiang noticed and stared at her silently for a long moment.
Dusk descended.
The brilliant glow of the lanterns reflected on the misty river waves, an opulent scene that seemed as if the splendor of the heavens had shattered and spilled into the mortal world.
In their small world within the carriage, their gaze met for only a brief moment. Yet Gao Yuexing keenly sensed an unusual emotion.
The Emperor carried Li Fuxiang in his arms as he stepped out of the carriage.
Ding Wenfu immediately followed, lifting Gao Yuexing and seating her on his shoulders.
Perched high, Gao Yuexing looked up toward the distant clouds.
She recalled that at the age of sixteen, an imperial edict arrived, finalizing her marriage to Prince Xiang. The palace had sent a carriage to escort her back to the capital. That return journey happened to fall on the first day of the twelfth lunar month. Draped in the twilight, she entered the city gates. She ordered her escorts to stop the carriage and walked alone through the dazzling splendor of the festival, where she encountered Li Fuxiang.
He was dressed plainly in a dark robe as black as ink. Amid the night, he might have gone unnoticed, but under the glow of countless lanterns, he seemed naturally destined to draw her attention.
Even now, Gao Yuexing could vividly recall her panic at the time. She blurted out her innermost thoughts without restraint: “The imperial decree for this marriage—was it His Majesty’s decision or yours?”
Li Fuxiang didn’t answer.
Instead, he handed her a lantern depicting Chang’e flying to the moon.
Gao Yuexing tilted her head back, brushing away the dampness on her face with her sleeve, blinking back tears. Just then, Ding Wenfu stopped abruptly. Right in front of her, a Chang’e flying to the moon lantern hung so close it nearly touched her nose.
Ding Wenfu called up to her, “Miss Gao, pick a lantern you like!”
Unbidden, Gao Yuexing reached out to take the lantern before her.
The shopkeeper quickly climbed a ladder, saying, “Let me help you, miss. Be careful.”
Once the lantern was taken down, Ding Wenfu prepared to pay.
The unexpected event occurred in that instant.
Gao Yuexing ultimately failed to take hold of the Chang’e Flying to the Moon lantern. Ding Wenfu swiftly yanked her down, pulling her into his arms for protection. The lantern tumbled to the ground, and before Gao Yuexing could shake off her daze, she was already out of Ding Wenfu’s embrace.
The guards accompanying them in the shadows moved through the chaotic crowd in an orderly manner, quickly converging around the Emperor. Gao Yuexing caught sight of the lantern lying not far from her feet. She hesitated, her fingers twitching, as she thought of picking it up.
The moment she moved.
Someone behind her grabbed her immediately.
It was Li Fuxiang. His thin and fragile hand clung tightly to her sleeve, preventing her from taking even a single step further.
The stone lanterns along the palace paths lit up one by one. Tonight, the wind was strong, causing the flames to flicker wildly.
At this same moment, Consort Xian chose to visit Jingmen Palace, bringing a sprig of wintersweet to Consort Dowager Hui.
The Consort Dowager had always been fond of wintersweet and received it with joy, inviting Consort Xian into her chambers. “You don’t look well today, Consort Xian. Are you feeling unwell?”
Consort Xian forced a smile. “I heard that His Majesty left the palace in plain clothes. I can’t help but feel uneasy, and it’s kept me from sleeping. I decided to visit and disturb Your Grace instead.”
The Consort Dowager ordered for two more lamps to be lit and remarked, “The Emperor hasn’t visited you in the past few days, has he?”
Consort Xian replied, “His Majesty has been busy with state affairs.”
The Consort Dowager chuckled. “There’s no need to cover for him here in my palace, where there are no outsiders. The Emperor hasn’t just been neglecting you—he hasn’t attended to anything lately.” She then raised her hand and gestured lightly toward the east. “And that person residing in my palace still hasn’t been dealt with.”
Consort Xian was taken aback. “I thought His Majesty had already given you instructions regarding him.”
The Consort Dowager sighed. “I’m still waiting.”
Li Fuqiu had become the most awkward figure in the palace. Some bolder eunuchs had even started secretly placing bets on the manner of his death.
Seeing Consort Xian’s worried expression, the Consort Dowager attempted to console her. “Are you so restless because of the incident with the pastries that day?”
Consort Xian, her thoughts laid bare, admitted openly, “It wasn’t until I returned to the palace that I broke into a cold sweat. Heaven and earth must have truly blessed us that the child didn’t eat the pastries. Otherwise, otherwise…”
She had spent sleepless nights under the lamplight, shivering whenever she thought about the scene.
Though it was the Emperor’s decree, if the child had truly died, there was no guarantee the Emperor wouldn’t vent his grief and anger on her.
Yet a lingering doubt gnawed at Consort Xian’s heart.
In the Xiaonan pavilion, where food and clothing were scarce, why had he refused to eat the pastries sent to him?
The Consort Dowager had also pondered this over the past few days. “Ordinary families wanting to adopt an heir know it’s best to take them in while they’re very young, so they grow up thinking of themselves as part of the family. That child, after all, is already ten years old. It’s difficult to nurture genuine attachment at that age. The Emperor brought him back so eagerly without considering the future. After enduring years of hardship in the Xiaonan pavilion, if the child learns the truth when he’s older, how could he not harbor resentment?”
Consort Xian had thought of this herself long ago. “His Majesty must understand this, too.”
If even they could foresee these troubles, how could the Emperor not?
Consort Xian had assumed the Emperor would feel some apprehension, yet he appeared utterly unconcerned. He had brought Li Fuxiang into Qianqing Palace to raise him personally, as though nothing had ever happened.
Consort Xian closed her eyes, her headache growing worse.
The Emperor loved Imperial Noble Consort Zheng above all else.
His feelings came late but deep.
When Imperial Noble Consort Zheng was alive, the Emperor would occasionally favor consorts like her. But ever since the Imperial Noble Consort’s passing, the Emperor, in his grief, seemed to have even restrained his desires.
The Emperor was, after all, the Emperor.
For over a decade, Consort Xian believed she had come to understand the Emperor’s temperament thoroughly. Yet, when an imperceptible crack appeared in the unfathomable heart of the sovereign, she found herself flustered and lost.
What exactly was the Emperor thinking?
—
TL: So far, I think the Emperor’s character is the most complex and enigmatic during these chapters. Full of contradictions. I can’t say he’s bad but I can’t say he’s good also.