Gao Yuexing had already walked a good distance away from Chunhe Palace when her muddled mind began to clear.
Qianqing Palace was no ordinary place. Even if the Emperor himself wasn’t present inside, it wasn’t somewhere she could just waltz into casually.
If things went wrong, she could be accused of spying on the Emperor, a suspicion that came with the risk of losing her head.
Gao Yuexing stopped in her tracks. But she really wanted to see him. After pausing briefly, she continued to walk forward, albeit at a slower pace.
When she neared Qianqing Palace, Gao Yuexing keenly sensed that the surrounding wind had grown even colder.
There were no lights near Qianqing Palace. It was the only place in the palace that remained completely shrouded in darkness at night. From her position, Gao Yuexing looked up to see a waning crescent moon hanging over the eaves.
From the moment Qianqing Palace entered Gao Yuexing’s line of sight, or perhaps even earlier, her figure had been watched by the palace guards stationed nearby.
By the time she reached the steps, Ding Wenfu had already been waiting for her for quite some time.
Gao Yuexing knew she couldn’t go any further.
Ding Wenfu said, “It’s late. His Majesty isn’t here, and Prince Xiang has retired for the night. Miss Gao, please go back.”
She had anticipated this outcome, yet Gao Yuexing still felt a twinge of reluctance.
But with the imperial guards blocking her way, there was no room for offense.
Though unwilling to leave, Gao Yuexing reluctantly took a few steps back in compromise.
Ding Wenfu sighed and advised her again, “Go back. Whatever you wish to say, save it for tomorrow.”
Dragging her feet, Gao Yuexing retreated further and turned to leave.
But just as she turned around, the previously silent and pitch-dark surroundings suddenly glowed with a faint light. It came from behind her, softly casting over Gao Yuexing and forming a small shadow at her feet.
Gao Yuexing suddenly couldn’t move.
The lights in Qianqing Palace had been lit.
Even though no sound came from within, the intent of the person inside was unmistakably clear.
Standing on the steps, Gao Yuexing locked eyes with Ding Wenfu.
Ding Wenfu shrugged in resignation. “Fine.”
He yielded, and Gao Yuexing followed behind him, finally achieving her wish of stepping into Qianqing Palace.
Li Fuxiang stood by the window, lighting the lamps. His dark cyan sleeping robes, with their wide sleeves, brushed against the table’s edge. His collar was slightly loose, and the soft lamplight made him appear as radiant and pleasing as a luminous pearl.
Gao Yuexing gazed at him intently. The words she was thinking slipped from her lips: “Why is it that you always act so serious when you’re least supposed to be?”
Li Fuxiang: “…”
He didn’t quite understand her meaning and paused with the candlestick in his hand. “What seriousness? What lack of seriousness?”
Gao Yuexing pressed her lips together, falling silent for a moment.
The candlestick in Li Fuxiang’s hand began to drip red wax. At first, no one noticed, until a streak of crimson trailed along his wrist and seeped into his sleeve. Gao Yuexing was startled and rushed forward in alarm.
Li Fuxiang’s hand trembled, but he gripped the candlestick even tighter, placing it steadily back on the table.
Gao Yuexing reached out to grab his sleeve. “Let me take a look.”
Li Fuxiang flicked his hand, and with a motion too quick to discern, he had already cleaned away the marks on his wrist. All Gao Yuexing could see was a faint reddish mark. She lightly touched it with her fingertip—there was no broken skin, though it might swell. Noticing a copper basin filled with ice chunks in the warm pavilion, she soaked a handkerchief in the ice water and wrapped it around his wrist.
Gao Yuexing asked him, “Are you feeling better? Does it still hurt? Where does it feel uncomfortable?”
Li Fuxiang lowered his gaze slightly, looking at her. “I’m fine now.”
A barely concealed happiness appeared on his face.
Confused, Gao Yuexing asked, “What’s there to be happy about?”
Li Fuxiang said, “It reminds me of many years ago. You knew that the Xiaonan Pavilion was a forbidden area, yet you still risked sneaking in to see me. And now, even knowing that Qianqing Palace is heavily guarded, you’ve come here in the dead of night, knowing full well that you might not even see me. Your loyalty to me feels like a dream, as though I’m floating on clouds. I often wonder, if I open my eyes, will the dream shatter?”
Gao Yuexing understood very well what his heart most yearned for.
Sometimes, he gave the impression of being someone who bore grudges, holding on to even the smallest things and never letting them go. But if one delved deep into his character, they’d find that the real him was entirely different.
The best way to captivate him was to show him kindness—it was the most effective bait.
He loved to immerse himself in affection.
Gao Yuexing stared at him unblinkingly. She parted her lips slightly but didn’t make a sound. Her lips formed the words: “Only I can give you this.”
Li Fuxiang raised an eyebrow, as if responding—Yes, only you.
People often lose themselves in love. Fortunately, Gao Yuexing hadn’t forgotten her purpose. She asked, “That Wen Zhaorong you brought into the palace—what’s her background?”
Li Fuxiang said, “I thought we discussed this last time. I assumed you’d figured it out.”
Gao Yuexing replied, “I’ve guessed a little.”
Li Fuxiang nodded. “It’s just as you guessed.”
In the palace, many things couldn’t be spoken plainly, even in the empty Qianqing Palace. One had to weigh the trustworthiness of even the ants crawling along the walls.
Li Fuxiang suddenly brought up a name. “Ah Xing, do you remember Li Fuqiu?”
That name had nearly faded from Gao Yuexing’s memory. “I remember. What about him?”
Li Fuxiang said, “I’ve seen him before.”
Gao Yuexing’s expression changed. “Where?”
Li Fuxiang didn’t answer immediately. After a pause, he smiled. “In a dream.”
But he didn’t seem to be joking at all.
Gao Yuexing murmured, “A dream… How could you see him in a dream?”
Li Fuxiang replied, “I saw him long, long ago. In the Xiaonan Pavilion, before I met you. Through that brick hole, he gave me a silver ingot.”
Gao Yuexing used all her strength to suppress her shock and maintain her usual composure, but what Li Fuxiang said was still surprising.
Li Fuxiang continued, “When he gave me the silver ingot, he was lying on the ground, speaking to me through the wall hole. He said two words: ‘I’m sorry.’ Unfortunately, I didn’t fully understand the meaning of those words back then.”
His act of giving a silver ingot to Li Fuxiang was undoubtedly well-intentioned.
But they were both so young at the time.
One didn’t know the value of silver, while the other mistakenly believed that silver alone could make life better.
Li Fuxiang was imprisoned in the Xiaonan Pavilion; what use was gold or silver to him in such a situation?
Why did he apologize to Li Fuxiang?
Neither love nor hate arises without reason, and neither does remorse.
Gao Yuexing’s first thought was that he must have discovered the truth about his origins—how he had taken another’s place, like a cuckoo laying its egg in another bird’s nest.
Was it out of conscience?
A sudden sense of contradiction rose in Gao Yuexing’s heart.
Li Fuqiu had once caught a young cuckoo and declared it a natural-born villain.
Yet Gao Yuexing still believed that few people are inherently evil. If Li Fuqiu had once been a child who gave silver to Li Fuxiang and apologized for his origins, what could have turned him into the person he later became—so sullen and erratic?
The incident with the spies planted by the Fox Clan must have played a part.
But the palace wasn’t devoid of people who treated him well.
There was the Emperor, of course.
There was also Tutor Liu, a great scholar of their time.
And Consort Hui of Jingmen Palace, one of the most kindhearted elders in the palace, who adored Li Fuqiu to her very core as the Emperor’s favorite son.
Did all that love fail to counterbalance the resentment and hatred in his heart?
Li Fuxiang said, “At that time, His Majesty was investigating the spies in the palace—not just the obvious ones, but also those deeply entrenched within the capital and the palace, quietly gnawing away at the foundation of the Great Xu Dynasty.”
Gao Yuexing responded, “I know about that. It’s said it took a very long time before the net was finally cast and the operation was concluded.”
Li Fuxiang continued, “Li Fuqiu, as someone privy to certain knowledge, was secretly detained and interrogated by the Emperor. The Jinyiwei were involved. During those months when he seemed to disappear, he was actually right here in the palace, nowhere else. He wanted to see the Emperor, but the Emperor refused to meet him. The events in Qianqing Palace couldn’t escape my attention, so I seized the opportunity…”
Gao Yuexing grasped the meaning of his unfinished words.
He went to see Li Fuqiu.
Mixed emotions churned in Gao Yuexing’s heart as she asked, “Did he say he hated me?”
A scene that had long been buried deep within her memory suddenly resurfaced.
The sunlight beneath the eaves had faded, its brightness and darkness indistinct. A young boy stood there, smiling bleakly at her. He said, “Gao Yuexing, you were born to bring me misfortune.”
Gao Yuexing remembered those words vividly.
He must have seen it all along.
She had relentlessly investigated him, determined to unearth the buried truth and expose it to the world. She was hell-bent on destroying him.
Gao Yuexing closed her eyes and rested her hand on her forehead. After a long silence, she said, “I once did something knowing full well it would drive a child to a dead end, and I still went ahead with it.”
She had been so resolute, her heart so hardened, that she never hesitated.
And for many years, she hadn’t felt even the slightest regret.
Li Fuxiang raised his hand to grip her shoulders, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him. He said, “I’ve killed many people too. Some of them were even younger than me. When I crossed blades with them, I could clearly see the fear in their eyes. I knew they wanted to live, but I still personally severed their heads.”
Slowly, Gao Yuexing leaned closer.
Li Fuxiang rested his forehead against hers.
At that moment, Gao Yuexing suddenly realized that over all these years, her increasingly softened heart had been shaped entirely by the presence of the man before her.
Li Fuxiang said, “There were countless times I closed my eyes and felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, with only a sliver of ground beneath my feet. I couldn’t move forward, nor could I retreat. Sometimes, I thought, why not just fall? But every time, I thought of you. Whenever I thought of you, it felt like there was a rope tied to me, keeping me from falling. No matter where I ended up, I knew I’d eventually turn back to find you. Ah Xing, the abbot of Qingliang Temple once said that you are my blessing.”
They stood by the window.
The flickering lamplight cast their entwined shadows onto the paper screen of the window.
At that moment, someone else found themselves unable to move forward or retreat.
Outside Qianqing Palace, the Emperor stood on the jade steps, enduring the cold night wind for half the time it takes to burn an incense stick. The imperial guards knelt in complete silence, while the Emperor stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at that window with an indescribable expression that only Ding Wenfu, at the very front, dared to sneak a glance at.
Yet, it didn’t seem like he was angry.
Ding Wenfu silently speculated in his heart.
Xu Xiude, who had been standing by the Emperor’s side for some time, figured that the moment was almost over. He carefully began, “Your Majesty…”
The Emperor flicked his sleeve, cutting him off. “Enough. Tonight, I will stay at Mifei Palace instead.”
He looked down and instructed Ding Wenfu, “Stay alert and keep an eye on things inside. Later, make sure Miss Gao is safely escorted back.”
Ding Wenfu immediately responded with a bow, “Understood.”
The Emperor, unable to return to his own residence, walked away with Xu Xiude, disappearing into the shadows and retracing his steps. Ding Wenfu stood up and gave a look, signaling a few guards to silently move forward and provide escort.
Using the steel bracer on his wrist, Ding Wenfu wiped the sweat from the side of his face. He glanced once more at the shadow on the lit window and felt a surge of emotion.
—Ah, the little lovebirds who have already received the imperial decree for their betrothal truly exude a remarkable air of confidence.