Feng Zhiwei glanced at the box, wondering why her face beneath the mask felt somewhat hot. Of course, her expression remained impassive and her tone calm and steady. She casually took the box and said indifferently, “Thank you, Brother Yan, for bringing this. The grain transport journey must have been exhausting. Rest early.”
Yan Huaishi glanced at her, suppressing a smile as he withdrew. Outside the door, he encountered Hua Qiong and pulled her aside, saying, “The Lord is in good spirits, so you needn’t pay your respects—wouldn’t want to disturb someone’s fine mood.” He chuckled as he spoke.
Hua Qiong looked at him questioningly. Yan Huaishi smiled and said, “Hmm, I’ve discovered something about my Brother Wei—when truly happy, he becomes especially aloof and fond of official formalities. No matter how wise and intelligent a person is, when it comes to matters of the heart, they can’t help being awkward and childish. Well, this is good—at least he seems like a sixteen-year-old now.”
Hua Qiong glanced at him again and finally couldn’t help laughing. “What nonsense are you talking about? Two men—what matters of the heart?”
“Why must it matter whether they’re male or female?” Yan Huaishi’s eyes rolled playfully, his expression neither quite smiling nor serious. “You’ve never crossed the ocean, so you don’t know that some countries have very open customs. When I was ten, I accompanied Third Uncle to the overseas Pu Kingdom, where men and women embraced and danced right in the streets—now that was romantic.”
“Really?” Hua Qiong’s face showed a look of wistful longing. “I’d really like to see that.”
She noticed faint traces of sweat on Yan Huaishi’s face. Her heart softening, she took out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. Yan Huaishi had been speaking enthusiastically and didn’t expect her to suddenly lean close. Before his eyes, her delicate white wrist moved gracefully, her sleeve’s light fragrance brushing softly against his face—a wave of warmth. His heart jolted, and he instinctively drew back.
At this retreat, Hua Qiong’s hand paused. Yan Huaishi immediately realized his mistake and quickly smiled, reaching for her handkerchief. “You’re with child—you shouldn’t be taking care of me. I’ll do it myself.”
Hua Qiong looked at him and smiled, handing him the handkerchief. Yan Huaishi absently wiped his face a few times, then hesitated before saying, “Mother asked when we should hold the wedding. What do you think…”
“Let’s wait until the child is born,” Hua Qiong said after a long silence. “With your current status, we’d need to host a grand banquet. It wouldn’t look proper if I’m heavily pregnant.”
Yan Huaishi seemed relieved, smiling at her with some gratitude. “That’s fine then. When the time comes, I’ll give you the most magnificent and grand wedding, worthy of the great kindness you showed in risking your life for me at the ancestral hall.”
“Huaishi,” Hua Qiong raised her eyes, gazing directly at him with bright clarity. “Between us, is there only kindness?”
Yan Huaishi hadn’t expected her to ask such a direct question. He opened his mouth, suddenly feeling somewhat flustered.
The woman before him was clean and refined—not a stunning beauty, but with exceptional spirit in her brows. She was a woman of outstanding temperament, nothing like a village schoolteacher or a failed scholar’s wife.
And from his lifelong understanding of her, she was worthy of any man under heaven.
At seven, when he first learned his mother was in a nunnery, he ran dozens of miles in one night. Clinging to the nunnery’s gate, he begged for a whole day, but the nuns wouldn’t let him in. He wailed and cried until she came at the sound. Eight years old at the time, she commanded students from her school to bring a ladder and, in broad daylight, helped him climb the wall to see his mother. He embraced his mother crying below while she sat on the wall keeping watch.
At nine, when he was confined to his room for repeatedly sneaking out to visit his mother, his mother fell gravely ill and wanted to see him. She came alone, climbed the wall into the woodshed, grabbed a cleaver and chopped through the door bolt, then pulled him away without a word.
At twelve, when the nunnery received orders from the family head forbidding him from visiting his mother, with guards posted all around, she took a hoe and widened the dog hole at the base of the west wall, ordering him to crawl through. He felt it was beneath his dignity and refused. She kicked him in the rear and scolded fiercely, “A great man acts without concern for petty details. If you can’t crawl through a hole today, you won’t be able to endure oppression tomorrow. In the Yan family, when you die, there won’t even be a place to bury you!”
He crawled through the dog hole to secretly visit his mother for many years. Only much later did he learn that she had crawled through even longer—before he even found his mother, she had been using that dog hole to bring steamed buns every few days to his mother, who was often denied food.
He had always respected her, admired her, been grateful to her. When trapped in the ancestral hall, hearing her fearlessly confronting the Yan family outside the door, his heart pounding with emotion, hot tears streamed from his eyes. When she asked “Will you marry me or not,” he answered without hesitation—it was his true feeling at that moment.
Marry—he must marry her. Otherwise he couldn’t live with his conscience. She was his wife. Once decided, he thought no more about it.
Yet when this question was thrown at him now, he suddenly felt confused. Marriage was duty, responsibility, necessity—but then, what else?
They were childhood friends without mutual affection.
They were a halfway-married couple brought together by family strife.
And throughout his past twenty years, he had heard his mother instruct him countless times: he was the descendant of the two great Yan and Chen families, heir to the Yan clan’s noble imperial bloodline. His family background and lineage were precious and honorable—he should only match with an equally noble woman.
Hearing it so often, it seemed this was simply how things should be.
The woman across from him gazed over with clear, bright eyes. In an instant, years of his mother’s instructions and images of Hua Qiong’s companionship flashed through his mind like lightning. He stood there, not knowing how to answer.
But Hua Qiong had already smiled again.
Her laugh rang out clearly as she pushed Yan Huaishi. “It really is a foolish question—no wonder it stumped you. How silly of me, asking such things when we’re about to marry.”
“Yes,” Yan Huaishi awkwardly rubbed his face with the handkerchief. “About to marry, about to marry…”
“Go attend to your duties.” Hua Qiong pushed him, watching Yan Huaishi walk away as if fleeing.
She stood in the corridor for a long time, leaning against the pillar, watching clouds gather thickly at the horizon’s edge, wandering winds surging. Behind her in the courtyard, Feng Zhiwei hurriedly and carefully carried the box from the window sill inside, then closed the window, as if afraid sudden rain might dampen the box.
After a long while, she smiled softly.
Feng Zhiwei was unaware of this crucial conversation between the Yan couple in the corridor. She looked outside with concern, wondering where Young Master Gu had gone on his rare solo outing, hoping he wouldn’t get caught in the rain.
The box Yan Huaishi brought sat quietly on the table—not a common jade box, but light green wood with naturally beautiful patterns like wind-dancing snow, very elegant. The edge bore a golden mandala flower, the same design as on Ning Yi’s cloak. The flower and leaves were enchanting, clashing yet mysteriously alluring against the box’s overall elegant temperament—just like the feeling Ning Yi himself gave people.
This man… even making a box, he had to make it a second version of himself. Feng Zhiwei couldn’t help smiling softly, gently stroking the smooth wood surface. But she had to admire Ning Yi’s taste—compared to expensive but vulgar gold and jade objects, this box itself suited her preferences perfectly.
Inside the box, what could it be?
Looking at this box, she knew it wouldn’t be conventional jewelry. Perhaps rare curiosities from Fujian and Guangdong? Or some miraculous medicine to restore her health? Or just a prank—opening the box to have another two brush monkeys spring out?
How thoughtful of him, commanding a great army and managing military affairs, yet still finding time to prepare a gift for her.
Feng Zhiwei rested her chin in her hands, facing the box, her eyes flowing with emotion as she carefully imagined what might be inside. She wasn’t eager to open it, finding this moment of gentle joy and anticipation while guessing about the gift also beautiful.
This was the first gift someone had solemnly sent her in sixteen years. She wanted to prolong this feeling a bit longer.
Half an hour later, having savored the feeling to satisfaction, she lazily went to open the box.
Her finger pressed on the clasp and applied slight pressure—huh? It didn’t move?
She tried lifting upward, pressing down, prying left, twisting right… but couldn’t hear that satisfying click of the lid opening.
Feng Zhiwei wasn’t lazy anymore. She sat up with a start, grabbed the box and examined it left and right, then her mouth twitched.
This clasp wasn’t a clasp at all—just a fake decorative clasp! Poor her, actually being fooled by it!
Feng Zhiwei held the box, half-laughing and half-crying, thinking of Ning Yi’s rare prank, her eyes brimming with soft, warm laughter.
After feeling around the box up, down, left, and right, she discovered it was seamlessly joined, with only the bottom hiding a secret—a narrow slit opened there.
This was the opening?
Feng Zhiwei stared at the box in amazement, thinking it couldn’t be opened at all.
Looking at the slit at the bottom—narrow and long—Feng Zhiwei examined its width and had a sudden thought. She inserted her finger, vaguely feeling what seemed to be letter paper inside. There was quite a lot, all standing upright inside, with some other things jammed at the opening, impossible to pull out all at once. She could only hug it and shake vigorously to scatter what was blocking the opening.
With a soft “thud,” a letter fell out. Light green cover, printed with a golden mandala flower, the envelope’s paper very special—slightly slick and quite stiff.
Feng Zhiwei pressed her lips together, looking at the letter, unable to suppress a smile. This man really thought of the most creative methods!
Yet she felt slightly disappointed—since the box contained letters, there probably wouldn’t be any surprises. Ning Yi’s eyes weren’t convenient, so he couldn’t write himself, and having someone else write would probably just be official business.
She stared at the letter for a long while, then slowly reached out to open it. She was very careful peeling the seal, as if afraid to damage the envelope.
On moon-white silk paper with pressed patterns, the ink was deep. Before Feng Zhiwei even read the content, she laughed out loud with an amused “pfft.”
What kind of characters were these?
At first they were all ink blobs, impossible to distinguish the writing. Gradually they improved, but the characters were crooked and askew. Though the structure showed beautiful foundation and deep skill, the shapes were quite ugly, and the bottom of each character dragged slightly flat, making them look particularly awkward.
But instantly Feng Zhiwei’s smile faded.
This was Ning Yi’s own handwriting.
She recognized his characters. Though currently unrecognizable, she could still vaguely identify them. Precisely because they were unrecognizable, she knew these words were all written by him personally, character by character, late at night in his camp tent.
Heaven knew how he managed to write letters with his inconvenient eyes. Looking at the flattened bottom of each character, he must have pressed down with a ruler to avoid skipping lines while writing.
She lightly huffed and muttered, “Such ugly characters—how shameless of him to show them.” Though her tone was reproachful, her eyes were smiling.
She turned up the oil lamp brighter and squinted close to read carefully.
The ink blobs at the beginning should be her name.
“…Wei, how is my letter writing? I practiced with military reports for a long time first. Ning Cheng never understood what I was doing. When he said he could read the characters in the reports I copied, I knew I could write to you.
The army just departed today, camping thirty miles outside Fengzhou City. I met with my officers until the seventh hour. They divided into two factions, arguing endlessly. The cautious ones are General Nanhai’s group, conservative and methodical, suggesting the vanguard advance first with the main army following, seeking stability in everything. The aggressive ones are the new General Fujian-Guangdong’s side, eager for merit, requesting to lead elite light cavalry in a rapid advance, passing Mayu Pass to flank from two directions, catching the Chang clan off guard. When both sides argued fiercely, I thought—if you were here, what strategy would you propose? With your usual cunning, it would probably be some feint-and-deceive, secret-crossing-the-river method. So I ordered General Nanhai to lead cavalry to attack Ledu County first, while General Fujian-Guangdong’s ten thousand troops lie in ambush on the necessary route at Ba River, to ambush when the Chang clan returns, scatter their formation then surround from three directions. Do you think this is a good plan?
But don’t worry about these matters. Fujian-Guangdong will definitely be recovered by my hand. You just focus on recuperating.
Today we passed Fengwei County. There’s a type of fengwei wood here—dense, fine-textured with beautiful grain. Dyed with fengwei leaf juice, it becomes a light green color only young trees have, very beautiful. I ordered Ning Cheng to make a box and drew the design for him. He made it quickly but took it upon himself to add a golden clasp, saying it was a feint-and-deceive stratagem to confuse the enemy. I told him to scram, go back to the Imperial Capital to feint and deceive.
The night watch drum sounds four times. I’ll stop writing here. Seeing these words is like seeing you—take utmost care.”
Feng Zhiwei read the letter four times, carefully folded it, looked at the clasp, both amused and exasperated, and cursed, “What ‘cunning, cunning’? You’re the cunning one!”
She held the letter, looking around for somewhere to hide it, finding nowhere suitable. After thinking, she stuffed the letter back into the box’s slit, hugged it and shook randomly. After shaking for a while, another letter fell out with a soft sound.
Feng Zhiwei couldn’t help smiling, feeling as if she’d returned to childhood, going to the street with her brother to draw candy. The vendor also used a box—not as beautiful as this one of course—with simple mechanisms. Turn it and an image appeared: red for a big candy ball, yellow for a small candy ball, green for candy syrup.
Her luck was bad—she always got candy syrup.
Was her luck good now?
She picked up the envelope. The header marked a “3.” Feng Zhiwei paused, then realized the letters were probably arranged in order, but her inserting them had mixed them up.
Being mixed up had its own meaning. She smiled and opened it.
“…Zhiwei, today the army marched to Xita. Not far from the camp is a reed marsh, extremely vast and magnificent. Ning Cheng said the reeds were beautiful—when the wind passes, they wave uniformly like a vast white sea. I stood at the edge of the reed marsh and listened, seeming to hear the sound of ocean tides. Birds swept across the top of the marsh, their calls clear and crisp. A white feather fell into my sleeve. I ordered Ning Cheng to pick the largest and most beautiful reed. I’m enclosing the bird feather and reed with this letter, hoping you too can hear the sound of the wind.”
Attached to the letter were a pure white feather and a slightly yellowed reed, shimmering with faint fluorescence in the lamplight. Feng Zhiwei’s fingers gently stroked the delicate feather and the reed’s shallow down, imagining that elegant yet magnificent man at the reed marsh’s edge, imagining a white bird sweeping past his dark brows, imagining wind lifting his robes, the pale gold mandala blooming boldly in the wind, imagining those snow-like drifting reeds rushing into his moon-white robes, the sky full of white fire burning.
Her smile grew gentler, like that beautiful scene blooming like a dream across her heart’s sky.
Shake once, one letter falls. The envelope header: “7.”
“…Zhiwei, today we crossed the sea from Anlan Valley. To avoid detection we traveled at night. All night the tide rose and fell, sounding empty and quiet. The ship’s rising and falling made one slightly dizzy, with drowsiness, yet unable to sleep. I kept thinking of that day at the ancestral hall—the people’s cries also rose and fell endlessly like the tide, then you collapsed in my arms, as if the sea suddenly overturned… So I couldn’t sleep even more. I got up and drank tea on deck half the night, and pushed a certain person who was sneakily following me overboard, telling him not to come up without retrieving a top-quality pearl. The next morning he came up—no pearl, but he handed over a small coral, only half a finger large, saying he discovered it by accident. Naturally flower-shaped, though the quality isn’t great, the appearance is remarkably clever—a work of heaven and earth’s creation, more precious than a hundred pearls… This person is glib—don’t mind him. The coral is enclosed with the letter. If you like it, good. If not, kick him into the sea anyway.”
At the letter’s corner, indeed stuck a tiny coral, vermilion red, smooth and glossy, with layered petals—truly flower-shaped, seeming like a peony, lifelike.
Truly more precious than a hundred pearls.
Feng Zhiwei soaked the letter corner in warm water to soften it, carefully peeled off the coral, and found a box to store it safely.
Shake once, one letter falls.
This time a “2.”
“…Zhiwei, I was thinking you’re probably holding the letter wondering where to hide it. With your suspicious nature, afraid both that someone might steal it and that Gu Nanyi might use it to wrap walnut shells, so most likely you’ll stuff the letter back in the box. In the end, the order I arranged will definitely be scrambled by you. But this is good too. Many things are more beautiful because they’re unknown—like when you’re retrieving letters, you’ll wonder, which number will fall out this time?”
Yes, beautiful because unknown. Each time one would fall, each time not knowing which day’s recorded feelings would fall—even guessing was joyful.
But this man really was like a tapeworm in her belly, even guessing correctly how she’d hide the letters.
“…Zhiwei, using your method proved correct. Our first battle with the Chang clan was victorious, morale greatly boosted. Perhaps before long I’ll return. You said to wait and return to the capital together. Don’t run off first. Whoever runs first is punished by never seeing the other again in this lifetime…”
What “my method”… Feng Zhiwei’s eyes flowed with emotion. This man really twisted the truth—clearly it was his own feint-and-deceive scheme, but he had to blame it on her.
“…Zhiwei, the autumn wind grows colder with each gust. At night, cold wind blows through the connected camps. During inspections I already need to wear a cloak. Remember not to forget thick clothing when going out at night. Last time when I took your pulse, that severe illness was a cold ailment, so you must be careful to dress warmly and not trigger it again.”
With his inconvenient eyes, he still had to inspect the camp? Feng Zhiwei gently stroked the letter in her hands, her eyes shimmering in the lamplight, thinking of the medicine Yan Huaishi had taken. She wondered if Ning Yi had used it. Yan Huaishi returned immediately after delivering grain to the camp, so the medicine’s effectiveness definitely wasn’t mentioned in these boxed letters. Another day she’d have to write to ask herself.
Thinking how the letters came one after another, every word earnest, yet never asking her to reply, she couldn’t help raising her eyebrows.
Ha, of course she wouldn’t reply either. But as the provider of the antidote, asking about the patient’s condition was quite normal, wasn’t it?
Feng Zhiwei found her justification and solemnly put away the letter. There should still be more letters in the box, but she didn’t plan to empty it all at once. Such tender and beautiful feelings, squandering them so extravagantly would truly be wasteful.
Deep night, quiet people, journey’s weariness, heavy thoughts, entangling affairs… during these moments, she could take out the box, pat it, shake it, then pour out joyful anticipation and beautiful feelings.
Keeping them—in the long days ahead, there would be sweet solace.
She spread out letter paper, moistened her brush with ink, and lay at the table writing.
“…Ning Yi, you also can’t see these letters now. I’ll have to wait until your eyes recover to give them to you. Mm, I want to ask—did using the medicine help your eyes?—I know this is a pointless question. By the time you can see this letter, they must be healed, so pretend you didn’t see this question.
I received the coral—very beautiful, like a small peony flower. Should I set it in a ring or make a pearl flower? Though I may rarely have occasion to use it, just looking at it is lovely. The bird feather is very white, the reed very beautiful. I think when we return to the capital, we’ll also pass that reed marsh. Then I want to personally hear the sound of that reed marsh in the wind like ocean tides, or perhaps a bird will drop a feather on my collar too. Mm… would you be willing to listen together once more?”
The lamplight gradually dimmed, radiating pale yellow halos in circles. Within the halos, Feng Zhiwei’s naturally misty eyes rippled even more with moisture, bright and crystalline, like black agate beads soaked in crystal.
The trace of a smile at her lips remained faint, yet different from her usual coolness—warm and soft, making one think of birds’ white feathers and reeds’ snow-colored down.
“Creak.” Suddenly came the sound of a door opening. Feng Zhiwei jumped up, frantically tidying the letter paper on the table. In her haste with nowhere to put it, she also stuffed it into that box, hugged the box, spun around the room in a circle, then tucked it into her bedding.
The person entering was Gu Nanyi—within her expectations, as no one else would enter her room so freely. But Young Master Gu’s appearance was truly beyond her expectations.
Feng Zhiwei stared blankly at Young Master Gu striding in, feeling today brought far too many surprises—especially shocks.
Before her, Young Master Gu had one on each shoulder—two magnificent golden-furred little monkeys, scratching left and right, looking around with authority, making one think he was a street monkey performer.
This wasn’t enough.
Young Master Gu stiffly extended his arms, stiffly… holding a baby…
Feng Zhiwei stared dumbly at the brand-new Young Master Gu with golden monkeys on both shoulders and an infant in his arms. After a long while she found her voice. “You… what are you doing?”
“Child, monkeys.” Young Master Gu said. “I want to try.”
Still his characteristic fragmented speaking style. Only Feng Zhiwei, who had long coexisted with him and was skilled at communication, could understand. Her thoughts turned and her heart stirred. “You mean you want to learn to interact with people, so you want to start by learning from children and monkeys?”
Young Master Gu nodded, answering in a tone resisting great suffering: “That day was very uncomfortable, but also very special, so trying.”
“That day holding this child, you had a special feeling?” Feng Zhiwei recognized this was precisely the baby they’d saved at the dock that day. After rescue, it had been sent to the benevolent hall of a prominent family. She hadn’t expected Gu Nanyi to remember it all along, and now actually thought to use this to practice.
“When learning martial arts there are also barriers—facing them head-on leads to natural breakthrough.” Young Master Gu became particularly fluent when discussing martial arts. “So I think this is the same.”
Feng Zhiwei looked at him silently. She knew that because of her near-death while he remained completely unaware, Gu Nanyi felt quite remorseful. For the first time he expressed wanting to become like them, but she hadn’t expected him to actually think of raising that child to slowly learn to be a normal person.
But for him, who needed distance and a life of calm and stillness, such actions must involve innate resistance and suffering, mustn’t they?
He suffered, yet persisted, only because he didn’t want to lose her inexplicably again.
Perhaps precisely this kind of persistence in his blood created his extraordinary nature.
Feng Zhiwei pressed her lips together, her heart tightening slightly. Gu Nanyi beginning to willingly approach people was good—something she’d always hoped for and worked toward. Yet suddenly, her heart also rose with inexplicable fear and trembling, as if seeing fate’s cold, iron-blue face in the darkness, grinning malevolently at all the beauty and purity in this world.
Was it truly good to let this young man, pure as blank paper, quiet in his own world, understand and face the vicissitudes and complexities of human life?
Going out, he might see life’s magnificence and heaven and earth’s brilliance, but more likely he’d see dark human nature and the bloody human realm.
She suddenly wavered slightly from that moment’s chill.
“Brother Gu…” She reached out to take the baby, truly finding Young Master Gu’s stiff posture of holding it at arm’s length uncomfortable to watch. “Don’t force yourself in some matters. Besides, caring for a child—not just you, even others find it very difficult. Why don’t we try a different method…”
“No.” Gu Nanyi floated back, evading her. “This one has feeling.”
The two brush monkeys chattered and grimaced on his shoulders, grabbing Gu Nanyi’s hair to swing like on vines, completely unaware that in the past, these little ancestors would instantly become poisoned meat patties.
Feng Zhiwei’s persuasion failed. In a flash she saw Young Master Gu actually heading straight for her bedding with the child. Greatly alarmed, she quickly caught up and shoved the bedding toward the inner bed, turning back to smile stiffly at Young Master Gu.
Young Master Gu had no idea this woman had a guilty conscience. He simply placed the child on her bed.
Immediately both smelled an unpleasant odor.
Young Master Gu looked at Feng Zhiwei.
Feng Zhiwei looked at Young Master Gu.
After a long while, Feng Zhiwei’s mouth twitched. “Young Master, since you brought him back, you must take responsibility for him.”
Young Master Gu didn’t argue with her. He rustled open the diaper. Feng Zhiwei painfully closed her eyes, knowing tonight her bed would need changing from inside out.
Painful as it was, could she really just leave Young Master Gu and his adopted baby alone? Feng Zhiwei had to help. When the diaper was lifted—”Ah!” she exclaimed.
Seeing the child’s shaved longevity-peach hairstyle common for wealthy family boys, she’d always assumed it was a boy. Turns out it was a girl.
Young Master Gu cast her a questioning look. Feng Zhiwei found it somewhat difficult to speak. After thinking, she said, “This is a girl, not very convenient. Next time I’ll find you a boy to raise.”
Young Master Gu still looked at her with that clear, innocent, uncomprehending gaze, an expression of “It’s a girl so what, I’m just taking care of a child, what’s inconvenient?” Looking at her made Feng Zhiwei feel her thoughts were dirty and she had nowhere to hide her shame.
Fine, she’d keep quiet. Feng Zhiwei honestly tore up the bedsheet to first change the child’s diaper, then sent someone to find Hua Qiong. Feng Zhiwei greatly trusted Hua Qiong’s ability to handle matters. In some ways, Hua Qiong was more ruthless than her—a while ago when “Concubine Yan” made a scene with crying, threats, and attempted suicide, Feng Zhiwei prepared to expel her, but Hua Qiong stopped her. In three quick moves, she sent her to a nunnery to “deliver all beings.” As the Yan family’s mistress, she required her to pray for the Yan family’s blessings for eighty years. In other words, Concubine Yan couldn’t come out for this lifetime.
Soon Hua Qiong came over. Seeing the two flustered people, she smiled. Hearing Feng Zhiwei’s explanation, she said, “Easy to handle. I’ll find you a capable wet nurse, arranged to live in the small room in the west courtyard here.”
Feng Zhiwei thought Young Master Gu would definitely object, but unexpectedly he still said nothing. Apparently he’d made up his mind—not daring to resist too much, resolutely not retreating.
The wet nurse couldn’t arrive that night. Hua Qiong stayed in Feng Zhiwei’s courtyard, helping them care for the child. When she bathed the child, Young Master Gu sat obediently to the side watching carefully. When she fed the child rice soup, Young Master Gu also drank half, expressing great dissatisfaction with this neither-sweet-nor-bitter, completely tasteless thing, and great incomprehension that the child ate it with such relish, feeling that indeed children were very wondrous things.
The two brush monkeys, tired from playing, slept soundly on his shoulders. He lifted them down with two fingers, held at arm’s length, movements very careful. Hua Qiong looked somewhat puzzled. Gu Nanyi told her flatly, “I’m afraid if I’m not careful I’ll crush them to death.”
Hua Qiong couldn’t help smiling. After smiling, she composed herself. After coaxing the child to sleep, she went to the garden for a walk.
Naturally during this walk, she encountered Feng Zhiwei, who also couldn’t sleep and had come out. The two looked at each other across the flower bushes, smiled, turned around the bushes and sat down at a white stone table and chairs.
“Truly decided?”
“Decided.” Hua Qiong smoothed her hair. “I know you’ll be going to Shangye soon. If I’m not wrong, you might take the Maritime Investigation Battalion out to sea to suppress pirates. Looking at the Chang family’s current situation, sooner or later they’ll have to take the sea route. You’re planning to rendezvous with His Highness at sea, and after finishing matters go directly back to the capital?”
“Yes.” Feng Zhiwei smiled. “The Maritime Affairs Bureau has been established, the prominent families brought under control. On the government side, officials throughout Nanhai have their weaknesses in my hands, and Zhou Xizhong owes me a life-saving debt—there won’t be any more trouble. My duties as Imperial Commissioner are basically complete. His Highness also has victory in hand. As a prince, he cannot be away from the capital too long. After the Fujian-Guangdong situation stabilizes, remaining affairs will definitely be handed to General Fujian-Guangdong. Both he and I will return to the capital soon.”
“Very good.” Hua Qiong calmly straightened her clothes. “I’ll soon leave under the pretense of shopping for wedding items, waiting for you at Fengle Town near Shangye Harbor.”
Feng Zhiwei looked at her serene eyes, knowing that once this woman made a decision, no one in the world could change it. In the future, it would only depend on what Yan Huaishi’s heart truly held.
“Don’t look at me with such a worried expression.” Hua Qiong laughed heartily. “I do have something to remind you though.”
“Oh?”
“His Highness’s feelings for you are not shallow.” Hua Qiong looked directly into her eyes. “But no matter how deep, they cannot surpass this realm and world. You must think clearly.”
“How many men have you seen who would cast aside their kingdom for a beauty?” Feng Zhiwei was silent for a long while, then had no intention of evading, saying frankly, “Besides, His Highness… you should have heard some things about him before. With your intelligence, you can guess—he must be unwilling to accept defeat.”
Hua Qiong sighed, her tone holding some disappointment.
“Just as you like Huaishi, yet are unwilling to abandon your self-respect to become that Yan family wife,” Feng Zhiwei rose, leisurely pacing, “I likewise have my boundaries I cannot abandon.”
“Zhiwei, we women are different from men. When men’s hearts are moved, they only become more vigorous and spirited, walking further on the path they want to walk. When women’s hearts are moved, they often retreat again and again, losing cities and territory, until losing everything, gaining only a complete—loss.”
Feng Zhiwei trembled, her lips pressing together gently.
Hua Qiong gazed at a withered chrysanthemum before her, her mouth slowly blooming with a desolate smile.
She reached out to pluck away that yellowed flower, smiling. “It needn’t be as pessimistic and disappointed as we are. The road ahead is still long. I hope they can.”
Feng Zhiwei said nothing, her hands clasped behind her back as she looked at the moon in the sky—a waning crescent pale yellow like amber, its light eerie and cool against the dark blue-green sky. At this hour, was he also walking through night mist inspecting the camp, across hundreds of miles of roads listening with her to the sound of dewdrops falling from branches in this night?
Yes, I hope.
You can too.
In the twelfth month of the thirteenth year of Changxi, the Nanhai Circuit Imperial Commissioner inspected the Shangye Maritime Affairs Bureau branch office and the newly established Maritime Investigation Battalion. Subsequently, at Shangye Harbor, he assembled the Investigation Battalion’s twenty thousand naval forces and set out to sea. Following the maritime pirate distribution map provided by the Yan family, they swept along the route clearing pirates who had plagued Nanhai for years.
Simultaneously, the war against the Chang clan in Fujian-Guangdong also entered its final stages. Having been swept through by Ning Yi and Feng Zhiwei, Nanhai no longer offered the Chang family any retreat. Ning Yi’s army had been systematically advancing step by step toward the sea, driving the Chang family toward the ocean.
Then when the Chang clan had no choice but to turn toward the sea route, linking with pirates they’d long been in contact with trying to salvage the situation, they encountered the Maritime Affairs Bureau’s Maritime Investigation Battalion, which had been sweeping pirates along the way—the mantis stalking from behind.
Afterward, in the words of military historians, the timing was calculated perfectly.
One side advancing from Fujian-Guangdong toward the sea, one side coming from Nanhai along the coast—at a long-calculated meeting point, when the twenty thousand new naval forces’ white-bottomed azure water-beast banners appeared in the Chang clan remnant army’s spyglass, everyone let out a collective groan.
On the great ship, Feng Zhiwei wore an elegant white robe, her bright red cloak blazing like fire. She held the spyglass level, watching through the circular view as the Chang clan’s military ships appeared on the other side of the sea.
The military formation seemed quite orderly, the ships large and sturdy—pity they hadn’t even had time to hang their banners properly.
Feng Zhiwei’s mouth held a cold smile. The spyglass tilted slightly upward toward the clouds. Above the horizon, black smoke vaguely rose, blood and fire flashing.
Those exploding fire bombs, that rising black smoke obscuring human forms, those wails and cries, those severed limbs and innocent wounded, those who lost their lives and loved ones in the dock explosion.
She had once promised to take revenge.
She had once sworn by her cleaved sword that the Chang clan should wash their necks and wait.
Now, they could finally wait.
The spyglass was set down, clicking crisply on the ship’s rail. Behind Feng Zhiwei, Lord Huang, Chief Officer of the Shangye Maritime Affairs Bureau branch, nervously watched her hand gesture.
The pure white hand fell like a flowing line against the blue sky background—a powerful, clean, unhesitating gesture.
“Fire!”
In the long, resonant command, a tremendous roar arose upon the sea.
Sharp cannons spewed crimson flames, leaping like fire dragons across the vast sea, heading straight for the Chang clan forces. In a flash of firelight, they instantly devoured the leading ship. The calm sea water was lifted in towering waves, a giant crystal wall rising in midair.
Behind the huge water curtain was the thunderous boom of two armies clashing, the iron-clad warships firing ceaselessly, Feng Zhiwei’s cold smile through the black iron cannon mouths spitting blazing fury.
Ning Yi’s eyes, her grave illness, hundreds of innocent lives and countless disabled—these debts piled heavy and deep would be repaid today!
Long wind raised giant waves, she stood among clouds and rainbows.
In the twelfth month of the thirteenth year of Changxi, the newly established Maritime Investigation Battalion made its maiden voyage, directly facing the Chang family’s remnant forces. Like a newborn calf unafraid of tigers, the Investigation Battalion fired first. The first cannon sank an enemy ship. A great naval battle continued for two days. The seawater was nearly dyed red. Two hundred meters of sea surface were filled with shattered ship wreckage, like countless corpses, still drifting eerily long afterward.
The already fleeing Chang clan, encountering this heavy blow, lost heart and soul. According to reports, Chang Minjiang was on the first ship sunk by cannon fire—even his body wasn’t found. Though the Fifth Prince commanded in the chaos, he ultimately couldn’t restore morale. After the Chang clan’s remaining forces surrendered, he jumped into the sea and committed suicide.
The mighty Chang clan, dominating Fujian-Guangdong and Nanhai for many years, was thus finally uprooted. Remaining forces scattered into the interior under assumed names—in the short term, they had no possibility of rising again.
The pirates had originally depended on the Chang clan for survival. Their actual power wasn’t as great as imagined. With Feng Zhiwei leading the new navy to sweep through them, following the power distribution map drawn by Yan Huaishi through many people’s years of ocean exploration experience, they were quickly driven onto the sea, their vitality difficult to restore.
In mid-December of the thirteenth year of Changxi, Feng Zhiwei returned to Shangye. Here, she would wait for Ning Yi to transfer military affairs to General Fujian-Guangdong, then return to the capital together.
Hua Qiong had long been waiting for her at Shangye. When Feng Zhiwei’s ship slowly docked, the two looked at each other, revealing knowing smiles.
One smile was broad yet desolate, thinking that henceforth leaving Nanhai, return was uncertain. That small boy at the nunnery gate would never again cry in her embrace.
One smile was deep yet expectant, thinking that after months apart, Ning Yi’s eyes must be well recovered. The Imperial Capital, long missed, could finally wait for him to walk the return journey together.
She descended from the gangplank, carrying on her back the box that hadn’t left her person even through naval battles. Her mood was quite cheerful.
Just as she stood firm on the dock, before she could speak, suddenly a gray-clothed person flashed forward like lightning. Rushing before her, he knelt with a thud, his head striking the mud, water, and dust!