As daylight grew brighter, more pedestrians came and went on the road, drawing curious glances toward the entourage stationed nearby.
“Your Highness,”
Eunuch Jing couldn’t help but whisper, his eyes fixed on Fang Bocong, who sat before the tombstone.
“It’s getting late. It’s time to go.”
Ever since he had laughed heartily, Fang Bocong had remained seated on the ground, silently gazing at the tombstone of Cheng Si-lang, which bore only a single character. He hadn’t spoken, smiled, or moved since.
What on earth was wrong with him?
Too many things had happened recently, and all too suddenly – Gao and Chen’s plot to harm the Crown Prince, the Crown Prince’s death, Fang Bocong’s adoption as a royal heir, his appointment as Crown Prince, the Crown Princess falling into a coma… A chaotic torrent of events had struck one after another, not to mention the endless gossip and rumors. His Highness’s life had been exceedingly difficult, but the hardest part was that the Crown Princess remained unconscious, and in such a strange state, leaving him with no one to confide in…
If seeing the Crown Princess at home brought him sorrow, wouldn’t visiting this tombstone be even more heartbreaking?
“Look at these characters,” said Fang Bocong, gesturing toward the tombstone before him.
Eunuch Jing nodded.
“I see them. Her Highness wrote them beautifully,” he remarked.
Fang Bocong smiled.
“Do you remember the words for Maoyuan Mountain brothers?” he asked.
Of course – those characters are revered as the second greatest work of running script in the world.
“No, what I mean is, do you recall how they were written?” Fang Bocong said, extending his hand to gently trace the tombstone.
“Xu Maoxiu…” he murmured.
Eunuch Jing smiled as well.
“Of course I remember,” he said. “At that time, the Crown Princess was truly bold and fearless. It was only thanks to Your Highness interceding on her behalf before the Emperor that she escaped stirring His Majesty’s wrath time and again. Otherwise, she would never have achieved her wishes so easily – securing recognition and rewards for her sworn brothers.”
As if reminiscing about the past, a faint smile also appeared on Fang Bocong’s face.
This was the first time in many days His Highness had shown any trace of a smile.
“Righting a wrong was still not enough,” he said quietly.
Eunuch Jing nodded with a smile.
“Exactly. Simply righting a wrong was not enough. Those who stood in the Crown Princess’s way and prevented her from seeking justice couldn’t just be overlooked either. She stubbornly managed to bring down Jiang Wenyuan right before Gao Lingjun’s eyes,” he said. “It was only after Jiang Wenyuan fell that Her Highness wrote these characters…”
His voice abruptly trailed off.
A realization struck him.
The Maoyuan Mountain tombstone had originally been left blank. It was only after the wrong was redressed and Jiang Wenyuan was punished that the names were inscribed.
After the injustice was corrected, after Jiang Wenyuan faced punishment, after vengeance was exacted and grievances settled…
Eunuch Jing slowly shifted his gaze to the tombstone before him.
Cheng Si-lang’s tombstone.
He remembered now – when Cheng Si-lang was first laid to rest, his tombstone had been blank as well.
But now, on this tombstone, a single character – 程 (Cheng) – stood out glaringly.
When had it been carved?
Back then, the entire capital had waited to see how the Crown Princess would honor Cheng Si-lang’s name. Yet there was no wine, no fireworks, nothing – almost as if he had been forgotten.
How could she possibly forget? She would never forget. It wasn’t that she refused to write – it was simply not the time yet.
Wine and fireworks – how could such things appease the grief for her own blood brother?
A debt of blood could only be repaid with blood.
First, Young Master Gao died… and now, Master Gao is gone as well…
In that instant, a chill shot down Eunuch Jing’s spine, and his scalp went numb. His legs gave way beneath him, and he staggered, collapsing into a seat.
“Now, it can finally be completed.”
Fang Bocong spoke as he stood up, then turned and slowly walked away.
“Your Highness!” Eunuch Jing couldn’t help but call out.
Fang Bocong neither spoke nor looked back, mounting his horse instead.
“Let’s go,” he said flatly.
…
The night wind howled, rattling the window lattice with persistent knocks. Su Xin hurriedly reached out to secure it shut.
Just then, someone lifted the curtain and entered the room.
“His Highness sent word that he won’t be returning tonight,” Ban Qin reported.
“Tomorrow, Crown Prince Xuanwen will be laid to rest. Tonight, His Highness will keep vigil for him in the palace.”
Su Xin nodded, then glanced toward the inner chamber, where Zhou Fu was standing by Cheng Jiao-niang’s bedside, a frown etched on his face.
“Sixth Young Master, you should rest early too. Ban Qin and I will stay here tonight,” she said as she walked over.
Zhou Fu straightened his posture.
“No,” he replied firmly. “I’m staying here.”
Ban Qin and Su Xin exchanged a helpless glance.
When would this ordeal ever come to an end?
If Miss never woke, would he really stand guard like this for the rest of his life?
The thought flashed through Ban Qin’s mind, startling her so much that she instinctively slapped herself across the face.
“What’s wrong?” Su Xin asked, looking at her in confusion.
“It’s nothing, nothing. There was just a mosquito,” Ban Qin said, forcing a small smile as she lowered her head to help turn Cheng Jiao-niang over.
It was already late autumn – how could there be mosquitoes? Su Xin sighed softly, understanding Ban Qin’s unspoken feelings but choosing not to press further. Instead, she stepped forward to assist.
Cheng Jiao-niang’s body had grown stiff, and for fear of bedsores, Doctor Li had emphasized the need to regularly turn and gently massage her.
Kneeling beside the bed, the two maids began softly kneading Cheng Jiao-niang’s limbs and torso.
No one had explained to them what exactly was wrong with Miss – it seemed as though everyone was avoiding the subject.
Nor had anyone mentioned when she might recover.
Or whether she might never recover at all.
If she didn’t wake up, would Young Master Zhou really stay by her side for a lifetime? And what about His Highness, the Crown Prince?
Ban Qin raised a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, sniffled quietly, and glanced briefly at the Crown Princess’s golden register placed on the nearby table.
She bowed her head, leaned over, and grasped Cheng Jiao-niang’s other hand, kneading it with renewed determination.
I won’t cry anymore, she told herself. It’s alright. I’ll always be here.
…
The sky was bright and clear, and the Cheng residence in Jiang-zhou was abuzz with activity.
“What’s going on? Da-lang, what is truly happening?”
A trembling yet forceful voice echoed through the courtyard.
First Master Cheng hurried out and saw Old Madam Cheng, supported by Second Master Cheng, striding quickly toward him with her cane.
“Da-lang, since our Jiao Jiao is about to become Empress, why haven’t we set off for the capital yet?” Old Madam Cheng said with displeasure. “We missed her wedding, but we absolutely cannot miss her coronation as Empress.”
First Master Cheng acknowledged with a respectful “Yes.”
“Mother, we are making preparations now,” he replied.
“Who are you trying to fool, Brother? Are you preparing not to go instead?” Second Master Cheng snorted.
Ignoring him, First Master Cheng stepped forward to support Old Madam Cheng.
“Mother, this is no trivial matter. At present, many eyes are fixed upon our family. With His Majesty still reigning, certain words must not be spoken,” he said in a low voice.
Old Madam Cheng nodded.
“I know,” she said in a hushed tone. “I know. For such an important matter, I hardly need you to remind me.”
As she spoke, she took First Master Cheng’s hand.
“…Back when the fortune-teller said our Jiao Jiao had a noble destiny, I began making plans long ago…”
First Master Cheng listened, suppressing an inward sigh, and paid close attention as his mother rambled on about memories from the past – some of which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
In the past, there had never been a Cheng Jiao-niang in this household.
“Mother, rest assured, the carriages are prepared, and arrangements have been made in advance for a residence in the capital. We will set off when the time comes,” First Master Cheng said earnestly.
Old Madam Cheng nodded with a trace of relief.
“As long as you have it all arranged,” she said, then glanced at Second Master Cheng. “See, you were worrying for nothing. How could we possibly not go to the capital for such a momentous occasion?”
Second Master Cheng looked awkward and remained silent.
At that moment, First Madam Cheng emerged from inside and stepped forward to support Old Madam Cheng.
“Mother, I have selected some new fabrics for clothing. Would you like to come and take a look?” she said.
“Yes, of course,” Old Madam Cheng replied eagerly, immediately accompanying her inside.
As soon as Old Madam Cheng was led away, First Master Cheng turned to Second Master Cheng, his expression darkening.
“If you dare step even one foot outside the estate, I’ll break your legs!” he snapped, his brows furrowed in anger.
Second Master Cheng immediately flared up in protest.
“Brother!” he cried. “So you really won’t let us go!”
“You guessed right,” First Master Cheng replied with a cold snort. He then signaled to the attendants nearby. “Come here, escort Second Master back to his quarters. Second Master is unwell and is not permitted to leave the house.”
Second Master Cheng was fuming with rage. He opened his mouth to shout for his mother, but the servants surrounding him swiftly and unceremoniously covered his mouth.
These lowly wretches – who knew what filthy hands they had – dared to press against his mouth and nose!
Second Master Cheng nearly fainted from sheer outrage.
He was the future Empress’s father – he would be the Emperor’s father-in-law! How dare these scoundrels! These utter scoundrels!
Watching Second Master being dragged away, First Master Cheng remained standing in the courtyard, his expression dark and solemn.
“Master,” First Madam Cheng approached and said in a low voice. “Are we really not going?”
First Master Cheng nodded firmly.
“As long as Jiao-niang has not called for us to go, no one is to leave Jiang-zhou,” he declared.
“But under these circumstances… is there still something unstable?” First Madam Cheng asked hesitantly.
News of Gao and Chen’s plot to harm the Crown Prince had already reached Jiang-zhou. When First Master Cheng heard it, his face had turned deathly pale, and he had nearly collapsed from shock.
“Indeed, the capital is a place we must not go,” he had muttered repeatedly. “Indeed, we must not go to the capital.”
Why could they not go?
First Madam Cheng couldn’t understand it, and Second Master Cheng – who was on the verge of becoming the Emperor’s father-in-law – understood it even less. Whether they understood or not, First Master Cheng clung resolutely to his decision, refusing to allow anyone to leave Jiang-zhou.
What was happening in the capital? Why was First Master Cheng so utterly terrified?
…
On the sixteenth day of August, the fourth year of Yonghe, Crown Prince Xuanwen was laid to rest, finally returning to the earth.
The funeral procession had already turned back, yet Fang Bocong remained standing before the tomb.
Gone forever. In this world, there was no longer a Liu Ge’er – neither the once-brilliant version nor the one left dull-witted and slow. Both were gone.
Fang Bocong slowly turned and began walking away, step by step.
Nothing was left. Only he remained, utterly alone.
Back at the Crown Prince’s residence, Ban Qin stood under the corridor, gazing outward.
“Will His Highness return today?” she asked.
Su Xin glanced at her.
“You’ve already asked this several times today,” she said. “Although Crown Prince Xuanwen’s funeral has concluded, there are still many matters to attend to afterward.”
“Then His Highness must be exhausted,” Ban Qin murmured.
“Indeed. Being Crown Prince and overseeing the state’s affairs is no easy task,” Su Xin replied.
As she spoke, Su Xin turned her gaze toward the inner chamber.
Zhou Fu was there, stretching his limbs as he moved about.
She couldn’t help but feel both impressed and exasperated. He truly seemed to treat the mistress’s inner chamber as his own quarters.
“Sixth Young Master, please don’t stay here tonight. His Highness must be exhausted and needs proper rest,” Su Xin said as she walked over.
Zhou Fu ignored her, continuing to stretch his arms.
“Sixth Young Master, please don’t be difficult,” Su Xin urged anxiously. “With Miss in her current state, wouldn’t this only create further distance between His Highness and her?”
“If he wants to keep his distance, that’s his own affair. How can anyone else be blamed?” Zhou Fu retorted coldly.
Before he could finish, a eunuch hurried in from outside.
“Sixth Young Master.”
It was Chief Steward Li, the head of internal affairs at the Duke’s residence. With Eunuch Jing now accompanying the Crown Prince in and out, household matters were left under Chief Steward Li’s charge.
“Was it you who invited that Taoist priest outside?” Chief Steward Li asked.
“Has he arrived?” Zhou Fu immediately moved to go out.
“He arrived, but he’s been sent away,” Chief Steward Li replied.
Zhou Fu’s eyes widened in anger.
“Who told you to send him away?” he demanded, his brows furrowing.
“Sixth Young Master, His Highness has given clear instructions that matters concerning the Crown Princess are not to be disclosed. How could you bring in a Taoist priest?” Chief Steward Li replied urgently.
Zhou Fu sneered coldly.
“My sister is ill. Why should that be kept secret?” he shouted, pushing the steward aside. “Get out of my way.”
“Ill? Sixth Young Master, if she were truly ill, why would you resort to a Taoist priest?” Chief Steward Li argued anxiously. “If word gets out, His Highness’s reputation…”
“His reputation is not more important than my sister’s life!” Zhou Fu roared, kicking the steward away. “Get lost.”
Chaos instantly erupted in the room.
“Sixth Young Master,” Ban Qin and Su Xin hurriedly tried to hold him back but suddenly froze. “Your Highness.”
Everyone in the room turned toward the doorway and saw that Fang Bocong was standing there, though no one had noticed his arrival.
“Your Highness,” they all quickly bowed in greeting.
Without a word, Zhou Fu strode toward the exit.
“You should leave,” Fang Bocong said, looking at him.
Zhou Fu abruptly halted.
“What?” he said.
“You,” Fang Bocong repeated. “Leave this place.”
The words stunned Ban Qin and Su Xin, while Zhou Fu responded with a cold, mocking laugh.
“Why should I leave?” he retorted.
Fang Bocong looked at him.
“Because I don’t wish to see you,” he said slowly.
“Is it me you don’t want to see, or is it us?” Zhou Shu shouted. “I know what you’re thinking!”
Fang Bocong looked at him and smiled faintly.
“You know what I’m thinking?” he said, then suddenly took a step forward. “Zhou Fu, then tell me – what exactly am I thinking?”
Zhou Fu met his gaze.
“She hasn’t done anything!” he shook his head insistently. “She isn’t what you think she is. She isn’t what any of you think she is.”
Fang Bocong smiled again, this time with a sharper edge.
“You don’t know. All you know is what you imagine,” he said.
With that, he straightened his expression and gestured lightly with his hand.
Instantly, Eunuch Jing – who had been standing quietly nearby – moved swiftly forward, reaching out to seize Zhou Fu.
Zhou Fu had been prepared and twisted away, swinging a punch in response.
But he was a fraction too late. Eunuch Jing pressed down firmly on his shoulder, pinning him in place.
Panicked cries rang out from Ban Qin and Su Xin in the room.
“Don’t make a scene here. Get out,” Fang Bocong said coldly.
As soon as he finished speaking, four or five more eunuchs lunged forward.
Zhou Fu’s furious roar echoed through the room, but the group of attendants held him firmly and began dragging him out.
“Fang Wei!” Zhou Fu shouted. “If you want me to leave, fine. But let me take her with me.”
Fang Bocong turned to look at him, his expression blank and unreadable.
Zhou Fu met his gaze, then suddenly twisted, not to break free but to lower his body.
“Your Highness, Crown Prince,” he said, his voice trembling. “I beg you, let me take her away.”
Ban Qin and Su Xin stared at him in stunned silence.
In all the time they had known him, this was the first time they had ever seen him beg anyone like this.
Fang Bocong also turned to look at him.
“I beg you, for the sake of the times she once saved your life,” Zhou Fu continued, meeting his gaze.
“I beg you, for the bond and affection built over days of marriage.”
“I won’t ask you not to doubt her, nor will I blame you for what you may think. I only beg you – let us go.”
“Let me take her away. We’ll go far, far from here.”
Fang Bocong looked at him quietly.
“No,” he said flatly, then turned his face away, refusing to look at him any longer.
“Fang Wei!”
“I once did this myself – I didn’t trust her, I doubted her, and I’ve regretted it ever since!”
“Don’t follow my path. You’ll live to regret it!”
Zhou Fu’s hoarse shouts echoed through the room, but they were soon muffled. Accompanied by dull grunts and sounds of struggle, he was dragged out by the eunuchs. The curtain fell back into place, and the noise gradually faded into the distance, leaving the room in heavy silence once more.
Fang Bocong shifted his gaze toward the inner chamber.
Su Xin and Ban Qin, who were huddled together, hands tightly clasped, suddenly rushed forward and blocked the doorway to the inner room, looking at him with fear in their eyes.
“Get out,” Fang Bocong said.
Su Xin and Ban Qin shook their heads, clutching the doorway desperately.
“Get out!” Fang Bocong raised his voice sharply, the words tearing from his throat in a raw cry.
Eunuchs from outside rushed in, covering the mouths of the two maids as they dragged them away.
No, no, no…
Su Xin and Ban Qin struggled with all their might, tears streaming down their faces as they watched the chamber door grow distant. The falling curtain slowly blocked their view, obscuring the figure standing with his back to the door.
No, no, no…
