The room was quiet and silent, the afterglow of the sunset filtered through the window lattice and fell upon the two embracing figures.
“Cheng Fang.” Fang Bocong called out.
Cheng Fang responded.
She did not vanish into a wisp of smoke; in his arms and hands was the warm, tangible presence of a real body.
“I have something to ask you,” Fang Bocong said.
Cheng Fang released him and stood up straight.
The sudden emptiness in his arms made Fang Bocong’s heart drop, and he instinctively tightened his grip, causing the person who had been about to step away to stumble back into his embrace.
“Did you already know about what happened to Liu Ge’er?” he asked, his voice trembling.
As the question left his lips, his hands tightened their hold involuntarily.
“When is ‘already’?” Cheng Fang leaned against him and asked seriously.
When is already?
Liu Ge’er’s illness was caused by Prince Ping, his entry into the palace was the Empress Dowager’s doing, and his murder was the work of Gao Lingjun.
Fang Bocong took a deep breath and loosened his grip slightly.
“Do you know what will happen in the future?” he asked.
Cheng Fang smiled.
“If I knew what would happen in the future, I wouldn’t be here,” she said, reaching out to embrace Fang Bocong again. “I know what you want to ask. Whether something would happen to Liu Ge’er – I’ve thought about it, and so have you. Someone like him, as a tool in someone else’s hands, would inevitably face trouble sooner or later.”
Fang Bocong tightened his embrace around her.
“But I did know something was about to happen in the capital,” Cheng Fang continued. “That night at Qingyuan Station, when you went downstairs to set off fireworks, I observed the celestial signs.”
Just like the time when Taibai crossed the sky, during solar and lunar eclipses, she could read the stars and the heavens, foreseeing fortune and misfortune.
“Did the celestial signs indicate Liu Ge’er would die?” Fang Bocong asked.
The person in his arms shook her head, her hair brushing against his chin.
“The celestial signs only offer omens; they cannot reveal who is who or how things will unfold,” she said. “When the five stars gather, it signals a change in the emperor. But how the change will happen or who will be affected – these are not things human effort can determine.”
She sighed softly as she spoke.
“In our past lives, we forgot this truth. We thought we had grasped the workings of the heavens, but we overlooked that the ways of heaven are distant, while the ways of humanity are close. If they are beyond our reach, how can we truly know them?”
In that previous life, they had also observed celestial omens, which foretold the end of the dynasty, and they proactively chose the new emperor they believed in.
“That day we were stopped outside the city gates – was someone already inside the city?” She seemed to recall something and straightened up, looking at Fang Bocong as she asked.
Fang Bocong nodded.
“The Qin family had escorted Duke Yanping into the city first,” he said.
“Duke Yanping?” Cheng Fang’s expression registered a hint of surprise before relaxing into understanding. “So, the Yanping from Fujian.”
“What about Yanping?” Fang Bocong asked.
“It seems I am not the only one who has glimpsed the workings of heaven,” Cheng Fang said with a faint smile. “It is likely that another master has also divined that the new emperor will emerge from the region of Dipper and Ox.”
Just as her Cheng family had once chosen the Yang clan as the new ruler, the vast celestial sign did not necessarily point to the Yang clan alone as the sole candidate. In the end, they triumphed in the ways of heaven but lost in the ways of humanity.
This time, compared to Duke Yanping, Duke Jin’an, who also fell within the celestial division of Wu and Yue, did not hold any inherent advantage – nor did she intend for him to seize it. Her only aim had been to see how Liu Ge’er was faring, whether he could still be saved, yet somehow matters had unfolded this way.
“…I rushed to the palace, but it was too late,” she said, gazing at Fang Bocong. “I am sorry. I couldn’t save him.”
Fang Bocong reached out and embraced her.
“No, you don’t need to apologize,” he said, holding her tightly. “Cheng Fang, you don’t need to apologize. I am the one who should be sorry. It’s me.”
“Cheng Fang, I’m sorry.”
“Cheng Fang, I shouldn’t have asked you.”
Cheng Fang smiled.
“There’s nothing you can’t ask,” she replied. “If you want to know something, if there’s anything you don’t understand, you should ask.”
Don’t keep your questions to yourself. Don’t just think on your own, don’t guess on your own, and don’t answer yourself on your own.
Yang Shan, if you don’t speak, if you don’t ask, how would I know that you hated me so much, despised me, feared me…
She rested her head against Fang Bocong’s chest, holding him tightly.
Fang Bocong, thank you for being willing to ask me. Thank you for not being afraid to ask me.
“Is there anything else you want to ask?” she said.
“No, nothing,” Fang Bocong shook his head and held her closer.
Cheng Fang raised her head.
“I could save Brother Zhou because there was still a thread of life left in him. Crown Prince, however, had already lost his soul and consciousness. Even if I had…” she began.
Don’t say any more. No need to explain. I understand, I understand.
Fang Bocong shook his head, wanting to quiet her, but unable to let go of her. Instinctively, he lowered his head and kissed her lips.
The sweet fragrance of high-quality rouge instantly filled his senses, and the softness, something he had never experienced before, made his entire body tense up.
He had only meant to stop her from speaking, not…
But why not?
“Your Majesty!”
A sudden shout came from outside the door.
Fang Bocong stumbled backward, nearly falling.
Cheng Fang reached out and steadied him.
Fang Bocong’s face flushed crimson as he rushed toward the door.
“What is it?”
The door swung open violently, and a roar filled with fury burst forth, startling Eunuch Jing so much he nearly lost his footing.
“Your Majesty…” Eunuch Jing stammered, looking at Fang Bocong, whose expression seemed ready to devour someone. “The imperial doctor… the doctor has arrived…”
After lying unconscious for so long and waking up, it was only right to have the imperial doctor examine her.
Fang Bocong suppressed the surging wave of embarrassment and took a step back.
The imperial doctor, clutching his medicine box and trembling with fear, forced himself forward under Eunuch Jing’s urging gaze and bowed unsteadily before entering.
“No need,” Cheng Fang stepped forward and said. “I’m fine.”
“You should still be examined,” Fang Bocong insisted, looking at her. “Even your own words are not entirely trustworthy.”
This liar – saying she was fine, but could she really be?
Cheng Fang smiled.
“Fang Bocong, come here,” she said, turning and walking toward the washroom. “I’ll show you.”
Fang Bocong frowned but followed her.
Eunuch Jing and the imperial doctor were left at the door.
The Empress actually called the Emperor by his name!
The doctor’s expression turned from astonishment to alarm. Before he could compose himself, a hand gripped his collar.
“What are you looking at?” Eunuch Jing glared at him, lowering his voice.
The imperial doctor shivered.
“Nothing, nothing,” he stammered.
“What did you hear?” Eunuch Jing raised his eyebrows and whispered again.
The doctor shook his head vigorously.
“Nothing, nothing,” he replied.
He hadn’t seen or heard anything.
“Go on,” Eunuch Jing finally released him, saying.
The doctor hastily clutched his medicine box and retreated as if fleeing.
What is there to see?
Eunuch Jing thought to himself, unable to resist peeking into the room. Everyone had already entered the washroom.
“I’ll show you…”
What could possibly be shown in the washroom?
And recalling the moment he called to open the door – the Emperor’s expression and tone weren’t unfamiliar.
The last time such anger had been directed was on the way to Qingyuan Station, when the intimate moment in the carriage was interrupted…
Eunuch Jing shuddered involuntarily, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts, and quickly reached out to pull the door shut.
What’s the hurry? They’ve only just recovered. Better take it easy.
Fang Bocong stood in the washroom, watching as Cheng Fang removed her outer robe, untied her gown, and shed layer after layer of clothing until she was left wearing only her undergarments.
Her top was also taken off, revealing a bright red underbust corset inside. Her shoulders and skin were now exposed before him, glowing with a dazzling radiance in the dimly lit room, accentuated by the vibrant red of the corset.
Fang Bocong’s face flushed instantly.
It wasn’t that he had never seen her body before. During these past days, he had personally washed her, changed her clothes, applied medicine, and replaced bandages. He had seen everything he should and shouldn’t have seen.
But now, it felt different from those times. It was as if her body were a blazing fire, scorching and blinding. He instinctively averted his gaze, hurriedly stepping forward in a fluster, grabbing the clothes nearby to wrap around her.
“It’s cold, don’t mess around,” he said.
“Fang Bocong, look,” Cheng Fang stopped his hand and said.
Look at what?
Fang Bocong raised his eyes to meet hers. Cheng Fang spread her arms and slowly turned in a circle.
Her smooth, rounded shoulders, fair and delicate skin, the full, high curves beneath the bright red corset trembling slightly as she turned, her slender waist, and the graceful curve of her hips…
Fang Bocong felt his throat go dry. He couldn’t help but swallow hard, his breathing growing slightly labored.
“Look, my wounds have all healed,” Cheng Fang said, turning around with a faint smile.
Oh, right, the wounds!
Fang Bocong suddenly remembered, stepping closer to examine her carefully.
The numerous knife wounds had indeed faded to faint traces.
He recalled applying medicine just a few days ago, when the scars were still gruesome and raw.
This…
But it wasn’t entirely surprising. Just look at Zhou Fu – wounds that severe, yet they healed astonishingly within half a day.
She could heal him, so naturally, she could heal herself as well.
“No,” Cheng Fang looked at him and smiled. “It was you who healed me.”
Me?
Fang Bocong looked at her.
“I used the Blessing of the Witch King,” Cheng Fang said, gazing at him. “But I am not a king. I had no right to invoke a king’s blessing, so I suffered a backlash. I was going to die.”
Fang Bocong stared at her. The word “die” froze his breath.
So it was true – she really could have died, and it had been so close.
“But you conferred a title upon me,” Cheng Fang continued with a slight smile. “Fang Bocong, you made me your empress. I am the empress. I am a queen. So, I awoke. I am healed.”
She looked at him and extended her hand.
“Fang Bocong,” she called.
So that’s how it was. That’s how it was.
Fang Bocong felt a sharp ache in his throat. He ignored her outstretched hand.
“Why didn’t you say it earlier? Why didn’t you make it clear sooner?” he cried out hoarsely.
Was it just a matter of being empress? Just a matter of conferring the title?
If he had known earlier, why would he have waited so long?
He wouldn’t have made her wait so long!
“I didn’t know I would need this,” Cheng Fang said, looking at him and reaching out again. “Fang Bocong.”
Fang Bocong turned his head away.
“You didn’t know? Since when is there anything you don’t know? You liar, always sweet-talking and coaxing others. I don’t believe you,” he replied.
If he had known earlier, he would never have waited so long. He would never have waited at all. He would have cleared every obstacle in his path without hesitation, swept them all away, just to make her empress – an empress was all it took. As for how she became empress, what did it matter?
So, this must be why she never told him.
The ways of heaven are distant; it is better to follow the ways of humanity.
She didn’t want him to abandon humanity to fight and contend. She didn’t want him to seize power unjustly, didn’t want him burdened with the world’s accusations or an ambiguous mark in the annals of history.
That’s why she never spoke of it – she absolutely refused to. She would rather wait.
She trusted him. She had always trusted him.
“Fang Bocong,” Cheng Fang called out again.
Fang Bocong looked at her, reaching out to take her hand.
“And,” she said, gazing at him, her eyes curving into a gentle smile as she clasped his hand and brought it to her chest. “Feel it.”
Feel it?
Through the thin fabric of her corset, he could sense the delicate softness, warm and sweet – no longer rigid, but pulsating gently, warm to the touch…
Warm!
Fang Bocong abruptly looked up at her.
Warm!
He lowered his head again, placing both hands on her chest, hurriedly and somewhat flustered as he pushed aside the bothersome corset to feel more directly.
Warm!
He withdrew one hand, hastily pulling open his own robe and reaching inside to touch his own chest.
Yes, just like his – warm!
“It’s back,” Cheng Fang said, looking at him.
What was taken, confined, and stripped away – her heart – had returned.
“Fang Bocong, you brought it back for me,” she said.
He didn’t quite understand what she meant, but he was overjoyed, because he could feel her happiness.
Fang Bocong gazed at her, feeling the steady, warm thumping beneath his palm.
His hand was large, resting over her heart, but it also covered other places.
With each breath, the softness beneath his hand rose and fell.
His fingers unconsciously began to slowly caress.
Skin as soft and smooth as tofu, full and high, so ample it couldn’t be held in one hand…
His other hand abruptly began undoing his own robe.
“Cheng Fang,” he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of urgency and a tremble, as if something was about to burst forth.
“Look at me too.”
Cheng Fang froze for a moment before breaking into a smile and reaching out to move his hand away.
“Why would I need to look at you? You’re not injured,” she said. “I’m not worried.”
Fang Bocong leaned in closer, pressing tightly against her side, his warm breath brushing over her head as he lowered his face near her ear.
“Just take a look,” he whispered, his voice trembling and hoarse. “I saw you. Now it’s your turn to see me. That’s fair.”
Cheng Fang laughed again, turning as if to walk away.
In the next moment, her feet left the ground as Fang Bocong lifted her into his arms.
A soft thud echoed in the room, followed by a quiet gasp.
“Slow down,” the young lady’s voice said. “I can walk myself.”
There was no reply, only the young man’s muffled murmur in response.
Stumbling and tangled, the two collapsed onto the couch together. The green curtains were hastily pulled down, blocking the last rays of the setting sun from the room.
Ragged breaths began to drift out from behind the curtains.
“Later tonight…” the young lady’s voice said, carrying a hint of calmness.
“Let tonight take care of itself,” the man’s voice replied, hurried and impatient, his breath heavy.
Soft rustling sounds continued to drift out as the green curtains swayed gently.
But soon, they were pushed aside again. Fang Bocong, now naked, climbed down somewhat awkwardly and began frantically rummaging through the nearby desk.
“Where is it?” he muttered to himself. In the dim light of dusk, his tall, well-built frame was clearly visible, his skin flushed and dotted with fine beads of sweat that glistened alluringly.
“What are you looking for?” Cheng Fang lifted the curtain, lying on her side with the brocade quilt half covering her. Her partially exposed form only added to her allure.
“That thing,” Fang Bocong replied, still searching through drawers and cabinets.
When he had married, he had been on the verge of death, so naturally, no one had taught him about the affairs between men and women.
Later, after he recovered, he had secretly acquired a few illustrated books and hidden them away.
But he never expected to have a chance to use them, and fearing they might be discovered, he had hidden them so well that even he couldn’t remember where.
What should he do? He didn’t know how!
A soft chuckle came from behind him, making his body tense even more, sweat breaking out in layers.
“I know,” the young lady’s voice said from behind.
“You know where it is?” Fang Bocong quickly turned to ask.
On the couch, the young lady lying on her side nodded with a smile and beckoned to him.
“Come here,” she said.
As she raised her hand, the brocade quilt in front of her slipped down, revealing a tantalizing glimpse.
Fang Bocong crossed the distance in a few strides.
“Where is it?” he asked hoarsely.
Cheng Fang reached out, hooked her arm around his waist, and pulled him forcefully toward her. Fang Bocong tumbled into her embrace, and the green curtains fell, concealing the two entwined figures.
A soft murmur from the young lady followed, but the words were indistinct.
“You know how?”
The man’s voice suddenly rose.
“How do you know how?”
A low chuckle escaped.
“In this world, the only thing I cannot do is write poetry.”
But, but, this… this is…
“Who taught you? How could they teach you this? You, you…” The young man’s voice continued to ramble but abruptly stopped, as though something had stifled it.
Inside the room, heavy breathing gradually grew more audible, and the green curtains swayed, shattering the glow of the evening light that filled the space.
Even as night fell, the courtyard remained quiet and still.
Eunuch Jing, standing outside the courtyard gate, sighed and turned around to face the two maidservants with hopeful expressions.
“Go and rest,” he said. “Today, we won’t be able to see His Majesty or Her Majesty.”
Ban Qin and Su Xin lowered their heads, their faces flushed, and hastily withdrew.
Eunuch Jing glanced back toward the bedchamber.
“Really, acting recklessly without regard for time before, and now without regard for occasion. They don’t even think about what day tomorrow is,” he muttered under his breath. “I hope they don’t miss the auspicious hour.”
…
The sky was bright, and the morning sun rose in the east.
Outside Xuande Gate, rows of officials and titled ladies stood in dense formations like clouds.
The procession began slowly with ceremonial crossbows, square umbrellas, assorted flowers, curved-handle fans, and canopies leading the way.
As they appeared, the assembled officials and titled ladies instinctively straightened their postures and looked on.
Following them were attendants in blue outer robes carrying staffs, vehicle wheel spokes, command batons, notification banners, and signal banners. Rows of ceremonial knives, halberds, bows, and arrows stood solemnly in formation.
A melodious tune grew nearer from the distance.
The rhythmic beats of drums – jie drums, nao drums, and yubao drums – thumped steadily, accompanied by the crisp sounds of xiao, jia, and flutes.
As the music played, a hundred-man guard with yellow command banners emerged slowly – one row carrying short halberds and five-colored banners, another holding spears and five-colored banners, and a third bearing ceremonial swords and five-colored streamers.
The steady clip-clop of hooves announced the advance of twenty men from the Imperial Guard, Prestige Guard, Martial Guard, and Valiant Guard, marching steadily forward.
Qin Hu looked up, spotting Zhou Fu with precision among the meticulously chosen, uniformly tall, stout, and attired honor guard.
His expression was stern and focused, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he guided his horse forward in an upright posture.
Behind them, the Empress’s carriage had already come into view.
Six black horses and twenty-four attendants flanked the Empress’s carriage, with two circular pheasant-tail fans on each side and behind, four large umbrellas, eight large pheasant-tail fans, along with embroidered floral canopies, curved brocade canopies, and six brocade pillars standing like a forest.
Under the sunlight, the Empress’s carriage gleamed brilliantly.
Officials and titled ladies on both sides bowed and kowtowed in unison.
Qin Hu slowly stepped back, leaning on his cane as he turned around. The steady tapping of his crutch against the ground was drowned out by the rhythm of drums and music.
What kind of woman was she?
A carriage appeared before his eyes.
“She certainly knows how to put on a grand display,” a young man beside him seemed to say with a hint of arrogance.
“It’s more like she possesses remarkable composure,” he replied slowly, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “If anything, I’m the one feeling a bit anxious.”
He watched as the carriage seemed to draw closer before him.
Yes, what kind of woman was she?
The carriage passed through him and vanished.
Qin Hu stopped in his tracks as the sounds of drums and music gradually faded away.
“Young Master,” a servant behind him called out, his voice trembling.
Qin Hu didn’t turn around, merely extending his hand.
“Young Master,” the servant was almost in tears, clutching something in his hand and unwilling to pass it over.
Qin Hu kept his hand outstretched, unmoving.
Finally, the servant handed it over – a worn-out bow and a bamboo cylinder containing paintings.
Qin Hu took them and lowered his head to look.
“Qin Shi’san, this is my favorite bow,” a young man exclaimed loudly, raising his hand toward him.
In the blink of an eye, a crowd surged forward, smiling.
“This official’s brew is to celebrate the ascension of the officials to the Immortal Platform, meant to add to the joy and not dare to disturb the officials’ steps toward immortality.”
“Congratulations to Young Master Qin.”
“Hurry over! Miss Ban Qin instructed that we can only open it once you arrive.”
“Young Master, please.”
One lamp, two lamps, three lamps – the room gradually brightened, radiant and majestic, like peonies blooming one after another…
Qin Hu tilted his head back and laughed heartily, then slung the long bow and bamboo cylinder over his shoulders, one on each side, and strode forward with his walking stick.
“I… have… a painting…”
“A beauty… painted… for me…”
“Grape wine… to celebrate success…”
“…There is a beauty… unforgettable once seen…”
…
“Bow.”
Following the ceremonial eunuch’s cry, the vast assembly of officials and titled ladies in front of the grand hall bowed in unison.
The Emperor emerged step by step from the hall, his gaze fixed on the Empress, who had just alighted from her carriage.
The rhythm of the drums and music shifted, each beat clear and resonant.
“Issue the imperial decree.”
Fang Bocong declared.
Eunuchs stepped forward, holding the golden decree and feathered fans, bowing respectfully to welcome her.
Cheng Fang ascended the steps unhurriedly. The maid beside her received the golden decree, opened the feathered fan, and Fang Bocong extended his hand. Cheng Fang placed her hand lightly over his.
“The Empress ascends to the hall.”
As the ceremonial officer proclaimed loudly, Fang Bocong glanced at Cheng Fang and smiled faintly, then turned to lead the way. Cheng Fang followed gracefully, a gentle smile gracing her lips.
Behind them, the officials and titled ladies bowed four times in succession.
(The End)
Translator’s Words:
Though the novel officially ends here, six bonus chapters will follow!
