Once the date for the enthronement ceremony was set, the mourning banners that had hung in the palace for only a few days were quickly taken down. Everyone wore expressions of joy, as though the days of weeping had been nothing more than a distant dream, already forgotten without a trace.
In most cases, during the early days of a regime change, a new monarch would be incredibly busy. But since Feng Lezhen had already taken control while the previous emperor was still alive, she was now surprisingly idle. She had pursued this throne for two lifetimes—yet now that it was finally within reach, she found herself feeling oddly detached. After moving into the palace, she left all matters of the enthronement ceremony to her maternal grandfather and the Ministry of Rites.
Her grandfather cursed under his breath, but still rolled up his sleeves and returned to court. For a time, he was busier than ever. And as Feng Lezhen found herself with free time, it was then that she received a visit from Shen Suifeng, who had come to bid her farewell.
“Why not wait until after the enthronement ceremony?” Feng Lezhen asked, looking at the luggage beside him, lips gently pursed.
Shen Suifeng smiled. “Whether or not you become emperor makes no difference to me. It’s enough to know that you’re no longer in danger. It’s winter now—Jingdu’s weather is harsh. The shizi also sent a letter recently, saying he’s been feeling unwell and urging me to return to Yunming quickly.”
“He wrote to you?” Feng Lezhen’s expression softened.
Shen Suifeng nodded and pulled a cloth bundle from his luggage.
Feng Lezhen looked puzzled but still opened it. When she saw what was inside, a trace of amusement appeared in her eyes. “He made this for me?”
“Yes. The stitches aren’t crude, but there are signs it was taken apart and redone multiple times. It’s clearly handmade by him,” Shen Suifeng said, lips curving. “If the young shizi is learning to sew cloaks, he can’t be too unwell.”
Feng Lezhen laughed, shaking the cloak out and trying it on directly.
Seeing how much she liked it, Shen Suifeng commented coolly, “Seems Your Highness is very fond of it.”
“Where’s yours?” Feng Lezhen asked.
Shen Suifeng paused. “Mine what?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Feng Lezhen reached out her hand. “This is such a joyous occasion—me ascending the throne—and you’re not giving me a gift to congratulate me?”
“Who asks for gifts themselves?” Shen Suifeng chuckled, but still pulled a thick envelope from his chest and slapped it into her hand.
Feng Lezhen froze. “What is this? A silver draft or a letter?”
“It’s a set of tonic prescriptions for Your Highness’s recovery,” Shen Suifeng replied.
Feng Lezhen’s face turned a little green.
“There are ten in total. Start with the first one and take it for seven days, then wait ten days before starting the next,” Shen Suifeng explained kindly. “Even if Your Highness forgets, the instructions are written clearly on each prescription.”
Feng Lezhen: “……”
Perhaps her expression was too amusing, for Shen Suifeng couldn’t help but laugh again. But after he laughed, a gentle warmth filled his eyes: “Once Your Highness finishes them all, I’ll return to give you a wellness check.”
Feng Lezhen’s eyes flickered slightly. After a pause, she smiled faintly. “Alright.”
“And… if Your Highness ever needs anything, be sure to send word to the Shen family trading house. No matter where I go, I report my whereabouts to the local branch, so you’ll always be able to find me.” Shen Suifeng added.
Feng Lezhen replied, “Alright.”
Shen Suifeng’s throat moved slightly, as if there was nothing more to say. He turned and walked out. Feng Lezhen quietly watched his back. Even when he stepped out of the room, she didn’t call after him—just like when they parted last time.
Shen Suifeng was a free bird, meant to soar across vast skies and great rivers for her. Even if he occasionally paused to rest, he would always set off on a new journey again.
Feng Lezhen rubbed her brow. When she looked up, she saw Ah Ye sneaking around outside the door. A faint smile appeared in her eyes, and she beckoned her over.
“Your Highness.” Ah Ye immediately ran in. She had barely finished her greeting when she saw the cloak in Feng Lezhen’s hands and couldn’t help but exclaim, examining it closely. “Did Mr. Shen give you this?”
“It was sent from Yunming by Jingqing,” Feng Lezhen replied.
Ah Ye felt the stitching. “The fabric is top quality, but the embroidery is really not up to standard.”
“Jingqing made it himself,” Feng Lezhen explained.
“The young shizi made it himself?!” Ah Ye exclaimed, then looked confused. “With his personality, he would’ve practiced many times before making the real thing. Even if he didn’t switch out the fabric when he messed up, he should’ve at least covered up the stitches where it was redone. Why are they showing so plainly?”
Feng Lezhen lowered her eyes and touched the stitching around the seams of the cloak, letting out a soft sigh.
“If it weren’t like this, how would I have known at first glance that he made it?” He just wanted to let her know—he’d been thinking of her.
Ah Ye rubbed her nose, still not fully understanding, but decided to change the subject. “By the way, Your Highness, a message just came from the inner prison. Li Tong took poison.”
Feng Lezhen paused and looked up. “Suicide?”
“It was Fan Gonggong who did it,” Ah Ye said, looking a bit nervous. Ever since Your Highness survived death, we’ve kept Li Tong locked up, but Your Highness never gave the order to execute him, so we figured there was another plan. Who would’ve thought that Fan Gonggong would lose patience and act on his own.”
“Are you certain he’s dead?” Feng Lezhen asked calmly.
Ah Ye nodded. “I personally confirmed it and supervised the cremation. There’s absolutely no chance he survived.”
“In that case, it’s fine.” Once, for the sake of Feng Ji, a single cup of poison had cost her her life. Now, having her own people take his life the same way—it was retribution.
“Fan Gonggong also said he wanted to send Li Tong’s ashes back to his hometown. It’s to repay the kindness of Li Tong bringing him home all those years ago,” Ah Ye added.
Feng Lezhen nodded in agreement and asked, “What about the imperial guards we imprisoned earlier?”
“The Imperial Guards were the emperor’s personal troops, and should have sworn to protect him to the death. Now that Your Highness is becoming emperor, they naturally wouldn’t dare act out. I’ve been quietly assigning them new posts,” Ah Ye reported.
Feng Lezhen laughed lightly. “Good.”
On the first day of the twelfth lunar month, just ten days before the coronation, the capital saw its first snow of the season. A congratulatory gift from the third prince of Tayuan was also placed on Feng Lezhen’s desk.
There were three items in total. Two were auspicious treasures. The third was an unremarkable little box. Feng Lezhen opened it to find two strands of hair tied together.
That b*stard. Who knows when he cut her hair, just to make something like this. Feng Lezhen let out a breathless laugh and snapped the box shut with a “pa!”
“Did Prince Feizhan provoke you again, Your Highness?” Ah Ye, ever observant, asked immediately. “What did he send this time to upset you? I’ll throw it out right now!”
“No need. It’s nothing,” Feng Lezhen declined her offer and signaled for her to move the rest of the gift items to the storeroom.
Ah Ye agreed and called for attendants to move the tribute. She herself reached for the inconspicuous little box—only for Feng Lezhen to take it away.
“Not this one,” Feng Lezhen said, pressing her lips together and tucking it away in her dressing table.
As the twelfth month began, the day of the enthronement ceremony drew closer. Feng Lezhen felt as if it arrived in the blink of an eye—soon it was the night of the ninth.
The grand ceremony would be tomorrow. She lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Just as she was wondering whether she should get up and review memorials instead, a knock came at the door.
In that instant, as if blessed with foresight, she spoke softly: “Jinan?”
“Your Highness, it’s me,” came Chen Jinan’s voice from outside.
A smile flickered in Feng Lezhen’s eyes. “Come in.”
“Yes.” Chen Jinan responded and pushed open the door.
There were no lamps lit inside. He paused at the threshold to let his eyes adjust, and once he could barely make things out, he stepped slowly to the bedside. Feng Lezhen was already sitting up. When he stopped just beside the bed without moving, she sighed helplessly—and reached out to pull him in.
Chen Jinan collapsed onto the bed with the motion, but his body remained tense. Even though the room was pitch black, Feng Lezhen could still sense his discomfort.
“We’ve shared a bed so many times—how are you still not used to it?” Her eyes held a trace of amusement as she pinched his earlobe. As expected, he tensed even more.
Chen Jinan said stiffly, “Your servant…”
“What did I tell you before?” Feng Lezhen cut him off.
Chen Jinan paused, then rephrased, “I… I’m used to it. I’ve always been used to it.”
“Oh?” Feng Lezhen’s voice suddenly lowered, and her hand slowly slipped beneath the covers. The boundless night stirred up a hint of intimacy. “Then let me see how you’ve gotten used to it.”
“Your Highness…” Chen Jinan’s breath hitched, and he instinctively grabbed her hand.
Feng Lezhen smiled and lowered her head to kiss the center of his brow.
Unable to fall asleep, she simply chose not to sleep at all.
In the garden pond, the crescent moon shimmered faintly on the surface. When the crescent moved from east to west, the long winter night finally came to an end.
Before dawn broke, lights were already lit in the palace, illuminating it like daytime.
Inside the bedchamber, dozens of people bustled about. Chen Jinan stood quietly in a corner, head bowed, watching them help Feng Lezhen dress and do her hair.
As a pale light slowly brightened the sky, Feng Lezhen was finally fully dressed with the help of Ah Ye, Qin Wan, and the others. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she personally put on the beaded imperial crown before turning to Chen Jinan in the corner.
“Well?” she spread her arms slightly, showing off her bright yellow gown embroidered with dragon patterns.
Chen Jinan replied, “You look beautiful.”
Then, realizing the word sounded too casual, he quickly added, “Majestic… very dignified.”
Feng Lezhen chuckled, glancing down at her gown. “I’ve never looked down on my identity as a woman, and after ascending the throne, I have no intention of forcing myself into dragon robes made for men. That’s why I had this outfit made specially. Does it look improper to you?”
“Absolutely not.” This time, Chen Jinan answered with certainty.
The corners of Feng Lezhen’s lips curled into a pleased smile. She turned and walked out. “Then let them all see what the first empress in history looks like.”
Chen Jinan lowered his head and followed her out, holding the long ceremonial whip.
At the grand hall, the doors were flung open. Standing on the high platform, he cracked the whip—its crisp sound rang through the palace.
All the civil and military officials dropped to their knees and bowed three times and kowtowed nine times to the new emperor.
The enthronement ceremony officially began.
At the same time, Fu Zhixian, who had been sitting in his courtyard admiring the moon since the night before, paused slightly when he heard the distant ceremonial chimes. He looked in the direction of the imperial palace with an unreadable expression, but all he could see was the high courtyard wall of the Fu residence.
The guard beside him, who had served him for over ten years and understood his feelings for the Princess best, saw his look and couldn’t help voicing his discontent: “The one cracking the ceremonial whip today on behalf of Her Highness—no, His Majesty—should’ve been you, sir.”
Fu Zhixian came back to himself and smiled faintly as he began pouring wine again. “Now, the only one qualified to do it… is Chen Jinan.”
“I truly don’t understand how Her Majesty could be so heartless,” the guard said, frowning. “Master, you may have made mistakes in the past, but you’ve done everything possible to make amends. Why won’t she forgive you?”
“Who says she hasn’t?” Fu Zhixian raised an eyebrow. “She’s clearly already forgiven me.”
“Then why…”
“A shattered mirror,” Fu Zhixian sighed, “is hard to make whole again.”
The guard fell silent.
Fu Zhixian picked up the wine jug to pour more, but it was already empty. He tossed it aside and reached for a new one. After two failed attempts to grab it, the guard finally stepped in to pour for him.
“To be honest, if you were truly determined to mend things, it’s not impossible,” the guard murmured. He had only recently learned that the decree Fu Zhixian secretly sent to her earlier was actually a last edict from the late emperor supporting her claim to the throne. “But you’re too softhearted to put Her Majesty through that.”
“It’s not that I’m softhearted,” Fu Zhixian said with a bitter smile, drinking the wine in one gulp before flinging the cup to the ground. The fine white porcelain with gold trim shattered instantly. “It’s that I know—even if the mirror is pieced back together and looks flawless, the cracks inside remain. All my so-called atonement these past few years was just me coming to terms with reality.”
Suddenly finding everything dull, he swayed to his feet. The guard tried to support him, but he brushed him off.
“I’ve been entangled with her for so many years. If I truly wanted something from her, I could get it,” Fu Zhixian said slowly, walking toward his chambers. “But the only thing she can give me now is a mirror that only looks whole. If I’d never known what perfect felt like, it might be enough. But I did have it once… One wrong step, and every step after goes wrong too.”
The guard watched his figure retreat into the distance, a growing unease welling in his chest. “So, sir… you’re really going to just give up? Let someone else take your place in her heart?”
Fu Zhixian suddenly stopped. His gaze shimmered coldly. “No matter how many people she may come to like… that little place at the tip of her heart—she has to keep it for me. Forever.”
But with so many people lining up, willing to offer her everything, how can you be so sure she will save a place for you? The guard wanted to ask, but when he looked at that weary, desolate figure, in the end, he said nothing.
Under the same sky, while the capital had already grown cold, Yunming still bloomed with the breath of spring. Qi Jingqing lowered his gaze and placed a piece on the chessboard. Opposite him, Shen Suifeng clicked his tongue and suddenly scattered the pieces with a sweep of his hand.
“Ruining the game like this—hardly the act of a gentleman,” Qi Jingqing said coolly, though he didn’t seem to care much.
Shen Suifeng lounged lazily on a cushion, giving him a sideways glance. “What’s the fun in playing this all day? If you’ve got the guts, come identify medicinal herbs with me instead.”
“I’m no physician. Why would I care about herbs?” Qi Jingqing replied, looking up at the sky.
The sky over Yunming was so blue, not a cloud in sight, like it had been washed clean. He wondered if the capital had such beautiful skies too.
“Stop looking—you won’t see her no matter how long you stare.” Shen Suifeng had food and wine brought in and poured a cup personally. “You’ve recovered quite well. You should try the joy of tasting this worldly ‘water of happiness.’”
“Water of happiness,” Qi Jingqing picked up the cup, chuckling at the name.
Shen Suifeng raised his second cup and gently clinked it against his. “A toast—to Her Highness, to the Emperor.”
“To the Emperor,” far away in Tayuan, Feizhan lifted his wine jug and, seated on the sun-warmed rooftop of the Rinuan Pavilion, raised it toward the sky in a distant toast.
The enthronement ceremony lasted nearly three hours, finally ending at the imperial mausoleum.
In just a few short months, the tomb had been fully restored. Even with incense burning, the smell of fresh paint still lingered. Feng Lezhen looked at the ancestral tablets arranged on the altar, her gaze ultimately settling on the two most recent ones. Noticing this, Chen Jinan dismissed the attendants and quietly withdrew.
“Royal Father,” she began slowly, “in the end, I still became Emperor.”
The candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows on the name tablet of Emperor Qianyuan, as if echoing her words.
Feng Lezhen let out a quiet laugh. “I had so much I wanted to say to you, but now that the day is here, it all seems unnecessary. I no longer wish to dwell on whether you truly loved me or merely used me. From now on…”
Her smile faded completely, and she turned to leave—but at the threshold, she looked back one last time, her eyes fixed on Emperor Qianyuan’s tablet.
“Father, I was your daughter—raised and taught by your own hand. I agreed with your governance, respected your accomplishments, and even understood the pain and helplessness of ruling an empire. But…” Her voice softened with a hint of emotion, her eyes glistening, “…but in the next life, let’s not be father and daughter again.”
A cold gust of wind swept through the hall, snuffing out one of the candles on the altar. Emperor Qianyuan’s tablet seemed to dim as well.
Feng Lezhen turned and walked out. When she reappeared in the courtyard, she had already returned to her calm and dignified imperial bearing.
“Your Majesty.” Chen Jinan stepped forward and presented something in his hand. “This was found by the guards at the door. I found it suspicious and brought it to you.”
Feng Lezhen looked down—it was a small bell, strung on a piece of cord.
She was silent for a moment, then took the bell from him. As it shifted in her hand, it gave off a light, cheerful jingle, oddly lively for such a solemn moment.
“Let’s go.” Feng Lezhen tucked the bell away and reached out a hand to Chen Jinan.
He immediately stepped up to support her, and they walked out together.
