Having Ah Ye fill the prestigious role of Grand General of the South naturally drew strong opposition from court officials. But since the general guarding Yingguan was also a woman—and now the emperor herself was one—no matter how loud the complaints, they were ultimately ineffective.
On the eve of their departure, Ah Ye, as usual, helped Feng Lezhen with washing and grooming. When everything was prepared, she turned away and discreetly wiped at her eyes.
Seeing her like that, Feng Lezhen couldn’t help but soften. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t.”
“This servant wants to go,” Ah Ye quickly said. “Your Majesty bore such pressure on my behalf—I have to go. Not only that, I’ll do the job beautifully. I’ll show every woman in the world that the Emperor and General Qi were not flukes. As long as they’re willing, they too can serve the court. Once more women enter the court, the atmosphere will change, and let’s see if those men still dare to covet the throne.”
Hearing this, Feng Lezhen smiled and squeezed her hand. “I knew it. I knew you’d commit yourself this thoroughly. In the end, it’s all for paving the way for me.”
“Your Majesty, we won’t be apart for too long. Once a more suitable candidate appears, this servant will return to continue serving you,” Ah Ye choked up.
Feng Lezhen shook her head. “If this journey broadens your horizons and opens your eyes, and you still wish to return to live in this palace of mere four walls with me, then I will naturally welcome you back. But if you’d rather roam freely across the beautiful rivers and mountains, then it’s fine not to return. We’ll see each other every year during the report anyway.”
She gave a faint smile and looked seriously into Ah Ye’s eyes. “I hope during this trip, you can temporarily forget me—and truly think about what it is you want.”
Ah Ye, still confused, nonetheless nodded in agreement.
Feng Lezhen watched her leave with a smile lingering on her lips, then turned to face herself in the bronze mirror again. The reflection showed a lone figure, brows and eyes full of desolation—just as the late emperor once said: “From ancient times till now, emperors, no matter how many people surround them, always end up alone.” She hadn’t fully understood it before, but now she did.
Feng Lezhen closed her eyes and let out a long, quiet sigh.
“Your Majesty can’t bear to part with Ah Ye?”
A sudden voice came from behind. She opened her eyes again and saw that another figure had appeared in the mirror.
She looked at him in the reflection for a long moment before slowly speaking: “It’s not just her I can’t bear to part with.”
Chen Jinan’s eyes flickered slightly. He restrained himself and hugged her from behind. “I’ll be back soon, Your Majesty.”
A smile surfaced in Feng Lezhen’s eyes as she gently patted his hands. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
Chen Jinan didn’t speak—he simply tightened his embrace.
Departures always come when least expected. Feng Lezhen personally escorted the two of them to the city gates, still not quite processing what was happening. That evening, when a new maid respectfully stood behind her at the vanity, and the tall, silent figure was no longer there, she finally felt a hollow space in her chest.
But no matter how many farewells there were, life had to go on. Feng Lezhen’s emotions remained steady. By day she attended court and handled state affairs; except for the occasional discomfort at night, she appeared unaffected.
Spring passed and autumn came. Time flew like a shuttle, and in the blink of an eye, the Mid-Autumn Festival arrived.
It was the first Mid-Autumn Festival since Fu Zhixian’s death, and also the first since Feng Lezhen’s ascension to the throne.
There had always been a tradition of holding palace banquets for Mid-Autumn in the Great Qian Palace, and the first such banquet under a new emperor was especially significant. As soon as August began, the entire palace was busy preparing.
With Chen Jinan absent and Feng Lezhen occupied, all banquet matters fell to Fan Gonggong and Qin Wan. Watching the two of them rush about day after day, appearing more haggard than before, Feng Lezhen found it both amusing and heart-wrenching.
“If it’s really too much, just keep things simple. My accomplishments and position aren’t built on a single palace banquet,” she finally said, unable to bear it anymore.
“No way!”
“That won’t do at all!”
As expected, the two immediately objected sternly. Feng Lezhen raised her hand, signaling them to continue as they were.
As Mid-Autumn approached, the entire palace became even busier, yet Feng Lezhen found herself with unexpected leisure. And with nothing to occupy the mind, thoughts naturally wandered. The closer the festival drew, the more often she found herself thinking of Fu Zhixian—how they first met, the hardships they shared when relying on each other, and how everything had led to this point. The more she thought, the heavier her mood grew. Even busy Qin Wan noticed something was off but could do nothing.
“Maybe things will be better after Mid-Autumn,” Feng Lezhen tried to comfort herself.
Fan Gonggong sighed. “If only it were that easy.”
Qin Wan pressed her lips together and said nothing more.
Finally, Mid-Autumn arrived. It was a festival day, so no court was held. Feng Lezhen finally had the chance to sleep in—but in reality, she woke before dawn and lay in bed tossing and turning, unable to fall back asleep. When daylight finally came, she found herself too sluggish to get up.
Qin Wan saw her like this and didn’t have the heart to wake her. She quietly withdrew.
Feng Lezhen remained half-asleep in bed, whiling away the whole morning. When Qin Wan knocked and asked if she wanted a meal, she lazily replied, “No need.”
There was a brief silence outside the room—then came a new voice.
“Your Majesty hasn’t even had breakfast. If you skip lunch too, you’ll starve.”
Feng Lezhen abruptly sat up, leapt barefoot from the bed, and ran toward the door.
When she pulled the door open, the person she thought would not be there stood right outside—dust-covered, eyes bloodshot, who knew how many nights he had ridden without rest.
Feng Lezhen stared at him. Once she processed what she was seeing, she let out a delighted cry and jumped into his arms.
Chen Jinan laughed too. All the exhaustion of the journey vanished the moment she leapt into his arms. He spun her around twice before turning to Qin Wan. “Please prepare some food.”
“Right away,” Qin Wan replied with a smile, hurrying off to summon the kitchen.
After the joy settled, Feng Lezhen finally remembered to ask, “Why did you suddenly come back?”
“Mid-Autumn is a festival. I couldn’t let Your Majesty spend it alone.” Chen Jinan looked at her with eyes as clear and bright as when they first met years ago.
Feng Lezhen’s smile deepened. She leaned down to kiss his lips.
Chen Jinan quickly turned his face. “Your Majesty… I’m filthy right now. Let me bathe first—”
Before he could finish, Feng Lezhen kissed him. Chen Jinan’s gaze softened, and he didn’t refuse again.
Chen Jinan’s sudden return lifted Feng Lezhen’s spirits completely. After the two shared a meal, she resumed reviewing memorials while Chen Jinan went to bathe and change. When they met again an hour later, he was once more the handsome young man she remembered.
“Why aren’t you resting?” Feng Lezhen asked with a smile.
Chen Jinan gently held her hand. “Come with me somewhere, Your Majesty.”
“Come with you?” Feng Lezhen was puzzled.
Chen Jinan nodded. Only then did she notice that the carriage had already been prepared.
She didn’t know what he was planning—but remembering how he had rushed for an entire month to return, she agreed to everything without question.
The carriage rolled out of the palace, slowly passing through the bustling markets. As the scenery outside became more and more familiar, Feng Lezhen’s gaze wavered. Only then did she realize where he was taking her—and why.
“Jinan.” She spoke helplessly.
Chen Jinan gently reassured her, “Rather than staying uneasy, it’s better to go see him.”
Feng Lezhen pressed her lips together, clearly resistant.
But no matter how much she resisted, she still agreed.
The carriage stopped shortly after. Chen Jinan got off with her and, from who-knows-where, pulled out a basket of incense and paper offerings.
“I’ll wait for Your Majesty here,” he said.
Feng Lezhen was silent for a moment, then took the offerings and walked toward the tomb.
The burial site she had chosen for Fu Zhixian was right beside the imperial mausoleum. Amid the lush greenery, the newly constructed front hall of the royal tomb could vaguely be seen.
After a while, she came to a stop and looked at the lone grave mound.
“I actually don’t really want to visit you,” she said slowly. “When I don’t come, it almost feels like you’re still alive. But once I do…”
She didn’t finish her sentence. She squatted down and slowly began to burn the paper money. It was already chilly in the capital this eighth lunar month. The ashes curled up in the wind and drifted into the sky; some fell lightly onto her shoulders, reluctant to leave.
She stayed for only half an hour before returning to the carriage, only to find Chen Jinan fast asleep inside. She smiled slightly and told the driver to go slowly so as not to disturb the Imperial Husband.
Chen Jinan had ridden nonstop for days and nights and was utterly exhausted. By the time he woke again, night had completely fallen, and he was still lying on the soft couch in the carriage. Feng Lezhen was nowhere in sight.
He was quiet for a moment, then lifted the curtain and jumped out. Qin Wan, who had been waiting outside, immediately stepped forward. “You’re finally awake.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost the Hai hour,” Qin Wan replied. “Her Majesty said you were too tired and should be allowed to rest.”
Chen Jinan frowned. “What about the palace banquet?”
“It’s already over,” came another voice—this time, Feng Lezhen’s.
Chen Jinan looked up and immediately strode over. “Your Majesty.”
“Just woke up?” Feng Lezhen noticed the red mark on his face and couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You really can sleep.”
Chen Jinan looked a bit embarrassed and cleared his throat. “Apologies.”
“What is there to apologize for?” Feng Lezhen took his hand and led him toward the bedchamber. “You must be hungry. What do you want to eat?”
Chen Jinan hesitated briefly, then answered, “Noodles.”
“What kind of noodles?” Feng Lezhen asked again.
“Longevity noodles,” he replied.
Feng Lezhen suddenly stopped walking.
“I want to eat longevity noodles,” Chen Jinan repeated, gathering his courage.
Feng Lezhen looked at him for a long moment. Fragments of old memories came flooding back. After a while, she smiled. “Alright, I’ll have the imperial chef make them for you.”
Chen Jinan smiled and gently tightened his grip on her hand. “Your Majesty.”
“Hm?”
“From now on, every birthday, have the imperial kitchen make me longevity noodles.”
“Alright.”
“And from now on, every Mid-Autumn Festival… don’t just be sad over Lord Fu. Be a little happy—for my birthday too.”
“…Alright.”
Receiving her affirmation, Chen Jinan looked up at the night sky.
Tonight’s moon was especially round—so round it seemed it might fall from the sky at any moment, right into the arms of someone who had been waiting for it for years.
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