He was well aware of the influence wielded by the powerful Jiangnan families, particularly the likes of the Gu, Lu, Zhu, and Zhang clans, with the Lu family ranking just behind his own.

Lu Kang, with his prestigious background and seniority, had long been reluctant to play second fiddle to Fu Xiao.

If Gu Yuanli’s counsel came from a place of genuine concern, then Lu Kang’s words were laced with an underlying motive—to seize the opportunity to bring down the Fu family.

The political rivals were relentless, mercilessly rubbing salt into each other’s wounds.

Whether his late elder brother could be enshrined in the imperial ancestral temple was crucial to the further advancement of the Fu clan in the Southern Dynasty.

If anyone seized this opportunity to expose a flaw, all their prior efforts would be in vain.

Fu Xiao immediately retorted, “Lord Lu, you are renowned for your high virtue and esteemed reputation. Why, then, do you focus so intently on the affairs of other families’ inner chambers? The Fu clan and the future Crown Princess are close kin, and even if there have been misunderstandings, it remains a family matter, which we will resolve thoroughly. It has no bearing on my late brother. I hope Lord Lu does not lend an ear to baseless rumors and idle talk.”

Lu Kang responded with a puzzled “Hmm,” then added, “Oh, but I heard that yesterday the Fu residence underwent extensive construction, shaking the earth so much that even flowers and bamboo were uprooted, and half the garden was left in ruins. Did your esteemed residence fall victim to a thief?”

As this disgraceful incident was laid bare, the whispers in the court grew louder, and someone even stifled a laugh.

Alongside the news of the future Crown Princess leaving the palace, another rumor had spread overnight: the mysterious and scandalous incident of the Fu family’s lady having half the household emptied out.

Now, it seemed that half of the aristocratic circles in Jiankang were secretly mocking the Fu family for losing both face and decorum.

Fu Ze’an’s face turned from blue to pale in anger, and though he wanted to argue, Fu Xiao subtly shook his head at his nephew.

No—engaging in a dispute with those eagerly waiting to see the Fu family humiliated would only pour fuel on the fire.

He bowed deeply toward the throne and said, “Please rest assured, Your Majesty. I will do my utmost to persuade the Crown Princess to return to the palace soon.”

“That is not quite right,”

A voice interjected, breaking the silence.

Wang Xiao, who had been standing among the leading ministers with his hands folded and eyes closed as if resting, opened his eyes leisurely.

This Grand Chancellor of the Jin Dynasty, now over sixty, still held a keen gaze when he looked upon others. “I heard that the Fu family’s lady swore a fierce oath yesterday and publicly broke off the engagement. By now, she is no longer the Crown Princess of the Eastern Palace, is she?”

With these words, even the emperor could not quell the uproar in the court, and the heated debate instantly fell silent, like snowflakes melting into boiling water.

Emperor Li Yu’s eyes swept downward, and he pressed his palms together within his sleeves. “Does the Grand Chancellor have any further insights?”

Wang Xiao smiled faintly and shook his head. “No, no. Just an offhand remark; please, Your Majesty, do not take offense.”

It was precisely this conciliatory demeanor that sparked a surge of irritation in Emperor Li Yu.

He glanced at Wang Xiao’s seemingly placid and unconcerned face and recalled an incident over twenty years ago.

Back then, his father had brought him and his elder brother to the imperial steps, intending to designate his brother as heir apparent.

At that time, Wang Xiao’s father, the previous Grand Chancellor, Wang Rang, had stood in the same position as his son today, opposing the decision and vehemently supporting Li Yu’s own claim to the title of Crown Prince.

The reason was simple: his elder brother’s mother, Consort Xi, was a daughter of a powerful noble family, while his own maternal family was insignificant and lacked influence.

The Wang family of Langya did not wish to share power with the aristocratic Xi family of Gaoping, so they chose him instead.

In a way, the Wang family could be considered “benefactors” of his rise to the throne.

But how did that children’s rhyme go? Wang and Emperor, ruling the world together.

Without a word, Emperor Li Yu rose and walked behind the screen, heading toward the inner Yan Hall, leaving the ministers with a cold and silent back.

The aging Emperor Jin removed the yellow rosewood prayer beads from his wrist, rolling them between his fingers as he paced on the scarlet brocade carpet woven in Shu.

Thoughts swirled in his mind—Was it not enough for them to manipulate his father’s decisions in the past?

Now, they seek to influence his own choices about the heir?

And what of the future?

Would the throne eventually bear a different name?

In all of history, when had noble clans ever had the right to divide power with the sovereign, holding both the military and the court in their hands?

“Where is the Crown Prince?” Emperor Li Yu called out several times, irritation creeping into his voice.

The attendant quickly stepped forward, bowing low, “Your Majesty, you may have forgotten, but before dawn, the Crown Prince left for Mount Louxuan to bring back Lady Fu.”

Emperor Li Yu’s expression shifted, and he let out a slight huff, half reprimanding, half indulging. “It’s about time he learned a lesson. Tell him if he doesn’t bring her back today, he needn’t return himself.”

After a pause, he issued another decree, “And remind those two in the Fu family—uncle and nephew both—to offer a proper apology to Lady Fu. What kind of example is this, for a family of noble scholars to become so disorderly?”

The attendant obediently agreed but hesitated, then cautiously added, “Your Majesty, the Chief Eunuch of Xianyang Palace came earlier, bowing and offering endless pleasantries. The Empress has prepared a morning meal and some calming chrysanthemum tea for Your Majesty. Should I inform her that you’ll be joining her for breakfast?”

Li Yu waved his hand irritably.

Just thinking about the blunder the Empress made at the banquet in Hualin gave him a headache.

How could someone usually so meticulous allow Lady Fu to leave the palace alone?

Zanying had always been timid, never leaving the palace unaccompanied.

Last night’s storm, with its thunder and rain—was she frightened?

Did she sleep well?

What if she caught a cold?

“Have the Imperial Kitchen prepare some of Lady Fu’s favorite dishes, and ensure the attendants at Jade Candle Hall are on alert,” he ordered gravely, glancing at the shifting sunlight. “I won’t be going to Xianyang Palace. Take me to Lady Liang’s chambers instead.”

---

“Your Highness, the imperial messenger reports that His Majesty will be arriving shortly.”

In the Yuning Palace, Lady Liang’s maid hurried into the hall, her face beaming with joy.

“Truly? Father is coming?” A young girl, who had been idly practicing her needlework, dropped her scissors and stood up in surprise.

Lady Liang, of the Xiao family, had three children: her son, the Second Prince Li Xinglang, and two daughters, the Second Princess Jihe and the Fifth Princess Zhenhe.

The eldest daughter had already married, leaving the fourteen-year-old Zhenhe still at her side.

“I told you, didn’t I? After that fiasco at the banquet hosted by the Empress, Father was bound to be upset,” Zhenhe pouted, her tone smug. “He should visit Mother more often. And as for that fragile little thing in Jade Candle Hall, let her stay lost—no need to bring her back.”

“Zhen’er, you’re speaking out of turn again. Do your Father to punish you even more?” Lady Liang rebuked her daughter, though her voice, like that of many women from Jiangnan, was soft and gentle.

Even when reprimanding her children, there was little sting in her words.

Her eyes, which held the serene allure of the southern rivers and lakes, gazed toward the door. “The Emperor will not come.”

Zhenhe couldn’t believe it. “Why not?”

Lady Liang simply lowered her lashes and smiled faintly.

Though she remained confined within the palace, she understood enough of the outside world.

The Emperor favored the Crown Prince, while the Wang family, a powerful clan, had grown increasingly close to her son, Li Xinglang.

But what did the Wang family truly want?

They saw no value in Xinglang himself—they were only interested in her.

A mother without a strong family backing could be easily controlled.

If the Emperor bypassed the central palace and came to Yuning instead, it would send a clear message: the Crown Prince had lost favor.

But he wouldn’t make such a declaration— not yet.

His Majesty has always valued the Crown Prince, and he would never act that way.

Lady Liang had not even prepared to attend court; she leaned against the embroidered brocade cushion, her thoughts drifting momentarily to the little girl from the Yuzhu Hall.

For years, the Empress had kept that child under strict control, and the two palaces had always maintained a respectful distance from each other.

On the rare occasions when they met on the imperial path, young Lady Fu would bow respectfully, her demeanor restrained, never daring to utter more than a polite greeting.

But Lady Liang had seen what the child was like in her younger years.

Back then, she was lively and clever, a snowball-like child whose bright eyes would curve into a smile whenever she saw someone.

She would cup her little hands in a playful bow, beg for fruits, and charm everyone with her innocent sweetness.

Zhenhe’s blunt comment echoed what Lady Liang felt in her heart: she wished that Lady Fu would never return.

This palace, as deep and treacherous as the sea, the hearts of those within even deeper, filled with deceit and cunning plots—such a gentle and pure-hearted girl could never endure it all.

Alas, Lady Liang’s opinion didn’t matter.

She sighed softly, just as a young eunuch appeared at the second hall door and reported, “Your Ladyship, the imperial carriage had just reached the gates of Yuning Palace but then turned and went to Concubine Guo’s Yanxiang Pavilion instead.”

“What?” Zhenhe exclaimed in disbelief, her delicate fingers waving in frustration. “Why?”

“Xiao Wu, hush. No more outbursts,” Lady Liang said, unsurprised.

She beckoned her youngest daughter closer and gently straightened her skewed collar.

She was about to pick up a scripture to pass the time when her maid, Ah Lin, returned and whispered at her side, “Your Ladyship, the Noble Consort Xi in the Tai Concubine Garden has stirred up trouble again. The noble consort hasn’t seen Lady Fu for days and is throwing tantrums, refusing to eat or drink. One moment she cries that Lady Fu has been taken by bad people, and the next, she claims everyone in the palace is trying to harm her. She hasn’t touched a morsel, and no one can reason with her. What should we do?”

Lady Liang felt a headache coming on.

Consort Xi was aging, and her mind had grown muddled in recent years.

When she had her spells, she would ramble on incoherently, caught up in wild fantasies like a stubborn old child.

Of everyone in the back palace, only Lady Fu had the patience to soothe her, able to handle this elder matriarch.

Lady Liang asked, “Is Xianyang Palace doing nothing about this?”

The maid replied quietly, “Of course, they’re trying. The consort’s son is still in Shu serving as a prince, so no one in the palace dares let anything happen to her. It’s said that the Empress has sent several groups over, but none succeeded; they were all driven away by the consort, who only wants Lady Fu.”

Lady Liang understood now.

With Fu Zanying’s departure, all those trivial matters that Lady Fu used to handle for Empress Yu were now falling right back on Yu Shi’s shoulders.

She rubbed her temples and, with the help of her maid, stood up. “In that case, let’s bring along some soft and easy-to-digest pastries and go see the old lady.”