Chapter 31

“It’s been over twenty years now.” The Emperor’s tall frame leaned against the dragon throne, and his voice carried a trace of weariness. “Junchi, once the matter with Prince Chen is settled, I wish to acknowledge…”

“Your Majesty, my surname is Lu,” Lu Feng said calmly. “My father raised me and protected me. As his legitimate eldest son, I must uphold his ancestral rites and take care of his posthumous affairs.”

“He had his own biological son—what need is there for you?” the Emperor snapped in a low tone. His tiger-like eyes widened as every attendant in the hall immediately knelt in silence. With an impatient wave of his sleeve, the Emperor barked, “Everyone, leave!”

“Wait—give Commander Lu a seat,” he ordered.

Though his authority was as enigmatic as ever, the palace servants tiptoed without sound. When only the two of them remained in the hall, the Emperor sat high at the front, gazing down upon Lu Feng.

Lu Feng kept his head bowed in quiet composure, his sharply defined features sliced by the light and shadow streaming in from outside—half bathed in brightness, half cloaked in darkness.

Everyone remarked that His Majesty placed boundless trust in Commander Lu—here was a man who dared to defy the Emperor, was not bound by the confines of an official robe, and even had the temerity to carry a sword before him. Throughout the ages, no imperial favorite had ever been granted such complete confidence.

Ruthless in his methods, Lu Feng was, to any discerning eye, a sharp blade in the Emperor’s hand. Men of his caliber might shine brilliantly for a time, yet very few meet a happy end. They either suffer the fate of being discarded—as the saying goes, “when the rabbit dies, the dog is cooked”—or they are left as a living target, a “chicken to warn the monkey,” for the next ruler.

By his hand, countless families were decimated and estates confiscated. Many watched with eager anticipation, longing to see what fate would befall the renowned Commander Lu—wondering if the brutal punishments of the previous dynasty, which he had revived single-handedly, would ultimately lead to his self-destruction and karmic retribution.

Only the Emperor knew that they would never witness that day. How could he bear it? Junchi was a good child—even the very one for whom he felt the deepest guilt and the one who most resembled him. His own son!

The Emperor’s thoughts gradually drifted away.

……

More than twenty years ago, when the current Emperor was still known as Prince of Youzhou, he had just fought a fierce battle in Qizhou against the Prince of Lu—a hard-won, sorrowful victory. Capitalizing on the situation, the southern Prince Chen took to the waterways to reach the capital, swiftly captured it, donned the yellow robe, and ascended the throne as Emperor.

The very first act after proclaiming himself Emperor was to send envoys to negotiate peace with Prince Youzhou, in an attempt to divide the realm between them—two emperors jointly ruling.

This was merely a tactic to buy time, and naturally, Prince Youzhou did not trust it. After his exhausting, soul-sapping battle with Prince Lu, he was in desperate need of recovery. Both sides, however, harbored their own hidden calculations. He had never imagined that Prince Chen could be so insidiously ruthless!

On the way to finalizing their alliance, Prince Chen dispatched men to launch a surprise attack on Prince Youzhou’s palace, intent on seizing his family. At that time, the old Youzhou residence was home to seventy elderly women and a three-year-old child—its occupants were entirely the old, the weak, the women, and the children.

In the chaos of their flight, one of his concubines and her son were captured by Prince Chen’s soldiers. Rushing over on his swift horse, he arrived at the scene. When that concubine saw him, her beautiful eyes filled with tears as she cried out in a plaintive, heart-wrenching tone, “Prince, I beg you—please, save our child!”

“He was just beginning to speak—yesterday, he even called you ‘Imperial Father.’ He is so bright and clever, Prince, oh, Prince—”

After the concubine finished speaking, she threw herself headlong into the blade of the soldier beside her and was killed instantly.

The bright red blood slowly trickled down the cold blade while, in the midst of the fierce combat between the two sides, the battle scene descended into utter chaos. His deputy general, Lu Changyuan—adept and quick in battle—seized the opportunity to reclaim the child, riding back to the main camp at full gallop, only to be ambushed by a large force of Chen’s soldiers.

Prince Chen intended for them all to be slain right there.

They had managed to withdraw only a small elite unit back to Youzhou, but the enemy’s strength far exceeded theirs. To this day, the Emperor refuses to think back on that catastrophic battle—a battle soaked entirely in blood. His subordinates, deputy generals, and sworn brothers—only yesterday, they were drinking heartily from large bowls and feasting on meat, laughing and boasting that when the prince ascended the throne, each would be honored with a title like “Mighty General.”

That day would never come.

Youzhou was where he had built his fortune, yet in the more than twenty years of his rule as Emperor, he had not once set foot in that land. To him, it is no longer the nurturing home that gave him life—it has become the burial ground of his brothers.

The battlefield was strewn with severed limbs and shattered arms; even when the fallen were collected and their garments retrieved, it was impossible to tell one person’s arm from another’s. Even now, the very thought cuts his heart like a deep, unrelenting pain.

So many perished that it is almost laughable—in that he is still alive, and his children still live. His brothers died to protect him, and their children were forced to pay with their lives in place of his own son.

Prince Chen’s soldiers pursued relentlessly. Lu Changyuan fled to his old home in Youzhou, exchanging the attire of his son—who was of similar age—with Prince Youzhou’s son to mislead the pursuers. Amid the ensuing chaos, he managed to escape north with his own child.

That child, however, was hacked to pieces by the barrage of blades, reduced to nothing more than a mass of meat paste.

Upon returning to his main camp, Prince Youzhou, deeply grieving, tore up the peace treaty in the dead of night and declared war on Prince Chen.

In the ensuing battles—with severed heads hanging from belts—no one knew when fate would come to claim their lives. On the eve of the great conflict, Prince Youzhou, accompanied by his child, visited Lu Changyuan’s encampment. He said, “Brother, I may be the prince, and you the deputy general. Though our ranks officially denote superiority and inferiority, you know I have always regarded you as a true brother.”

“Had I known it would come to this… I would never have allowed you to act in such a manner.”

Lu Changyuan fell silent. Throughout the ages, it has been impossible to reconcile loyalty and righteousness when one’s own blood is at stake, and he felt the pain all too deeply.

Prince Youzhou sighed, “Changyuan, you have lost one son, and I will return to you another. Don’t be alarmed; listen to me—”

He continued, “Prince Chen and I are destined to be mortal enemies; unless I crush him to dust and scatter his ashes, the hatred in my heart will never be quenched! Yet, as man proposes and heaven disposes, I cannot say for sure if we can win.”

“Moreover, you have only this one heir under your care. To be blunt, when the day comes that you lie wrapped in your horsehide, who will weep at your funeral and mourn your passing? Rest assured—once my word is given, it is unalterable. I have entrusted you with my child, and from now on, he shall have no further connection with me.”

“No matter what the future holds, he will always be your son, Lu Changyuan.”

……

Reflecting on the past, the Emperor’s imposing gaze revealed a hint of sorrow.

Those brothers who survived back then were treated with utmost care—he promoted them, ennobled them, and secured prosperous marriages for them, ensuring that at least three generations would bask in unbounded wealth and honor.

Lu Changyuan was ennobled as Duke Lu, a hereditary title passed down without replacement. He now enjoys a comfortable life with both a wife and consorts. His principal wife bore him two sons, while his favored concubine gave him a daughter. In short, he has children of both genders, holds high office, and enjoys vast wealth. He rose to great eminence in life, and in death, he was enshrined in the temple of loyal martyrs—venerated alongside others to ensure that his legacy was honored for countless generations.

He believed he had done right by him. He always found himself unconsciously paying attention to Lu Feng.

Lu Feng had been raised very well—handsome and imposing, skilled in words and arms. He was entrusted with the Youzhou army, and on his very first foray onto the battlefield, he charged alone on horseback into the enemy camp, decapitating many foes.

Of his more than a dozen children, only that one son who was sent away most resembled him.

Perhaps because he had grown old, he often recalled the past. In his life he had many women, yet that less-favored concubine was not exceptionally beautiful—he could scarcely recall the precise features of her nose or eyes—but he could never forget that day: the vivid, crimson blood and her agonized screams. She exchanged her life to secure for them a glimmer of hope; she pleaded with him to go rescue their son.

The Emperor once held a banquet in the hall. Eschewing his imperial regalia in favor of plain clothes, he personally poured wine for Duke Lu.

He said, “Changyuan, in the blink of an eye, over twenty years have passed; times have changed, yet I still dream of the past. Those fallen brothers—Youlin, Qingsong, Lingfeng… they were all men of unyielding resolve, and now they have reached the age to marry and start families.”

As taciturn as he had been many years ago, Duke Lu raised his cup and replied, “Your Majesty, the past cannot be retrieved; please do not grieve.”

“Indeed, it is all in the past.” The Emperor sighed, “It was the bloody struggles of those brothers that made the life we now live possible. Over the years, I have never dared forget the support you have given me.”

Duke Lu answered, “Your Majesty, Your grace and favor toward us is as weighty as a mountain; I, too, shall never forget Your Majesty’s kindness.”

“Since that’s so.” The Emperor looked at Duke Lu with earnest eyes and said, “I have never treated you badly, Changyuan. Now that you have both sons and daughters, surrounding you with family joy, can you—can you…?”

“—Can you return my son to me?” The Emperor’s gaze was filled with tears while Duke Lu drank silently; the two parted on bitter terms.

The Emperor’s mind began to churn, and once set in motion, it was unstoppable. He thought he would give Changyuan abundant compensation—enfeoff him as a king of a different surname, bestow upon him a life-saving golden token and red-ink iron certificates—he was willing to provide anything. After all, he was the Son of Heaven, bearer of the Mandate, commanding wealth across the four seas; nothing was beyond his grasp. But he never expected that Changyuan… was gone.

Stricken with a sudden illness, by the time the imperial physicians arrived, his body had already stiffened.

The Emperor stared at Lu Feng—now draped in mourning attire before the coffin—mumbling several times until, in the end, no words could come out.

Back in those days, yet another of his brothers had been lost. No wonder the Son of Heaven began to refer to himself as “the lonely one”—indeed, he had truly become utterly alone.

Under that desolate full moon of yesteryear, he had declared that this child should mourn for Changyuan by crying at the funeral and smashing a basin—and his words had, tragically, come true.

After that, so many things happened: Lu Feng lost a leg, his temperament changed drastically, and he assumed command of the Jinlong Bureau. When his wife became pregnant again this year, the Emperor suddenly realized that his son was nearly thirty.

He, too, was growing old. In his lifetime, will he ever hear him call him ‘Imperial Father’?

The Emperor sighed and said in a measured tone, “This journey is long and arduous. Take with you the elite of the Jinlong Bureau. When trouble arises, do not act rashly—be exceedingly careful.”

“Your humble servant obeys.” Lu Feng’s expression remained unchanged. He raised his head and suddenly asked, “Should we continue to keep watch on the capital?”

He was referring to the small alleys in the southern part of the city. Although there has been no sign of any movement yet, Lu Feng always believed they might lure out a big fish.

“Prince Chen is ruthless—his methods are insidious. He delights in preying on the elderly, the weak, and even women and children, and his other offspring are likely to inherit their father’s vicious streak.”

The Emperor paused, a flicker of disgust crossing his eyes. “Since I have entrusted this matter to you, I will not interfere.”

He did not care for Jiang Wanrou and despised Jiang Wanxue even more. These women—each one a dangerous beauty—have shamed his sons into fighting one another, inciting bloodshed that is detestable, hateful, utterly hateful!

In the Emperor’s eyes, nothing was amiss with his sons. Even the beleaguered Prince Gong—though he committed a grave error—was merely misled by treacherous advisors. He was confined to the palace partly as punishment and partly for his own protection.

After all, his sons are his very flesh and blood; they were once dearly loved.

The Emperor continued, “If she… if she truly manages to lure out the remaining scum associated with Prince Chen, then for her achievement, once the task is accomplished, I will bestow upon her a fitting honor.”

If Jiang Wanxue had not borne a son and a daughter for Prince Gong, the Emperor would never have spared her life. All these years, the Emperor has often wondered whether he might have been mistaken. Back then, when that so-called ode was recited, he didn’t take a single word to heart—he only noted that the girl was charming and that her family background was somewhat inferior. It didn’t matter; since his son liked her, he bestowed a measure of honor upon her.

Thus, the Emperor’s golden decree overnight made the title of “talented woman” associated with Jiang Wanxue unparalleled in the capital.

Had he known that, as a result, Prince Gong would be drawn to Jiang Wanxue—thereby sowing the seeds for fraternal strife—he would have ordered her hanged long ago instead of leaving her in such a dilemma. The Emperor regarded Jiang Wanrou with cold eyes—first, because he thought her status was too low to be a match for Lu Feng, and secondly, because her association with Jiang Wanxue had tarnished her. He cared not whether they were legitimate daughters or born of concubines; after all, they came from the same brood. If the elder sister was as fickle as the saying goes, how could the younger ever be any better?

To this day, the Emperor believes that the feud between Prince Gong and Lu Feng is solely because of one woman.

Lu Feng’s eyes flashed with a trace of irony as he calmly remarked, “After all, she is the mother of the imperial grandson—I won’t kill her.”

Having been conned by his fiancée and publicly humiliated in his youth, Lu Feng, though once filled with resentment and humiliation, has long since let those feelings go. He even feels somewhat grateful that had it not been for that one accident back then, Wanrou would never have become his wife. For his former self, a “wife” was merely a symbol—it was only natural for a man to marry and have children once he came of age.

He needed a wife to manage the household and take care of the inner quarters. His standards were extraordinarily high—his wife had to be beautiful enough to delight his eyes; she had to be respectful and gentle, serving him in the grand hall; she had to be physically robust, capable of bearing him strong children; and she needed to possess a talent for refined composition, as well as be proficient in playing the qin and painting, so that in his leisure moments he could relax and unwind.

In those days, Master Lu never imagined he would ultimately marry such a woman.

By nature, he was strict and prudent, and a woman as charming and alluring as Jiang Wanrou never fell within his aesthetic; besides, apart from her questionable background, she was unacquainted with the Four Books and not versed in the Six Arts—completely clueless when it came to the refined arts of qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting—thus utterly failing to meet his stringent requirements for a “wife.”

Yet, she was wonderful.

The meals she prepared were always served warm and suited his taste perfectly. The knee coverings she made were soft and comfortable, sparing him the hardships of biting cold. She managed the household so well that one felt as if bathed in a gentle spring breeze upon entering, with an immediate uplift in spirit.

She raised Huaiyi to observe proper etiquette and remain virtuous, and he turned out to be both sharp and clever.

Though their aspirations were entirely different and their life experiences worlds apart, Lu Feng recalled that sharing a room with her was never dull—rather, it was soothing and comfortable.

It didn’t matter that she wasn’t adept at playing the instrument; he’d play for her. Watching her sparkling eyes, a surge of pride welled in his heart.

Those plays—which seemed utterly insignificant to him—were exactly what she loved, and he even tried to understand them. Although, in the end, he still found them absurd, watching her as if she wanted to speak but held back, he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

The joys of a marital relationship extend beyond mere physical intimacy. Seated in the cold, dim palace hall, Lu Feng suddenly found himself worrying about her.

At this hour, she should be dining, right? Lately, her temperament has been delicate, and without him there to keep watch, who knows if she has taken her pregnancy-safeguarding medicine properly today?

Lu Feng rose and bowed, “If Your Majesty has no further matters, I shall take my leave.”

“Go on then. A few years back, a vassal state paid tribute with something called ‘soft hedgehog armor’—said to be impervious to sword or spear. Hmph, who knows if it’s genuine.”

The Emperor laughed and said, “I will send it to you. Although the affair concerning Prince Chen is significant, it pales in comparison to your safety. Junchi, you are so set in your ways—if you’re going to persist down one path regardless, I am assigning Pei Zhang to stay by your side; not only to assist you but also to counsel you.”

Lu Feng, brave and skilled in battle, was just as the Emperor had expected. If he ever confronted Prince Chen’s remaining forces, Lu Feng would undoubtedly be the first to draw his blade. The Emperor, who had risen through countless battles, saw his own likeness in his son and couldn’t bear to station him at the distant frontier for years—fearing it would stifle his spirit.

The Emperor’s imposing demeanor, softened by genuine compassion, offered earnest instructions before departing.

Lu Feng’s expression shifted slightly as he bowed his head even further, replying, “Yes.”

“I humbly entreat that during my time away from the capital, Your Majesty will watch over my wife and child—my gratitude would be boundless.”

“Rest assured, your wife and child are under my protection.” The Emperor, looking somewhat weary, casually swept his sleeve aside and said, “Hurry back; soon, the sky will be pitch black, and the roads will become treacherous.”

Sitting on his Dragon Throne, the Emperor watched his figure gradually recede into the distance. His expression once again took on that inscrutable, formidable air of a sovereign whose will remains as unpredictable as the heavens.

“Attendants, summon Pei Zhang.”

……

During the day, Jiang Wanrou had enjoyed a long, peaceful sleep, her cheeks soft and rosy. Little did she imagine that she would receive dire news by nightfall—Lu Feng was to head down to Jiangnan!