“Father…”
Feng Yu’s voice was hoarse. Under the piercing gaze, he involuntarily let go of his hand and took a step back.
He no longer dared to look directly into his father’s eyes. As he lowered his head, his mind was in chaos, and the hand that had just been tightly gripping Zheng Xiangyi trembled uncontrollably.
Father had seen it!
The silent and docile facade he had maintained all this time was completely exposed in that moment. What would Father think? Would he despise him for being cunning and scheming, or be angry that he dared to bully the emperor’s most beloved princess?
Feng Yu had always feared his father more than he respected him. He knew his birth mother was not favored by the emperor, and his status was far inferior to that of the eldest prince. Thus, he had always been cautious, lurking in Feng Qin’s shadow. It was only the recent string of good news that had momentarily made him forget himself. It wasn’t until he was caught under his father’s deep, unreadable gaze that he was jolted awake as if struck by thunder.
After Feng Yu released her, Zheng Xiangyi winced in pain and rubbed her reddened wrist. Only then did she nervously raise her eyes.
The emperor’s face was calm and unreadable, with only a hint of darkness in his eyes. She hurriedly lowered her gaze, her thick eyelashes trembling slightly, and her soft lips bitten until they turned deep red.
She never expected that the emperor would witness her entanglement with Feng Yu. In her previous life, it was a similar situation that had enraged the emperor, causing him to speak harshly to her for the first time.
But now, the emperor’s gaze was so calm, almost indifferent, that it only intensified the unease swirling within her.
Finally, in the suffocating silence, Feng Jue slowly spoke.
He said, “Xiangyi, come here.”
His tone was flat and ordinary, yet carried an undeniable authority.
Zheng Xiangyi kept her head lowered, like a child who had done something wrong, and took hesitant steps as she slowly moved to stand before him. She stared silently at the hem of his black robe.
The next moment, her right hand was gently lifted by a warm hand.
His fingers slowly caressed the area of her skin marked by the grip, his voice betraying no emotion.
“Does it hurt?”
These words made both Zheng Xiangyi and Feng Yu, who stood rigidly nearby, hold their breath.
Where his fingers touched, it felt as if sparks were igniting, bringing a tingling, scorching tremor.
Zheng Xiangyi still did not raise her head. She merely pursed her lips and replied softly, “It doesn’t hurt.”
Hearing her answer, Feng Jue’s eyes darkened even further.
It doesn’t hurt? The little girl he had personally raised with utmost care, who couldn’t bear the slightest hardship on ordinary days, now had such deep red marks on her wrist, yet she said it didn’t hurt?
He held her hand, his slender fingers precisely covering the imprints left by Feng Yu.
“If it doesn’t hurt, that’s good,” he said calmly. “Come with me.”
From the moment Xiangyi walked toward him, he no longer spared a glance at Feng Yu, as if the boy who shared half his blood was nothing more than a breeze brushing against his robes, unworthy of notice.
Feng Yu stood frozen in place, watching helplessly as his father took Xiangyi’s hand and led her away until their figures completely disappeared from sight. The surroundings were utterly silent, without a sound.
Muqin followed nervously behind. When they reached the outside of Zichen Hall, she was about to enter when Feng Jue stopped her with a faint gesture:
“The princess will stay in Zichen Hall today. No one else is needed to attend.”
Eunuch Gui, who stood by the palace door, bowed his head in acknowledgment, but his heart was roiling with shock. Having served the emperor for many years, he had never seen His Majesty like this. His calmness was almost oppressive, like turbulent undercurrents deep beneath the sea, as if at any moment they might surge into a cataclysmic wave.
What was going on? A few days ago, when the corruption case of the Cangzhou magistrate was exposed, the emperor hadn’t seemed so frighteningly restrained…
Feng Jue didn’t even allow Eunuch Gui to follow him inside. The vast hall was left with only him and Xiangyi.
Once inside, he released her hand and walked to the desk, sitting down and casually picking up a memorial to read.
Time seemed to freeze. Zheng Xiangyi stood by the door, gazing from afar at his elegant yet indifferent profile. At this moment, he seemed more like the emperor who held power over life and death in the court, rather than the gentle and affectionate elder she remembered.
Hesitant and unsure, she listened to the rustling sound of the memorial pages being turned. Finally, she steeled herself and walked toward him with a look of grim determination.
She approached him and gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice soft and faint. “I was wrong.”
Only then did he set down the memorial and turn to look at her. Her eyes were slightly red, and her expression was filled with grievance, like a little cat retracting its sharp claws, timidly rubbing against him to seek affection.
Feng Jue smiled, his voice warm and gentle. “Where was Xiangyi wrong?”
Seeing that he was finally paying attention to her, Zheng Xiangyi trembled as she hugged his arm, gently nuzzling his palm with her cheek, her eyes glistening with moisture.
“I shouldn’t have paid attention to Feng Yu.”
Her heart was uneasy, unsure how much the emperor had seen. Did he only see Feng Yu grabbing her hand, or had he also witnessed her earlier teasing of Feng Yu?
Feng Jue gazed into her eyes, seeing her attachment, reverence, and trust… His chest suddenly swelled with an unfamiliar emotion.
Yes, he had seen Feng Yu’s entanglement with her, but he had also seen her undisguised disdain and contempt for Feng Yu—so different from how she regarded him.
It was just that in that moment, he suddenly felt displeased—displeased that his Xiangyi would show such intense and overt emotions toward someone else.
Xiangyi… should only look at him, no one else deserved even a glance from her. Whether it was love or hate, her emotions should only be stirred by him.
This thought startled Feng Jue himself, and the hand resting against her cheek involuntarily tightened slightly.
When had he developed such deep possessiveness toward Xiangyi? This wasn’t a feeling he should have.
“Hmm…” Hearing the girl’s faint whimper, he snapped back to reality, his gaze complex as he looked at this child who had grown up little by little in his hands.
“Xiangyi…” He forgot what he had originally intended to say and inwardly reproached himself for being so domineering and shallow.
Xiangyi was a living, breathing person. How could he take it for granted that she should belong entirely to him, not allowing her a single thought for anyone else?
She had her own birth father, blood-related siblings, and perhaps, in the future, a husband to spend her life with.
She wouldn’t, and shouldn’t, belong entirely to him.
He was eighteen years older than Xiangyi, destined to accompany her for only a small part of her life. For the rest of her days, there would be another person walking by her side.
Suppressing the melancholy in his heart, his expression returned to normal. He forced a faint, pale smile at the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let Xiangyi feel wronged or frightened.”
His demeanor earlier must have scared her. Xiangyi couldn’t bear the slightest grievance. He should comfort her more.
So he bent down, gently gathering her petite form into his arms, his hand stroking the nape of her neck as he coaxed her softly, “Xiangyi, don’t be afraid…”
Zheng Xiangyi pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling as if she had returned to her childhood, still the trembling child hiding in his embrace.
Her eyes welled up with tears as she tightly grasped the front of his robe, her voice choked with sobs.
“I was afraid you were disappointed in me…”
She feared repeating the mistakes of her past life—that His Majesty would mistake her for liking Feng Yu, give her a look of disappointment, and then leave her alone.
“How could you not want me? I don’t like Feng Yu at all. He was the one who insisted on grabbing my hand. I told him to let go, but he wouldn’t. You should be angry with him. Go scold him, beat him, but you can’t ignore me!”
Feng Jue gently patted her back, listening to her tearful complaints, grievances, and coquettish pleas. An indescribable ache welled up in his chest.
He had made Xiangyi afraid, made her feel wronged, made her cry until her eyes were red. This child was the one he held in his hands, reluctant to even say a harsh word to.
Yet he hadn’t been able to control himself.
He was, after all, most skilled in forbearance. He could lie dormant for over a decade, waiting for the right moment to seize the throne. He could calmly face court disputes, open attacks, and hidden schemes. He had walked through so many dangers without flinching. Yet just seeing Xiangyi held by Feng Yu, he had lost control of his emotions…
He shouldn’t have been disappointed in Xiangyi, but in himself.
Xiangyi wasn’t wrong. How could Xiangyi be wrong? If Xiangyi truly made a mistake, then it should be his failure in raising her.
“I won’t abandon you…” he comforted hoarsely.
How could he ever abandon Xiangyi? He wished he could infuse his own blood into her, making her truly his daughter. She should have been born from his very bones, growing up steeped in his blood.
From bones to flesh, all growing from him.
His life had been sparse in familial bonds, and the only one who could truly tie him down was Xiangyi.
But Xiangyi didn’t understand, because in her past life, he had indeed left her. After he was gone, those people were eager to devour her completely.
Wiping her tears, she wondered if, after her death, Feng Yu would bury her remains in the imperial mausoleum. She wanted to sleep beside him, together forever.
“I don’t like Feng Yu. Can you send him away too? Far away…” She now utterly despised Feng Yu. If it weren’t for him, His Majesty wouldn’t have misunderstood her, causing her such fear and worry.
All that talk about His Majesty having only two sons and needing to choose one as successor… she didn’t want to think about it anymore. Zheng Xiangyi was just a selfish person. Feng Yu had wronged her, and she wanted to make him pay.
She raised her wrist, reddened from Feng Yu’s grip, and held it before him. “Feng Yu hurt me. You have to teach him a lesson for me!”
Feng Jue took her hand, his thumb gently stroking the faint red marks. He had raised Xiangyi too delicately; even a little force could leave marks.
“Didn’t you say it didn’t hurt earlier?” he asked helplessly. “Learning to be stubborn with me now.”
Zheng Xiangyi whined and complained, “It didn’t hurt at first, but now it does.” In truth, it wasn’t painful at all. She just felt disgusted that Feng Yu’s marks remained on her wrist.
Her eyes lit up as an idea suddenly occurred to her. “If you press a little harder, you can cover up the marks Feng Yu left.” She pulled His Majesty’s hand toward her. His fingers were long and well-defined, much more attractive than Feng Yu’s. If they were marks left by His Majesty, she wouldn’t mind them.
Feng Jue glanced at her, unable to hold back a laugh. “Where do you get all these whimsical ideas? Aren’t you afraid I’ll hurt you too?” Every time he held her hand, he was cautious, afraid of gripping too tightly.
At first, she was so small, her hands as white and tender as soft tofu, only able to wrap around one of his fingers when walking. Back then, he was just in his twenties. Though he already had three children, he had never truly experienced the feeling of raising a child. He was constantly on edge, afraid she would bump or hurt herself, and it had taken great effort to raise her into the graceful young woman she was now.
“If it’s Your Majesty, I won’t feel any pain.” Zheng Xiangyi grabbed his hand, spreading her palm and pressing it against his to compare their sizes. Feng Jue had no choice but to let her play.
“Look!” Zheng Xiangyi laughed, holding their pressed-together hands up before him. “I’ve grown so big now.”
Feng Jue looked at their hands pressed together. Xiangyi’s fingertips were tinged with a faint red, as beautiful as blood-soaked jade. He moved his fingers slightly, suddenly overcome with an urge to intertwine them with hers.
But in the end, he did nothing. He simply smiled and said, “Yes, Xiangyi has grown up.”