Zheng Xiangyi led Feng Jue to sit in the inner room, then took a few cloth strips from a small basket on the table and handed them to him, asking softly, “Your Majesty, take a look. Which color would be best for making clothes?”
Feng Jue took the cloth samples of various materials and bright colors from her hand, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Why suddenly think of making clothes? Was the clothing sent by the Imperial Wardrobe Bureau this month not to your liking?”
Though he himself did not indulge in luxurious attire, he always enjoyed seeing Xiangyi dressed exquisitely and beautifully. The Imperial Wardrobe Bureau tailored new clothes for her every month, almost never repeating styles. However, now that she was growing older, Feng Jue could no longer dress her according to his own whims as he had when she was a child.
“It’s not for me,” Zheng Xiangyi shook her head, her gaze soft as it fell on the snow-white ball curled on her lap. “It’s for Xizi. She’s always leaping around, and her white fur gets dirty easily, so I thought I’d make a little outfit for her.”
Hearing this, Feng Jue’s expression paused slightly, his tone carrying a hint of disapproval. “Such trivial matters can be left to the palace attendants. Why must you do it yourself?”
“Xizi is the one I chose to raise,” Zheng Xiangyi insisted. “Muqin already made a cushion for her. As her owner, I can’t just do nothing.”
Feng Jue looked at her deeply and sighed softly. “Do you remember when you were little, learning embroidery, you pricked your finger several times, came crying to me, and said you’d never touch needlework again?”
Zheng Xiangyi immediately widened her eyes, her cheeks flushing. “That was so many years ago! How could I still be that clumsy now?”
Feng Jue chuckled softly, his gaze warm and deep. “I’m just afraid that if you accidentally prick yourself again, you’ll come crying to me.”
She gave him a light, annoyed push. “Even if I do prick myself, I won’t cry! I’m so grown now—am I supposed to shed tears every day?”
Though her words were bold, she couldn’t help muttering inwardly: Your Majesty’s memory is just too sharp. Who knows how many embarrassing childhood incidents he still remembers—some she probably can’t even recall herself.
Feng Jue looked at her red-tipped ears, the smile in his eyes deepening. He certainly hadn’t forgotten that just a few days ago, she had thrown herself into his arms, crying so hard that her tears soaked the front of his robe.
Afraid of truly upsetting her, he quickly soothed with a smile, “Yes, my Xiangyi is the strongest, truly a heroine among women, a woman who does not yield to men.”
Only then did Zheng Xiangyi give a light, proud hum, a hint of smugness coloring the corners of her eyes and brows. She pushed the cloth strips toward him again. “You haven’t chosen yet! Hurry, which color suits Xizi best?”
Feng Jue glanced over the cloth strips and casually pointed to a scarlet one. “I think this one is best.”
Zheng Xiangyi’s eyes instantly lit up, her lips curving. “I like that one the most too! Scarlet against snow-white is the most eye-catching and dazzling.”
Feng Jue looked at her jade-like, glowing face, thinking to himself that this shade of red would only make her skin appear even more luminous, finer and more radiant than the finest porcelain. She had always been radiantly beautiful, and such a vibrant color suited her perfectly.
Zheng Xiangyi happily picked up the scarlet fabric, holding it against Xizi’s body, growing more satisfied the more she looked. “Later, I’ll embroider a few peonies with golden thread and adorn the edges with pearls. Our Xizi is a great beauty of a cat. When she goes out, she must outshine all others.”
Feng Jue couldn’t help but laugh. She herself had always been competitive, never willing to concede defeat. Even in raising a cat, she wanted it to strive for excellence, hoping to dress it up as the foremost beauty among cats, a stunning sight.
“Xizi, oh Xizi,” she picked up the cat, earnestly instructing, “You represent my face. When you go out, you must never embarrass me, understand? And you must not let down the name His Majesty bestowed upon you. If you’re going to do it, be the most beautiful, most dazzling one among all cats!”
Zheng Xiangyi was already acknowledged as a beauty in the capital. Whenever she went out, she always wore exquisite makeup and luxurious attire, never allowing herself to appear less than perfect in front of others. Now that she had a cat, she naturally wanted it to be just like her—meticulously beautiful from head to toe.
As if understanding her owner’s words, Xizi lifted her little head with a dignified air, letting out a soft, cooperative “meow”—gentle in tone, yet carrying a hint of innate pride.
Zheng Xiangyi was amused by this display and couldn’t help but scoop the cat into her arms, gently nuzzling its fluffy little head with her cheek, her eyes curving into crescents.
Feng Jue quietly watched the scene before him. For a moment, it seemed as if he were seeing two equally proud and noble little cats nestled together, their expressions even somewhat similar.
He couldn’t help but feel another twinge of regret that he hadn’t found a cat for her to raise sooner.
Xiangyi’s childhood days in the palace must have been quite lonely. Without many playmates of similar age, she had always clung to him, following behind and calling “Your Majesty” again and again.
But with his busy political affairs, he often could only leave her to play by herself. Occasionally, like a mischievous kitten, she would quietly slip under the desk. When he came to his senses and looked around, he’d find her curled up there asleep, breathing softly, her face dusty—pitiful and adorable.
“Xizi is truly fortunate to have an owner like you. It must be the good karma from her past life,” Feng Jue said with a smile as he watched Xiangyi holding the cat, unable to put it down, her fingers repeatedly stroking its soft back fur.
“Of course, I’m the best owner in the whole world,” Zheng Xiangyi declared proudly with a light hum, her eyes curving slightly as she glanced at him, her smile deepening. “But the fact that I met Your Majesty—that is truly the fortune of several lifetimes.”
If she hadn’t met His Majesty, if she hadn’t been raised so preciously in his hands, what would she be like now? Perhaps her father would have pitied her a bit more out of longing for her mother, but she still had three younger siblings born to her stepmother. No matter what, her father could never place her at the very center, the brightest spot, as His Majesty did, with unreserved favoritism.
Sometimes, she couldn’t help but resent her father. Outsiders always praised him for his devotion—not taking concubines, not keeping maids for pleasure. But if he were truly devoted, why would he hastily remarry less than a year after her mother’s death? In the current Pingyang Marquis household, how many still remembered what her birth mother looked like?
That place was her siblings’ home, never Zheng Xiangyi’s home.
Her home was in the palace, by His Majesty’s side.
“That’s not right,” Feng Jue raised his hand, gently stroking the top of her head, his voice low and tender. “It is I who am thrice blessed to have met such a lovely little girl like Xiangyi.”
Throughout his life, he had never truly possessed many family members. His mother was originally a female official who, for a time, had gained favor for her talent and enjoyed a brief season of imperial favor—until Consort Zhuangshu entered the palace. That woman, who drove the previous emperor to obsession for half his life, became the sole favorite upon entering the palace, outshining all the palace’s beauties.
His mother fell from grace overnight. Even on the day she gave birth to him, the previous emperor remained by Consort Zhuangshu’s side, not sparing a glance. After childbirth, his mother became deeply depressed and passed away early. Meanwhile, the previous emperor’s heart and eyes were filled only with the Seventh Prince born to Consort Zhuangshu, never giving him, this son, more than a passing glance.
Later, the Empress Dowager approached him. She needed a prince to solidify her position; he needed a mother to protect himself. They each took what they needed. He respected the Empress Dowager but could no longer develop a deeper filial affection.
After ascending the throne, he always took the previous emperor as a warning, treating the entire harem impartially, never favoring anyone excessively. He had sworn never to become obsessed and lose his mind for anyone like the previous emperor.
Feng Jue gazed at Zheng Xiangyi, his eyes growing even more tender. Xiangyi was not Consort Zhuangshu, and he was not the previous emperor. Between them were the closest of family ties. She relied on him just as he needed her. That was enough.
He would never step into the trap of love, never seek that soul-consuming obsession, never taste the agony of longing and yearning.
Zheng Xiangyi blinked, then pursed her lips into a smile under his gentle, tolerant gaze, her eyes curving into two small crescents, shining brightly.
She meant what she said. After accompanying His Majesty for lunch, she indeed took up needle and thread, sitting by the bright window with a determined expression, ready to “wrestle” with the tiny needle eye.
Once, twice, three times… The thin thread seemed to deliberately defy her, refusing to go through. Sweat beaded on her temples in frustration. Unconsciously, she bit her lower lip, her eyes fixed tightly on the needle’s eye, not daring to blink.
“Hiss—” Not only did she fail this time, but the needle tip also pricked her fingertip, instantly drawing a bright red bead of blood.
Watching from the side, Feng Jue felt his heart soften. Finally unable to bear it, he took the needle and thread from her hand, his tone helpless yet indulgent. “Let me do it.”
Zheng Xiangyi sucked her slightly stinging fingertip, looking at him with half-doubt, half-trust. She knew His Majesty was skilled in both literary and martial arts, capable of anything—but women’s embroidery needles… Could he really manage?
To her surprise, Feng Jue’s technique was unusually adept. His eyes were precise, his arm steady. With a deft motion, the thread passed cleanly through the needle’s eye.
“Your Majesty is amazing!” Zheng Xiangyi’s eyes instantly sparkled, her face full of admiration as she looked at him.
“How could I compare to Xiangyi?” Feng Jue shook his head slightly, his voice gentle. “I merely have slightly better eyesight. When it comes to patience and ingenuity, I’m far from you.”
Zheng Xiangyi originally had little confidence in herself, but hearing him say this, her eyes suddenly brightened. “Really? Your Majesty also thinks… I can embroider this outfit well?”
Feng Jue looked at her, his gaze steady and gentle. “Once Xiangyi sets her mind on something, what in this world could possibly be impossible?”
He had always had confidence in Xiangyi. Though her nature was spoiled and she couldn’t bear the slightest grievance, deep down she was stubborn. Once she decided on something, even if she had to break through walls and endure hardships, she would never turn back.
Zheng Xiangyi silently lowered her eyes. It had to be said, His Majesty truly understood her. In her past life, hadn’t she stubbornly insisted on marrying Feng Yu, to the point where even His Majesty eventually gave in?
At that time, she was truly a spoiled child, seemingly never truly growing up until her death.
But this life would definitely not be like that again.
Steadying her mind, she held a piece of fabric against Xizi’s body, carefully confirming the measurements before neatly cutting it with scissors and folding it aside.
Watching her focused profile, a subtle emotion suddenly stirred in Feng Jue’s heart.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Xiangyi so dedicated to something.”
Since childhood, she had been pampered, lacking almost nothing, and rarely showed lasting determination for anything. Yet now, a mere kitten made her so serious, even picking up needlework she hadn’t touched for years.
His fingers slowly brushed over the cut fabric on the table. “Using Glimmer Silk to make clothes for Xizi—Xiangyi doesn’t feel the slightest bit of regret.”
The annual tribute of Glimmer Silk was less than ten bolts, and he had sent almost all of it to her, intending for her to make several exquisite outfits. Who would have thought it would end up being used on this cat?
“Xizi is my cat, so naturally she deserves the most precious fabric,” Zheng Xiangyi answered matter-of-factly, then glanced at him with slight confusion—His Majesty had never been one to fuss over such things.
Feng Jue’s tone was flat, revealing neither joy nor anger. “It seems this little cat enjoys more fortune than I do, being able to wear clothes Xiangyi made with her own hands.”
Zheng Xiangyi stared at him for a long moment before suddenly understanding something. She couldn’t help but purse her lips into a smile, setting down her needle and thread.
“Actually… I originally wanted to make something for Your Majesty too,” her voice was soft and sweet, like sticky rice cake drizzled with honey, her eyes lightly drifting toward him. “But I was afraid my skill was too poor and might instead offend your eyes. That’s why I thought of practicing on Xizi first.”
Feng Jue raised a hand to lightly cough, adopting a serious expression. “How could I ever dislike clothes sewn by Xiangyi’s own hands? No matter how they turn out, they are tokens of your affection.”
As he spoke, he gently stroked the top of her head, his fingertips brushing her warm cheek, his gaze tender and affectionate. “But I also can’t bear to see you exhausted, Xiangyi. Just focus on finishing Xizi’s outfit.”
“Really?” Zheng Xiangyi hooked his sleeve, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him, like they held a small hook. “Your Majesty really doesn’t want clothes made by Xiangyi’s own hands?”
Feng Jue immediately fell silent, quietly turning his gaze away.
[Author’s Note]
One moment:
His Majesty: I must take the previous emperor as a warning and never step into the trap of love!
The next moment:
His Majesty: Xizi is so fortunate. Not like me—I only know how to worry about Xiangyi. I’m definitely not jealous of Xizi, definitely not hoping Xiangyi will make clothes for me. It’s fine; Xiangyi doesn’t need to mind me.