Feng Jue had just picked up his tea and nearly choked. He didn’t know why she suddenly had such a whimsical idea, coming up with this form of address. Especially that “Daddy” was called out in a winding, coquettish tone, soft and sticky like a spoiled child.
He said with a straight face, “If Marquis Pingyang hears you say this, he’ll definitely come crying to me.” But the corners of his mouth couldn’t help curling upward. Xiangyi calling him “Daddy”—even Marquis Pingyang didn’t have this blessing. Indeed, compared to Marquis Pingyang, Xiangyi was still closer to him.
Listening to his earnest “teaching” and seeing the warmth in his eyes, Zheng Xiangyi knew his heart was already bursting with joy. Could she not understand His Majesty? As for Marquis Pingyang, to be honest, she didn’t care much about his feelings. After all, he, his stepmother, and his younger siblings were a harmonious family; they weren’t lacking this one “Daddy” from her.
She deliberately frowned with feigned distress. “Your Majesty doesn’t like me calling you that? But to me, you are like a biological father. Could it be… you don’t see me as your daughter?”
As she spoke, a hint of disappointment flickered in her eyes as she stared directly at him.
Feng Jue felt his heart grow warm at her straightforward attachment. He cleared his throat gently and responded softly, “I naturally regard you as my own daughter. If you like… calling me that in front of others is fine too.”
Zheng Xiangyi’s eyes immediately curved into crescents. “So Your Majesty likes it! Then I must call you that many more times!” True to her word, she kept calling “Daddy, Daddy.” When the food arrived, she would say, “Daddy, help me get that dish,” or exclaim, “Daddy, pour me a glass of water.”
Feng Jue’s heart grew warm from her calls, even feeling a sense of accomplishment, as if “our daughter has grown up.”
He even felt a bit envious of Marquis Pingyang: What virtue did that old fellow possess to have a daughter like Xiangyi? Feng Jue was usually indifferent, but at this moment, he couldn’t help feeling somewhat jealous of Marquis Pingyang.
Leaving the restaurant, Feng Jue tightly held Xiangyi’s hand. Facing the teasing or admiring glances from others, his expression remained composed as they walked—since Xiangyi called him “Daddy,” then as her “Daddy,” protecting his daughter was naturally justified. His feelings for Xiangyi were purely fatherly affection, without any ulterior thoughts. He remained open and unashamed under others’ scrutiny.
At dusk, the two walked along the banks of the Ji River. The river surface was covered in a golden afterglow. Exquisite painted boats floated scattered on the water, from which melodious music drifted.
“When the Canglang’s waters are clear, I can wash my hat-strings therein; when the Canglang’s waters are muddy, I can wash my feet therein…” Zheng Xiangyi couldn’t help softly humming along with the music.
Feng Jue stopped with her, gazing at the sparkling water, somewhat nostalgic as he said, “It seems like many years since I last heard you sing.”
Since Xiangyi was five, he had personally taught her music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Only singing, dancing, and embroidery were truly beyond his capabilities. But she was stubborn. Once, after losing a dance competition with Feng Yue, she actually went to the Imperial Music Office herself to practice diligently with the songstresses and dancers until Feng Yue was utterly convinced.
Marquis Pingyang’s wife was gentle and serene, and Marquis Pingyang himself was so mild as to be almost weak. It was truly hard to say whom she inherited this competitive nature from.
Zheng Xiangyi’s face was slightly flushed by the evening glow, her eyes sparkling. “I am a Princess. How can I let people hear me sing casually?” Even Feng Yu—in her previous life, after being married to him for four years, she had never done such a “flirtatious” thing for him.
“It seems I am blessed with good fortune to have the honor of hearing the Princess display her singing voice.” Feng Jue cooperated with a smile.
Zheng Xiangyi had heard many people call her “Princess”—some respectfully, some fearfully. But no one was like His Majesty, whose tone held doting affection and gentle laughter. That voice made her ears itch. She pursed her lips seriously. “If Your Majesty likes it, I’ll sing for you every day from now on.”
Feng Jue, however, smiled and shook his head lightly. “No need. I can’t bear to let your throat suffer.”
“What kind of suffering is this?” Zheng Xiangyi muttered quietly, but the corners of her mouth couldn’t help curling higher.
A gentle evening breeze brushed past, rippling the river surface. She comfortably narrowed her eyes, going with the flow and sitting down on the flat grass, propping her chin in her hands as she gazed at the water.
Seeing her sit, Feng Jue, disregarding any etiquette, sat down beside her. This ordinary scenery, with her by his side, seemed to have a different charm. He closed his eyes, his mood gradually calming in the mild evening breeze.
After a while, he opened his eyes and asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Weren’t your eyes closed?” Zheng Xiangyi blinked in surprise, but her gaze didn’t waver. She had thought her gaze was discreet enough not to be noticed by him.
Feng Jue looked at her. Now that she was discovered, she became even more unapologetic, not avoiding his gaze at all. He couldn’t help laughing. “I raised you under my care for ten years. Not just a glance; even a breath, I can recognize it’s you.”
Zheng Xiangyi’s eyes brightened. She pouted, “No wonder when we played hide-and-seek when I was little, you could always find me.”
When she was young, she didn’t have many playmates in the palace. Her greatest joy was playing hide-and-seek with him in Zichen Hall. Every time he finished handling state affairs, he would search for her all over the palace. Once, she hid under a table and fell asleep. When he carried her out, she blinked drowsily, then grabbed his lapel and buried her head against his chest, continuing to sleep.
Back then, His Majesty was like a deity in her heart. No matter where she hid, he could always find her.
“Can’t be helped. Who made me Xiangyi’s daddy?” Feng Jue teased, using the address she had used earlier.
Zheng Xiangyi also laughed, but the next moment, a sour feeling surged in her heart. She silently thought: If only I were really your daughter… Then you would stay with me forever. Even thousands of years later, this bond of blood would remain in the history books, never fading.
The two sat by the river a while longer as the sky darkened. Zheng Xiangyi stretched lazily and was about to stand up when, having sat too long, her legs felt weak. Her vision darkened, and she fell backward—not onto the cold grass, but into a warm chest.
Feng Jue supported her waist. “Are you alright?”
Zheng Xiangyi remained motionless, looking up at the golden-red sky.
In her previous life, the first time she really looked at Feng Yu properly was also in a similar situation. That evening, wearing the fox fur bestowed by His Majesty, she galloped on horseback in the hunting grounds, leaving the crowd far behind. Only Feng Yu caught up. Suddenly, her horse stepped into a trap, neighing and throwing her off. At the critical moment, it was Feng Yu who cushioned her fall with his own body.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his face pale.
It was at that moment, looking at his face, that she fell for him.
Afterward, whether intentional or not, Feng Yu often appeared before her. Their private interactions gradually deepened until one day the matter was brought before His Majesty.
He looked utterly disappointed and disbelieving. Zheng Xiangyi, for some reason back then, stubbornly insisted on opposing him head-on.
She said she admired Feng Yu and would marry no one else in this lifetime. He forbade it, scolding her harshly for the first time. Later, she went on a hunger strike, knelt for hours, forcing him to issue the imperial edict for the marriage.
Later still, he passed away. She muddled through as Feng Yu’s empress, and he appeared in her dreams every night…
Actually, Your Majesty treating her as a daughter—she should be content.
“I’m fine,” she said with a smile.
That’s how it should be. Just be the obedient daughter in his heart forever, and harbor no other delusions…
Zheng Xiangyi moved back into the palace, only returning home once for her younger brother’s full-month banquet. During the banquet, her father privately mentioned to her the matter of petitioning to establish an heir, hinting that she should plead with His Majesty. Impatient, she made a few perfunctory replies before hurriedly taking her leave. Once again, father and daughter parted on bad terms.
She simply didn’t like her stepmother’s family and held quite a grudge against her father. Back then, less than a year after her mother passed away, her father welcomed a new wife into the household yet left her alone in the palace. His Majesty and the Empress Dowager never restricted her father from visiting the palace. If he insisted on taking her home, it wouldn’t have been impossible. Yet, in her memory, she only saw her father a handful of times each year.
Sometimes she even wondered: after the Empress Dowager passed away, if His Majesty hadn’t continued to keep her by his side, would she have long been forgotten in this deep palace?
“What are you thinking about so intently?”
A gentle voice called her back. Zheng Xiangyi blinked, only then noticing she had almost ground the inkstone dry, her face flushing with embarrassment.
She had clearly wanted to show filial piety to His Majesty, yet ended up causing trouble again. Flustered, she rushed to add water to the inkstone but accidentally knocked over the memorials on the desk, scattering them everywhere with a crash.
She hastily bent down to pick them up, but a slender hand was quicker than hers.
Feng Jue nonchalantly picked up the memorials, gently shook off the dust, and placed them back on the desk. Turning, he saw her frowning dejectedly, standing with her head bowed like a kitten that had done wrong, and couldn’t help but comfort her gently.
“Thanks to Xiangyi’s company, I was able to finish handling state affairs early today.”
Zheng Xiangyi looked up doubtfully. “Really?”
“Of course, it’s true.” Feng Jue smiled and nodded.
Only then did Zheng Xiangyi’s eyes curve into a smile. She walked behind him and considerately massaged his back. Her gaze inadvertently swept over the open memorial, finally landing on the vermillion comment “Execute” at the end.
“Why don’t these people learn their lesson? All they do is make you angry!” she said discontentedly.
The incident of the Cangzhou Prefect embezzling public land had been causing a stir lately, and she had heard about it. In her previous life, this matter wasn’t exposed until two months later. His Majesty was so angry he couldn’t sleep for days, executing all those involved. Prince Da Feng Qin gradually lost imperial favor because of this, giving Feng Yu an opportunity to rise.
Feng Jue sighed softly. “How could everyone in the world be like Xiangyi, wholeheartedly sharing my worries?”
“Since they make you unhappy, just execute them.” Zheng Xiangyi lightly massaged his shoulder, watching his expression gradually relax. “Don’t let them ruin your health. Those people aren’t worth it.”
She recalled Feng Qin had often been coming to plead for mercy before His Majesty recently, increasing her dissatisfaction. Didn’t he think about how many commoners those corrupt officials had harmed? Even if Zheng Xiangyi was accused by the world of being spoiled, she had never laid a hand on ordinary people.
Feng Jue gently grasped her hand, guiding her to sit. “I’m fine. It’s you who shouldn’t tire yourself.”
Zheng Xiangyi was about to speak when she saw Eunuch Gui come to report that Consort Shu Yao requested an audience. Consort Shu Yao was Feng Qin’s birth mother and the younger sister of the Cangzhou Prefect. Her purpose for coming at this time was self-evident.
Before Feng Jue could speak, Zheng Xiangyi pressed his hand. “Don’t see her!”
Feng Jue had no intention of seeing her anyway. The Cangzhou Prefect’s case was of great importance. Sparring his three clans for Feng Qin’s sake was already showing mercy. Whoever came to plead would absolutely not change the decision.
Eunuch Gui received the order and went out, replying, “Consort Shu, His Majesty is currently occupied with state affairs. Please return for now.”
Consort Shu Yao looked haggard, forcing a pale smile. “Then this Consort will return first and come again when His Majesty is free.”
Though anxious, she dared not show the slightest dissatisfaction toward His Majesty. She had been by His Majesty’s side since the princely mansion days and naturally knew how cold and ruthless this man was. Over the years, her favor had been average. If she hadn’t fortunately given birth to the eldest prince earlier, she wouldn’t have reached her current position.
Returning to her palace, Consort Shu Yao couldn’t help shedding tears. How could she not know her brother’s crimes were unforgivable? But he was still her flesh and blood. How could she stand by and watch him die?
When Feng Qin returned to the palace and saw his mother’s tear-stained face, he knew pleading had failed. In despair, resentment grew. “Does Father Emperor insist on taking uncle’s life?”
He was the eldest prince. That was his maternal uncle. How could Father Emperor not care about his face at all? And Feng Yu—he had only surpassed Feng Yu because of his family background. If his uncle became a criminal, wouldn’t that allow that kid to overtake him later?
Consort Shu Yao sobbed uncontrollably. “Is there really no way to save your uncle?”
Feng Qin paced back and forth anxiously. Father Emperor refused to see him, refused to see his mother, even disregarded court criticism, determined to sentence his uncle to death. What else could he do?
Who else… who else could persuade Father Emperor?
Feng Qin suddenly stopped pacing and turned sharply. “Mother! There’s still Xiangyi!”