Consort Wen Mei’er said her red clothing was inappropriate and too festive.
Feng Zhao immediately turned the criticism back on her accessories instead.
“This Empress has no more than three pieces of jewelry on her entire body. On the other hand, Consort Wen is adorned in gold and silver. If anything, isn’t that far more improper?”
The original owner of Feng Zhao didn’t own many luxurious items, but Wen Mei’er—who was effectively the real ruler of the harem—was covered in exquisite jewelry. Even though mourning customs had reduced extravagance, she was still far more lavish than anyone else.
People nearby began whispering about Wen Mei’er’s accessories. She was so furious she almost tore her handkerchief to pieces.
A bunch of poor fools—she could wear whatever she wanted with her money. What did it have to do with them?
Her hypocrisy was nauseating.
She wanted to argue further, but Wen Chenglin gave her a cold glance.
Just that one look made her swallow her words.
Feng Zhao sighed inwardly in regret. She had originally planned to say more and use this chance to reclaim her clothing allowances, but now she’d have to wait for another opportunity.
And more importantly—
Wen Chenglin… that old fox was not easy to deal with.
At noon, the army arrived on schedule.
At the front was a man riding a tall warhorse.
He wore black-gold armor that radiated authority. He was in his forties—the prime of a man’s life. His face was weathered by years at the border, but his eyes were sharp and bright, like a spear aimed straight at an enemy’s heart.
Feng Ying had been away from home for fifteen years. His memories of the capital were already blurred. When he saw the woman in red phoenix robes standing at the front, he only felt a faint sense of familiarity, with no real emotion.
He dismounted and bowed.
“This general pays respect to the Empress. May Your Majesty live ten thousand years.”
Even if she was his own daughter, he still had to follow etiquette.
Feng Zhao raised her hand to help him up.
“General, please rise. You have achieved great victory at the border. You have worked hard. Today, I will celebrate your return with the court officials.”
At her words, the ministers and concubines behind her—including Wen Mei’er—spoke in unison to offer congratulations.
But Feng Ying ignored them. His gaze stayed fixed on Feng Zhao.
Something about her felt different.
Especially her eyes—confident, sharp, completely unlike the former timidness she used to have. Even standing before a crowd, she showed no fear at all.
It was as if… she were a different person.
Had he simply not seen his daughter for too long?
Before he could speak, Wen Chenglin interrupted.
“General Feng, you have worked hard returning in victory. According to tradition, we should host a banquet in your honor. However, His Majesty has just passed away, so celebrations are inappropriate. We must follow the rules. Please forgive any offense.”
He successfully shifted Feng Ying’s attention.
Feng Ying wasn’t interested in entering the palace anyway. Compared to the stifling imperial court, he preferred the open battlefield. More importantly, going inside meant paying respects to the late emperor.
That foolish emperor only knew how to expand territory and be praised in history books—yet he didn’t understand anything. He just gave reckless orders.
If not for him, the war wouldn’t have dragged on for fifteen years.
“So be it. I’ll return then.”
As Feng Ying turned to leave, Feng Zhao suddenly spoke.
“General, please wait. I have something to say.”
Her words immediately made Wen Chenglin and Wen Mei’er tense up. They had come precisely to prevent any private conversation between Feng Zhao and Feng Ying.
Feng Ying was surprised but didn’t refuse. He followed her to the side.
“Father.”
Once they were alone, Feng Zhao naturally addressed him more familiarly, then pushed Xiao Hongyi forward.
“This is my adopted son, Xiao Hongyi.”
Feng Ying, stationed far at the border, already knew she had adopted a child. He had even been angry she hadn’t consulted him—but when he wrote letters, she had scolded him for meddling.
“Xiao Jiu, call him Grandfather.”
Xiao Hongyi’s heart pounded. Feng Ying’s gaze was terrifying—not monstrous, but the kind of killing aura forged from the battlefield.
Under Feng Zhao’s urging, he clenched his clothes and shouted:
“Grandfather!”
For the first time, Feng Ying felt what it was like to have a grandchild.
In high spirits, he immediately removed a concealed weapon from his arm and handed it over.
“This is a miniature crossbow. It contains three arrows. Within a hundred meters, it’s lethal. Take it for self-defense.”
Boys could never resist weapons. And Xiao Hongyi had wanted one since he was three.
Now he not only got one—but a real weapon.
He was so excited he forgot his fear.
“Thank you, Grandfather!”
He quickly hid it away, afraid Feng Ying might take it back.
After their introduction, Feng Ying seemed to enjoy gifting things. He even ordered his deputy to bring over a cage.
Inside was a black cat.
“Before the final battle with the Eastern Hua Kingdom, I picked this cat up on the road. Shortly after, we won the war. I consider it a lucky omen. I’ll give it to you.”
He knew his daughter was trying to get closer to him today.
Feng Zhao accepted the cage with both hands. Seeing her sincerity, Feng Ying became more convinced and spoke a few more words, warning her that although the cat was considered lucky, it was wild and had scratched several soldiers. It should not be let out easily.
Feng Zhao looked at the cat.
Golden eyes met hers.
For a moment, she felt the gaze was strangely human-like.
Probably just her imagination.
“Alright, I understand.”
After parting from Feng Ying, Feng Zhao walked back toward Fengming Palace with the cat cage in hand.
Inside, the “cat”—Shen Chen—was violently swaying and nearly vomiting from rage.
He had just been fighting on the front lines… and suddenly turned into a cat.
Then he was gifted away like an object.
It was an utter humiliation.
He bared his claws in fury.
Feng Zhao, meanwhile, was thinking about the Eastern Hua Kingdom.
It was the country of the male lead in the novel she had read. Shen Chen, the protagonist, was a ruthless, ambitious man who rose from an unfavored palace prince to unify the world.
He was merciless—to himself and to others. In the story, killing was as casual as chopping vegetables.
Right now, he should still be leveling up in the Eastern Hua Kingdom.
Thinking this through, Feng Zhao relaxed slightly.
Her mission wasn’t complete, and her “child” wasn’t properly raised yet. It wasn’t the time to clash with a chosen protagonist.
Her long-term plan of lying low continued—
while Shen Chen sharpened his claws inside the cage.