Chapter 76: The dawn is fading and the clouds are thick with doubts. The imperial court plays a hidden trick.
The next morning, the Fang Mansion was shrouded in a strange silence. The panic and arguments of the previous night seemed to be pressed into the cracks of the bluestone slabs by the heavy dew, leaving only a tense and stagnant feeling of impending storm. Xiaoyanzi had hardly slept all night, with a faint blue shadow under her eyes. She sat in front of the dressing table and let Chuntao comb her hair. The figure reflected in the bronze mirror had lost the former lively and lively look between her eyebrows, and was filled with a bit of heavy fatigue and lingering worry. Chuntao paused with her hand holding the jade comb, and asked cautiously: "Miss, you don't look well, how about... resting for a while? Can I go and tell the master and the mistress?"
Little Swallow shook her head, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing against a slightly concave scratch on the corner of the table, left by a mischievous bump as a child. "No need," she said, her voice barely audible. "Father is going to the palace to see the Emperor today, and I... feel uneasy." She looked out the window. The sky was a leaden gray, and even the crabapple blossoms in the courtyard had lost some of their vibrant color. Heavy dewdrops clung to the edges of the petals, threatening to fall.
In the front courtyard study, the atmosphere was even more solemn. Fang Zhihang, already dressed in brand new royal blue court robes, sat upright, his tea long gone cold, its steam dissipating. Xiao Jian stood nearby, also dressed in a sharp navy suit. His brows furrowed, his hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist. The cool touch seemed to bring him a sense of calm.
"Father, the Emperor's actions..." Xiao Jian's voice was low, sharp as a man from the underworld. "The rewards he bestowed, the invitations to the banquet, and last night Mother mentioned the Lotus Banquet... These pressures are mounting, and they're definitely not accidental. Ci'er calling me 'Emperor Father' must have convinced the Emperor of something."
Fang Zhihang sighed deeply, his elegant face wrinkled with worry. His fingers tapped lightly on the smooth rosewood table, a dull "thump, thump" sound. "As a father, how could I not know? The emperor's heart is unpredictable. The emperor's attitude toward Ci'er reveals an inexplicable... familiarity and persistence." He paused, looking at his son with a complicated expression. "Yan'er, do you think the emperor... does he really believe in those vague theories of 'past lives'?"
Xiao Jian's eyes flashed, he did not answer directly, but said in a deep voice: "Whether the emperor believes it or not, since he has made up his mind, the Fang family is walking on thin ice. Today, when you meet the emperor, dad must be cautious in what he says and does. You must not agree to Ci'er entering the palace. If it really doesn't work out, your son has his own arrangements outside the palace." He said the second half of the sentence very lightly, with a determination to burn his boats.
Fang Zhihang was shocked, looked at his son deeply, and finally nodded heavily.
Forbidden City, Hall of Mental Cultivation.
The hall was filled with the crisp aroma of ambergris, the ticking of a chime clock rhythmically piercing the heavy air. Sunlight filtered through tall, carved vermilion lacquer windows, casting brilliant beams of light on the mirror-like golden brick floor. Tiny specks of dust danced silently in the beams. Qianlong sat at a large, rosewood imperial desk, his bright yellow robe gleaming in the light and shadow. He was reviewing memorials with a red brush, his expression focused, as if he were simply attending to ordinary court business. Eunuch Su, standing nearby, bowed with his hands lowered, his eyes fixed on his nose, his nose on his heart, not daring to breathe.
The eunuch on duty's shrill voice rang out from outside the palace: "Your Majesty, Wenyuan Pavilion Grand Secretary Fang Zhihang has been summoned to an audience—"
Qianlong paused with his crimson brush, a drop of cinnabar nearly falling onto the memorial. He calmly placed the brush back on the jade pen holder and gazed toward the palace gate. A fleeting glint of insight, like a hunter finally seeing his prey, flashed across his deep eyes before he regained his imperial composure.
"Announce." The voice was not loud, but it clearly penetrated the solemnity of the palace.
The heavy palace door was silently pushed open by two eunuchs. Fang Zhihang took a deep breath, straightened his clothes, and stepped into the hall with a steady, slightly restrained official gait. The sunlight fell on him, clearly showing the cloud and goose patches on his court robes. He walked to the foot of the imperial steps, and according to the proper etiquette, he flicked his sleeves, bowed deeply, and said: "Your Highness, I pay my respects to you. Long live the Emperor."
Qianlong's gaze rested on him, scrutinizing him with a touch of indescribable, almost gentle inquiry. He didn't immediately call out, and for a moment the hall was silent, with only the ticking of the clock and Fang Zhihang's own drumming heartbeat. After a moment, Qianlong spoke slowly, his voice calm and emotionless: "Minister Fang, please rise. I grant you a seat."
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for your grace." Fang Zhihang breathed a sigh of relief and straightened up, but the muscles in his back were still tense. The young eunuch brought a red sandalwood embroidered cushion, and he cautiously sat on one side, bowing his head and listening attentively.
"Minister Fang," Qianlong said, picking up a cup of warm, pre-rain Longjing tea beside him, he lifted the lid and gently skimmed off the foam, letting the lingering aroma of tea waft into the air. "I have read the proposal submitted by the Ministry of Revenue regarding the post-flood relief measures in Jiangnan. The suggestions regarding work-for-relief and dredging the river are quite insightful. I remember that you first raised this idea in your presentation before the emperor, right?"
Fang Zhihang's heart trembled, and he quickly stood up and bowed: "Your Majesty is wise and enlightened. When I was in office in Jiangnan, I saw that local officials acted in this way and it was quite effective, so I dared to make suggestions. I really don't dare to take credit for it." He answered humbly and cautiously, attributing the credit to the local authorities.
Qianlong took a sip of tea and set the bowl down with a soft, crisp sound. "Well, not seeking credit for yourself, very good." He changed the subject, his tone becoming more casual, but his gaze rested firmly on Fang Zhihang's face. "Does Miss Fang like the things I had Su Peisheng deliver to your residence yesterday? The aqua-green Hangzhou silk suit is vibrant and will suit you perfectly. And the oriental pearls are of decent quality. They'd make a hairpin or a skirt accent."
Here it comes! Fang Zhihang's heart suddenly sank. He maintained his bowed posture, but a fine layer of cold sweat oozed from his forehead. "Your Majesty, your kindness is so great, and my whole family is deeply grateful! But... my daughter is dull and stubborn, with a wild temper, and truly unworthy of such a precious reward. I... I am terrified, and have instructed my wife to keep her well. When she grows up and becomes sensible, I will..."
"Hey," Qianlong raised his hand to interrupt him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. That smile never reached his eyes, instead revealing a knowing amusement. "Lord Fang, you're being too modest. Your daughter Fang Ci, I think she's quite good. She's very intelligent and lively, and she has quite the air of... an old friend."
"Old friend?" Fang Zhihang suddenly raised his head, his face showing just the right amount of confusion and a hint of fear. "Your Majesty, are you saying...?"
Qianlong leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the imperial desk, his fingers intertwined. His gaze, sharp as a hawk, locked onto Fang Zhihang's. Each word he spoke was clear and slow, carrying an invisible, suffocating pressure. "Mr. Fang, do you think your daughter's personality resembles someone I once knew? A... who also liked to wear red and green, climb trees and rob bird nests, who would hug my legs and cry 'Father, help me!' when she got into trouble, who would play a perfectly good piece of 'Lotus Picking Song' to pieces, and who would confidently say 'The lotus blossoms dance, and so the song should be played dance-like'... a wild girl?"
boom--!
Fang Zhihang felt a loud bang in his head, as if something had exploded! Qianlong's words were like thunder, each word bearing the imprint of a past life, striking him precisely in the heart! His face instantly turned pale, his lips trembled, and his body swayed uncontrollably, almost to the point of losing his balance. His hands, hidden in his sleeves, clenched tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms. The intense pain allowed him to barely maintain his last bit of sanity and the demeanor of a minister.
"Your Majesty..." His voice trembled with disbelief and horror. "Your Majesty... Your Majesty is terrified! My daughter... My daughter grew up in the water town of Jiangnan. Although she is a little naughty, she is well-educated and well-mannered. How dare... How dare I be compared with the 'old friend' that Your Majesty mentioned! Your Majesty... Your Majesty must be missing his old friend and has some... some empathy!" He almost shouted, with an excuse on the verge of collapse.
Qianlong watched him lose his composure, a flicker of understanding in his eyes, even a hint of... satisfaction? As if Fang Zhihang's reaction confirmed a suspicion in his mind. He didn't get angry, but leaned back in his chair. His imposing aura subsided slightly, but his gaze remained sharp.
"Is that so?" he asked softly, his voice unrecognizable as either emotion or anger. "Perhaps I... remembered it wrongly? Or perhaps, it's just blood and nature; there are always similarities?" He picked up the tea bowl and took another sip, as if those earth-shattering words just now were just casual chat. "However, your daughter's desperate cry of 'Emperor Father' in the alley that day was... so heartfelt that I actually thought I'd seen an old friend." He set the tea bowl down, his gaze once again dark and unfathomable. "Fang Qingjia, what do you say, isn't this a kind of... wonderful fate?"
Fang Zhihang felt a chill run from the soles of his feet all the way to his head! The Emperor not only recognized Ci'er as an "old friend," but he also remembered the fateful "Emperor Father" clearly! The cold sweat on his forehead finally slid down, dripping onto the cool golden brick floor, leaving a small dark stain. He opened his mouth, but his throat seemed blocked, and no sound came out. The overwhelming fear and pressure almost crushed him. The Emperor was forcing him to express his position! He was using the word "fate" to pave the way for the next step!
Just as the stifling silence threatened to overwhelm Fang Zhihang, Eunuch Su, standing by, his eyes fixed on the surroundings. With a natural bow, he gently but unmistakably refilled Qianlong's cup with warm tea. The gentle sound of water pouring into the cup, like a stone dropped into a deep pool, instantly shattered the hall's frozen silence.
"Your Majesty," Fang Zhihang took advantage of this fleeting moment of respite and took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress his turbulent emotions. His voice was still trembling, but he tried hard to maintain his final composure and the duty of a minister. "Your Majesty... Your Majesty, I have not taught my daughter well, causing her to behave improperly in front of Your Majesty and offend His Majesty. This is my grave fault! My daughter is young and ignorant, and she spoke without thinking. She did not intend to blaspheme Your Majesty! What happened that day was purely an accident, and it cannot be called 'fate'! My daughter was born in the countryside, grew up in the market, and has a life in the underworld. "My children are wild and unruly, lacking in manners. I truly… I truly cannot bear such a high compliment, much less dare I pollute the Emperor's ears! I beg Your Majesty to understand!" He prostrated himself once more, his forehead almost touching the cold floor tiles. His posture was humble, yet his words were clear, each one emphasizing the words "accident," "young and ignorant," "children of the underworld," and "unworthy of this grace." He calmly but resolutely rejected the implicit meanings of "fate" and "old friend" in Qianlong's words.
Qianlong looked at his prostrate figure, speechless for a long moment. His fingertips tapped gently on the smooth rosewood armrest, producing a rhythmic, dull "thump, thump" sound. The sound echoed in the silent hall, each tapping like a tap on Fang Zhihang's tense nerves. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air and the complex, deep, and inscrutable look in the emperor's eyes—scrutiny, inquiry, and perhaps a hint of... displeasure at having his interest interrupted?
Outside the palace, under the long shadow of the palace wall, an inconspicuous blue cloth carriage was speeding along the palace road. Xiao Jian drove the carriage himself, his lips tightly pursed, his eyes sharp as a knife, staring intently at the towering palace gate that was getting closer and closer. He gripped the reins so hard that his knuckles turned white, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged. Faster! Faster! Dad has been in the palace for a long time. In that dangerous place, the emperor's mind is like an abyss, and Ci'er's secret is like a sword hanging overhead. He must stay as close as possible! The horse's hooves pounded the bluestone road rapidly, shattering the morning light and the remaining, shaky tranquility in the Begonia Courtyard of the Fang Mansion.
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