Chapter 77 Emperor Nuo is freed from his shackles, the morning light is dim and the clouds of doubt are heavy
Qianlong silently watched the sobbing figure before him, her small shoulders shaking violently like branches snapped by a gust of wind. Her cry of "Your servant is Fang Ci" was filled with despair and despair, each word piercing his heart. The bloodstained, bright yellow silk handkerchief lay quietly on the ground, its golden dragon-shaped thread still dazzling in the cold moonlight.
For a long time, so long that Xiaoyanzi almost thought she was going to be crushed by the heavy silence, a very light sigh, as if carrying endless fatigue and relief, sounded in the silent room.
"I understand."
Xiaoyanzi suddenly stopped crying and looked up in astonishment, tear marks still crisscrossing her face, her watery eyes filled with disbelief. He...what did he say?
Qianlong slowly straightened up. His dark figure no longer carried that oppressive presence, instead exuding an unprecedented, almost desolate calm. His deep gaze fell on her face, no longer scrutinizing or probing, but filled with a complex emotion that had lingered through the ages—tenderness, guilt, deep longing, and... a kind of exhaustion after the dust had settled.
"That 'Emperor' in the alley was my instinct in a hurry, a mark engraved in my bones. I understand." His voice was as low as a whisper, but it was unusually clear in the quiet night. "In my previous life, I owed you a lot. I made you wander around at such a young age, and the road to recognizing your relatives was full of twists and turns. I was unable to protect you in the palace. In the end... in those last years, the way you looked at me was full of resentment." He closed his eyes slightly, and the silver hair on his temples was particularly clear in the moonlight. "I have lived my life again, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself I've returned to the sixteenth year of the Qianlong Emperor's reign. I thought I could make up for all my regrets, but I never imagined..." His gaze focused on her again, with an almost gentle compassion, "But I never imagined that you would also come back, and... In this life, you have your parents who love you, your brothers who protect you, and you grew up peacefully in the water towns of the south of the Yangtze River. You've learned the arts of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting better than in your previous life, but your temperament is still so lively. The way you look at people, the way you shrink your neck after getting into trouble, have not changed. Seeing that you have lived a stable and fulfilling life in this life, I... am very relieved."
Xiaoyanzi was completely stunned, forgetting to cry, and simply stared at him blankly. Every word he said exceeded her worst expectations. Wasn't he here to take her back? He... was he actually feeling guilty about his past life?
"I have sat on the dragon throne in the Hall of Mental Cultivation in the palace for eighty-nine years." Qianlong's voice was filled with a sense of distant vicissitudes, as if he were telling an ancient story. "From the day you left, not a single day has passed that I haven't thought of you. I think of your mischievousness in climbing trees and robbing bird nests, the way you cling to my arm and act coquettishly after getting into trouble, the way you played that tuneless 'Lotus Picking' with such self-righteousness... Until the day I die, before I close my eyes, the image that flashes before my eyes is still of you counting ants under the grape trellis in Shufangzhai." He paused, looking deeply into her eyes with an unquestionable solemnity. "So, I'm not here today to force you, nor am I here to disrupt the perfection you've worked so hard to achieve in this life."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze level with hers. The imperial aura faded completely, leaving only the cautiousness of an old man looking at a lost treasure. "I just want to tell you in person that I know you are Xiaoyanzi, and that's enough. My Xiaoyanzi, now has a good father like Fang Zhihang and a good brother like Fang Yan. You have a stable and happy life, and I... am satisfied. You don't have to worry about entering the palace anymore. I won't mention the word 'Emperor Father' to anyone, and I won't let anyone know the secret between you and me. Just be your Miss Fang Ci of the Fang family, and I... will just watch you live in peace and happiness from afar, and that's all."
As the words fell, the room fell into a deeper silence. The only sound was the rustling of the wind through the crabapple trees outside the window, and the drumming of Xiaoyanzi's own heartbeat. The immense shock and disbelief left her frozen, her fingertips cold. He... he actually let her go? Let go of the Fang family? The huge stone called "palace" that had weighed on her heart for two lifetimes, was just... lifted?
Without warning, tears welled up again, not out of fear or despair, but a torrent of feeling, like a survivor, a mixture of bewilderment, sorrow, and a faint warmth. She opened her mouth, but her throat choked with sobs, unable to utter a single word. She could only let the scalding tears silently fall, dripping onto her clothes and onto her heart, which had been cold for so long.
Qianlong watched her tears well up, and the last trace of tension in his eyes melted away, leaving only a gentle relief. He gave her one last, deep look, as if he wanted to carve her current appearance into his heart. Then, he stood up, not glancing at the handkerchief on the ground again, not saying another word. He simply turned slowly and silently, his dark figure blending silently into the dark night outside, just as he had come. The night wind blew up a corner of his robe, bringing with it a hint of cool air, and then he disappeared completely.
It was like suddenly waking up from a bizarre nightmare.
Xiaoyanzi remained frozen in place, her back pressed against the cold zither table, a subtle sting tingling in her fingertips. The room was empty, leaving only her, the broken zither, the dripping blood, and the glaring bright yellow handkerchief on the floor. A faint scent of ambergris lingered in the air, reminding her that what had just happened was not an illusion.
Was he really gone? Just like that... gone? Those words, "I'll watch you happy and safe from afar," seemed so light and yet weighed a thousand pounds, like the promise of a fading emperor, weighing heavily on her heart.
"Miss? Miss!" Chuntao's tearful voice and hurried footsteps broke the dead silence. She had obviously heard something and rushed in recklessly. Seeing Xiaoyanzi's distraught and tearful appearance, she was shocked and frightened. "What's wrong with you? Just now... was there someone just now..." Her eyes scanned the empty room in fear, finally landing on the bloodstained bright yellow handkerchief on the ground. Her face instantly turned pale as paper, and she fell to her knees with a thud. "This... this is..."
Xiaoyanzi suddenly came to her senses, looked at Chuntao's frightened expression, then looked at the handkerchief on the ground, and her heart tightened. She took a deep breath, forced down her surging emotions, and wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. Her voice was hoarse from crying, but she tried to maintain her composure: "No...nothing. It's me...I accidentally broke a string while practicing the piano and cut my hand." She bent down, quickly picked up the handkerchief, and held it tightly in her palm. The bright yellow color and the coiled dragon pattern made her palm burn. "This handkerchief...is...an old thing that I accidentally soiled. Chuntao, don't tell anyone about what happened tonight, especially my parents and brother. Don't say a word! Do you hear me?" Her voice suddenly became stern, with an unquestionable determination.
Chun Tao was frightened by her unprecedented harsh tone. She nodded repeatedly, tears welling up in her eyes: "This servant... This servant knows! This servant won't say a word! Miss, your hand..."
"It's just a minor injury, nothing serious." Xiaoyanzi clutched the handkerchief tightly in her sleeve. The wound on her fingertips still ached, but the shock in her heart far outweighed the pain. She looked out the window at the thick night, and Qianlong's last gentle, yet age-old gaze seemed to be still before her. Let her go? Really... let her go just like that? She pinched her palm hard, the sharp pain making her more awake. This was not a dream.
But this sudden "freedom" was like the sudden loss of weight after removing a heavy shackle, making her not know how to place herself for a moment.
---
After an agonizing wait, the sky finally shifted from inky black to a faint, grayish-white light. The Fang Mansion was shrouded in a depressing silence. Last night's panic and the emperor's unknown visit seemed to have been pressed into the cracks of the bluestone slabs by heavy dew, leaving only a tense, stagnant feeling, as if a storm were about to break out.
Xiaoyanzi had barely slept all night, her eyes etched with dark circles. Sitting at her dressing table, the bronze mirror reflected a pale, haggard figure, its eyes devoid of their former lively energy, replaced only by a deep sense of lethargy and lingering bewilderment. Chuntao carefully combed her tangled hair with a jade comb, her movements so gentle as if she feared disturbing anything. She stared at the young lady's dazed expression in the mirror, remembering the bloodstained bright yellow handkerchief and the young lady's stern warning from last night. Her heart still pounded, and she dared not breathe.
"Miss," Chuntao's voice was very low and tentative, "You look really bad. How about... resting for a while? I'll go and tell the master and the mistress that you're not feeling well."
Little Swallow's fingertips unconsciously rubbed a slightly dented mark on the corner of the table, left by a mischievous bump from her childhood. She shook her head, her voice slightly hoarse and hollow, "No need. Daddy... has to go to the palace to see the Emperor today." She looked out the window. The gray sky mirrored her current state of mind. Even the crabapple blossoms in the courtyard, once in full bloom, had lost some of their vibrant color. Heavy dewdrops clung to the edges of the petals, threatening to fall, like the worry hanging over one's heart.
In the front courtyard study, the atmosphere was even more solemn, as if frozen. Fang Zhihang had changed into a brand new royal blue court robe and sat upright. The tea before him had long since cooled, its steamy warmth dissipated, leaving only an icy chill. Xiao Jian stood nearby, also dressed in a sharp navy blue suit, his brow furrowed, his hand unconsciously pressing on the hilt of the sword at his waist. The cool touch seemed to bring him a sense of calm. He had barely slept a wink last night, guarding outside his sister's courtyard. Although he hadn't noticed any unusual movements, the tension in his heart had only grown tighter.
"Father," Xiao Jian's voice was very low, with the sharpness and tension unique to people in the martial arts world, "The emperor's actions... the continuous rewards, the invitation to attend the banquet, and last night mother mentioned the lotus banquet again... The pressure is increasing step by step, and it is by no means accidental. Ci'er's calling of "Emperor Father" must have really made the emperor believe something. Today's meeting with the emperor is full of dangers." His fingertips tightened on the hilt of the sword, and his knuckles turned white.
Fang Zhihang sighed deeply, a sigh so heavy it felt like it carried a thousand-pound weight. His elegant face was etched with worry. His fingers tapped unconsciously and heavily on the smooth rosewood tabletop, a dull, oppressive "thump, thump" sound, each one striking at the tense nerves of both father and son. "As a father, how could I not know? The Emperor's heart is unfathomable, as deep as the ocean. The Emperor's attitude toward Ci'er reveals an inexplicable... familiarity and persistence, something truly extraordinary." He paused, his cloudy, worried gaze fixed on his son, a look of deep confusion and unease. "Yan'er, do you think the Emperor... does he truly believe in those illusory stories of 'past lives'? Ci'er's loss of composure last night..."
Xiao Jian's eyes suddenly glared, like a blade unsheathed, a flash of cold light. He didn't directly answer his father's shocking question, but instead squeezed out a resolute statement from between his teeth, with a desperate determination: "Whether the Emperor believes it or not, now that he has made up his mind, the Fang family is treading on thin ice. One wrong step will lead to eternal damnation! Father, today we are meeting the Emperor, so be extremely cautious in your words and actions, as if treading on thin ice! You must not let anyone know about Ci'er entering the palace! If...if anything goes wrong," he lowered his voice even further, almost to a whisper, with a chilling chill, "I have my own arrangements outside the palace! I will protect Ci'er and my parents!"
Fang Zhihang's heart suddenly shook, as if struck by a sledgehammer! He looked up, incredulous, at his son, who seemed to have lost all warmth overnight, leaving only the cold, sharp edge of a ruthless gangster. The bloody, resolute tone behind the word "arrangement" sent a chill down his spine. He moved his lips several times, wanting to say something, but ultimately gave a heavy, labored nod, as if he had aged ten years in an instant. Father and son's gazes met in mid-air, each seeing the other's deep worry and desperate determination.
---
Forbidden City, Hall of Mental Cultivation.
The hall was filled with the lingering aroma of ambergris. The rhythmic, cold ticking of the chiming clock, like a countdown to fate, clearly cut through the thick, almost frozen air. Tall, carved vermilion lacquer windows filtered the faint morning light into brilliant beams, casting them across the mirror-like golden brick floor. Tiny dust particles danced silently in the beams, adding a touch of illusion and unease.
Qianlong sat at a spacious rosewood desk, his bright yellow robe shimmering with a majestic golden glow in the light and shadow. He held a red brush, seemingly absorbed in reviewing a spread-out memorial, his expression calm and composed. However, Eunuch Su, standing by, keenly noticed that the emperor's fingertips seemed to press harder than usual, leaving deeper, heavier marks on the page. The entire hall was eerily silent, broken only by the monotonous ticking of the pen and the subtle rustling of the red brush across the paper, weaving together an invisible web of pressure.
The eunuch on duty's shrill, slightly nervous voice echoed outside the palace gate, like a stone dropped into stagnant water: "Your Majesty, Wenyuan Pavilion Grand Secretary Fang Zhihang has been summoned to an audience—"
Qianlong's brush paused, almost imperceptibly! A drop of cinnabar hung languishing on the tip, threatening to drip onto the neatly written small-character script on the memorial. He calmly placed the brush back on the jade pen's base and gazed toward the two heavy palace doors that symbolized the entrance to supreme power. In his deep eyes, an elusive glint, like a long-dormant hunter finally waiting for its prey to enter his sight, flashed across his gaze, so swift it could have been an illusion, then quickly subsided into the profound calmness and absolute control of an emperor.
"Xuan." A single word, not loud, but like the sound of gold and jade colliding, with unquestionable penetrating power, echoing clearly in the empty and solemn palace.
"Yes!" A respectful response came from outside the palace gate.
The heavy palace door was silently pushed open by two eunuchs with lowered brows and submissive looks, making a dull "creaking" sound. Fang Zhihang took a deep breath, as if to inhale the heavy air and huge pressure in the palace into his lungs, suppressing the turbulent waves in his heart. He straightened his meticulous clothes, and walked with a steady but obviously restrained official step, stepping into this solemn palace that symbolizes the heart of the empire. The early morning sunlight fell on his royal blue court robes, revealing the cloud and goose patch on his chest, but it made his already tense face even paler. He walked to the foot of the imperial steps, followed the rules, flicked his sleeves, bowed, and bowed deeply to the bottom. His movements were impeccable. He tried to keep his voice steady, but one could still hear a subtle tension: "Your servant Fang Zhihang pays homage to the emperor. Long live the emperor!"
Qianlong's gaze, like a substance, slowly fell upon him, a look of condescending scrutiny, accompanied by an indescribable, almost playful inquiry. He did not call out immediately, and for a moment the hall was so quiet that only the cold ticking of the clock and Fang Zhihang's own heartbeat, like a drum, threatened to burst through his chest, could be heard. This suffocating silence seemed to be stretched infinitely, and every second felt like a century. Finally, when the cold sweat on Fang Zhihang's back was almost soaking through his underwear, Qianlong slowly spoke. His voice was so calm that no emotion could be heard, but it made people feel even colder: "My dear Fang, please stand up. Please take a seat."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Fang Zhihang let out a breath, but dared not relax even a moment. He stood up as instructed, his back muscles still tensed like a drawn bowstring. A young eunuch quietly brought a red sandalwood embroidered cushion and placed it at the foot of the imperial steps. Fang Zhihang cautiously sat on one side, leaning forward slightly, head lowered, as if listening attentively to the emperor's instructions.
"Minister Fang," Qianlong said, lifting a cup of warm, pre-rain Longjing tea and removing the gold-painted white jade bowl's lid. With a graceful movement, he gently brushed the edge of the bowl's lid against the floating, emerald green leaves. The lingering aroma of tea instantly filled the air, adding a touch of warmth to the cold palace, but it couldn't dispel the chill deep within. "I have reviewed the proposal submitted by the Ministry of Revenue regarding the post-disaster measures for the Jiangnan floods." He took a sip of his tea, his tone casual. "The suggestions regarding work-for-relief and dredging the river are clearly organized, to the point, and quite effective. I remember that you originally raised this idea in your presentation to the emperor, right?"
Fang Zhihang's heart suddenly shuddered! Here it comes! Was this seemingly ordinary greeting a test? A prelude? He didn't dare neglect it and quickly stood up again, bowing deeply, his voice filled with humility and caution: "Your Majesty is so wise and discerning! I am terrified! When I was in office in Jiangnan, I saw that local officials had taken such measures to provide disaster relief and comfort the people, and it was quite effective. So I dared to mention it in front of you, but I dare not take credit for it. This is all the result of local officials adapting to local conditions and sympathizing with the people. I am just repeating their methods and repeating what others have said." He carefully chose his words, completely denying the credit and putting on a very humble attitude.
Qianlong put down the tea bowl, and the bottom of the white jade bowl touched the rosewood tabletop, making a crisp but startling sound. "Well, not greedy for credit, very good." He nodded slightly, seeming quite satisfied. However, that deep gaze never left Fang Zhihang's face. The subject suddenly changed, and the tone seemed more casual, but with an invisible, suffocating pressure: "Miss Fang, do you like the things I asked Su Peisheng to deliver to your house yesterday? That water green Hangzhou silk set is bright and lively in color, which suits a little girl best. And that box of oriental pearls is of decent quality. It can be used as a hairpin for her or attached to the corner of her skirt to keep it down."
The highlight was coming! Fang Zhihang's heart instantly sank to the bottom, as if he had fallen into an icy cave. He maintained his bowed posture, but beads of cold sweat uncontrollably oozed from his forehead, trickling down his temples. He forced himself to steady his voice, overwhelmed with flattery and fear: "Your Majesty's grace is so great, and your reward is so generous. My whole family is deeply grateful and deeply grateful! But...but my daughter has been raised in the water towns of the south of the Yangtze River. Although she has been taught by our family and can read a few words, she is ultimately dull and stubborn, with a wild temper, no sense of etiquette, and a crude understanding. She is truly...truly unworthy of such a precious reward! Every time I think about it, I feel terrified! I have ordered my wife to store the reward in the treasury and keep it safe. When my daughter is older and more sensible, then...then let her receive the grace, so that she will not let down the Majesty's kindness..." He spoke rapidly, every word emphasizing his daughter's "unworthiness" and "unworthiness," trying to dispel the emperor's dangerous thoughts.
"Hey," Qianlong raised his hand, gently interrupting his heartfelt yet veiled refusal. A faint, profound smile played at the corner of his lips. It was a subtle smile, not reaching the depths of his eyes, but rather a penetrating, almost playful sharpness. "Minister Fang, you are too modest. Your daughter, Fang Ci, is quite good in my opinion. She is very intelligent and lively, quite like an old friend."
"Old friend?!" Fang Zhihang suddenly raised his head, his face instantly drained of all color, and was filled with just the right amount of confusion and a deep-seated fear. His voice even changed, "Your Majesty, are you saying...?"
Qianlong leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the smooth, cold imperial desk, his fingers intertwined. His gaze, sharp as a hawk snapping a rabbit, locked onto Fang Zhihang's eyes, which were trying hard to conceal their terror. Each word, clear and slow, was like an icicle, carrying a biting chill and an invisible, soul-crushing pressure that pierced Fang Zhihang's deepest fears. "Does your daughter's personality resemble someone I once knew? A... who also liked to wear colorful clothes, climb trees and rob bird nests, who, when she got into trouble, would cling to my legs and cry, 'Father, help me!' She even played the perfect piece 'Lotus Picking Song' in a disjointed and tuneless way, and yet she could confidently and plausibly say, 'The lotus blossoms, so the music should be played in a dancing manner'... a wild girl?"
Boom——!!!
Fang Zhihang felt a deafening roar in his head! It was as if something had completely exploded! Every word of Qianlong's words bore the imprint of a past life, striking his already overwhelmed heart with uncanny precision and ferocity! Those unique mischievous deeds and heresies that belonged only to "Little Swallow" were now spoken from the mouth of the Supreme Emperor, like the sharpest dagger, instantly dissecting all the carefully constructed disguises! His face instantly turned as pale as gold paper, his lips trembling violently and uncontrollably, his body swaying violently, his vision blackening, and he almost collapsed on the spot! His hands, hidden in the sleeves of his wide court robes, clenched tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms. The intense stinging pain, accompanied by a strong smell of blood, allowed him to rely on the last bit of sanity and the instincts ingrained in him as a minister to barely maintain his shaky body and avoid losing his composure on the spot.
"Your Majesty..." His voice was shaking and broken, with unbelievable horror and a despair on the verge of collapse. "Your Majesty... Your Majesty is extremely frightened! My daughter... My daughter grew up in Jiangnan since she was a child. Although she is a little naughty, she is... She is well-educated and well-mannered. How dare I... How dare I be compared with the noble 'old friend' mentioned by Your Majesty in such a golden mouth! Your Majesty... Your Majesty must... must miss your old friend deeply, and have... some empathy! Your Majesty... Your Majesty begs Your Majesty to understand!" He almost shouted out, with a desperate and pale excuse. The cold sweat on his forehead finally gathered into beads as big as beans, rolled down, and hit the cold gold brick floor, spreading a small dark, desperate stain.
Outside the palace, the long palace walls cast a cold shadow. Like an arrow shot from a bow, a humble blue-clothed carriage barreled down the empty palace road. The wheels rolled over the bluestone pavement, making a rapid, dull sound, shattering the deathly silence within the palace walls. Xiao Jian drove the carriage himself, his thin lips pressed into a cold, hard line. His eyes, sharp as a quenched blade, stared intently at the towering palace gates that drew ever closer, like the mouth of a giant beast. He gripped the reins with such force that his knuckles turned white, and veins bulged on the back of his hands, as if he were about to sever the rough rope. Faster! Faster! Dad has been in the palace for a long time. Deep within the lurch of danger, the emperor's mind is a bottomless abyss. Ci'er's subversive secret hangs like a sword overhead! He must stay as close as possible! The horseshoes pounded rapidly against the hard stone slabs, shattering the rising, slightly cool morning light and the shattering illusion of tranquility that remained in the Begonia Courtyard of the Fang Mansion. The palace guards' interrogations and the obstructions imposed by the rules now became obstacles that he had to overcome!
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