The palace gates slammed shut behind Yan Ning, cutting off the chill of spring and the evening rain, chilling Yong Yan's wavering heart. He looked up, resigned, at the tightly closed palace gates.
Upon entering the Empress Dowager's bedchamber, Yan Ning, standing behind the Emperor and Fukang'an, hung the curtains on the white marble hooks. She hoped this would let in some faint light and lessen the eerie atmosphere.
The white banners hanging in the Empress Dowager's mourning hall always fluttered without wind, exuding a chilling and eerie aura. She was not afraid at first; the Emperor was the Son of Heaven, and any ghosts or demons would dissipate under the golden light of the true dragon. Even if the Emperor cherished the bond between mother and son, Fukang'an's martial aura could dispel these unclean and sinister winds.
But after being framed by Yongyan and having Xiao Jiangzi beaten to death, she became afraid. This ghostly aura wasn't left behind by the Empress Dowager, but rather the living's obsession with power. The ghost was nothing more than a wisp of smoke, but the living's obsession was a thousand times more terrifying than that wisp of smoke.
Just a moment ago, the Emperor could have decided her, Fukang'an, and Yongyan's fate in an instant, but all of that was taken by Xiao Jiangzi.
The white gauze curtain hanging on the jade hook slipped off and covered her face. In her panic, she grabbed a pair of scissors from the high-legged table. The scissors were very sharp and cut her palm. More than the pain, the shock made her whisper "Fukang'an".
Fukang'an, who was standing a step or two away from the Emperor, heard Yan Ning's exclamation and immediately turned back. He ripped open the white veil covering her face.
He held Yan Ning in his arms, watching the bloody cut on her palm, which was gushing blood and dripping onto the velvet carpet.
Beneath the chilling crimson of blood in her palm, Yan Ning's face turned even paler. The fear she had been hiding turned into tears, which rolled down onto Fukang'an's white mourning robe.
The Emperor looked at Yan Ning, whose face was even more transparent and fair than a white veil, and sighed inwardly. She was just a young woman, and it was only natural that she was frightened by the scene just now.
There were no princesses of Yan Ning's age in the harem. The few concubines of similar age were either afraid of him or subservient to him.
He felt a pang of melancholy, his thoughts drifting to the Tenth Princess in Consort Dun's palace. At such an innocent age, she only saw him as her father, not the Emperor, and didn't even know what the Emperor was!
Thinking of the Tenth Princess's age, the Emperor thought of Fukang'an when he was a child. He smiled and said to Fukang'an, who was supporting Yan Ning, "Come and play chess with me tomorrow! I haven't beaten you in a long time!"
Fukang'an and Yan Ning both looked at the emperor, whose tone was forceful. He seemed less like an emperor and more like a child making unreasonable demands.
As Yongyan left Changchun Immortal Hall, his bloodshot eyes narrowed sharply. "Father Emperor truly dotes on Fukang'an so much! He so blatantly oversteps his authority and covets the Emperor's throne, yet Father Emperor so easily pardoned this Prince for such a grave offense as forging an imperial edict, all to protect him!"
Heshen's eyes remained crescent-shaped as he gazed at the palaces and buildings reflected in the lake. "Does Your Highness now believe what I have said is true?"
This matter was originally intended to test the Emperor's feelings for Fukang'an on behalf of Yongyan. The throne, the throne, the Emperor comes first, the throne second. And who sits on that dragon throne? It all depends on the Emperor's decision.
Although Fukang'an was not nominally a member of the ancestral hall, restoring his status and re-entering the hall was simply a matter of issuing an imperial edict. Moreover, Fukang'an was so young yet had already accomplished so much; when the emperor announced this to the world, although it might not be the popular choice, it would certainly reflect the will of the people.
Yongyan clenched his fist behind his back, the murderous intent in his eyes turning into icy arrows that made his already red eyes appear even more bloodshot. His indecisive nature had become ruthless with Heshen by his side, and he tacitly agreed with Heshen's words: if Fukang'an could not be eliminated, he would become an uncontrollable hidden danger in the future.
Yongyan nodded at Heshen with murderous intent in his eyes. The nod was extremely heavy, as if a hundred-pound bronze cauldron was pressing down on his neck, making it impossible for him to shake his head.
Heshen's eyes were still crescent-shaped, but now they held a hint of gloom. The emperor was getting old; this supreme position brought him nothing but the desolation of losing his loved ones, and this desolation gradually made him loosen his initial obsession with imperial power.
But Heshen would not let Yongyan know any of this. He looked at the still young Yongyan and said, "Your humble servant is willing to risk his life to protect Your Highness from the swords and horses!"
Beneath the majestic palace walls, a row of bamboo was sparsely planted, its verdant green spreading over the crimson.
Upon hearing Wu Shulai's greeting to Fukang'an in the palace courtyard, Yongyan disregarded the fact that his personal attendant, who was holding an umbrella behind him, couldn't keep up. He strode to the vermilion wall on one side of the palace gate, broke off a hollow bamboo, and squeezed it hard. The bamboo fragments shattered into four or five pieces, which flew down the stone steps of the palace gate in the direction he threw them.
Fukang'an and Yan Ning walked out of the palace gate side by side. His feet stepped on the broken bamboo joints, and his wooden-soled boots cracked the bamboo fragments under his feet, turning them into countless pieces. His expression immediately turned cold, and he loosened his hands that were tied behind his back, nodding and bowing to Yongyan in front of him.
Yongyan clasped his hands behind his back, his heavy expression partially obscuring the youthful innocence on his face, but a smile curved at the corners of his lips. “Bamboo grows tall, but it is easily broken!”
Fukang'an's eyes, which were calm as the lake water flowing slowly beneath the wooden bridge, looked at Yongyan. He swept his foot, and many bamboo fragments flew up in the rain and mist. He picked up one of them with two fingers and threw it into the bamboo thicket, and a bamboo stalk fell to the ground.
Yongyan's eyes suddenly sharpened, and Fukang'an silently helped Yan Ning past him and left.
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