Stepping once again into the Fu Residence, which seemed like a paradise on earth, Yan Ning couldn't quite describe the feelings in her heart. Fu Kang'an had mentioned taking her, the old lady, and their four children to live in the Fu Residence. However, the old lady was afraid that living in the Fu Residence would bring back old memories and disturb her peace, and since Fu Kang'an was not often in the capital, the matter of moving into the Fu Residence had been delayed again and again.
Yan Ning went to her former residence, Liuxiang Garden, to find the brocade box that the old lady had told her about before her death. The somewhat worn box could fit a person and had a large brass lock hanging on it. Yan Ning brushed away a thick layer of dust from the top; the thickness of the dust indicated that Fukang'an hadn't been able to come to the study to see the box for a long time. The steward, Luo, found a thief in the prison cell, who opened the lock effortlessly.
Inside the brocade box were items treasured by Fukang'an related to the Emperor, ranging from small writing implements to large items like bows and arrows and weapons the Emperor and he had played with. These objects, adorned with bright yellow and symbolizing the Emperor's supreme status, were undecorated and unpretentious, representing Fukang'an's childhood memories connected to the Emperor. The old lady's words were true; she knew her son well. In Fukang'an's heart, the Emperor and Fuheng held equal positions. As for the truth of Fukang'an's identity, perhaps no one could clarify it after the old lady's passing. But these things were irrelevant; the father-son bond between the Emperor and Fukang'an had long since transcended their previously unbridgeable blood ties.
A month after the old lady's death, with military generals and high-ranking officials like Agui away on campaign, no one in the court dared to say a word in Fukang'an's defense. The emperor, finding no way to save face, could only mention in the Golden Palace that Fukang'an was grieving for his mother, ill in Annam, and petitioned for permission to spend a few days at her grave.
Heshen had long known the Emperor's thoughts, yet he hesitated to offer him a way out. He harbored doubts about Fukang'an's background and wanted to glean insights from the Emperor's attitude towards him. The memorial hadn't passed through the Grand Council; it was the Emperor himself who produced it, making its authenticity impossible to verify. Thus, the Emperor's previous actions were merely a smokescreen!
Inside the magnificent palace, the Emperor sat high on his dragon throne, his white hair and aged face staring at the silent, bowed officials. Not a single word was uttered; even the sound of the patrolling guards' boots clattering on the palace bricks could be heard. He felt a surge of anger, annoyed by the sycophantic behavior of his ministers. Military generals and high-ranking officials, often stationed in the capital, naturally held less prestige than the civil officials who resided there. He slammed the memorial he held onto the dragon desk, and roared, "You fools dared to advise me to consider ancestral rites! Today, filial piety has been implicated, and you remain silent! Has my Great Qing Dynasty been supporting such incompetent officials for nothing?!"
Enraged, the emperor's breaths even slowed considerably among the assembled officials. For the past month, Fukang'an's urgent memorials had piled up on his desk, all of which the emperor had ignored. Today's outburst left the officials to speculate in their own minds, but none dared utter a word. Yongyan and Yongxing stood before the civil and military officials, exchanging a glance, their bewildered expressions revealing their mutual unease about the emperor's intentions.
After obtaining the information he wanted, Heshen disregarded the emperor's wrath and immediately knelt down, pleading with him: "General Fucha has fought for the Qing Dynasty on all fronts. Now that Annam is at peace, we beg Your Majesty to allow him to return to the capital to recuperate and spend several days at the tomb of the late Lady Fucha, to fulfill his filial duty!"
The Emperor's anger had not yet dissipated in the empty hall, and Heshen's words were like pebbles sinking into a flood, not even causing a ripple. Heshen's faction, receiving a veiled warning, all knelt and pleaded for Fukang'an's life, saying, "Lord Heshen is absolutely right!"
The Emperor, having found a way out, still roared angrily, "My dear minister, you have always been distant from the Fucha family. Today, you requested permission because you were moved by Fukang'an's filial piety! I am gratified that the civil and military officials of my Great Qing Dynasty are working together to serve the country. Guards, issue the decree! Fukang'an's filial piety has moved heaven and earth. He is permitted to return to the capital to guard his mother's tomb for several days!"
He swept his sleeves in anger and left, the palace servants following closely behind his departing figure. The ceremonial dragon and phoenix fans were placed on either side and hidden in the corridor after the court session. The kneeling officials and nobles looked at each other in bewilderment, wondering what had caused this commotion in the Golden Palace.
Five days later, Fukang'an returned to the capital but did not go back to his residence. Instead, he went to Fuheng's mausoleum, which was dozens of miles outside the city. Yan Ning had expected this move. She, along with Delin and Dexuan, went to the mausoleum to stay by Fukang'an's side, fearing that he would be too upset and saddened and harm his health.
Upon entering the mausoleum, Yan Ning spotted Fukang'an's deep crimson figure in the distance. He was kneeling slumped before the old lady's tomb. Yan Ning had never seen Fukang'an so disheveled and dejected. His robes were disheveled, only one sleeve was tied, and the bluish tinge on his beard contrasted sharply with the bloodshot glint in his eyes.
Having just recovered from the grief of the old lady's passing, Yan Ning and the other two immediately had tears welling up in their eyes when they saw Fukang'an's current state. Yan Ning went over and embraced Fukang'an, wanting to give him strength. Fukang'an had reached the capital so quickly because there were post stations along the way to change horses. With horses available for rest, Fukang'an must have traveled for five days and nights without stopping.
Although it was summer, the mausoleum was surrounded by stone walls, and rows of trees lined the grounds. Fukang'an, a veteran of countless battles, suffered from rheumatism and old wounds that would flare up if exposed to even the slightest cold. Yan Ning felt sorry for his health and wanted to persuade him to return home. But Fukang'an's back was hunched, and his knees, though kneeling, remained as firm as a rock. Yan Ning knelt beside him, supporting his resolute arms, sharing the chill of the stone slabs with him.
Delin and Dexuan exchanged a glance and took a step back, kneeling behind their father and mother.
For a whole day and night, Fukang'an's chapped lips remained unmoved, his bloodshot eyes fixed intently on the old lady's tombstone. This tough man couldn't wail like a woman or a child, yet the grief weighed heavily on his heart, like a slow, agonizing torture. Yan Ning, unable to discern his thoughts from his weary and pained expression, could only silently take his arm, clinging to his side, kneeling beside him.
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