Chapter 293 Triumph
After the people from the palace left, the atmosphere in the once lively wedding hall became somewhat subtle.
Back to the British Duke's residence.
Zhao dismissed everyone around her, and her face, which had been full of smiles just moments before, instantly turned so gloomy it seemed to drip water.
"Bang!"
She slammed the brocade box containing the Empress's gift onto the table.
He turned around and went back to the inner room without saying a word.
Seeing her displeased expression, the servants fell silent, assuming that she had been mistreated in front of her future daughter-in-law at the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion.
"lady."
The trusted aide carried a bowl of calming tea to the mother and tiptoed in.
Zhao turned around abruptly, her well-maintained eyes filled with icy hatred.
She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug deep into her palms.
"Mother, what do we do now? His Majesty has decreed this marriage, and the bride must be sent from the Empress's family. Where am I supposed to find someone to marry her?"
Her voice was squeezed out from between her teeth.
"There can be no one else but her!"
"On that day, only she insisted that she personally witnessed Song Jiyun attempting to harm the young master."
"Everyone around her is a master; how could anyone escape right under their noses?"
"It must be her! She must have hidden him!"
She also secretly sent people to turn the entire capital upside down.
But they couldn't even find half a shadow of Song Jiyun.
That woman seemed to have vanished into thin air.
Xiang put down the teacup and gently patted Zhao's back to help her catch her breath.
Her face remained expressionless, and her voice was calm yet powerful.
"Madam, the most important thing right now is not to figure out where Miss Song is."
Instead, we should think about how to ensure that 'Miss Song' can appear safely and peacefully in the wedding hall on the day of the ceremony.
Zhao's breathing paused.
She suddenly looked at her mother.
"What...what do you mean by this?"
She lowered her eyes and lowered her voice even further.
"Madam, since we can't find the real one..."
"Then let's find a fake one."
Zhao's pupils suddenly contracted.
He continued speaking to his mother in a calm and unhurried manner.
"Find a woman whose figure and appearance are somewhat similar to Miss Song's, someone who can pass for the real Miss Song from a distance."
"On the wedding day, she was covered with a veil, bowed to the elders, and then sent to the bridal chamber."
"As long as we can get through this wedding banquet smoothly."
"Once the storm passes, this 'Miss Song' will either die suddenly from illness or be exiled to a family temple for committing a crime and imprisoned for life."
"Isn't it all up to you, Madam, to say the word?"
"At that time, this matter can be completely covered up."
Zhao listened quietly, her lips pressed tightly together, her fingers twirling the handkerchief tightly.
...
A few days later, Zhou Congxian and Meng Yushan led their troops back in triumph.
That day, the ten-mile-long street was completely packed with people.
At the city gate, the people lined the road to welcome him, their cheers deafening.
Flowers, handkerchiefs, and fruit were rained down on the mighty army.
Those people who, just a few days ago, were throwing rotten eggs and cursing "traitors" in front of the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion.
At this moment, he was using all his strength, shouting "Great hero" at the top of his lungs.
This complete reversal of the two extremes is truly ironic.
The crowd was too dense.
Meng Shilan didn't join in the fun.
She booked a private room on the second floor of the corner teahouse and waited quietly with Fu'er and Xiao Pangxi.
Little Fatty was held in Shuang'er's arms, his two little hands raised high.
Fu'er leaned against the window, her big, dark eyes fixed on the end of the long street.
"Mother! Mother! It's Father! I see Grandpa's flag!"
Finally, the black banner embroidered with the character "Meng" came into view.
Immediately following was a dense, dark mass of soldiers in gleaming armor.
Leading the group was the elderly Meng Yushan, followed by Zhou Congxian.
The armor still bore the marks of swords and blades.
Half a year of hardship and war had stripped him of the last trace of the refined elegance of a noble young master in the capital. He was now like a drawn sword, sharp and imposing.
He entered the city slowly, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
However, when his group reached the street corner, his gaze seemed to be drawn by something, and he subconsciously looked towards the teahouse.
Across the bustling crowd, across half a street.
His gaze, precisely, met in mid-air with the figure he so longed for, seen through the half-open window.
Their eyes met.
A slow smile crept onto Zhou Congxian's lips.
That smile dispelled his murderous aura and exhaustion.
It's an unspoken understanding.
Meng Shilan smiled too.
Inside the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion, the lights were on full display.
The servants in the mansion walked with a swagger, their joy barely concealed in their eyes and brows.
Meng Shilan did not rest.
She personally stayed in the small kitchen, watching the hangover soup in the clay pot, bubbling and steaming.
The soup was made with the finest honey, and the air was filled with a sweet and mellow aroma.
A series of steady, slightly disordered footsteps came from outside the courtyard.
Meng Shilan perked up and quickly went out to greet them.
"Maternal grandfather".
Under the moonlight, Meng Yushan took off his heavy armor and put on a simple blue brocade robe.
His figure was no longer as upright as when he was first seen, and his full head of silver hair appeared even more dazzling in the cold moonlight.
His weathered face bore an indescribable weariness, and his eyes held a hint of drunken confusion.
"I'm back."
When Meng Yu saw his granddaughter standing under the corridor with a lantern, the tense lines on his face, which had been taut the whole way, finally softened.
"Yes, I'm back."
Meng Shilan stepped forward and naturally took his arm.
"I've prepared some hangover soup for you. Drink a bowl before you go to sleep, or you'll have a headache tomorrow."
She spoke softly, helping him into the inner hall.
Meng Yushan did not refuse and sat down in the main seat, following her lead.
He picked up the bowl, said nothing, and silently drank it sip by sip.
The warm soup slid down my throat, dispelling the effects of the alcohol.
Meng Shilan sat quietly to the side, watching him.
My childhood memories are now hazy, with only fragmented pieces remaining.
She vaguely remembered that there seemed to be a very tall figure who lifted her up above his head and made her giggle with his prickly beard.
But later, she and her brother were left to wander and live a life of hardship.
A serious illness wiped out all my childhood memories.
Until last year, she was recognized and returned to the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion.
It was as if there was an invisible veil separating him from his maternal grandfather.
Until this time.
When rumors spread like wildfire in the capital, and the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion was condemned by everyone.
While he was far away in Yumen, his fate unknown.
She was constantly worried, unable to eat or sleep.
She was afraid, afraid that he wouldn't come back.
I fear that the home she finally managed to find will fall apart once again.
Until this moment.
Looking at the exhausted yet unharmed old man sitting in front of her, Meng Shilan's heart, which had been hanging in suspense for months, finally settled down.
"Maternal grandfather".
She spoke softly, her voice tinged with a sob she herself was unaware of.
"Now that you're back, you... won't go out anymore, right?"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
