Chapter 307 I Don't Have This Son
Zhou Congxian's straight back slumped slightly for a moment with that sigh.
The fire in his eyes seemed to flicker and tremble at that sigh.
He didn't say anything.
Once again, he bowed deeply to that increasingly withered figure.
Between a ruler and his subjects, some things need not be said outright.
Some promises are heavier than Mount Tai.
He turned and left the Hanguang Hall.
Every step felt like walking on a knife's edge.
The palace gates slowly closed behind him, shutting out the strong smell of medicine inside the hall and the heavy entrustment he was entrusted with.
The night wind swept over him, carrying the chill of late autumn, stinging his cheeks.
Zhou Congxian then realized that his undergarments were already soaked with cold sweat.
He looked up at the waning moon on the horizon.
Cold and lonely.
Just like that person in the Hanguang Hall.
Just like my future self.
At the end of the palace road, an inconspicuous blue-curtained carriage stood quietly under the dim palace lanterns.
The carriage curtain moved slightly, revealing a stunningly beautiful face.
At that moment, Zhou Congxian's heavy heart seemed to have found a harbor where it could rest.
He strode forward, lifted the carriage curtain, and got in.
The car was warm and cozy, with his familiar calming incense burning.
Meng Shilan did not ask what had happened in the palace.
She simply reached out and gently grasped his cold fingertips.
"Thanks for your hard work."
She said softly.
All my words can be summed up in these three words.
Zhou Congxian turned his hand over and tightly grasped her soft hand in his palm, absorbing the warmth that belonged only to him.
He closed his eyes, rested his head against the car wall, and his exhaustion and murderous aura gradually melted away in this small space.
...
British Duchy.
This was Zhou Congxian's first time returning home since his marriage.
He's back. Some things, after all, must be faced.
The carriage moved slowly along the bustling street.
Fu'er and Pang Xi playfully leaned against the window.
Fatty had a sweet tooth and would tell Guo Fan outside the window what to buy whenever he saw something.
Zhou Congxian placed a small hand warmer into her hand.
"How are Father and Mother's health?"
His voice was somewhat hoarse.
“I invited the imperial physician to come and check my pulse every month.”
Meng Shilan answered calmly.
"The Duke of England is still in relatively good health, but... Mother's health was severely damaged by Song Jiyun's previous poisoning. She is now only kept alive by expensive medicinal herbs and is not as good as before."
Zhou Congxian fell silent.
The carriage stopped.
We've arrived at the British Duke's residence.
The once bustling mansion gates were now so deserted that one could hear the sound of falling leaves rolling by.
There was an indescribable sense of desolation about it.
Zhou Congxian, with a curious look around at the chubby boy, and Meng Shilan, holding Fu'er's hand, got off the carriage.
The gatekeeper, still half asleep, came out to check.
When he saw Zhou Congxian's angular face clearly, his eyes widened instantly.
"Young Master...?"
His voice was trembling uncontrollably.
The next moment, as if he had seen a ghost, he ran inside using both hands and feet.
"The young master is back! The young master is back!"
Zhou Congxian's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
He glanced at Meng Shilan beside him with a puzzled look.
Meng Shilan simply shrugged innocently, her clear eyes revealing no emotion.
Her mind, however, was perfectly clear.
Ever since she brought the door back and exposed the scandal, their relationship has been completely ruined.
Zhou Congxian's marriage into the Meng family made the Duke of Ying's mansion a laughing stock in the entire capital.
Over the past year, the British Duke's mansion has closed its doors to visitors and has long lost its former glory.
Having not seen her son for nearly a year, Zhao naturally assumed it was her revenge and a fit of pique.
After all, Zhao had colluded with outsiders to persecute her son.
Two months ago, during the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Madam Zhao personally carried gifts to the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion, saying she wanted to visit her grandchildren.
Meng Shilan did not see her, but simply had someone politely turn her away.
However, she "accidentally" let Zhao catch a glimpse of the two children from afar through the hanging flower gate.
That child was practically a carbon copy of Zhou Congxian when he was a child.
Meng Shilan knew that that one encounter was enough to make Zhao Shi regret her actions deeply.
I regret listening to Song Jiyun's instigation back then.
Unfortunately, there is no medicine for regret in this world.
Inside the mansion, a series of hurried and chaotic footsteps soon echoed.
Zhao was practically supported by others as she stumbled and ran out.
When she saw the tall, straight figure at the door, tears streamed down her face.
"Xian'er... my Xian'er!"
She reached out her hand, trembling, wanting to go forward.
But when her gaze fell upon Meng Shilan, who stood calmly beside Zhou Congxian, she abruptly stopped in her tracks.
A complex and embarrassed expression flashed across her face.
Madam Zhao turned around and sternly reprimanded the servants behind her.
"What are you still standing there for!"
"Who allowed them in!"
A loud shout came from behind Zhao.
The Duke of England emerged, dressed in his nightgown, his face ashen.
He didn't even have time to put on his outer robe, which shows how furious he was.
His son, who once made him proud in front of his colleagues.
Now, however, it has become his greatest shame.
This rebellious son has completely disgraced the Duke of England's mansion!
Now, when he goes to court, he feels like someone is stabbing him in the back.
The Duke of England stared intently at Zhou Congxian, his eyes filled with rage.
What else is there?
His voice sounded like it was being squeezed out from between his teeth.
"You are now a member of the Meng family! Your surname is now Meng, not Zhou!"
"Our Zhou family has no such descendant!"
These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head.
Zhao's face turned pale instantly.
She turned around and looked at her husband in disbelief.
"Master! What nonsense are you talking about!"
She wiped away her tears, her voice trembling with sobs.
"Xian'er hasn't been home for a year, and you're not going to hold a grudge against the child!"
"Besides..."
Zhao took a deep breath, as if she had grasped at the last straw.
"This is His Majesty's imperial decree! It's His Majesty's bestowal of this marriage!"
"Do you mean to tell him to disobey the imperial decree?!"
"Disobeying the imperial decree?"
The Duke of England burst into laughter as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world, but his laughter was full of sorrow and anger.
He suddenly stood up straight, pointed at Zhou Congxian outside the mansion gate, and roared at Zhao Shi.
"He cannot disobey the imperial decree!"
"He is now a fine son-in-law of the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion! A fine son of the Meng family!"
"Then why did he come back?!"
"Are you here to laugh at our British Duke's mansion?!"
He was so angry that he was trembling all over, his chest heaving violently.
He picked up a blue-and-white porcelain teacup from the tray of a servant beside him and smashed it hard on the ground.
"Smack!"
The sound of porcelain shattering was particularly jarring in the quiet night.
"Tell him!"
The Duke of England, his eyes bloodshot, pointed at the door and roared, enunciating each word clearly.
"Even if I die, I won't let him see me!"
"I certainly won't make him wear mourning clothes!"
"I don't have this son!"
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