Chapter 89

The captain of the guards, his mind in turmoil, pointed towards the backyard.

As Qin Zhao walked over, he saw Feng Liwu lying on the bed with a bluish-purple complexion, surrounded by ice that had just been chiseled from the cellar, seemingly to prevent the corpse from decaying.

He did not approach.

The secret joy he had felt earlier for accomplishing a great task was gradually dispelled by the scene before him.

Even though he had harbored resentment towards Feng Liwu for stealing his wife, the teachings of loyalty to the monarch since childhood still echoed in his ears, and Feng Liwu had actually treated him quite well.

Now, seeing Feng Liwu fallen, he felt no satisfaction, but rather a surge of regret.

But what was done was done; there was no turning back.

Once Feng Wu ascended the throne, he, as a meritorious official who supported the new monarch, could naturally break free from his father’s control and do what he wanted.

Moreover, the Xu family would no longer persecute the woman he loved…

Thinking of this, the heavy pressure in his heart eased slightly.

He remained silent for a while, still not stepping forward. Instead, he knelt down, kowtowed to Feng Liwu’s corpse, then turned and returned to the front hall.

After a while, the guard who had been weeping in the front hall saw Qin Zhao off to the capital to deliver the message before returning to the inner chamber.

He whispered to the crown prince, who had already risen from the pile of ice, washed his face, and changed clothes, “Your Highness, he has left.”

Feng Liwu looked at the remnants of the bluish-purple dye on his hand that hadn’t been completely washed off and said, “Have someone keep a close eye on him. Investigate thoroughly who he has been sending messages to and who he has been in contact with these past few days.”

Although he hadn’t opened his eyes earlier, every move Qin Zhao made had been carefully observed.

The sudden death of the crown prince in a foreign land implicated everyone involved, but while Qin Zhao showed sorrow, he displayed no panic.

More importantly, he didn’t even ask who the assassin was.

If he claimed to be unaware, Feng Liwu would be the first to disbelieve it.

Thinking that Qin Zhao had schemed against Jiang Xiurun, he surely didn’t know about the assassination attempt on him.

If Jiang Xiurun fell into his hands…

Feng Liwu dared not dwell on Jiang Xiurun’s current predicament. He only instructed his close guards not to reveal too much to the clueless prefect and not to let him know that Jiang Xiurun and Jiang Herun were the same person. After dismissing them, he waited with a grim expression for news from his secret guards…

Jiang Xiurun, at this moment, was not suffering much.

Apart from a slight resemblance in appearance, Feng Wu and Feng Liwu were worlds apart in every other aspect.

Compared to the initially clueless crown prince, Feng Wu was quite the enjoyer.

Though a displaced prince, he lived in a small village near the Wei capital with all the luxuries of life.

Even the cup of clear tea he drank was a rare and precious Yunshan Red Mist, worth a fortune. The tea spoon, intricately carved from redwood, enhanced the tea’s fragrance to its utmost.

Feng Wu had not expected to find a kindred spirit during his idle days in the outskirts of the capital, waiting for good news.

His tea was excellent, but the previous tea maid’s skills were lacking, always failing to grasp the right brewing temperature.

Now, his treasured tea set was in the hands of this Bo state’s hostage princess. Her slender, fair wrists moved with precision, bringing out the full potential of the tea set. The steam rose, the tea poured, and the aroma filled the air, her movements as graceful as a dance.

Feng Wu couldn’t take his eyes off her, letting the tea’s fragrance envelop him. When he took the warm teacup and sipped carefully, the bittersweet flavor filled his mouth.

After two cups, he said, “Does my elder brother also enjoy tea? Does Princess Jiang often brew tea for him?”

Jiang Xiurun felt that Feng Wu must already know the answer, so there was no need to lie and risk being caught. She picked up a teacup, sipped, and said, “You should know your elder brother. He’s always preoccupied with state affairs, barely able to tell chicken from duck in his meals. How could he spare time for the leisurely art of tea?”

Feng Wu raised an eyebrow, amused. Indeed, Feng Liwu was a man devoid of romance and enjoyment.

Leaning back on the soft cushions, he watched Jiang Xiurun cleaning the teacups and said, “Then… doesn’t Princess Jiang feel bored and lonely by his side?”

Jiang Xiurun took a soft cloth to dry her hands, examining her fingers casually.

“Isn’t that just how men are? All you care about is the grandeur of the empire. What do you know of a woman’s subtle thoughts?”

Feng Wu, having observed Jiang Xiurun closely these past few days, knew what she was about to do.

He picked up a gilded octagonal box, opened it, and handed it to her.

“The previous goose fat hand cream had an unpleasant smell, so I had someone prepare a cherry blossom-scented one for you, infused with ginseng juice and pearl powder, perfect for nourishing the skin.”

Jiang Xiurun leaned in to smell it, her cautious sniffing amusing Feng Wu.

“Afraid I might poison you?”

Caught, Jiang Xiurun didn’t bother to hide it. She raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ve been feeding my maid a potion to weaken her muscles! Just the other day, when I went to see Qian’er, she complained to me, worried about the potion’s side effects. What if it softens her bones, and when she’s pregnant, her hips give way, and the baby falls out too soon…”

Feng Wu knew how sharp-tongued Jiang Xiurun’s maid could be, and Jiang Xiurun’s imitation of her was spot-on, making him burst into laughter.

In a good mood today, he didn’t mind Qian’er’s crude words. He took Jiang Xiurun’s delicate hands and applied the scented cream himself.

“If she were as well-behaved and interesting as you, I wouldn’t have to feed her the potion. It would save me a few bowls of medicine… But I do wonder, between my elder brother and me, who do you prefer?”

Jiang Xiurun was about to answer when he placed a long finger on her lips, shushing her gently.

“I want to hear the truth.”

Jiang Xiurun pushed his finger away, leaning back slightly, her eyes scanning Feng Wu’s intense gaze.

At this moment, Feng Wu wasn’t using his bone-shrinking skill, and the young man with the royal Feng bloodline was strikingly handsome.

She didn’t answer directly but looked into his eyes with a faint smile.

“Your elder brother wouldn’t go to such lengths to prepare hand cream for a woman…”

Feng Wu felt he had outdone Feng Liwu, and his heart swelled with satisfaction.

In the art of winning a woman’s heart, Feng Liwu was indeed clueless.

Princes raised in the palace were introduced to the ways of the world early. By twelve or thirteen, though still naive, they already had maids to guide them.

Back then, it was said that Feng Liwu’s maternal grandfather had petitioned the emperor, allowing Feng Liwu to leave the palace and study in the imperial library.

While he and his fellow students secretly passed around erotic paintings and gossiped about which maids were the most experienced, Feng Liwu sat at his desk, silently practicing his calligraphy.

His foundation was poor, and he often made mistakes, earning him extra assignments from the royal tutor.

Even when someone mischievously placed an erotic booklet in front of him, he would expressionlessly move it aside and continue writing.

As they grew older, his mother, who temporarily managed the six palaces in place of the empress, sent a maid to introduce Feng Liwu to the ways of the world, to avoid criticism from the old ministers for mistreating the crown prince.

But when the maid went to serve Feng Liwu, he slapped her out of his bedroom.

It was said he found her constant presence distracting, preventing him from enjoying the view of the lake outside his window…

What nourishment could a woman as talented and charming as Jiang Xiurun find in such a dull man? How could she possibly like someone so utterly boring?

She was merely surviving in the cracks, clinging to Feng Liwu, using her beauty to serve him.

Just moments ago, he had received a secret report from Qin Zhao that the shadow assassin had succeeded, and Qin Zhao had seen Feng Liwu’s poisoned corpse with his own eyes.

Feng Wu’s heart was half at ease, but he wasn’t in a hurry to head to Luo’an.

Feng Liwu was too cunning; he had to be cautious.

Only when the emperor announced the crown prince’s death to the world would it be absolutely safe. His father, who doted on him, would naturally arrange for him to appear in the Great Qi court.

After all, under Feng Liwu’s autocratic rule, his father had no chance to favor young concubines, resulting in fewer offspring. There was no one else to replace Feng Liwu as the crown prince.

This place wasn’t entirely safe either. Tonight, he would move to another location, cutting off all contact with Qin Zhao.

Qin Zhao was now a spent pawn. With Feng Liwu’s numerous followers, to avoid them seeking revenge for their old master, he couldn’t afford to be accused of fratricide.

Feng Wu knew that to prevent any leaks, the best course was to kill this woman and her maid.

She was too clever, her words and actions all to his liking.

Though there were many women in the world, most were ordinary. How many were as sharp and insightful as her?

But such a gem had been monopolized by Feng Liwu for so long, and he had never tasted her. To kill her would be no different from burning a lute to cook a crane.

Feng Wu, who had always been fond of collecting rare artifacts, calligraphy, and antiques, felt that this rare beauty should be kept close.

For now, he could inform her of Feng Liwu’s death, dispelling any lingering hopes she might have for him.

As he slowly revealed the news of Feng Liwu’s death, Jiang Xiurun’s hand holding the teacup trembled slightly, spilling droplets onto her skirt like tear stains.

Feng Wu’s smile faded, his phoenix eyes narrowing.

“What? Does Princess Jiang feel heartbroken?”

Jiang Xiurun turned to him slowly, puzzled.

“Hmm?”

Feng Wu, noticing her slightly reddened eyes, said, “Princess Jiang, are you about to cry?”

In truth, Jiang Xiurun was also shocked. Hearing of Feng Liwu’s death, her chest felt tight, and her emotions were in turmoil.

He… had died so suddenly? Did he believe she had killed him? Would he stubbornly wait at the bridge, ready to curse her as a “dog”…

For a moment, Jiang Xiurun felt a sense of loss, no longer interested in playing along with Feng Wu.

A string of tears rolled down her pale cheek as she murmured, “I… don’t know why I’m crying.”

Feng Wu didn’t press her further. He simply watched her bewildered expression, like a lost child, and felt something inexplicably stirring in his heart.

A line from a book floated into his mind: “Love arises without reason, and deepens with time.”

He stood up and left without another word, letting her cry. But from now on, she was not to shed a single tear for another man.