Chapter 105

When Jiang Xiurun emerged from the palace, the banquet had already ended.

According to the ancestral customs of Great Qi, night banquets were not allowed to last until dawn, lest the emperor indulge in debauchery and follow the path of tyrants like Emperor Jie of Xia and Emperor Zhou of Shang.

Thus, no matter how much Emperor Duanqing wished to continue, the festivities had to end at the appointed hour.

Although Cao Xi had been sent back first, the crown prince’s carriage and horses remained at the palace gate.

As Jiang Xiurun stepped out of the palace, she saw Feng Liwu sitting on the steps by the gate.

The autumn night was chilly, yet he sat on the cold stone without even a cushion, gazing up at the bright full moon in the sky.

Jiang Xiurun hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt.

Mid-Autumn Festival was supposed to be a night of reunion under the full moon, but for Feng Liwu, both of his parents were sources of pain rather than comfort.

The sudden appearance of his scheming younger brother only added to his troubles.

And now, she had just slapped his mother.

With all the scheming and plotting, where was the joy of the festival?

However, when Feng Liwu saw her emerge, he stood up, brushing the dust off his robes.

“I didn’t eat much at the banquet earlier. You look hungry too. How about we go to your brother’s house and have something to eat?”

The commotion in the cold palace had been significant.

As Jiang Xiurun and Qian’er walked back, she noticed guards running out, likely to report to Feng Liwu.

Yet, when Feng Liwu saw her, he didn’t seem intent on reprimanding her.

Jiang Xiurun breathed a sigh of relief and thought for a moment before shaking her head.

“It’s late at night. My brother and sister-in-law are probably asleep, and preparing food would be too much trouble. Why don’t I make some snacks from my hometown for you when we return to the palace?”

Feng Liwu hadn’t expected that someone who enjoyed eating could also cook.

He nodded in agreement, and the two of them boarded the carriage together.

When they arrived at the Crown Prince’s residence, Feng Liwu, not wanting to walk the long distance to Concubine Yao’s quarters, simply took her directly to his own residence.

The once austere and masculine bedroom of the crown prince had subtly changed over time.

On the large low bed’s railing hung the white jade belt hook Jiang Xiurun had left behind during her last visit.

Beside the low table piled with bamboo scrolls stood a dressing table with a bronze mirror.

Although the crown prince didn’t snack much, there were now three fruit plates by the bed, filled with Jiang Xiurun’s favorite candied treats.

In short, Jiang Xiurun’s presence had quietly permeated every corner of the crown prince’s bedroom.

Since the crown prince’s room already had a wardrobe dedicated to Jiang Xiurun’s clothes—both male and female attire—there was no need to send the maid Taohua to fetch anything.

After washing off her makeup and changing into loose clothing, Jiang Xiurun prepared a traditional Mid-Autumn snack from her hometown for Feng Liwu.

In Bo, they didn’t eat mooncakes during Mid-Autumn Festival.

Instead, they had a unique pastry called “zi bing.”

The dough was less oily, and the filling was made of minced cured lamb ribs or salted duck egg yolks.

The mold used to shape the pastry was also interesting—it was a fish with a hole in the middle.

Jiang Xiurun had seen this mold at her brother’s house a few days ago and learned that her sister-in-law had specially asked a merchant to bring it.

She had requested a set for herself, intending to make the pastries.

As a child, she and her brother would often make these pastries before Mid-Autumn Festival.

Once the shiny pastries were done, they would thread a red string through the hole and hang them around their necks for good luck.

Since Jiang Xiurun had planned to make the pastries earlier, she had already prepared the dough and ingredients.

She stuffed the filling into the mold, brushed it with oil, and placed it in the hot oven.

After a short while, the pastries were ready, steaming and fragrant.

Following her hometown’s custom, Jiang Xiurun threaded a red string through the fish’s eye and hung it around Feng Liwu’s neck.

Feng Liwu looked down at the large oil stain on his pristine white robe but didn’t seem to mind.

He picked up the pastry and took a big bite from the fish’s tail.

Jiang Xiurun had just hung her own pastry around her neck when she turned to see Feng Liwu happily eating his.

She wanted to stop him but was too late.

Tugging at his sleeve, she said, “You’re faster than a child! Hanging the pastry is meant to pray to the moon god. If you eat the tail, how can you make your wish?”

Feng Liwu looked at the half-eaten fish, its duck egg yolk oozing out, and asked, “What’s the custom?”

Jiang Xiurun smiled and explained, “Our ancestors in Bo state crossed vast oceans to reach this land. Though we’ve put down roots here, we must not forget our distant homeland. It’s called the ‘wish of returning to the hills,’ like how a dying fox will always turn its head toward the hill where it was born. We hope that one day, like the fish, we can return to the sea and swim freely back home…”

Feng Liwu listened quietly as Jiang Xiurun, her eyes sparkling, recounted the traditions of Bo state.

But as she reached the end, he suddenly reached over, grabbed the fish hanging around her neck, and bit off the tail and body in one go, leaving only the lonely fish head dangling from the red string.

Jiang Xiurun, caught off guard, let out a startled “Ah!”

When she recovered, she saw that the egg yolk had spilled all over her chest.

Being far from home, she sometimes placed great importance on the rituals of her homeland.

She had kneaded the dough and prepared everything since yesterday, hoping to recreate the Mid-Autumn Festival celebrations of her childhood, when her mother was still alive.

It made her feel, even if only for a moment, like the carefree little princess she once was, safe in her mother’s arms.

But just as she was about to make her wish under the bright moon, Feng Liwu had devoured most of the pastry in one bite—how could a fish without a tail or body swim?

Jiang Xiurun was annoyed and reached out to pinch Feng Liwu’s handsome face in a playful manner.

But when her fingers actually made contact, she saw the cold, deep look in Feng Liwu’s eyes and realized she had overstepped again.

She quickly let go and tried to kneel to ask for forgiveness, but her slender waist was still held firmly in his grasp.

Forced to stay put, she forced a smile and stammered, “I forgot myself for a moment. Please forgive me, Your Highness.”

Feng Liwu took the pastry off her neck and wiped her chest with a handkerchief.

After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, “Do you also have this wish to return to your homeland?”

Jiang Xiurun blinked.

As a hostage, it was a grave taboo to express any desire to return home.

From the moment she became a hostage, she was a living token of diplomatic relations between two countries.

How could she speak of returning home freely?

Feeling Feng Liwu’s grip on her wrist tighten, she quickly changed the subject with a smile.

“It’s just a festive tradition passed down by our ancestors. Who would actually want to swim back across the sea?”

Feng Liwu reached out and touched her red lips, speaking softly, “It’s good that you haven’t thought about it. Since you’ve come to Great Qi, you’ve put down roots here. From now on, you are a subject of Great Qi. Don’t think about running away. I will treat you well.”

Jiang Xiurun pursed her lips, deciding not to stir up more trouble tonight.

Feng Wu had been right about one thing: Feng Liwu was deeply suspicious of others and often struck when they least expected it.

For example, tonight, he should have reprimanded her for disrespecting the empress, but he hadn’t mentioned it at all.

Instead, he had become displeased over the pastries she had made on a whim.

Though she considered herself worldly and shrewd after living two lives, she felt out of her depth in front of Feng Liwu, who had grown increasingly mature, reserved, and inscrutable.

Not wanting Feng Liwu to bring up the incident later, Jiang Xiurun took advantage of the awkward atmosphere to kneel and confess what had happened in the cold palace.

She admitted that she had only intended to remind the empress but had lost control and committed a grave offense.

However, Feng Liwu simply took her hand and stopped her from continuing.

“You said your legs were weak when you came out earlier. It seems you’re tired after all that commotion. Later, have Taohua bring you a hot towel to soothe them. Don’t worry about the rest.”

With that, the two of them lost their appetite.

Feng Liwu held Jiang Xiurun in his arms as they sat by the window, lost in thought.

One of his hands gently massaged the slender wrist he had earlier gripped too tightly…

Under the same bright moon, different emotions filled their hearts.

Jiang Xiurun leaned against Feng Liwu’s broad chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as she gazed at the hazy shadows on the moon’s surface, lost in thought—did Chang’e, who abandoned her husband Houyi to ascend to the moon, find happiness or regret in her choice…

(T/N: Chang’e is the Chinese goddess of the Moon known as Taiyin xingjun. She is known for her beauty and of course for ascending to the Moon with her pet, the Moon Rabbit. She is also known for stealing the elixir of immortality from her husband, the mythical Archer Hou Yi  and took refuge in the Moon when Hou Yi pursued her.)

However, just because Feng Liwu chose not to punish Jiang Xiurun for her boldness did not mean Empress Wei would let the matter rest.

Early the next morning, Duke Wei stormed into the palace to see the crown prince.

Empress Wei, humiliated by the previous night’s events, had immediately sent her lady-in-waiting to inform Duke Wei, her father, of the incident and demand that he hold the little wretch from Bo state accountable.

When Wei Zhong heard that the crown prince’s concubine, Yao, had slapped the empress, he was so shocked that he stared in disbelief for a long moment.

Madam Zhao, who had also suffered a kick to the chest from Qian’er, was equally aggrieved.

She exaggerated the empress’s humiliation, painting concubine Yao as a shameless, seductive troublemaker who had led the crown prince astray and hindered his filial duties and governance.

By the end of the account, Wei Zhong was furious, exclaiming, “This is outrageous!”

However, since the matter involved the crown prince, it couldn’t be made public.

Thus, Wei Zhong rushed to the palace early in the morning to confront the crown prince and ask if he knew what his concubine had done behind his back.

He arrived so early that Feng Liwu had not yet risen.

Upon hearing that Duke Wei had come, Feng Liwu dressed in casual robes, had his hair tied up by a maid, and went out to meet his grandfather.

Wei Zhong sat in the hall, his anger palpable.

When he saw the crown prince stride in calmly, he stood up and shouted, “Your Highness, though I am your subject, I am also your elder. How can I stand by and watch as a troublemaker wreaks havoc in your household? Do you know what your beloved concubine Yao did last night?”

Feng Liwu looked at the old man before him—his maternal grandfather and a descendant of the Wei family, one of Great Qi’s founding families.

In the years since Feng Liwu had been named crown prince, the Wei family’s fiefdoms had expanded, absorbing the lands of many declining noble families.

Feng Liwu had turned a blind eye to this.

Not because he favored his maternal family, but because the Wei family was his greatest support.

Yet, Feng Liwu felt uneasy relying on them, as if one day the ground beneath him would give way, and he would fall into an unknown abyss.

As Wei Zhong ranted, Feng Liwu suddenly remembered a conversation he had had a few days ago.

The canal repair project had been temporarily halted before the autumn harvest to allow the conscripted laborers to return home and gather their crops.

With some free time, Feng Liwu had gathered the young officials he had personally cultivated and promoted for a harvest celebration at the government office.

After the banquet, still in high spirits, Feng Liwu had invited a few of his most capable officials to sit and chat.

Among them was a pockmarked young man named Ji Binglin, who had made an interesting analogy.

He compared Great Qi’s court to a canal, with the intertwined noble families as the reeds and silt clogging the waterway, preventing its flow and turning it into a stagnant, foul-smelling pool, deep and impossible to clean.

“Your Highness, I hope that one day you can reclaim the imperial power and unify the realm under your rule. Only then can we avoid the infighting of the noble families and prevent the erosion of our nation’s foundation!”

Ji Binglin’s words, though spoken in drunken recklessness, had struck a chord with Feng Liwu.

Now, as Wei Zhong stormed into his residence, berating his concubine, he did so not just as the crown prince’s elder but with the confidence that Feng Liwu could not afford to lose the support of the Wei family.