Chapter 144

Once they boarded the ship, Feng Liwu finally loosened her restraints.

Jiang Xiurun immediately grabbed his sleeve in desperation, pleading, “Take me back! My son… he’s still nursing, he can’t be without me…”

But Feng Liwu remained unmoved.

He simply picked her up and carried her toward the cabin, his voice cold as he said, “You and I will have our own children in the future. How can you only think of him? If you can’t bear to part with him, you can send someone to bring him to Luo’an later.”

Jiang Xiurun knew that once Feng Liwu became forceful, there was no getting through to him.

But since the day he was born, Baoli had never left her side.

Her son, whom she had personally nursed and raised, was only a year old.

At night, if she wasn’t there to hold him, he refused to sleep—he wouldn’t settle until he had nursed a little before drifting off, sucking on his fingers in contentment.

She had only planned to meet with Feng Liwu briefly before parting ways.

If everything had gone according to plan, she would have returned late, and Baoli would already be crying uncontrollably.

But now, if she didn’t return at all, how heart-wrenching would his cries become?

Panic set in.

She grabbed Feng Liwu’s collar and said sharply, “Are you doing this just because I didn’t consult you back then? Fine! Let’s do things your way today—when you’re done, throw me off the ship if you don’t want me anymore! There are plenty of women in Luo’an willing to bear your children—why are you so fixated on me, when I don’t even want this? You are the Son of Heaven, the Emperor of  Great Qi! Even when you were still the Crown Prince, there were things you could and could not do. Now that you are emperor, you should be even more mindful of your actions! Kidnapping the sovereign of a weaker state—do you want to be the laughingstock of the world?”

But Feng Liwu didn’t listen at all.

He grabbed her waist tightly, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion.

“I know I shouldn’t do this… but I just can’t let go! Why do you get to stir up my emotions and then walk away as if nothing happened? Did you ever ask if I was willing? In my entire life, I have never loved any woman. Isn’t it enough that I give you my undivided devotion? You don’t want me to have other women? Fine—then from now on, I’ll only have you… To hell with the opinions of the world! I went through so much to become emperor, yet I can’t even have the woman I want—what’s the point of it all?”

As they struggled, they tumbled onto the bed.

But Jiang Xiurun had no interest in indulging him in such affairs—she was so furious that she slapped him hard across the face.

The sharp crack echoed through the room, and a red mark immediately bloomed on Feng Liwu’s cheek.

Yet even that didn’t quell her anger.

She wanted to slap him again, but before she could, Feng Liwu caught her wrist and silenced her with a kiss, muffling her protests.

For a man who had abstained for two years, even a blade at his throat wouldn’t have stopped him.

He had dreamed of holding this woman countless times, only to wake up to nothing.

No one understood the torment of such longing better than Feng Liwu.

In the end, Jiang Xiurun, weakened by his persistent kisses, found herself losing the strength to push him away.

Her long fingers dug into his bare back, leaving faint red marks…

Feng Liwu had a boundless appetite, and after two years of restraint, his passion seemed inexhaustible.

But Jiang Xiurun had neither the stamina nor the patience to keep up with him.

She seized a brief moment while he was distracted, gathered her breath, and closed her eyes as she said, “Don’t you want to know who my son’s father is?”

Feng Liwu only sneered, thinking she was trying to ruin the mood by bringing up another man.

He refused to take the bait—what he didn’t hear, he wouldn’t have to be upset about.

He scoffed, “From now on, his father is me. Who else matters? Once we return to Luo’an, I will have him brought to the palace. But he won’t be raised in your chambers—I will assign a wet nurse to care for him. You, on the other hand, need to focus on raising our children…”

Then, he narrowed his eyes and added coldly, “But will your Bo ministers even allow my men to take him? That favorite minister of yours, Ji Wujiang, would probably love to prop him up as a little empress so he can use him as a puppet to control the realm…”

Jiang Xiurun scoffed.

Feng Liwu was truly a master of slander—if she ever built a harem, her concubines would be nothing compared to his ability to twist words.

She had originally intended to keep the truth from him until the day Feng Liwu died of old age, letting him realize too late that he had mistreated his own son, leaving him to drown in endless regret and bitter tears.

But in doing so, the one who would suffer most was her own son, Baoli, who had been dragged onto this pirate ship against his will.

Now, judging by the time, they must have already sailed far from Bo.

If they didn’t turn back soon, her child would cry himself hoarse until morning.

With this in mind, Jiang Xiurun steadied herself and said calmly, “I discovered I was two months pregnant after leaving Luo’an.”

Feng Liwu propped himself up, staring fixedly at the woman lying beneath him, eyes closed as if resting.

It took him a long while to fully grasp the meaning of her words.

He took a careful, deep breath.

“He… is my child?”

Jiang Xiurun was too exhausted to explain further and simply retorted sharply, “What, do you think I sleep around and have lovers all over the world?”

Finally, the pirate ship of the mountain bandit king came to a halt.

Feng Liwu interrogated Jiang Xiurun repeatedly, flipping her over and over, until she finally turned away and ignored him.

Only then did he rush out of the cabin and order the helmsman to turn the ship around.

Since it was a military fast ship, light and swift, it traveled quickly.

By dawn, they had made it back to the border of Bo.

The night was still pitch dark—not a good time for travel.

The Qi garrison, having received prior notice, had already prepared the seized Bo carriages and horses, re-harnessing and securing them.

They had also prepared pine torches for lighting the way.

Feng Liwu carried Jiang Xiurun into a carriage while his elite guards cleared the path.

Like a fiery dragon in the dark night, the convoy surged toward Bo.

In truth, Ji Wujiang and several other close ministers had been waiting at the Bo border for Jiang Xiurun’s return.

When they saw Feng Liwu carrying their empress off the ship, they all exchanged uneasy glances.

When Feng Liwu declared that he would personally escort the empress back to Yang City, Ji Wujiang had no choice but to step aside.

A small state like Bo had no real diplomatic standing when dealing with a great power like Qi.

With a ruler like Feng Liwu, words like “courtesy” and “protocol” were meaningless.

If his guess was correct, the rebel forces that had ravaged Liang were likely troops under Feng Liwu’s command.

Though Bo had been recuperating and had regained a fraction of its strength, its military was still weak.

More than half of its soldiers had yet to be equipped with new weapons.

And now, the ruler of Anxi stood at Bo’s doorstep, declaring he would take their empress on a visit to the royal palace in Yang City—what could Ji Wujiang possibly do to stop him?

Upon reaching the palace and stepping into Jiang Xiurun’s quarters, they could hear the heart-wrenching cries of a baby from a distance.

Jiang Xiurun forcefully pushed away Feng Liwu’s supporting hand and rushed into the inner chamber in quick strides.

Little Baoli’s fair skin made his crying even more pitiful—his eyes and nose were red from sobbing, and his voice had turned hoarse after crying for who knew how long.

The moment he saw his mother, he reached out his tiny hands like a fragile, trembling leaf, waving his arms desperately to be held.

Jiang Xiurun felt her heart clench painfully.

She hurriedly picked up her hiccuping child, gently stroking his back to soothe him before feeding him.

Feng Liwu had followed her inside, but from the moment he laid eyes on Baoli, he seemed to be rooted to the spot, utterly dazed.

Behind him, Dou Siwu also caught sight of the child and murmured softly, “Your Majesty, he looks exactly like you. Just look at those brows and eyes—there’s no mistake…”

Feng Liwu snapped back to reality, realizing Dou Siwu had followed him in.

Without taking his eyes off the child, he barked impatiently, “Why are you still here? Take your men and get out!”

Dou Siwu couldn’t have been happier to obey.

He hastily took his leave—after all, Qian’er’s drug hadn’t worn off yet, and he needed to serve her carefully.

If she woke up and wasn’t pleased, she might very well beat him to death.

Meanwhile, Feng Liwu was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions.

The child Jiang Xiurun had given birth to was actually his son.

His heart swelled with both joy and apprehension, afraid that the woman before him, who was skilled in deception, had merely tricked him into bringing her back.

But now, seeing the crying little one with his own eyes—who looked exactly like him—there was no denying it.

The realization exploded in his mind like fireworks.

However, his joy was short-lived.

Upon seeing his son wailing in hunger, refusing to drink from a wet nurse’s breast, he felt a pang of heartache.

Jiang Xiurun had told him the child would cry if she was absent, but Feng Liwu had brushed it off, thinking all babies fussed and could be easily soothed.

Now, witnessing his own child starving, crying desperately for his mother, he didn’t just feel heartache—he felt pain in his very bones.

Finally, Baoli calmed down and tugged at his mother’s robes to nurse.

Yet, despite sucking for a long while, no milk came.

His little mouth trembled before he burst into tears once more.

Feng Liwu had edged closer by now, carefully touching Baoli’s soft, kicking little feet.

“Why is he still crying after feeding?” he asked.

Jiang Xiurun, frazzled by her child’s relentless crying, shot him a glare and snapped, “Crying for what? He barely got a drop—it’s all been eaten up by the dogs!”

A perceptive maid quickly brought over a bowl of rice soup to help stimulate milk production.

Jiang Xiurun downed two large bowls in one go.

Not long after, she felt her chest swell, and finally, Baoli was able to drink his fill of warm, nourishing milk.

A well-fed baby meant peace at last.

Baoli had been exhausted from all the crying.

Now full, he clung tightly to his mother’s arm, refusing to be taken away by anyone else.

He drifted off to sleep with his tiny mouth slightly open, snoring softly.

But Feng Liwu couldn’t take his eyes off the child.

So soft, so fair—this was his son.

Even now, he felt as if he were in a dream.

Yet, from the moment his son was born, he had never even held him once.

Watching the little one sleep, his chubby face puffed up adorably, Feng Liwu instinctively reached out, wanting to touch him.

But Jiang Xiurun immediately shielded the child, her voice cold with warning.

“Feng Liwu, keep your hands off my son! He belongs to me alone. If you dare try to take him away, I… I will jump into the deepest lake with him before I ever let you have your way!”

Feng Liwu found her words jarring—the mere thought of such a scene made his chest tighten painfully.

But knowing that his actions had caused his son to suffer through a night of hunger, he felt guilty.

His usual imperial arrogance softened, and he spoke in a much gentler tone.

“You were the one who kept this from me. When have I ever wanted to separate you from our son? I care for you both, yet you constantly twist my words and assume the worst of me. Do you think I don’t feel pain for my own child?”