Chapter 145

Jiang Xiurun had no desire to engage with him.

She had already exhausted all her patience on him back when she was a retainer in Luo’an City.

If he hadn’t pushed her to the extreme today, she would never have told him about their son.

But even though the state of Bo was weak, she was still its ruler.

Yet Feng Liwu showed her no courtesy whatsoever, binding and restraining her as if she were nothing more than a captive.

She had had enough of such indignities.

Even now, after failing to abduct her, he barged into her private chambers as if it were his own Luo’an in Great Qi.

Did he truly believe he could treat her palace as his own domain?

At this thought, Jiang Xiurun turned her face away coldly, refusing to look at Feng Liwu.

Feng Liwu, however, had his entire focus on Baoli.

Watching Jiang Xiurun place the drowsy little child onto the bed, he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch the small, dimpled hands.

Jiang Xiurun could no longer hold back and issued a direct order for him to leave.

“Baoli is not used to strangers. He has cried and fussed for so long today and needs proper rest. Your Majesty, please leave.”

Feng Liwu had only just discovered that Jiang Xiurun had borne him a son—how could he possibly leave now?

Before, when he had his men send toys for Baoli, it had been done halfheartedly, nothing more than a display of forced magnanimity while suppressing his own anger.

But now, seeing his own son before him—plump, sleeping soundly, with features resembling his own yet bearing traces of Xiurun as well—this miraculous blend only made him feel even closer to her.

So even when Jiang Xiurun coldly ordered him out, he could not bring himself to be angry.

However, when he saw the bruises on her wrists from the restraints, a sense of regret crept into his heart.

All because this woman had recklessly claimed another man as their son’s father, enraging him to the point of losing control and forcing his hand against her.

“It’s already so late—where do you expect me to go? When you were carrying our child, why didn’t you tell me?”

At this moment, he abandoned his usual imperial pronoun “Zhen” and instead softened his tone, attempting to ease the tension while finding a way to stay the night in the Bo’s palace.

Jiang Xiurun forcefully pulled her hand away and replied coldly, “At the time, Your Majesty had already announced joyous news with the Yang family’s daughter—your grand wedding was imminent. A legitimate wife was about to enter the palace, yet a concubine gave birth first. That would not only have been a slap in Miss Yang’s face but also an insult to the entire Yang family. My son would have been born a mere concubine’s child, forced to endure humiliation and flatter his stepmother. But he carries the blood of the princes of Bo—why should he have to grow up in Luo’an City, bowing and scraping for a place to survive?”

Her last sentence carried a double meaning.

It was a direct challenge: why should she—a noble princess of Bo—lower herself to be his concubine in Luo’an City?

At that, Feng Liwu could no longer bring up matters of national duty.

A thousand miles of mountains and rivers could be conquered, but a single heart was harder to win.

He had once neglected her, and so she had steeled her heart, quietly left, and even lied to provoke him.

Yet Feng Liwu knew that she had once cared for him.

When he had led the campaign against the Northern Hu, he had personally inspected the war chariots and, by chance, discovered a prayer sachet hanging from the frame of one.

When he opened it, he found a familiar line of handwritten blessings and a Luo’an City-style copper coin, carefully inscribed by a woman’s hand.

Only then did he realize that on the day of his departure, when she had come to see him off, she had not come empty-handed—she had simply never given the gift to him directly.

For two years, that prayer sachet had been the only thing that kept him going.

Even when his hatred for her burned strongest, it also reassured him that she had once held him in her heart.

He had thought himself the one who suffered most in those two years.

But now, just imagining how she had carried his child, returning alone to Bo to face a cruel father and a vicious stepmother, filled his heart with unbearable pain.

As for her efforts in building the Saintess Temple in Bo, what he had once dismissed as empty posturing now seemed like an act of survival—a desperate means to protect herself as an unwed mother.

And yet, even after all this, she still refused to stay by his side.

At last, Feng Liwu realized just how proud this woman—who had always flattered and yielded to him—truly was.

And just how deeply his past disregard had wounded her.

Jiang Xiurun, for her part, was tired of his relentless fixation on their son.

His hands, accustomed to wielding swords, now gripped her arm tightly while his other hand absentmindedly stroked the baby’s limbs, disturbing the child’s sleep.

Her tone grew sharper.

“Your Majesty, this is the Bo’s palace, not some vassal state of yours. Please leave!”

Just then, Bai Qian, having finally shaken off the effects of the drug, staggered into the room.

Her eyes widened as she saw Feng Liwu gripping Jiang Xiurun’s hand.

“Let go of the empress!” she demanded.

She had missed the grand spectacle of the father-son reunion, but seeing Feng Liwu holding Jiang Xiurun’s bruised wrist was enough for her to assume that her mistress had suffered greatly.

And Bai Qian had not come alone—she had brought an entire squad of elite guards storming into the palace.

Unlike Jiang Xiurun and Ji Wujiang, Bai Qian had no interest in weighing political pros and cons.

She cared nothing for avoiding an all-out conflict with Great Qi.

To her, the dog emperor of Qi and that wretched Dou had conspired to drug them—obviously with ill intentions!

Now, seeing Feng Liwu in her mistress’s chambers, she did not hesitate to shout an accusation, only for everyone in the room to shush her in unison.

Feng Liwu, however, knew full well that he had overstepped this time.

The fearless conqueror who had once razed Anxi and taken his prize was now utterly disarmed by the presence of his unexpected son.

Seeing Jiang Xiurun fuming with anger, unwilling to speak another word to him, he decided to step back.

He told her to rest and made his way to the adjacent palace hall for the night.

The emperor of Great Qi made himself quite at home, summoning the palace maids and commanding them to arrange suitable lodgings for him.

The attendants, bewildered by this man who had barged in with their empress, hurried to Jiang Xiurun for instructions.

She simply waved a hand.

“Let him stay—far away from me. Just for one night.”

Feng Liwu was assigned to a palace chamber that had clearly been left unused for quite some time, with a layer of dust covering everything.

The palace attendants, roused in the middle of the night, were too sluggish to clean it thoroughly and only tidied it up enough to be presentable.

Even so, when Feng Liwu collapsed onto the bed, he could still spot a spider hanging from a web spun at an angle between the beams.

By now, dawn was approaching, and suddenly, rain began to fall from the sky.

As the poem goes: “At this moment, gazing at the white rabbit, one longs to count even its autumn hairs.”

Although it was regretful that the full moon was veiled by rain, there was something oddly comforting about being in a foreign land, resting in a dingy chamber, and listening to the patter of raindrops against the eaves.

It warmed Feng Liwu’s heart with an unexpected sense of intimacy.

His woman and his son were close by.

Bringing them back to Luo’an was only a matter of time.

No matter how cold and dreary the rainy night was, he now felt a renewed sense of hope.

After the previous night’s chaos, both the monarch of Bo and the little prince slept in late.

Baoli woke up early, but after drinking his fill from his mother’s embrace, he nestled back into her arms, rubbing her arm lazily with his tiny hands until he drifted off to sleep again.

Unfortunately, in this vast palace, there was one person who could not sleep.

Feng Liwu had woken up at dawn.

After a simple wash, the first thing he did was head straight for Jiang Xiurun’s sleeping quarters.

However, Qian’er stood guard outside and refused to let him in.

Dou Siwu, who had followed Feng Liwu, thought she was being unreasonable and whispered to her, “They’re husband and wife reuniting, and their son is recognizing his father. Why are you blocking the way?”

Qian’er glared at him.

“Our empress has never married. Stop trying to force ties. The selection of a royal consort concerns the fate of our state—it must be carefully considered! While Bo might not have noble ladies like Cao Xi, Tian Ying, or Yang family women, there are plenty of noble sons from various states and esteemed ministers’ families! Just because he fathered a child with our empress doesn’t mean he’s guaranteed the consort’s position. Who knows who she might have children with in the future!”

Qian’er had a way with words that could enrage an entire army.

Feng Liwu’s face darkened at her remark.

He had no interest in arguing with her.

Instead, he simply pushed forward to force his way in.

Qian’er, unwilling to yield, drew her sword to stop him.

However, within just a few moves, Feng Liwu deftly subdued her, disarming her and twisting her arm out of its socket.

Qian’er let out a muffled groan of pain.

“With such crude, brute-force skills, it’s a wonder your master even made you a general. If you want to stand in my way, you’d best train harder,” Feng Liwu sneered before striding into the bedchamber.

As he entered, he was met with the sight of Jiang Xiurun and their son sleeping soundly in each other’s embrace.

His steps faltered for a moment as he quietly took in the scene.

Then, he removed his outer robe and draped it over them.

Baoli had already woken up.

Lying in his mother’s arms, he turned his wide, dark eyes toward the sound.

Curious, he gazed at Feng Liwu.

Perhaps it was an instinctual bond between father and son, but Baoli did not cry.

Instead, he simply stared at him while sucking his tiny thumb.

Feng Liwu’s heart swelled with joy as he looked at the chubby, fair-skinned child—his round, plump cheeks, and his small, pudgy body.

Unable to resist, he reached out, intending to pick him up.

Baoli, sensing danger, kept a wary eye on him.

The moment Feng Liwu got too close, the baby let out a loud wail, turned around, and climbed onto Jiang Xiurun’s head, tugging at her hair with his tiny fists to alert her of the intruder in their bed.

Feng Liwu paid no mind.

With one hand, he effortlessly lifted the chubby child, swinging him through the air before cradling him against his chest.

Then, he raised Baoli high above his head, making as if to toss him upward.

Jiang Xiurun had just opened her eyes when she saw this startling scene.

Alarmed, she immediately sat up and shouted, “What are you doing?!”

She snatched Baoli back into her arms.

The little prince, now safely nestled against his mother’s chest, finally calmed down.

He put his tiny hand in his mouth and peeked curiously at Feng Liwu from the safety of her embrace.

Still groggy from sleep, neither mother nor child had the energy to argue.

Jiang Xiurun, having eaten little at last night’s banquet, was already feeling hungry, so she called for food to be prepared.

As the sovereign of this palace, Jiang Xiurun naturally set the rules.

Her mornings were spent leisurely—after nursing Baoli, a wet nurse would take him aside to feed him porridge and minced meat while Jiang Xiurun, still wrapped in a long robe, would rinse her mouth with warm water infused with bamboo salt.

Then, reclining against her pillows, she would eat her breakfast before freshening up for the day.

The palace attendants followed these established routines.

Breakfast was prepared for one, with no extra portion for the Great Qi Emperor.

Feng Liwu, watching Jiang Xiurun laze about, was reminded of the times she feigned illness in the Crown Prince’s residence just to avoid responsibilities—spending her days lounging in bed, eating and drinking at leisure.

And so, the storm that had shaken the Bo’s palace finally settled into quiet.

Only at this moment could he be somewhat certain that this woman, who never gave him a kind look, was indeed the little young master he once knew.

The fawning smiles and gentle warmth of the past had vanished in the blink of an eye.