Chapter Ten: Martial Training

Feng Yewu listened to these words and let out a soft laugh. “No, I am far from my father’s equal; I simply have a longer life.” Her words carried a double meaning, the depth of which only Wang Changgen could understand. Wang Changgen strode away. “Then may Your Majesty live a hundred years!”

As he departed, the others also took their leave.

The next morning, after court was dismissed, Feng Yewu met Zhao Muyang in the rear palace. “Well? Have you discovered anything?”

Zhao Muyang shook his head in shame. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I have yet to find any useful information. The assassin seemed to have sprung from the earth itself—no one has seen her, nor does anyone know her.”

Feng Yewu set down her teacup, her tone laced with mockery. “Oh, it seems Penglai Pavilion is not so simple after all.”

“Please grant me a little more time, Your Majesty. Penglai Pavilion has been silent for two years now; few know of this assassin organization, and it is difficult to investigate.”

“Then I will give you more time. I refuse to believe that Penglai Pavilion can remain without exposing a single flaw!”

Zhao Muyang accepted the order and withdrew. Lu Jue, sitting to the side, looked quite dispirited. Noticing this, Feng Yewu asked, “Why do you look so downcast?”

Lu Jue shook his head and knelt before Feng Yewu, his voice heavy with dejection. “Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. I just feel utterly useless, unable to help Your Majesty in the slightest.”

Feng Yewu, ever perceptive, caught the disappointment and self-reproach in Lu Jue’s demeanor. She gave a light laugh. “You saved my life—have you not helped me enough?”

Lu Jue remained kneeling, silent and still weighed down by guilt.

Even after two lifetimes, Feng Yewu did not know how to comfort someone.

“Would you care to dine with me?” The Emperor, Feng Yewu, ventured cautiously.

Lu Jue shook his head in silence, saluted Feng Yewu, and replied, “As one who has committed a crime, I am not worthy to dine with Your Majesty. Please, enjoy your meal. I will take my leave.”

Pressing a hand to his wound, Lu Jue rose and departed.

Feng Yewu had intended to console Lu Jue, but her words had only made matters worse. She tapped her forehead, unable to fathom why things had turned out as they had.

In the days that followed, Feng Yewu did not summon Lu Jue again, nor did Lu Jue come to seek an audience with her. Their relationship remained distant and tepid.

That day, after reviewing memorials all morning, Feng Yewu felt fatigued and said to Hanyue, “Come, walk with me in the Imperial Garden.”

Hanyue trotted after Feng Yewu, accompanying her to the garden.

Standing among the flourishing flowers, breathing in the fresh air, Feng Yewu felt both body and spirit relax. Just then, the sound of swords clashing reached her ears—someone was practicing martial arts in the garden.

Hanyue’s expression darkened. Who dared to train here, so brazenly, in the Imperial Garden? Did they not remember that the Emperor had nearly been assassinated not long ago?

She moved forward, intent on rebuking the offender, but Feng Yewu stopped her. Arching a delicate brow, Feng Yewu motioned for silence and stepped forward herself.

Hanyue hurried to follow.

Master and servant hid behind a thick cluster of blossoms, their vibrant hues concealing them completely. Thanks to the lay of the land, they could see the one training, but he could not see them.

To their surprise, it was Lu Jue.

Feng Yewu frowned. She had assumed Lu Jue was recuperating from his injuries, not exerting himself in the Imperial Garden. The dancer who had attacked Feng Yewu had struck with lethal precision, leaving Lu Jue grievously wounded; the imperial physician had nearly failed to save him from death’s door. Why would he not rest, but instead torment his body so?

Feng Yewu felt a surge of irritation.

Seeing Feng Yewu’s displeasure, Hanyue ventured, “Your Majesty, shall I go scold Young Master Lu? His wounds are still fresh—practicing martial arts will only reopen them.”

Feng Yewu shook her head. “No need. Let him be.”

Back in the rear palace, Feng Yewu held a vermillion brush, a memorial spread before her, yet she could not write a single word. Her mind was wholly occupied by Lu Jue.

She could not say what vexed her so, nor could she understand why her thoughts dwelled so persistently on Lu Jue. Not even for her own father had she ever been so concerned.

With a hint of frustration, she tossed the brush aside and summoned Hanyue.

“Take my token to the Imperial Medical Bureau and fetch some tonics to replenish blood and energy. Then select a few gifts from my private treasury and deliver them to Lu Jue.”

Hanyue’s eyes widened in astonishment. Never before had the Emperor personally sent gifts to anyone—rare medicines, gifts of all sorts. To be treated so kindly by the Emperor, this Young Master Lu must have accumulated virtue over many lifetimes.

Hanyue bowed low. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As she was about to leave, Feng Yewu called her back. “Wait. If you see Lu Jue, tell him that if he wishes to practice martial arts, he can wait until his wounds are healed. If he continues to train while injured, I have no intention of summoning the imperial physician to save him again.”

Hanyue pressed her lips together and bowed once more. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

When she arrived, Lu Jue was surprised to see Hanyue. He raised his sharply defined brows. “What brings you here, Miss Hanyue?”

Hanyue offered him the items she carried and smiled. “His Majesty asked me to bring these to you, Young Master Lu.”

Lu Jue was taken aback. “Why would His Majesty give me these?”