Chapter Seventy-Three: The Choice of the Prince of Huainan

When Feng Yewu heard that an outsider at the music hall had rescued the emperor, she let out a cold laugh, completely unsurprised.

“It seems the old fox can no longer sit still.”

Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, the Minister of Rites hurried over, falling to his knees before Feng Yewu.

“Your servant is guilty and begs Your Majesty for punishment.”

Feng Yewu gazed at the trembling, anxious minister with a hint of contempt in her eyes, her tone laced with irony.

“How could the esteemed minister be at fault? Even when I come incognito, you manage to arrive promptly—how impressive.”

With that, Feng Yewu paid him no further mind, instead turning to Zhou Yangfeng, who stood silently by, and inquired,

“Prince, did you enjoy your conversation with the Tidi envoy today?”

She left Zhou Yangfeng no room for denial, striking directly at the heart of the matter.

Upon hearing Feng Yewu’s words, Zhou Yangfeng panicked, collapsing at her feet in tears.

“Your Majesty, I beg you to spare me! I…I don’t want to die!”

Feng Yewu looked at the terrified, broken Zhou Yangfeng with utter disgust, a wave of revulsion rising in her heart.

By his side, King Huainan, Zhou Yi’an, saw his son’s cowardice and could only sigh helplessly.

“King Huainan, how do you suggest this matter should be handled?”

Without sparing Zhou Yangfeng a glance, Feng Yewu smiled and turned her question to Zhou Yi’an.

Though he had long wandered the pleasure districts, Zhou Yi’an, as a local lord, understood very well what Feng Yewu was implying. If she truly intended to kill his son, she would not bother with such theatrics. Yet, at this moment, Zhou Yi’an could not discern her true intentions.

While Zhou Yi’an hesitated in confusion, the frightened Zhou Yangfeng crawled back to his father’s side, clutching his leg in a desperate misunderstanding of his father's expression, believing himself abandoned.

“Father, Father! You must save me! I am your only son!”

Already irritated, Zhou Yi’an grew furious at Zhou Yangfeng’s racket. He raised his foot and kicked him away, snapping,

“Get out, you useless wretch! If you make another sound, I’ll chop you up myself!”

Feng Yewu snorted with amusement, speaking offhandedly,

“No need for King Huainan to dirty your own hands. Lu Jue, kill him.”

At her command, her expression turned cold as she issued the order.

The image of Lu Jue slaughtering the Tidi giant earlier was still vivid in everyone’s mind. Lu Jue flicked his sword, scattering fresh blood on the ground, and strode toward Zhou Yangfeng.

Zhou Yangfeng’s face contorted in terror as he scrambled backward.

King Huainan rushed forward to intervene.

“Your Majesty, I am well aware of my son’s grave crimes, but I beseech you, for the sake of the friendship once shared by the Eight Kings, spare my only bloodline.”

He barred Lu Jue’s path, dropping to his knees before Feng Yewu to plead for mercy.

Seeing King Huainan finally humble himself, Feng Yewu smiled slightly, stepped forward to help him up, and gestured to Lu Jue to stand down.

“King Huainan, why such desperation? Though your son harbored treasonous thoughts, he committed no treasonous act. He need not die.”

At last, Zhou Yangfeng slumped to the ground in relief, all strength gone.

Supported by Feng Yewu, King Huainan rose, his face drained of hope, awaiting her final verdict in silence.

“Yet I have some concerns. Today, I discovered the prince’s intentions, but what if others conspire in secret?”

She paused, her eyes searching King Huainan’s resigned face, awaiting his answer.

King Huainan, understanding her meaning, once more knelt to swear his loyalty.

“I, King Huainan, vow that should any betray Your Majesty, I will fight them to the death.”

At this, Feng Yewu’s expression relaxed. Turning to leave for the rear courtyard, she tossed out a final remark.

“King Huainan, your son is somewhat unruly. I shall grant him a post at court, so he may cultivate his character.”

Hearing this, King Huainan finally exhaled in relief. Though Zhou Yangfeng would lose his freedom, at least his life was spared.

Feng Yewu had just reached the back courtyard, intending to check on Qian Zhiyao, when she saw Zheng Tianlan waiting at the door, his face troubled.

“Your Majesty…”

Feng Yewu, puzzled by Zheng Tianlan’s hesitant manner, asked,

“What has happened?”

Zheng Tianlan spoke with remorse.

“The proprietor of the music hall, Qian Zhiyao, is dead. It is my failure.”

Earlier, while the others rushed to defend the emperor during the fight in the front courtyard, the rear was left unguarded. By the time they returned, Qian Zhiyao had already taken poison and ended her life.

“Took poison?” Feng Yewu sneered, clearly unconvinced.

Wei Nanqi and the others, suspicious, asked whether to pursue an investigation.

Feng Yewu shook her head, and the group returned to the palace.

In the imperial study, Feng Yewu quietly reviewed official documents while the elderly Minister of Rites knelt before her.

After a long while, Feng Yewu looked up at the weary, struggling minister and asked with concern,

“Minister, how many years have you served, from the previous dynasty to now?”

The Minister of Rites, faint and frail, replied,

“Over thirty years.”

Feng Yewu feigned surprise, rose, and helped him up herself, startling the old minister into trembling.

“Your servant dares not accept such honor.”

Feng Yewu looked at the bowed, timid man, her expression hardening as she spoke, then turned back to her desk.

“You are old, minister.”

The next day, the Minister of Rites retired and returned to his hometown.

Meanwhile, at the garrison, the Prince of Changwu received word that the Prince of Beichang sought an audience. The two met.

Among the seven feudal lords, the Prince of Beichang’s territory lay to the north of the Ye dynasty, ever at war with the Tidi. The Prince of Changwu’s lands were to the northeast, and the two met often.

On this day, Prince Changwu brought his son along.

“Old Wei, why do you host your own banquet when you visit me? Are you trying to embarrass me?”

Entering the restaurant and seeing the lavish spread, Prince Changwu burst out laughing, his demeanor hearty and bold.

Wei Siyuan smiled at Chen Sinian, then glanced at the young prince, Chen Pingwu, with a flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

He warmly invited them both to sit.

“Pingwu is growing more and more impressive.”

Chen Pingwu bowed respectfully to Wei Siyuan.

“Thank you for your praise, Uncle.”

During the meal, Wei Siyuan courteously poured wine for Chen Sinian, his gaze drifting meaningfully toward Chen Pingwu as he asked with a slight smile,

“Sinian, now that you bring your son along, is there a purpose behind it?”

Chen Sinian was direct, sighing with resignation.

“I’m getting old. Sooner or later, the younger generation must take my place.”

Hearing this, Wei Siyuan glanced sidelong at Chen Pingwu, his expression calm and unreadable, silently forming his opinion of the young man.

Wei Siyuan sat back, his face clouded with concern as he sighed,

“Indeed, we are all growing old. The only pity is that our legacy may not be passed on.”