Chapter Eighty-One: An Unexpected Encounter with the Heir Apparent

Chen Pingwu shook his head slightly, his voice thoughtful as he analyzed aloud.
“Before coming to the capital, my father instructed me that the Ministry of Revenue has always been under the command of the King of Pingyi, so there must be some reason behind this visit.”
Though Chen Pingwu was the only son of the King of Changwu, he was not especially skilled in martial arts. His mind was steeped in the wisdom of many schools, adept in military strategy, possessing the talent to command ten thousand troops, yet not inclined to charge into battle himself.
This time, his father had sent him to the capital, ostensibly to broaden his knowledge.
Moments later, a servant brought the Minister of Revenue, and after a few polite exchanges, they met.
Chen Pingwu, though holding no official post, bore the title of heir apparent. Facing the Minister, his manner was neither humble nor arrogant, his tone measured.
“Minister, what brings you to see me today?”
He had seen all manner of young nobles in court, but the son of the King of Changwu before him was by far the most composed.
The Minister regarded Chen Pingwu with a smile, eyes full of satisfaction, then drew an invitation from his sleeve.
Yang Guang, at Chen Pingwu’s side, took it and handed it to him.
The gold-embossed invitation was brief, with no signature.
“Two days hence, a banquet at the Drunken Immortal Pavilion in the capital. We hope you will honor us with your presence.”
The Minister smiled and, after a few more courtesies, took his leave.
Once the Minister had departed, Yang Guang spoke impassively.
“Your Highness, this invitation doesn’t even bear a name. Shall we attend?”
Chen Pingwu’s expression remained calm as he tossed the invitation aside, already guessing who lay behind the banquet.
“Of course we’ll go. If someone is laying the path for us, it saves us the trouble.”
Two days later, Feng Yewu and her companions rushed back to the capital, weary from their journey.
The sun was setting as they arrived.
Zheng Tianlan departed first, while Feng Yewu and Lu Jue hurried to the palace.
“Ah!”
At the entrance of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion, Feng Yewu collided headlong with another.
Lu Jue, quick to react, steadied Feng Yewu, while the other was caught by his knife-wielding companion.
“How dare you bump into the heir apparent! Are you blind?”
The knife-wielding man glared angrily at Feng Yewu and Lu Jue.
It turned out that these two were none other than Chen Pingwu and Yang Guang, come to attend the banquet.

Feng Yewu was dressed as a man, but upon colliding with Chen Pingwu, her northern sable hat fell aside, and her long hair tumbled down, revealing her true identity. Coupled with her striking appearance, Chen Pingwu found himself momentarily entranced.
Lu Jue, hearing the rude words, was about to retort, but Feng Yewu raised her hand to stop him.
She regarded the pair coldly, having heard Yang Guang address his companion as heir apparent, and began to speculate about their identities.
Chen Pingwu signaled Yang Guang with his gaze to hold back, then smiled gently at Feng Yewu and apologized.
“I was reckless to have collided with you, miss. May I ask your name?”
Despite the dust and cold on her face, Feng Yewu’s beauty and aloof gaze struck Chen Pingwu as ethereal, almost sacred.
Feng Yewu, unwilling to reveal her identity, merely offered a polite smile and nodded, then turned away with Lu Jue.
Yang Guang, dissatisfied, grumbled as he watched them leave.
“These rude people in the capital! If we were in the northeast, they’d learn their place!”
Chen Pingwu’s smile faded, his face returning to its usual calm, but his gaze lingered wistfully on Feng Yewu’s retreating figure. He sighed.
“Northeast? Perhaps they think the same of us.”
Yang Guang, puzzled, asked,
“Why do you say that, Your Highness? Are they not from the capital?”
Chen Pingwu turned to Yang Guang, smiling as he explained, though his mind continued to dwell on Feng Yewu’s expression.
“Their clothing is from beyond the Pass. That young man behind the woman is clearly her servant. The Ye Dynasty is mainly southern folk, but his features and manner are northern. What do you think?”
Yang Guang, skilled in martial arts but simple in thought, nodded at Chen Pingwu’s analysis.
“I wonder where they’re from. That servant’s skills are not beneath mine.”
Chen Pingwu smiled. A servant with such abilities would reveal himself in time.
He then led Yang Guang into the Drunken Immortal Pavilion.

...

Meanwhile, Lu Jue and Feng Yewu returned quickly to the palace to change.
Lu Jue prepared some pastries and delivered them to the imperial study, where Feng Yewu was reviewing memorials accumulated over several days.
Halfway through, Feng Yewu looked up at the candlelight before her, recalling the person she’d met at dusk.
Lu Jue noticed her distraction; the flickering flames softened her features, lending her an added beauty.
Lu Jue smiled and broke Feng Yewu’s reverie.
“Your Majesty, are you thinking of the heir apparent of the King of Changwu you just encountered?”

Feng Yewu paused, surprised, and asked,
“How did you deduce his identity?”
Lu Jue approached the desk, adjusting the candle’s wick, brightening the room.
“His guard called him heir apparent. The King of Pingyi has only a daughter, the King of Beichang’s family has never entered the capital, keeping their distance in these troubled times, and would not give Your Majesty any handle. The heir apparent of the King of Jiangyuan has passed away, so only the heir of the King of Changwu appearing in the capital makes sense.”
Feng Yewu listened to his analysis but still felt unconvinced, deliberately challenging him.
“Why not the heir of the King of Xiyue or the King of Kangchuan?”
Lu Jue, sensing her teasing, smiled more warmly, his eyes showing a hint of indulgence in the candlelight.
“Whether the heirs of Xiyue or Kangchuan are in the capital, I cannot say, but I can certainly identify the man behind that heir apparent.”
“Oh?”
Feng Yewu tilted her head, curiosity in her gaze.
She had focused only on the heir apparent earlier, having regarded the man behind as merely an ordinary swordsman attendant.
But Lu Jue’s words suggested otherwise.
Lu Jue turned slightly, his handsome profile dividing light and shadow in the imperial study, memory mingling with the dim and bright.
“When I was young, my father took me once to the King of Changwu’s mansion for a birthday banquet, where I met that man. Though I was a child, he was steeped in the King’s martial arts, able to fight seven or eight veteran warriors bare-handed—hard to forget.”
Feng Yewu frowned, confirming,
“That man is the Wolf King, Yang Guang?”
Even from within the palace, she had heard tales of him.
Years ago, the King of Changwu led a sudden attack on Tidi. Though victorious, losses were heavy. On the way home, they became lost in the frozen northern wilderness, with only seven or eight soldiers surviving, surrounded by wolves in the night.
It was Yang Guang who slew hundreds of savage wolves alone, saving the King’s life and earning his renown ever after.

...

Inside the Drunken Immortal Pavilion, as Chen Pingwu entered, the assembled high officials rose to greet him.
A voice rang out behind the crowd,
“Is my esteemed nephew arrived?”
The officials parted to clear a path, and Wang Changgen, his face ruddy, strode forward with a hearty laugh.