Chapter Ninety-Five: Wang Jia’s Betrayal

Wang Jia saw the waist token Lu Jue handed over and immediately recognized it as a palace item. Her eyes lit up at once, and she asked the two of them with evident delight, “Which of you is His Majesty?”

When Feng Yewu heard this question, she did not even flinch, though she was puzzled at how Wang Jia had guessed she was among them. Since her identity was already exposed, she simply removed her hat. Her thick black hair spilled down over her shoulders, and in the moonlight she seemed all the more coldly radiant.

Seeing this, Wang Jia hurried to kneel and pay her respects.

Feng Yewu quickly reached out and helped her up, saying in a low voice, “There is no need for ceremony. Tell me, whom do you wish to save?”

Wang Jia rose and told Feng Yewu and Lu Jue about the conversation she had overheard.

When she finished, she looked at the two of them with a complicated expression. Feng Yewu and Lu Jue were looking at each other, neither speaking, and Wang Jia grew even more anxious.

“Your Majesty, my father’s matter...”

Wang Jia knew full well the severity of King Pingyi’s crime, yet she still hoped Feng Yewu would spare his life.

Feng Yewu remained cold and silent.

Beside her, Lu Jue looked at Wang Jia, who was near tears with worry, and could only sigh helplessly before reassuring her, “Miss Wang, do not be anxious. As for the matter of the Marquis of Pingyi, His Majesty will make the proper decision.”

Wang Jia heard this and felt half of her heart set at ease, though the other half still worried about Chen Pingwu.

“Thank you for your comfort, sir. The heir has no connection to this matter. I beg His Majesty to keep him safe.”

At her words, Lu Jue could not help but let out a cold laugh.

“Miss, you worry too much. I fear that within Yanwu County, the safest person of all is the heir.”

Wang Jia did not understand why he said this, but knowing that Chen Pingwu would be all right, she finally let out a slight breath of relief.

By then the sky had begun to brighten, and Feng Yewu and Lu Jue knew they had missed their chance to go to the Li household again that night.

They would have to wait another night. Still, it was not a complete loss; at least they had learned quite a few things from Wang Jia.

These past few days, Wang Jia had been on edge, traveling day and night. As a young lady of the marquisate, she had rarely suffered hardship, and now that she had finally relaxed, she collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.

Watching Wang Jia’s peaceful, drowsy face, Feng Yewu’s lips actually curved into the faintest smile.

With the morning sun spilling in through the window, she looked especially beautiful.

“Sometimes I truly envy her. When will I ever be as simple, as pure, as she is?”

Lu Jue heard Feng Yewu’s soft lament and looked at her with eyes full of tenderness. He could not help but recall the first time he had seen her as a child.

“If the day ever comes when Your Majesty withdraws from the world, I would gladly stay by your side in an ordinary life.”

After a long while, Feng Yewu gradually withdrew the longing hidden in her eyes and returned to her usual cold, stunning composure.

“To think the Marquis of Pingyi received the news so quickly. We had barely left the outskirts of Yanwu County before he had already arranged men to ambush us.”

She gave a cold laugh and sighed.

Lu Jue’s brows drew together, and a trace of killing intent flashed in his clear, star-like eyes. Even though Wang Changgeng had failed, Feng Yewu was his reverse scale.

“Does Your Majesty truly believe what Miss Wang said? That this has nothing to do with the heir?”

Hearing Lu Jue raise the matter again, doubt rose anew in Feng Yewu’s mind.

From Wang Jia’s account, the matter did indeed seem unrelated to the heir of the Marquis of Changwu. Yet the countless things she had experienced in her previous life, and the fact that the Marquis of Changwu, the Marquis of Beichang, and the Marquis of Pingyi had joined forces to force their way into the palace, remained as real as fact itself.

After thinking for a long time, Feng Yewu sighed softly.

“Whether the truth is what it seems, we will know after one visit to Li Ru’s home tonight.”

On the other side, after Chen Pingwu got up and found that Yang Guang was no longer there, he remained calm.

Assuming Yang Guang had gone to keep watch over the county magistrate for him, he spent a rather idle morning and had the innkeeper bring him brush and ink so he could paint.

After all, so long as he stayed quietly at the inn, the county magistrate would not panic. Delaying matters by even a single day meant giving Feng Yewu and the others one more day of time.

Inside the county yamen, Fang Yang listened as the clerk returned from the Marquis of Pingyi’s manor and reported what he had heard.

The Marquis of Pingyi was not in the capital. He had left a letter behind, instructing that it be delivered to him at once.

Fang Yang and the clerk were of the same ilk. After the clerk heard Fang Yang describe what had happened after his departure, he frowned tightly, sensing that something was wrong.

He handed back the token of the Marquis of Changwu and said quietly to Fang Yang, “My lord, this matter is likely improper. Be careful not to become someone else’s blade.”

Fang Yang heard this and could only smile bitterly.

“Master Clerk, how could I not know that? It is only that a man of my rank, neither high nor low, is trapped in the middle and has little hope of survival.”

As he spoke, he again recalled Yang Guang’s chilling killing intent, and a wave of lingering fear ran through him.

The clerk rolled his eyes and said softly, “My lord, think about it. The Marquis of Changwu was willing to bestow office and title upon a petty county magistrate of the eighth or ninth rank for your sake. That shows those two are no ordinary people. In my humble opinion, detain them, but do not kill them.”

Fang Yang was puzzled and asked why.

“Why? If I do not kill them, how am I to answer to the lord under the Marquis of Changwu?”

Seeing that Fang Yang still did not understand, the clerk grew anxious. After glancing around, he leaned in and explained in detail.

“My lord, think of it this way. Since those two men are of unusual standing, if you truly kill them, and the Marquis of Changwu refuses to acknowledge it later, then when the time comes he may well turn on you after using you up. Wouldn’t that leave you utterly helpless?”

Only then did Fang Yang understand. Relief washed over him. Thankfully, the two had never shown up the night before; otherwise, if the clerk had not returned and he had already killed them, disaster would truly be upon him.

So he immediately ordered his subordinates to seize them, but not to kill them.

In Chen Pingwu’s inn, the afternoon passed, and dozens of paintings were all of one woman’s face.

Chen Pingwu set down his brush, gazing at the paintings with eyes full of affection.

Every one of them depicted Feng Yewu in her many moods and expressions.

“Ah, born into a noble house, a guest with a cup of wine in hand; hearts laid bare to the moon, though it is already waning.”

He lifted the wine beside him and drank deeply, then recited the verse with a sigh.

Just then Yang Guang entered and heard Chen Pingwu’s poem. Seeing the scattered portraits on the floor, he frowned and warned him, “Heir, if the marquis were to see you like this, he would be heartbroken.”

Drink had already clouded Chen Pingwu’s mind. He gave a free and easy smile, yet his eyes were filled with desolation. Turning his head, he shook it at Yang Guang and mocked himself, “I studied the teachings of a hundred schools from childhood and mastered the art of war, yet I cannot seize a single true heart in this world. Heartbroken? Ha! All these years, the façade I have struggled to maintain cannot even compare to a few paintings, a single line of verse?”

Yang Guang said nothing. Silently, he gathered the paintings scattered on the floor and placed them on the desk nearby.

Chen Pingwu took two steps back and sat down against the edge of the bed with a completely unrestrained air, sighing, “If this could win me a single heart, then I would gladly forsake this heir’s title!”

Yang Guang could bear it no longer and said in a deep voice, “Heir, you are drunk.”

Then he left the room.

Chen Pingwu looked at the last traces of sunset scattered across the floor and laughed in a daze.

“Drunk? I am not drunk. It is this world that is drunk.”