The Crown Prince, cradling A wu in his arms, dismounted with a fluid grace.
Her heart still pounded from the ordeal, her legs so weak she nearly crumpled to the ground.
His strong arms caught her, encircling her slender waist with a firmness that steadied her trembling form.
Heat flared where his touch pressed against her, and though she longed to push him away, his grip held her fast, unyielding as iron.
A wu shuddered, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes, her heart a storm of resentment and fear.
The fright had drained her strength, leaving her soft and powerless, unable to break free.
She had only just entered the palace as a Noble Lady, basking in the Emperor’s favor, her ambitions soaring toward the ranks of Consort or even Imperial Concubine.
She had believed that with effort, she could climb the gilded ladder of the harem.
But now, in front of the Dragon Guards, she—a lady of the inner palace—was clutched so brazenly by the Crown Prince.
Shame burned through her, mingling with panic, and she could only turn her tear-streaked face to Emperor Jingxi, pleading silently for rescue.
No words came to her lips.
She was beyond speaking.
Emperor Jingxi’s gaze swept over her tearful eyes, cold and devoid of warmth, before flickering briefly to the side.
At once, Futai stepped forward, his smile deferential yet warm.
“My Lady, it’s a chilly day, and swords are sharp. Please, come with this servant to take shelter.”
A wu’s thin lips trembled as she looked to the Emperor, clinging to a thread of hope.
His expression remained impassive, ignoring her silent plea.
The cold bit at her, but a faint spark of relief flickered within—Futai, not the Dragon Guards, had come for her.
Surely, that meant salvation was still possible.
In a small, quivering voice, she said to the Prince, “Your Highness, please… release this concubine.”
The Prince hesitated, glancing at Emperor Jingxi, then at Futai.
Reluctantly, he loosened his hold.
The moment his arms fell away, A wu exhaled, her legs unsteady as she stumbled toward Futai.
He caught her gently, exclaiming, “Oh, my Lady, come quickly with this servant!”Â
He led her to a side hall, a quiet refuge warmed by a brazier, scented with incense, and furnished with steaming tea.
The palace maids and eunuchs had been forbidden to roam, leaving the place deserted, with no one to serve.
Futai himself poured a cup of tea and presented it to her with both hands.
A wu, her nerves frayed, clutched the hot cup, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
Tears welled again as she whispered to Futai, “Eunuch Fu, will His Majesty be angry with me? Will he… cast me aside?”
Futai gazed at the delicate young woman before him, her eyes like autumn pools, glistening with pitiful vulnerability.
His heart ached for her.
‘Silly child’, he thought, ‘to ask such a thing.’
If the Emperor meant to discard her, would he have gone to such lengths today, dismissing the Thirteen Guards and surrounding himself only with his fiercely loyal Dragon Guards, each sworn to secrecy?
And in days past, the risks he had taken, the care he had shown her—countless beauties filled the world, any of whom could be summoned with a glance, yet for her, the Emperor had staked his very reputation as a wise ruler.Â
Yet here she was, fearing abandonment.
Futai sighed inwardly, feeling the Emperor’s fervent heart mirrored in his own pity.
Still, he offered a gentle smile.
“How could that be, my Lady? His Majesty has always cherished you. There’s no need to fear—whatever happens, His Majesty will shield you.”
A wu knew Futai was the Emperor’s closest confidant, privy to his deepest intentions.
His words kindled hope within her—she might yet be saved.
But her thoughts drifted to the Crown Prince, and worry crept back.
“His Majesty wishes to speak alone with the Prince. What does this mean?”
Futai’s smile faltered.
“This servant wouldn’t know, my Lady. A father and son must have much to discuss, I suppose.”Â
A wu’s mind replayed the Prince’s words to her, and she covered her face, anguished.
“I only hope this ends quickly, and the Prince doesn’t cause more trouble.”
Futai watched her, his heart heavy with complexity.
She was still concerned for the Prince—a fact that, if known to the Emperor, would surely stoke his anger further.
The woman he cherished had once shared an intimacy with his son.
Today, the Emperor’s coldness toward Noble Lady Ning stemmed from that unbearable truth, his face practically green with suppressed rage.
Futai could only console her.
“My Lady, don’t overthink it. Rest easy—His Majesty will handle everything. Come tomorrow, you’ll return to being our radiant Noble Lady Ning.”
A wu’s tear-streaked cheeks quivered.
“Truly?”
Her delicate face, framed by those glistening tears, held a fragile trust.
Futai hastened to reassure her.
“Of course it’s true! His Majesty will stand by you in all things.”
‘But please, dear Lady, stop thinking of the Prince!’ he silently pleaded.
A wu sighed softly, curling her arms around her knees, her voice barely a whisper.
“Very well.”
***
The Prince followed Emperor Jingxi to Yong’an Hall, a secluded courtyard rarely used in recent years, though long ago, the Emperor had studied and governed from its quiet chambers.
Stepping inside, the Prince was struck by a wave of familiarity.
His eyes roamed the unchanged surroundings, memories stirring of his childhood, when he’d brought his lessons here for his father’s review, or faced his gentle rebukes, wiping away secret tears.
He had always revered his father, his heart full of a son’s pure devotion.
But today, he would stand against him.
Emperor Jingxi stood before a cabinet of treasures, his voice calm as a still lake.
“Speak.”
The Emperor’s serene demeanor ignited a spark of fury in the Prince.
‘He stole A wu, yet acts as if nothing has happened!’
Clenching his fists, he gritted his teeth.
“Father, what would you have your son say? You forbade me from keeping A wu, claiming she was unfit, unworthy. And yet now—”
His handsome face twisted with anguish.
“Now you’ve claimed her for yourself!”
The Emperor’s gaze lingered on the cabinet’s ornaments, his tone cool and detached.
“The women of the world are yours to choose, save for her. I’ll not interfere again.”
The Prince’s jaw tightened, his voice a hiss.
“But I want A wu!”
Emperor Jingxi turned, studying his son with measured eyes before speaking.
“Mo Yao, just yesterday, the Imperial Inner Chronicles recorded your father’s visit to Langhua Hall, where he favored Noble Lady Ning twice until the hour of midnight.”
The Prince’s face drained of color, his temples throbbing as if struck.
The Emperor’s faint smile was a blade.
“You know how to address her now, don’t you?”
The Prince staggered back, barely able to stand.
“Father… how could you? How could you?”
The Emperor fell silent, his gaze heavy with melancholy.
The Prince’s voice broke, nearly a sob.
“You scorned her, nearly destroyed her, and now you’ve taken her. Why?”
Emperor Jingxi’s voice was steady as he replied, “You said I didn’t understand. Now, I simply do.”
The Prince’s heart shattered, pain coursing through him.
“Father, she’s my A wu! You know how much she means to me. Why her? Of all the women in the world, why her?”
He fell to his knees with a thud, his voice raw.
“I beg you, Father, return her to me. Please.”
The Emperor looked down at his son’s anguished pleas, his lips curving into a faint, disdainful arc.
“Mo Yao, your actions today have disappointed me beyond measure. From the moment you acted so recklessly, I knew I could never entrust her to you.”
The Prince’s eyes widened, a tremor in his voice.
“Father, what do you mean?”
The Emperor’s gaze narrowed, each word deliberate.
“Leave her to you? So she could become a calamity, a beauty that brings ruin to our dynasty, and you, in your folly, could destroy the foundation of our great Hui empire?”
The Prince’s pupils constricted, a sudden clarity piercing through him.
Before this towering, unyielding Emperor—his father—he was powerless to resist.
From the moment he had poured his heart and soul into A wu, his father’s refusal to yield her had been inevitable.
This was no longer merely about a woman.
Drawing a deep breath, the Prince’s fingers grazed the hilt of his sword as he faced Emperor Jingxi.
“Father, but I have one question.”
The Emperor’s eyes lowered.
“Speak.”
The Prince’s jaw tightened, his voice strained.
“That day by the riverbank at Nanqiongzi, in the morning, when you and A wu returned to the tent while I waited nearby…”
His words faltered, choked by anguish.
He could not bear to voice it—to imagine that while he had lounged in the dawn’s light, mocking his father, A wu had been inside the tent, subject to his father’s desires.
A father’s love, vast as mountains, had once guided him in archery and horsemanship, yet in that same moment, under the bright sun, his father had claimed A wu without regard for his son’s presence.
The image of his stern, majestic father and the radiant, delicate A wu entwined in such an intimate, heart-wrenching scene was unbearable.
The wind that day seemed to carry her broken cries, as if she had been wronged beneath his father’s will.
Then, the Emperor—the supreme ruler, always so reserved and solemn—let out a light, almost flippant chuckle.
“I didn’t intend to, but she clung to me, so alluring I couldn’t resist.”
A surge of blood roared through the Prince, a metallic taste rising in his throat, uncontainable.
He drew his sword in a flash, lunging forward.
No one—not even his father—could demean the woman he loved so brazenly.
In a blur of rage, his blade struck, piercing the embroidered robe and sinking into flesh.