Chapter 85: A wu, Come to Me

The Dragon Guards lined up swiftly yet with impeccable order.

Emperor Jingxi tightened his fingers around the reins, the long bones nearly whitening under the pressure.

His eyelids lowered indifferently, his gaze cold and disdainful as he looked upon the young couple before him.

Wild grass stretched across the land, and a rugged youth nervously held her in his arms.

Her black hair cascaded down, tears welling in her eyes, and faint red marks stained her snowy cheeks.

This was the woman he had cherished in the palm of his hand—spoiled, pampered, willing to give her everything—yet she had deceived him and turned her back to follow another man.

At this moment, the emperor’s dignity was trampled underfoot, shattered beyond repair.

Within Emperor Jingxi’s heart, a thousand, ten thousand wild thoughts raced, but his gaze remained icy and rational.

He knew what he wanted: A wu, and he wanted her back.

No matter what she had done, he wanted her.

So, he heard himself speak in an unusually gentle voice: “A wu, come here.”

A wu stared at him, her tear-filled eyes flickering with fear and uncertainty.

After a while, she struggled, attempting to get up.

Yehan instinctively grabbed her wrist to stop her.

But A wu pushed him away and said, “The Emperor is here. I’m going to see him. Let me go.”

Her voice was cold and distant.

Yehan was momentarily stunned; his outstretched hand froze mid-air.

A wu stumbled to her feet and ran toward Emperor Jingxi.

The Emperor dismounted with agile grace, his long robe flowing like a river of fabric in the wind.

A wu almost dove into his arms like a fledgling swallow, immediately wrapping her arms around his neck.

A soft, milky fragrance filled the air.

The delicate girl had returned to Emperor Jingxi’s embrace, yet he did not lift his hands to hold her; instead, he calmly studied her tears and panic.

A wu trembled as she whispered, “Your Majesty…”

She bit her lip, clearly frightened.

Emperor Jingxi’s expression softened at last.

He held her tightly and said, “A wu.”

She buried herself against him, trembling, “Your Majesty, A wu is so scared.”

The Emperor’s heart ached.

He pulled her close, soothing, “It’s alright now. Don’t be afraid.”

He was about to lift her back onto the horse when A wu suddenly spoke, “Your Majesty, please spare him. Let him go. A wu will return with you.”

The warmth in the Emperor’s eyes instantly froze.

Slowly, he lowered his head, scrutinizing her anxious face.

A wu’s heart tightened.

She knew she was too desperate, but she was truly afraid Yehan might die.

Emperor Jingxi’s voice turned icy, cutting to the bone: “So, after reuniting with me, the first thing my A wu says is to ask me to spare that man.”

No wonder she was so gentle and intimate with him—after all this, he was flattered, shocked.

It was for her lover’s life!

By then, the Dragon Guards had stepped forward to seize Yehan.

Though Yehan was skilled, how could he stand against the highly trained Dragon Guards?

In moments, he was restrained, unable to struggle.

Yehan gritted his teeth, lifting his face desperately to look at A wu, only to see her already held in Emperor Jingxi’s arms.

His hatred boiled over, his eyes nearly bleeding with fury.

Seeing Yehan subdued, A wu was terrified.

“Your Majesty, if you spare him, I will do anything.”

She clung to Emperor Jingxi, begging softly, “Your Majesty, that is A wu’s brother, A wu’s family. Please spare him, do not kill him. Give him his life.”

Emperor Jingxi watched her silently.

A wu grew frantic, “I will do whatever you want. Ask me anything! I will never run away again!”

The Emperor’s face remained expressionless and he asked, “Is there nothing else you want to say to me?”

The men bound Yehan, and A wu heard his agonized cries.

She wept, “Your Majesty, if he dies, A wu will not live alone. I will bite my tongue and die. As long as he lives, A wu will do anything—calling you Zelang every day, bearing your children, living and dying with you. If one day you go first, I will follow you in death.”

Emperor Jingxi stared silently at the pleading A wu.

(Originally the touching phrase was about calling “Zelang,” not about following in death. The latter was removed to avoid misunderstanding.)

That longing, the tender “Zelang” she once said—now locked away behind estrangement and sacrifice—these were their secret pains, their unique bond.

Now, she surrendered completely, losing all pride and stubbornness, only to beg for that man’s life.

Emperor Jingxi remained silent.

A wu held her breath, too afraid to speak.

The world was silent; all was still.

A wu could only hear the Emperor’s slow breaths, but she could not guess his thoughts.

She did not know if the next moment would bring life or death, nor whether Yehan could survive beneath his sword.

The long tension made her feel suffocated; she felt she might lose consciousness at any second.

Then, suddenly, Emperor Jingxi raised his hand.

A wu’s heart leapt.

She stared at him blankly.

The once intimate lover had become a stranger, distant and cold.

She feared this man, unable to read him—he was the Emperor, someone she had to kneel before.

Without expression, Emperor Jingxi pulled A wu closer, embracing her like a child.

She dared not resist, curling carefully in his arms.

Then, she noticed the finger ring on his hand, and suddenly remembered the past—the times he almost strangled her.

The suffocating chill washed over her like icy tide.

Her vision blurred, and she struggled to breathe.

Just then, a sharp sound rang out.

She gasped and looked up—it was the Crown Prince.

No one knew when he had arrived.

He coldly drew his bow, aiming—

A wu’s heart shattered.

She broke free from Emperor Jingxi’s arms, desperate and frantic, rushing forward.

“No! Don’t kill him! You can’t kill him!”

Light flashed.

Emperor Jingxi’s expression shifted slightly as he drew his sword, striding quickly forward.

Fang Yue and the others hurried after him to protect the Emperor.

The Crown Prince had intended to kill Yehan; the arrow flew.

Seeing the scene, he was shocked and quickly withdrew it, but it was too late!

At this critical moment, just as the arrow was about to strike Yehan, Emperor Jingxi dodged and shielded A wu.

The guards raised their swords to block; the cold arrow clanged and fell to the ground.

Yehan was still pinned down, unable to move.

A wu looked on, stunned and uncomprehending.

After a while, she gazed dully at Emperor Jingxi.

He gripped his long sword tightly, his face cold and dark.

Yet he still extended his hand and said, “A wu, come here.”

But A wu did not move for a long time.

She looked at Emperor Jingxi with distant, unfamiliar eyes.

Suddenly, Emperor Jingxi grew anxious.

He was afraid.

Her gaze reminded him of that day when he nearly strangled her—when she was nearly suffocating, staring off into nothingness.

That unreachable, barren distance was a mystery he would never solve in his lifetime.

He held his breath, voice tense, “A wu, don’t be afraid. I will take you home.”

But A wu’s eyes remained fixed on the distance, as if something else had captured her mind.

She murmured, “Brother Yehan will take A wu home. A wu wants to go back. Your Majesty, don’t kill him… I want Brother Yehan…”

Her expression grew blank, her eyes lost and body swayed.

Yet her voice remained stubborn.

“I want to go home. To find my father and mother. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

Emperor Jingxi took long strides forward, wrapping his arms around her waist as she lost consciousness.

Her face was pale, bloodless—like a withering flower.

***

In the dark dungeon, Yehan was chained and bound.

His fallen bangs hid his face, but the youth raised his head stubbornly.

His pitch-black eyes gleamed fiercely like a wolf’s.

Emperor Jingxi stood with hands behind his back, silently scrutinizing the boy.

A wu had fainted and had yet to awaken.

The Imperial Physician had examined her several times, saying only to wait, though she was not in grave condition.

Emperor Jingxi endured half a day in torment, staring at A wu on her bed.

Even in sleep, she kept calling out, begging not to kill Yehan.

She cared for Yehan so deeply, willing to die for him.

So the Emperor finally wished to see the boy who had captured A wu’s heart.

Compared to the usual guards, the boy looked younger and wilder.

His face was darkened by the sun, and he was not very tall.

Emperor Jingxi saw no remarkable traits, but in that ordinary face, he tried to imagine A wu’s past.

The past he had never been part of—her father, her brother, her ties to the Eastern Sea.

She cared nothing for Lu Yunjian, showed no attachment to the Crown Prince, and was cruel even to herself, never once thinking of the child she had just borne.

Yet she worried for this boy and wanted him alive.

Jealousy tore mercilessly at Emperor Jingxi’s heart; he could not understand it.

So he kept staring at the boy, studying his temperament.

After a long while, he stepped out from the shadows.

Yehan was released and saw Emperor Jingxi.

He was just an ordinary fisherman from the Eastern Sea—the Emperor was too distant a figure.

He never imagined he would meet the Emperor one day.

The Emperor had wronged A wu, possessed her; it was a husband-snatching hatred.

Yehan clenched his fists, staring at the imperial figure before him.

The Emperor’s presence filled the dungeon with grandeur by mere standing.

This was the lord of the entire realm, the man Yehan could not resist.

He staggered forward.

At the sight of the movement, a Dragon Guard drew his blade, the metallic clash echoing in the dark cell.

Emperor Jingxi raised his hand, signaling the guards to step back.

Though he was an emperor, he trained daily in archery and martial arts with the Dragon Guards.

In a one-on-one fight, this youth might not be his match!

Why would he need guards to protect him?

At that moment, Emperor Jingxi felt a cruel desire to exert power over the ordinary boy.

Then, Yehan suddenly knelt with a thud.

Emperor Jingxi lowered his eyes coldly and watched.

Yehan bowed his head deeply, placing both hands before his ears.

“A humble subject kowtows to the Emperor.”

The act surprised everyone.

The Dragon Guards exchanged glances and stepped back.

Emperor Jingxi said, “Rise.”

Yehan did not dare stand fully but lifted his upper body while keeping his knees on the ground, cautious and timid.

The Emperor ordered the guards to withdraw; he wanted to speak privately with the boy.

He folded his hands behind his back and said, “You have something to say to me.”

Yehan was shocked by the Emperor’s sharp gaze but replied respectfully, “Yes.”

Emperor Jingxi said, “Speak.”

Yehan licked his lips and quickly said, “Your Majesty, I beg for your mercy. I am innocent!”

“Innocent?”

Yehan kowtowed three times, then explained, “It was Noble Consort Ning who threatened me, forcing me to take her away. She said if I did not, she wouldn’t spare me. I had no choice but to comply. I even tried to persuade her—she is a noble consort, a subject of Great Hui; to run away like this is disloyal and unfilial, unrighteous and unjust—but she wouldn’t listen. She insisted I take her. I had no choice… I intended to settle her first, then report to Your Majesty, but I never got the chance!”

His voice was hoarse but sincere.

“Your Majesty, I respect you and would never dare offend you. It was all Noble Consort Ning’s doing. I was forced by her. Please spare me!”

Emperor Jingxi stared expressionlessly at the cowardly Yehan.

Suddenly, he stepped forward and delivered a powerful kick.

Though Emperor Jingxi had reigned long, he trained daily with the Dragon Guards.

His martial skill was no less than theirs.

His fierce kick sent Yehan sprawling backward, rolling on the ground in disgrace.

Emperor Jingxi looked at the boy coldly, like one would look at a shameless dog—lowly, fearful, trembling.

Yehan looked up at Emperor Jingxi and said, “Your Majesty, have mercy!”

At that moment, footsteps approached.

They stopped just three feet from the cell door.

The Dragon Guards bowed their heads in salute.

It was the Crown Prince.

Emperor Jingxi didn’t even lift his eyelids but raised a hand slightly to gesture.

The Crown Prince stepped forward, bowing respectfully.

“Father.”

Emperor Jingxi said, “You will personally conduct the interrogation.”

The Crown Prince was a little surprised.

The Emperor’s gaze was cold as he repeated, “Personally.”

The Crown Prince’s heart stirred.

He glanced at his father, and at the same moment, Emperor Jingxi looked back.

In the dim dungeon light, father and son locked eyes.

At that moment, the Crown Prince instantly understood his father—the tangled emotions, the pain, the trembling endurance.

His heart ached so deeply it nearly broke.

Whether it was the Lu Yunjian incident, A wu’s complicated past, or this blatant elopement and betrayal before them, it was enough to shatter his spirit.

But he endured and tolerated.

The wounds A wu inflicted on his heart, he swallowed silently, slowly digesting them.

Then he reached out to soothe her, to bring her back to the Imperial Harem, to place her in the rank of Imperial Noble Consort.

—And perhaps even Empress one day.

That was why he had only brought a few close Dragon Guards.

This elopement investigation, he insisted on handling personally.

“Personally” meant it must not be leaked.

Even the most private matters could not have a third party present.

Though A wu had committed a grave mistake, he still had to clean up the mess for her.

But details of the elopement could never reach the ears of the servants below.

It was too shameful.

So he entrusted the matter to his own son.

Only his son knew what he wanted to know.

Only his son could unearth the truth hidden in this youth.

Only his son could guarantee absolute secrecy.

The Crown Prince’s emotions twisted and turned with all this complexity.

He knew, of course, he knew that his father had always been wary of him.

The incident with the nursemaid, the rumors—those were outright provocations that could not be forgiven.

But now, his father was placing trust in him.

Because in the end, he could only trust his own son.

He looked deeply at his father.

This was his father, the Emperor, who had taught him by hand since childhood, who had poured heart and soul into raising him.

He wanted Great Hui to be governed with clarity.

He wanted to hand over a prosperous era.

His severity was greater than his kindness, hoping his son would improve, to inherit the supreme authority smoothly.

To ensure the Great Hui realm endured and the ancestral legacy would not be ruined in his hands.

Now, amid the rivalry and distrust between father and son over a woman, he could only rely on himself.

At this moment, the Crown Prince felt he could touch his father’s heart.

Since the A wu incident, his feelings toward his father had been complicated—devotion mixed with jealousy and resentment.

Now, more than ever, he understood and sympathized with his father’s vulnerability and struggle.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded with difficulty and said, “Father, I understand. I will personally conduct the interrogation.”