Chapter Forty-Four: Parting Ways

Feng Jinye immediately sensed something wrong in Weishao Qianyu’s voice. He swept her into his arms, only to see that the girl he held was streaming with tears. For a moment, Feng Jinye was at a loss, his heart twisting tightly; all his temper vanished. He grabbed his sleeve, wanting to wipe the tears from the corner of her eyes, but she blocked his hand away.

Weishao Qianyu drew out a handkerchief to dry her tears, her voice stifled in frustration. “Your Highness, please leave. If you go, I’ll stop crying.”

Feng Jinye’s heart ached unbearably. He drew her closer, murmuring, “I won’t leave.”

“It’s my fault. I was wrong,” he whispered.

“I’m tired. Your Highness, please go,” Weishao Qianyu still held onto her anger.

“Very well. I’ll stay and watch over you until you fall asleep. Once you’re asleep, I’ll leave,” Feng Jinye gently laid her down, listening carefully to her breathing to tell if she had slipped into slumber.

That night, Feng Jinye had been drinking. By the time Weishao Qianyu finally slept, it was nearly dawn. Worried that she would wake up crying again, he leaned against the headboard to rest his eyes, and soon drifted off himself.

At daybreak, muffled voices sounded outside the door. “Miss was alone all night. I wonder if she slept well. Let me go and check.”

“Look over there!” Dong Nuan was the first to notice something amiss, seeing the silhouette of a tall figure cast against the window.

Feng Jinye slowly awoke, hearing the chatter outside and flushing with embarrassment.

“His Highness is keeping watch by the bedside. Is Miss unwell?” Xue Chun asked anxiously, reaching to open the door.

Dong Nuan stopped her, rapping her gently on the head. With a sigh, she scolded, “Can’t you wish for something good for our mistress?”

Feng Jinye rose and stepped out, casting a sweeping glance over the maids. “One of you, go in and keep watch.”

Xue Chun hurried inside, still wondering if her mistress was truly ill.

Qing Xia rushed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Only Dong Nuan, watching both inside and out, sensed something unusual between the two.

It was nearly noon before Weishao Qianyu woke. Remembering the events of the previous night, her brows knit tightly.

“Xue Chun,” she called, summoning the maid into the room. “Go to Tingfeng Tower and ask Yun Ming to meet me at the pavilion after lunch.”

Xue Chun nodded and was about to leave when Weishao Qianyu added, “Have Qing Xia make shredded chicken congee. The one you made last night was terrible.”

Xue Chun realized her mistress was in a foul mood—she was even nitpicking the food.

Then, remembering what she had seen at the Duke’s manor earlier that morning, she thought this news might cheer her mistress up. “Miss, Luo Yanqing is dead.”

Weishao Qianyu looked up at her with a calm gaze. “Where did she die?”

“In the brothel,” Xue Chun answered. Seeing her mistress was not the least surprised, she knew Weishao Qianyu had already heard the news. Lowering her voice, she added, “It was a gruesome end.”

Weishao Qianyu paused, reflecting on how Luo Yanqing had brought about her own demise. Knowing the woman’s penchant for stirring up trouble, she could guess much of what had happened. Shaking her head, she waved Xue Chun away.

After lunch, Weishao Qianyu went to the pavilion to meet Yun Ming. Yun Ming, having already discussed the matter with Feng Jinye over lunch, was uneasy, never expecting Feng Jinye to send him.

“I want to buy Wanlai Xue back,” Weishao Qianyu said directly, rolling her eyes at Yun Ming's caution.

Relieved, Yun Ming replied, “If that’s all, I’ll hand you the deed later.”

“There’s something else,” Weishao Qianyu continued gravely. “If Feng Jinye ever sends you to hire an assassin at Muarai Pavilion to kill him, hire them to kill me instead.”

Before Yun Ming could object, she pressed on, “You know which weighs heavier. I trust you’ll know what to do.”

“Don’t let me disturb you, Prince Yun. I’m off to Tingfeng Tower.” With that, she rose and walked away.

Inside Tingfeng Tower, Feng Jinye had paced half the day, debating whether to see Weishao Qianyu. Yet even if he did, what could he say? She would likely drive him away again.

He turned by chance and saw her slender figure entering quietly. He froze for a heartbeat, but swiftly regained his composure—her coming here could not be for something trivial.

She did not enter at once, instead pausing outside to look at the maple tree hung with red envelopes. She instructed Qing Xia and Dong Nuan, “Take down all the red envelopes and ribbons from the tree.”

Feng Jinye’s brow furrowed deeply. He strode forward, grabbed her, and pulled her inside, shutting the door with a bang. Only last night he had held her in joy—why was it always so fraught between them?

Before he could speak, Weishao Qianyu explained, “Your Highness, when spring comes, the maple will sprout new branches and leaves. The red envelopes cannot stay there forever.”

Feng Jinye studied her face, finding no trace of anger—as if nothing had happened the night before.

But he knew her well: whenever she was upset with him, she called him “Prince of War” or “Your Highness.” “You used to call me by name,” he reminded her.

“I was overstepping before,” Weishao Qianyu replied gently, with a faint smile.

His frown deepened. He realized he had truly angered her and, at a loss for how to make amends, forced out, “You weren’t overstepping.”

“In that case, let me be frank,” she said, settling herself and sipping her tea. “Your Highness, do you remember the promise we made last winter in Qin Feng Garden?”

Her words struck Feng Jinye like thunder. Of course he remembered—how, on that day, he realized she was the girl who had tended his wounds in childhood; how, after she first left home, he brought her back to the prince’s residence. They had formed an alliance.

Before he could gather his thoughts, Weishao Qianyu continued, her voice calm and composed, “As we agreed then, you gave me the title of Princess Consort so that I could investigate my father’s death, and I helped you search for Princess Xuan and Young Lord Huangfu.”

Feng Jinye stared at her in disbelief. Beneath her veil, her lips trembled.

Her voice was alluring but cold, measured and clear. “Now, I have found clues to my father’s death. Last night, I informed you of news regarding Young Lord Huangfu and Princess Xuan.”

He did not want to believe what he was hearing, but she paused only briefly before delivering her verdict, cold and decisive. “Our alliance ends here.”

Weishao Qianyu stood, her eyes meeting Feng Jinye’s, leaving him with one final sentence before she turned away. “Our paths diverge here, Your Highness. We are no longer of one mind.”

If she did not wish to fall apart in anguish, she could only pretend her love was shallow, and turn away with dignity.

She had never understood before, but now it was clear: there was never any blessing for her and Feng Jinye. The day before, upon arriving in the capital, she had been summoned to the palace by the Empress Dowager.

In the dazzling light of Changci Palace, the Empress Dowager regarded her hawkishly and said, “I know who you are, Weishao Qianyu. The reason I summoned you here is to make sure you understand: there is no future for you and the Prince of War.”

The Empress Dowager, high and aloof, idly played with the guards on her ring finger and little finger. “I hope you’ll use this opportunity to leave the Prince’s residence and return to your father’s house. As far as everyone is concerned, Princess Consort Lu Qianyu is already dead.”

Weishao Qianyu could feel the Empress Dowager’s oppressive presence. Years ago, she might have been terrified, but now she listened with an impassive face.

Seeing her lack of reaction, the Empress Dowager’s gaze sharpened as she continued, “I know of your past with the Prince, and I know that without you, Jinye would not have suffered so many setbacks.”

“Two years ago, if not for the scandal with Lin Yichu, Jinye would not have been ambushed on his return to the capital,” she accused. The words sent a tremor through Weishao Qianyu’s heart—she could not deny the truth.

“A year ago, had you not destroyed the Imperial Medicine Hall of Xiyan, Jinye might have found the antidote. Yun Ming and the Emperor might have been saved.” The accusation made Weishao Qianyu’s pupils contract. She met the Empress Dowager’s gaze, refusing to yield.

Her expression was so formidable that the Empress Dowager could not help but be impressed, though she shook her head inwardly. Such a woman was not suited to be at Feng Jinye’s side. Her voice rose in scolding. “If not for you, how would Jinye have lost his memory?”

Weishao Qianyu faltered. The Empress Dowager even knew about Jinye’s amnesia. Sensing her shock, the Empress Dowager pressed on, her tone rising, “Since your marriage, every one of Jinye’s plans has been ruined by you. You pride yourself on your cleverness, but in truth, you are utterly foolish.”

At that, Weishao Qianyu could only laugh inwardly. Feng Jinye and the Empress Dowager—past and present—were clearly in league.

She drifted through the rest of the interview, scarcely hearing what was said. As she left the palace, only one sentence echoed in her mind: “Leave Feng Jinye, or you will destroy him.”

She stumbled out of the palace, dazed, and sat for hours in Wanlai Xue. Eventually, she picked up her brush to write Feng Jinye a letter, luring him to the Weishao residence. She had planned to trick Cang Yuan and leave for a time to pursue the other sword, but the sudden appearance of Huangfu Chen had disrupted all her plans.

She could not abandon Feng Qingxuan, Huangfu Chen, or even Yun Ming. She had to stay.

She also pondered the Empress Dowager’s harsh words—that she had ruined all of Feng Jinye’s plans since their marriage. The only ones she had interfered with were Yun Ming and Luo Yanqing.

By the Empress Dowager’s logic, Yun Ming was supposed to marry Luo Yanqing, fulfilling the prophecy of her “phoenix fate.” Why, then, had Feng Jinye sabotaged it?

Weishao Qianyu understood well that any foolish thing Feng Jinye did was inevitably related to her. How, then, was this matter tied to her?

Outside the Prince’s residence, Weishao Qianyu stood with Qing Xia, Xue Chun, and Dong Nuan, unable to resist turning back to look at the plaque above the gates, unsure when she would return.

Two months ago, beneath this very signboard, Feng Jinye had stood in scarlet robes, tall against the wind.

She had thought, as she did that day, that she could walk step by step toward him. But rekindling an old love is not so simple as a casual “long time no see.” Even with all one’s courage, sometimes all that awaits is heartbreak and wounds.