All pride and arrogance melted away in an instant.

The Empress pressed her hand to her chest, feigning sorrow. “During the reign of Emperor Jingchu, the struggle for the throne was perilous. Empress Dowager Mu, in order to protect the young Ninth Prince, sent him away from the palace to be raised in secret for a time.”

Xu Guiyi interjected, “The Ninth Prince—is that Prince An?”

The Empress nodded and continued, “His Majesty felt that his younger brother, having grown up outside the palace, was deprived of the dignity and honor due to a prince. Therefore, when the Ninth Prince returned, he was immediately granted the title of Prince and received much favor.” Such was the Emperor’s nature—when he chose to be kind, he was truly generous.

The Empress went on, “In the third year of Jingchu, on the night of the Emperor’s birthday banquet, the Ninth Prince claimed he wished to present a peerless beauty as a birthday gift to His Majesty.”

Xu Guiyi was startled. “The gift… could it have been that dancer surnamed Lu? Prince An's birth mother?”

The Empress was surprised by Xu Guiyi’s quick deduction, then nodded in confirmation.

Xu Guiyi was deeply shocked, feeling a chill spread through her limbs. How could such an outrageous thing exist in the world? To send the woman one loved to one’s own royal brother—what madness drove the Ninth Prince to do such a thing?

“Though Lu came from a brothel, she possessed extraordinary beauty. His Majesty took her into the harem and favored her above all others, neglecting the rest of the consorts. Within three months, she was granted the title of Consort Yan, surpassing even Noble Consort Nangong.”

Xu Guiyi’s thoughts darkened in a direction she did not wish to follow, her lips murmuring, “Since she became a consort, how did she bear Prince An?” Could it be that Fu Jingchu was the Emperor’s son? But that didn’t seem right…

The Empress sighed. “At first, everyone thought the Ninth Prince presented the dancer only to secure favor. Later, it became clear that his ambitions ran far deeper. He planted Consort Yan at His Majesty’s side as a spy, and from then on, everything went smoothly for him. The Emperor’s favor only grew with his years, and as the Ninth Prince came of age, his power increased, to the point where courtiers privately called him the Lord of Nine Thousand Years.” To be called Nine Thousand Years was but a step from the throne itself—the courtiers were truly bold!

The Emperor could not believe that his beloved brother would plot rebellion. So he waited and watched, guarding against him, until, at the Mid-Autumn Banquet in the fourth year of Jingchu, which also coincided with Empress Dowager Mu’s birthday, the Ninth Prince led sixty thousand rebels to besiege the palace, holding the Emperor and consorts captive for several days.

…Of course, the Ninth Prince’s rebellion ended in failure, and the empire remained in the Emperor’s hands.

Xu Guiyi felt her heart sink. She had read the royal annals of the Jingchu era, but the record regarding that Mid-Autumn only mentioned the Empress Dowager’s illness and the early dispersal of the banquet. There was not a word about the Ninth Prince's attempted coup. Had someone ordered the historians to alter the records?

Xu Guiyi frowned deeply, finding something amiss. “I have read the records, and they say Prince An died in a fire.”

The Empress’s lips curved into a faint smile. “That passage in the annals—I was there with His Majesty when he revised it at the Hall of Letters. When the Ninth Prince’s rebellion failed, His Majesty was enraged, but, mindful of the aged Empress Dowager Mu and her inability to bear the grief of losing her son, he merely imprisoned the Ninth Prince within Zhanghua Tower, forbidding all visitors.”

“In the first month of the fifth year of Jingchu, Consort Yan gave birth prematurely to a little prince, but as he was born early, he died the very same day.” Xu Guiyi remembered this as the last mention of Consort Yan in the royal annals.

“Mother, did that little prince truly die?” Xu Guiyi clearly did not believe it. She boldly asked, watching the Empress closely, fearful of offending her.

The Empress’s expression darkened, her tone cold. “You guessed correctly—the child did not die. He is now Prince An, the illegitimate son of Consort Yan and the Ninth Prince.” Her words were harsh, but it was indeed a scandal, an ill-fated entanglement.

Xu Guiyi drew a sharp breath, her thoughts drifting to Consort Yan. What kind of extraordinary woman was she, to survive the Ninth Prince’s rebellion, bear a child, and yet escape harm?

This was cuckolding the Emperor, and with his own brother, no less. How could such a ruthless and heartless man as the Emperor let Consort Yan and her child live?

“In order to save her child, Consort Yan confessed all the Ninth Prince’s plans to me and His Majesty, begging piteously for her child’s life. Later, Zhanghua Tower caught fire—the Ninth Prince perished in the flames, Consort Yan took poison, and only the three-month-old infant survived. To the world, His Majesty declared the boy a posthumous child of the Ninth Prince…”

After hearing this story, Xu Guiyi was deeply shaken. The Emperor and the Crown Prince might not be good men, but they certainly knew how to be brothers.

That Fu Jingchu survived to this day was one of the rare acts of mercy in the Emperor’s life. Had it been another man, the child would have been wiped out, especially since the Emperor’s dignity was so gravely challenged.

The Empress had said that Prince An was always a thorn in the Emperor’s heart—a reminder that even emperors cannot have all their wishes fulfilled.

Xu Guiyi left the Changqiu Palace, cold wind whistling and fallen parasol leaves covering the ground. Though she now knew the truth of everything, she found no joy in it.

The thought that Fu Lancheng, too, would one day face such treacherous court intrigue and ruthless struggles for power filled her with dread.

Yet she could not confide any of this to Fu Lancheng. As the legitimate imperial heir, if he failed to ascend the throne, it would surely mean even greater turmoil for the imperial family.

This was why, all these years, despite his neglect of state affairs and wanton behavior, his father had never deposed him. To have the legitimate son inherit the throne was proper and could quell the ambitions of the feudal princes.

Half a month later, Fu Lancheng and Xu Guiyi in the Eastern Palace finally awaited the Emperor’s decision regarding Prince An, Fu Jingchu.

The imperial edict was issued: “Fu Shen, Prince An, as a son of the royal house, has enjoyed His Majesty’s profound favor, yet he has failed to conduct himself with propriety, his words and actions lacking in virtue and gratitude. The Emperor is deeply grieved and orders that he be demoted from Prince to Marquis, granted the title Marquis Huai’an. Within three days, he is to depart with his wife and daughter for his fief in Jizhou, not to leave without imperial summons, nor return to the capital.”

That winter, the moon hung pale as the stars shone cold and bright, and the river wind bit with chill.

Beside the Weishui River, night had fallen deep. Marquis Huai’an, Fu Jingchu, stood at the dock draped in a dark blue fox-fur cloak, gazing silently into the sky as if waiting for someone.

Fu Lancheng emerged from the darkness, walking over to stand beside him. Neither spoke at first. Fu Jingchu did not even ask how the Crown Prince, still under house arrest, had slipped past the Emperor’s spies.

After a while, the night wind whistled, and suddenly the sound of a zither drifted across the water—cold wind, cold river, a melody played again and again, the piece “Broken Jade,” by that stubborn woman.

Fu Lancheng tightened his cloak and teased, “Over these years, you’ve visited every brothel in Guangling, yet never heard such a pure rendition of ‘Broken Jade.’ To be honest, she truly deserves her title as Guangling’s greatest zither player.”

From the moment the music began, Fu Jingchu’s expression grew somber. “Back then, I redeemed her, gave her a place to stay, out of pity for her tragic past. Later, I set her free, hoping she’d find her own happiness. I never expected her to be so stubborn. …Well, I’ve done all I can. If she insists, I have no choice.”

Indecision, some call it kindness, but in Fu Lancheng’s eyes, Fu Jingchu’s ‘kindness’ had always been misplaced.

Fu Lancheng, who despised hesitation, put on a stern face and scolded, “All these years, you’ve always been so indecisive. I told you not to marry Nangong Yuzhen, but you compromised. Later, when you redeemed Xianle, I urged you to send her out of the capital immediately, but you didn’t listen. Now you’ve landed yourself in this predicament, and you still can’t make up your mind…”

At this point, Fu Jingchu had nothing to say in his defense, replying only with wounded resignation, “Fifth Brother, have I truly been wrong all along? So timid, so hesitant…”

His sudden admission left Fu Lancheng momentarily stunned. He had always been exasperated by Fu Jingchu’s weakness, but seeing his once brilliant brother so subdued, the contrast was jarring.

“Fu Shen, remember your name and your bloodline. People like us, born into privilege, can never live as freely as ordinary folk. Marriage, the future—none of it is ours to decide. The words ‘descended from the imperial line’ may sound glorious, but they are shackles we can never cast off.”

The zither fell silent. The wind, too, died down. Tonight, the moonlight was thin, unable to reach the hearts of men.

Fu Jingchu sniffed, his voice bleak. “Fifth Brother, tomorrow I leave for Jizhou. Once a prince leaves for his fief, it’s hard to return to the capital.”

Fu Lancheng paused, then replied softly, “It’s not so dire. You know how my father is—he’s only angry for now. In a couple of years, when the storm has passed, he’ll summon you back.”

Fu Jingchu gave a silent laugh. “I forgot, you yourself are still under house arrest in the Eastern Palace… How I wish we could go back to our childhood, when we were foolish, carefree, and had nothing to worry about—just live as fortunate fools.”

Fu Lancheng shot him a sidelong glance. “Only the truly blessed can afford to be fortunate fools. For us—always facing house arrest, never certain of tomorrow—such luck is out of reach.”

“…I won’t be able to see you off tomorrow. Take care of yourself on the road.”

Fu Jingchu murmured an acknowledgment, hesitated, then advised, “Once I’m in Jizhou, the Censorate will no doubt turn its eyes on the Eastern Palace. You’d best keep a low profile for a while.”

“I know you have no ambition for the throne, but you are the legitimate heir. If you do not take the position, who knows what further turmoil will befall our family? Enough blood has been shed already.”

“So, even if not for yourself, then for the Fu family, for the court, for the people—Fifth Brother, I sincerely wish you a long and blessed life, and may all go well for you.” With that, Fu Jingchu bowed deeply, his respect earnest.

Fu Lancheng reached out, hesitated, then lightly steadied Fu Jingchu. “I… will think about it…”