Chapter 95: Like Passing Clouds, the Rest of Life Remains Shallow

The emperor, of course, understood her true intention but chose to descend the stairs with her, saying, “If that is so, then we shall proceed according to the empress’s wishes.” After speaking, he coughed heavily several times. The empress clenched her fingers into her flesh, biting back her silence.

“The Lady of Changping, recently bereaved, has been posthumously honored as Lady Shuyi. As for the young prince, let him be granted the title of heir apparent,” the emperor’s voice wavered faintly.

“I, your humble servant, express my gratitude to Your Majesty on behalf of the Lady of Changping,” the empress nodded slightly, sparing herself even the effort to rise and bow.

“In principle, the House of Changping, with its military achievements and merits, should have long been elevated to a princely rank,” the emperor suddenly noticed the empress raise her head and lowered his voice, “But when the crown prince ascends the throne, we fear the influence of maternal relatives may become too great… Thus, we must inevitably ask the empress’s maternal family to make some sacrifices. I hope Her Majesty will convey this to the House of Changping.”

A cold sneer flickered in the empress’s heart. At last, she rose and bowed gracefully, “Your Majesty’s hardships are well understood by your humble servant. The entire House of Changping is loyal to the sovereign and will surely comprehend Your Majesty’s intentions.”

The emperor forced a reluctant smile. “That is good.”

“Empress, isn’t our entire life devoted to the crown prince?” The mention of Fu Lanchen gave the emperor a hint of confidence.

But in all these years, have you ever truly regarded the crown prince as your own son? The empress smiled faintly as she left the Tai Ning Palace, then relayed the emperor’s intentions to Fu Lanchen. Upon hearing this, he merely laughed dismissively. Though the empress wished to save face for the emperor, the Eastern Palace did not consent.

A month later, the Minister of Justice compiled seven grave charges against the Nangong family: attempted assassination of the crown princess, forming factions for personal gain, selling official positions, corrupting the imperial family, subverting the court, and defying imperial grace.

This was no mere rumor as before; these were concrete evidences laid bare by the Ministry of Justice. The emperor might have shielded the Nangong family once, but not twice. The eyes of the entire realm were fixed upon the emperor and the Nangong clan.

The centuries-old towering house of Nangong finally crumbled.

At the Yonghui Tower, Fu Lanchen stood in the pavilion on the second floor, his gaze cold as he looked into the distance. Before the heavy snow ceased, let all bloodshed and filth be buried beneath it.

After the dust settled, the empress made a special visit to the Eastern Palace, intending to console Fu Lanchen. But amidst the piles of official documents, he never once lifted his head.

Before the emperor issued the decree of punishment, Nangong Ping was found dead in his study. When discovered, his body was cold, a jade pendant and a letter lay beside him.

The first to find the Prince of Ningdu’s demise was the respectful Marquis Gongmin, Nangong Mingchen. He had come to discuss matters but found the prince slumped lifeless over his desk. Overcome with grief, he called for the imperial physician.

The physician tried in vain to revive him.

Nangong Mingchen wiped his tears and presented the letter and jade pendant to the emperor during the morning court.

Veteran ministers quickly recognized the pendant as the ancestral heirloom of the Marquis of Wujing’s family.

Thus, a single jade pendant stirred a thousand waves.

When the letter reached the emperor, his face grew grave, and he hesitated to reveal its contents. The ministers urged him repeatedly.

“Your Majesty, the jade pendant belonging to the Pei family appears in the hands of the Prince of Ningdu—this is of utmost importance! Moreover, the Pei case of years past harbors many doubts. We implore Your Majesty to disclose the letter’s contents so that these mysteries may be unraveled.”

Someone took the lead, and before long, when the emperor regained composure after reading the letter, every minister in the hall was kneeling, pleading for a retrial of the Pei family’s case.

“What is the meaning of this, ministers?” the emperor demanded angrily.

“We beseech Your Majesty to re-investigate the Pei case of old,” the Censorate spoke.

“We implore Your Majesty to re-examine the Pei family’s case,” the civil officials echoed.

“We ask Your Majesty to reopen the Pei case,” the military officials echoed in unison.

The sudden death of the Prince of Ningdu, the jade pendant, the letter—all became common knowledge throughout Guangling City within three days. No matter how the emperor tried to conceal it, the truth could not be hidden. In urgency, he recalled the Prince of Qi and the Prince of Huai’an from their distant fiefs.

“Your Highness, how far do you think the emperor will concede this time?” Wen Zhi leaned on the courtyard railing, a bamboo twig between his lips.

“I don’t know. We’ll see how far he can be pushed. My father is a man who will never admit fault unless driven to the brink,” Fu Lanchen replied lightly, having long seen through the emperor’s selfishness, coldness, and ruthless cruelty.

“I heard the Prince of Qi has returned to the capital and has been confined in his residence without an audience. The townsfolk are abuzz with gossip,” Wen Zhi said, having ventured into the city today to procure goods and gauge the situation.

“It’s no wonder the people talk. I have long neglected state affairs; the Prince of Qi is my father’s favored son. His birth mother is the beloved Consort from the Nangong family. The Prince of Qi’s prestige in court once soared, only to fall abruptly,” Fu Lanchen snorted softly, deeming it of little consequence. After all, the Nangong family was now his captive. No matter how much the emperor wished to protect them, it depended on whether the people agreed.

Though Xu Guiyi suffered from dissociative amnesia and behaved like a child, she could retain basic knowledge and learning when carefully taught. Her progress in reading and writing was slow, but Fu Lanchen patiently accompanied her.

The scholar Chi Di had once said that Xu Guiyi’s amnesia was intermittent. With proper medication and a calm life, she might gradually recall fragments of her past from subtle details and words—perhaps even recover her entire memory. Ultimately, it depended on fate.

Currently, she was like a young child, needing to be taught everything anew through stories that enriched her memory.

Xu Guiyi had convalesced in the outskirts of the capital for half a year, consuming expensive medicinal herbs daily at great cost. Wen Zhi, witnessing the expenditures, often wondered about the Eastern Palace’s finances but never dared to ask.

Ah Zhun had also stayed in the suburbs for three months, receiving similar nourishment. Previously malnourished and looking younger than his thirteen years, he now visibly grew taller on five meals a day.

Five li from this mansion stood a private academy. Fu Lanchen secured a spot for Ah Zhun with two attendants to oversee his studies daily.

Wen Zhi thought it a fine idea and advised Ah Zhun, who was quiet and obedient. With proper cultivation, he would become a fine talent in time.

Fu Lanchen also gave Ah Zhun a new name: Pei Zhun.

“Pei” from the Pei family, “Zhun” from Ah Zhun.

Though Zhang Qi and Wen Zhi had reservations, they did not oppose. If the Pei family were to rise again someday, a Pei by name would uphold the Marquis of Wujing’s legacy.

In early winter, the temple on the capital’s outskirts was completed. The emperor, busy with the Pei family’s old case and the new Nangong case, had no time to name it. Thus, he entrusted the matter to the crown prince.

Fu Lanchen pondered for two days and then wrote: “Temple of the Returning Wild Geese.”

Regardless of the meaning, the emperor said little, and no one dared to comment.

Because of the Pei case’s involvement, the emperor deliberately distanced the crown prince, so throughout the winter, the Prince of Qi, the Prince of Huai’an, and even Nangong Mingchen came and went from the Tai Ning Palace, yet Fu Lanchen received no special summons.

The empress was puzzled, but Fu Lanchen smiled calmly, “With the Nangong family fallen and the Prince of Qi useless, Father wishes for me to ascend peacefully without being entangled in these thorny cases, so he tells us nothing.”

The empress accepted this explanation.

“But…” If the emperor barred Fu Lanchen from intervening, could he truly restrain himself? The empress doubted it but did not press further.

Having finally secured the emperor’s favor, she would not risk losing it again. So she focused solely on organizing the Winter Festival, never asking about the Nangong case.

This year’s Winter Festival passed as usual. However, during the Lantern Festival, the Lady of Yongjia jokingly suggested finding the crown prince a new crown princess. Though the emperor and empress feigned indifference with smiles, they each glanced at Fu Lanchen’s expression.

Remarkably, Fu Lanchen smiled openly, showing no resistance.

Fu Xun was thirteen now, his features resembling those of Pei Zhaojin in his youth. With the Pei case under reexamination, the emperor summoned all his princes on that Lantern Festival day. Upon seeing Fu Xun, he paused for a moment, only recovering composure after the empress’s subtle reminder by his side.

In March, Guangling City was blanketed by two more snowfalls, and the Pei case was ready to be settled.

Nangong Ping’s dying words revealed that before the Pei family’s massacre, he had corresponded closely with General Feihong and learned that General Pei Xuewan had been framed. The great fire had been started by spies sent by the Nangong family, fearing retribution.

If General Feihong was suspected of treason, what then of Nangong Ping, who maintained close correspondence with him?

After months of investigation, the emperor still received a trove of letters from Nangong Mingchen, exposing clues to the Pei family case and even discovering the last surviving bloodline: Pei Jinghong, the younger sister of Pei Zhaojin’s younger son.

This was a shocking revelation.

Nangong Mingchen, known for fairness, was a treasure, while Pei Jinghong was a rare pearl.

With the efforts of Fu Lanchen and Nangong Mingchen, Pei Jinghong’s identity was soon confirmed. The emperor had no grounds to dispute and tacitly accepted her existence.

This strategy had been Nangong Mingchen’s suggestion to Fu Lanchen: since the emperor mistrusted the testimony and letters of King Mu of Daxiang, they would have to act through his confidants—Zhang Wei, Prince of Ningdu Nangong Ping, and Duke Cheng Jingyun.

Cheng Jingyun, stationed in the northern border commanding two hundred thousand troops, was difficult to control.

But Nangong Ping was different. Amidst the intertwined forces of Guangling City, the Nangong family was hardly innocent. With Mingchen as their inside man, they quickly arranged everything.

Fu Lanchen sought to clear the Pei name; Nangong Mingchen aimed for the headship. Their cooperation was seamless.

On the day the empress summoned Pei Jinghong to Changqiu Palace, she also summoned the court physicians, each sighing and shaking their heads helplessly.

After the doctors left, the empress watched over the drowsy Pei Jinghong at her bedside, tears silently falling. Fu Lanchen and Marquis Shen Yu exchanged looks in the palace’s side hall, unsure of what to say.

Though palace servants whispered that the second Miss Pei bore an uncanny resemblance to the late crown princess Xu, the emperor turned a deaf ear and the empress smiled silently. According to the eunuch Yuanhe, that day the emperor sat before the dragon desk, writing repeatedly:

“After parting like floating clouds, ten years flow like water.

Guests once met by the Yangtze and Han Rivers, always drunk in reunion.

After parting like floating clouds, ten years flow like water.

Laughter and feelings remain as before, though temples have grayed with age.

Why not return? There are autumn mountains by the Huai River.”

The words hung heavy in the air.