Chapter Thirty-Seven: Overflowing Maternal Love

On the lake’s surface, mirrored with pristine snow, a pebble traced a beautiful arc through the air before landing with a gentle splash. Another pebble soon followed, sending ripples spreading wide across the tranquil water.

Feng Qiuji leaned alone against the pavilion by the shore, listlessly tossing stones into the lake. “God, why am I still here?” she sighed inwardly. Ling Zetian and Qin Ruyan had already found happiness together, yet she remained in name only as empress—a bystander, a superfluous presence, her heart suffering for it. What wrong had she committed to deserve such punishment, she wondered—was this Heaven’s retribution?

“Her Highness the Imperial Consort arrives.”

Feng Qiuji turned to see Qin Ruyan approaching from afar. She was now the honored consort, draped in splendid robes, her lips like cherry blossoms, eyes shaped like a phoenix’s, hair as dark as clouds. A golden peacock hairpin gleamed at her temple, elegant but never ostentatious. Compared to herself, Feng Qiuji thought, Qin Ruyan possessed far more of the regal grace befitting an empress; the throne, by rights, should have been hers.

Qin Ruyan inclined her head in greeting, taking a seat beside her. Feng Qiuji could not help but give a muted laugh. The last time they met was the first—Qin Ruyan had tried to kill her, leaving a rather poor impression. Now, faced with her again, Feng Qiuji found herself at a loss for words.

“You are the empress now. From this day forth, may I call you elder sister?” Qin Ruyan gently took her hand, a faint, delicate smile on her lips. That smile, so beautiful, sent a chill through Feng Qiuji. She could never speak so amicably with an old adversary; that sort of grace was beyond her.

“So long as I may be with His Majesty, I am content. I will not let hatred cloud my eyes,” Qin Ruyan went on, her gaze suffused with quiet satisfaction. “Because I know that he loves me. And that is enough.”

Feng Qiuji’s expression stiffened for a moment, but she quickly mustered a smile. “Of course. Everyone knows His Majesty’s heart favors you above all, Miss Ruyan.” But as she looked at that dazzling smile, it stung her eyes—she knew she was being false, her heart brimming with bitterness, yet still she could act as though nothing was amiss, exchanging pleasantries as if all were well.

Feng Qiuji, when did you become such a consummate actress?

Perhaps, after so long in the palace, everyone learned to don masks, to hide their true selves behind polite words and practiced smiles. But such a life was nothing but a hollow farce, as were feelings tainted by power, by wealth, by ambition. It was little wonder that affection became so twisted.

“My lady, if you do not leave now, I fear His Majesty will grow impatient,” a nearby maid reminded softly.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. His Majesty asked me to dine with him tonight.” Qin Ruyan stood up hurriedly. “Sister, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? Why not join us?”

“No, I’m not at all hungry. You should go,” Feng Qiuji replied, her eyes dim. “Don’t keep His Majesty waiting.”

A familiar pang of sadness pricked her heart. In the past, Ling Zetian would occasionally dine with her, but now those days were gone. From now on, it would be Qin Ruyan at his side. No one would keep her company at dinner anymore.

“I’ll take my leave, then.”

Feng Qiuji turned her gaze back to the lake. Dusk had fallen without her noticing; the brilliance of the setting sun painted the water in tranquil, glowing hues. She rose, instinctively calling for Xiao Hui to return to her chambers—only to realize she was alone in the pavilion.

So lonely.

“Xiao Jiji, why are you daydreaming here all by yourself?” a childish voice called from behind. Turning, she saw it was Ling Shunuo, the little rascal. He’d heard she was back and had searched all over for her, finally learning her whereabouts from Qin Ruyan herself.

“What are you doing here again?” Feng Qiuji frowned. This boy was like a ghost—he appeared everywhere!

“Why didn’t you come find me when you returned to the palace?” Anuo pouted, clearly displeased.

“Enough, you little imp. It’s time for dinner—why aren’t you heading back to eat?”

“Why don’t you dine with me?” Anuo, understanding the reason for her gloom, wanted to keep her company, hoping to cheer her up.

“I’m not hungry,” Feng Qiuji said, shaking her head. How could she possibly eat now?

“What’s the big deal about heartbreak? Are you going to starve yourself over it?” Anuo rolled his eyes and tugged at her sleeve. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

“Anuo,” she said, squatting to look him in the eye and patting his small shoulders with gentle seriousness, “are you suffering from a lack of motherly love?”

Ling Shunuo froze, blinking at her. Lowering his hands from her sleeves, he muttered, “Don’t treat me like a child. I’m not that little anymore.”

Seeing his stubborn little face, Feng Qiuji felt a sudden tenderness and pulled him into her arms. “Since you call me mother, it’s only right I act as one. Come, from now on, I’ll dine with you every day.”

He was only four years old. Ling Zetian might dote on him, but as a man and the emperor, occupied with affairs of state, he could never give the boy all the attention he needed. This child must be terribly lonely—his parents gone so early, leaving him to grow up all alone.

Anuo gazed at her, perplexed. Why had she suddenly changed so much? It was almost frightening! He’d come to comfort her, but somehow the roles had reversed.

Later, after dinner…

“Anuo, now mother needs to check your lessons. Come, sit here and tell me what you learned today,” Feng Qiuji said, attempting to play the virtuous wife and mother, determined to start her new life of propriety and diligence.

Anuo eyed the empty seat beside her, visibly alarmed, and took a step back.

“What’s wrong? Come here, mother’s calling you,” she coaxed with a patient, smiling face.

“Mother,” Anuo stammered, eyeing her gentle, affectionate smile as he clung to the doorframe, nearly bolting. “I’m feeling sleepy tonight. I think I’ll turn in. You should rest early too. Goodnight.”

“But isn’t this your room? Where else would you sleep?” she replied, still beaming with false maternal warmth.

“No, no, no, I want to sleep with Father tonight,” he insisted, practically fleeing.

“You little rascal, how many times have I told you—are you trying to rebel?!” Feng Qiuji finally lost patience, rolling up her sleeves and leaping to her feet.

“Help!” Anuo knew it would come to this. This was the real Feng Qiuji—the earlier display had been all wrong.

Alas, she truly wasn’t cut out to be a virtuous wife and mother. With her temper and lack of patience, how could she ever manage a household, especially with a mischievous boy like Anuo?

Ling Zetian entered the Splendid Palace just in time to hear the chaos—a brown-clad child crashed into his legs.

“You little brat, still trying to run? If you won’t study, then tonight your old man will punish you in the name of the moon—” came a loud, indignant shout.

Ling Zetian looked up to see Feng Qiuji, sleeves rolled up, storming after Anuo with fierce determination.

But the moment she saw Ling Zetian, the world seemed to freeze into silence.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted with perfect decorum, instantly smoothing her demeanor.

Acting? She could do that. She’d seen enough of such scenes, knew the next step was to apologize sincerely for disturbing the palace peace, and to repent for running wild with Ling Shunuo.

But Ling Zetian gave her no such chance.

“Feng Qiuji, come here. I have something to say to you.” He helped Anuo up, glanced at Feng Qiuji, and turned to walk out along the corridor.

Feng Qiuji exchanged a glance with Anuo, signaling him to hurry off to bed, then followed Ling Zetian.

Ah, she really didn’t want to face him now. She had no idea what to say—but avoidance was not an option.

The air was cold. Feng Qiuji tugged her collar higher, shrinking her neck into its warmth as she trailed Ling Zetian outside the palace.

He turned, and suddenly pulled her into his arms.

Caught off guard, it took her a moment to realize that she was enveloped in his warm embrace.

“Were you planning to never return?” he murmured, his chin resting atop her head, his voice low and rough.

Feng Qiuji stood there, stunned, her mind a blur.

Just because he was emperor, did he think he could behave like this, ignoring her feelings? Did being emperor give him the right to embrace her without permission? If anyone else did this, wouldn’t it be a crime? Surely he’d be charged with harassment!

Besides, he already had Qin Ruyan—why hold her now? Was he trying to hurt her further?

In that instant, she found Ling Zetian utterly detestable.

She shoved him away and said sternly, “Your Majesty, please behave yourself.”

——Author’s Note——

Thank you to everyone reading along. I know how hard it is to wait for updates. I myself prefer completed stories—waiting for new chapters is agony, like waiting for an anime to finish. So, my deepest thanks to all who have followed and supported this work.