Chapter Forty-One: Birthday

After much difficulty, Feng Qiuji finally climbed out of the forbidden grounds. Relying on her excellent memory, she turned left, right, east, and west, winding through a peach blossom grove and then across the imperial gardens, until at last she saw a place she recognized.

She decided to find a stone and sit for a while—she truly was exhausted.

“Sister-in-law? What are you doing here?” Before she could even rest, a familiar voice reached her ears.

“None of your business!” Feng Qiuji shot Ling Zexin a glare, her tone sharp. She had absolutely no fondness left for these so-called emperors and princes; each one was more of a scoundrel than the last!

“Why do you sound as if you swallowed gunpowder?” Ling Zexin pouted in dissatisfaction, then continued, “Have you seen my brother?”

“He’s dead!” She wished he really would drop dead right now!

“What?” Ling Zexin’s eyes widened, playing along with her act. “Don’t tell me you murdered your own husband?!”

“Ugh, I haven’t seen him, all right? Now, enough from you!”

“Oh, fine, I’ll keep looking, then,” Ling Zexin muttered, already turning to leave. “I thought he’d spend his birthday with Consort Qin today, but even the people at Twilight Palace said they hadn’t seen him.”

“What?” Feng Qiuji grabbed his collar. “Birthday?”

“Yes. Oh, right,” Ling Zexin slapped his forehead, “it’s actually a secret. You have to keep it for me. I’m off now.”

Releasing his clothes, Feng Qiuji stood there, stunned. So today was Ling Zexian’s birthday?

That meant he had just taken her to that so-called forbidden place…

And told her he liked her…

Could it possibly be… true?

But no matter how she thought about it, it seemed impossible!

Feng Qiuji shook her head, trying to brush away such thoughts, unwilling to indulge in wishful thinking.

Still, it was his birthday. Shouldn’t she give him a gift? After all, she was his wife now. Even if not as his wife—she’d eaten, drunk, and lived under his roof for so long—she ought to give him a present as a friend.

But then again, Ling Zexian was the emperor. Why did no one know it was his birthday? Shouldn’t the whole country be celebrating, grand festivities underway? All the dramas she’d seen depicted it that way, inviting all the civil and military officials, making it as grand as a new emperor’s enthronement.

Then again, Ling Zexian didn’t seem the type. Still, it was odd that no one knew his birthday.

She couldn’t dwell on that now; her mind was occupied with what gift to give him. Normally, she’d give books, flowers, or plants—clearly not appropriate for Ling Zexian. She could have made a cake, but there were no ingredients for that here. What should she do?

She thought until her head throbbed, but came up with nothing.

Wait! She could ask Ling Shunuo for advice. After all, it was his father’s birthday—he ought to do something, and perhaps he’d inspire her.

With that thought, Feng Qiuji immediately set off for Splendid Palace to find the boy.

When she arrived, Anuo was doing his homework. Feng Qiuji saw him propping his chin on his hands, deep in thought but unable to write. She took his assignment and glanced at it—the first task was to copy the “Three Character Classic” twice.

“Why aren’t you writing?” she asked, puzzled.

“My handwriting is always poor. Tomorrow, the teacher will punish me again, so I’m thinking of a new excuse in advance.”

“Why is your handwriting so bad?”

“The teacher’s standards are just too strict,” Anuo said, looking miserable. He picked up his brush and wrote the six characters: “At man’s beginning, nature is good.” “I bet even you can’t write as well as this, but the teacher…”

Feng Qiuji leaned closer to look. Good heavens, every stroke was clear and precise, the upright script perfectly neat. If she were made to write with such a soft brush, she’d never match this four-year-old’s skill. He was just a little boy, meant to be carefree and playful, yet Ling Zexian’s teacher had such high expectations. Was this really a four-year-old’s handwriting? Who’s born knowing how to write? Even a prodigy shouldn’t be pushed so hard.

“All right, then don’t write anymore. I think your writing is just fine. If the teacher complains tomorrow, I’ll talk to him myself!” With that, Feng Qiuji tossed the homework aside.

“Really?” Anuo’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her, as if seeing his savior.

“Really. Leave it to me.” Feng Qiuji patted her chest in assurance. “Today is your father’s birthday. Haven’t you thought of giving him a gift?”

“Birthday?” Anuo was clearly surprised. “Father never celebrates his birthday. I never even knew when it was—so it’s today?”

“What? Not even you knew?” Ling Zexian kept it well hidden.

“Since I know now, I suppose I should give him something. But what?”

“Since he’s never had a birthday party, why not throw him one tonight?”

“Great idea!” Anuo immediately applauded her suggestion.

“Let’s invite everyone, then. Sakura Yu said he’d be in the capital for a while, so he must still be around. Let’s send him an invitation—after all, the more, the merrier.”

“Okay, I’ll write to him right away.” True to his word, Anuo quickly wrote the letter and sent someone to deliver it to Sakura Yu.

“Let’s plan the evening’s activities together…”

At that moment, Ling Zexian was alone, kneeling in the ancestral hall before the memorial tablets of the royal family, including that of his mother.

He had been raised by another of his father’s consorts. For years, he’d believed she was his real mother. Only a few years ago did he learn the truth—that on the day he was born, his actual mother died in childbirth. From that day on, Ling Zexian never celebrated his birthday again; he realized, to his shock, that his birthday was his mother’s death anniversary.

So every year on this day, he would come here to keep her company, to comfort her spirit in the heavens. He felt unfilial—after all these years, he’d never known, always kept in the dark, celebrating each birthday so happily.

When Feng Qiuji found him, this was the scene she came upon.

“Your Majesty,” she called, running up with a bright smile, only to see his somber, unhappy expression. Feng Qiuji forced an awkward smile, wondering if he was upset because she’d just rejected him. “What are you doing here all alone?”

She thought he was in low spirits, hoping tonight would cheer him up.

“What is it?” Ling Zexian glanced at her and stood up.

“Oh, nothing. I just came to find you.” She tugged playfully at his sleeve. “Are you ready to leave now?”

“Go where?”

“Nowhere in particular. I just wondered if you were done here.”

“I have nothing else to do.” Ling Zexian was clearly puzzled. He found her behavior odd.

“Oh. Then come with me.”

Feng Qiuji had arranged the celebration in Chaoyun Palace, insisting that the atmosphere there was more congenial and would bring everyone closer together.

Only Sakura Yu, Sakura Luo, Ling Zexin, Anuo, and Qin Ruyan were present. Feng Qiuji thought about it and decided these were the people closest to them; inviting just a few friends was enough.

She’d deliberately told Anuo not to send an invitation to Sakura Luo, knowing the little girl would pester her brother to bring her along. After all, it was the birthday of someone she liked—who knew what grand present she’d prepared for Ling Zexian.

When Ling Zexian entered Chaoyun Palace, he saw colorful streamers, delicious scents of food, festive lanterns everywhere, and a crowd of unrelated people. He was completely bewildered. “What are you all doing here?”

“Your Majesty, please look over there!”

Ling Zexian followed Feng Qiuji’s pointing finger. Hanging on the wall were several pieces of red paper, bearing Ling Shunuo’s rather clumsy calligraphy: “Birthday Celebration.”

He frowned, his gaze immediately searching Ling Zexin and Sakura Yu, eyes darting back and forth, finally settling on Ling Zexin. After all, he was the only one likely to have revealed his birthday.

Catching his brother’s gaze, Ling Zexin quickly turned away, pretending not to notice and chatting up Sakura Luo instead.

“Whose idea was this?”

“It was Mother’s!” Anuo answered eagerly.

In truth, not even Ling Zexin or Sakura Yu knew that Ling Zexian’s mother had long since passed away. That was the real reason he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday.

“Who asked you to meddle?” Ling Zexian suddenly turned and shouted at Feng Qiuji, startling everyone.

Feng Qiuji looked at his angry face and suddenly felt aggrieved. She had no idea how she’d upset him this time. She just thought he was too often alone and wanted to use this opportunity to make him happy. How could she have known he’d lose his temper?

It was really hard to take!

Fine, she would endure it.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll take it all down right now.” Suppressing the anger rising within her, Feng Qiuji spoke with perfect calm. Ling Zexin quietly tugged Ling Zexian aside, whispering, “Brother, sister-in-law looks like she’s about to explode. You’d better not lose your temper right now.”