Feng Qishan uttered a low, contemplative sound, his gaze finding Feng Suige across the assembled court. When he'd agreed to let Fu Yixiao reside at Water Painting Garden, he'd known these old ministers wouldn't contain their objections for long. So he'd held his silence, waiting with predatory patience for precisely this moment—the inevitable challenge that would allow him to reshape circumstances to his advantage.
Feng Suige gazed steadily at the crane-shaped incense burner before the hall, watching blue smoke curl upward in lazy spirals. His voice emerged cold as winter steel. "It seems Minister Lu has grown old and forgetful. Perhaps you are no longer fit to serve the court. You should return today and prepare your letter of resignation."
Minister Lu recoiled as if struck. "Your humble servant raises this matter purely from security concerns. If this person is a spy planted by Jinxiu—"
"So you are questioning Father?" Feng Suige interrupted with a cold laugh that held no humor.
Feng Qishan raised an eyebrow with calculated curiosity. "Questioning me about what?"
Feng Suige stepped forward, bowing with precise formality. "It was Father who requested her from the Prince of Zhen Nan. Minister Lu believes that Father has left a foreign spy by your son's side."
Color drained from Minister Lu's face. He dropped to his knees with an audible thud. "Your Majesty, please discern clearly! Your humble servant had no such intention!"
Feng Qishan's smile emerged slight, almost amused. "Minister Lu, the prince was merely jesting, yet you took it seriously. Your courage seems somewhat lacking."
Relief rippled through the assembled officials like wind through grass. Nervous laughter erupted, followed by light-hearted remarks designed to dispel tension. Minister Lu forced a smile, though sweat gleamed at his temples. "The prince's majesty is innate; your humble servant naturally feels apprehensive."
Feng Qishan waited for the murmurs to subside before posing his question with deceptive mildness. "Regarding this matter, how do you all think it should be appropriately handled?"
Silence descended over the two rows of civil and military officials like a suffocating blanket.
Minister Lu's complexion had turned ashen. He'd privately coordinated with several censorial officials—he would present the petition, they would step forward to echo his concerns. But a single sentence from the prince had scattered their courage like autumn leaves before a storm. Yet to retreat now would be equally intolerable, marking him as weak before the entire court.
Trapped between dignity and survival, he steeled himself and kowtowed. "Your humble servant still believes that the woman should be placed under house arrest."
"Sometimes," Feng Suige said, enunciating each word with icy precision, "being too obstinate is not a virtue."
Feng Qishan frowned with what appeared to be paternal concern. "What Minister Lu says is not entirely without reason. Suige, do not be willful. Minister Lu, you may rise."
Only then did Minister Lu wipe cold sweat from his forehead, standing and stepping back with poorly concealed relief.
Hearing supportive undertones in the monarch's words, several ministers stepped forward in succession. Out of wariness regarding Feng Suige's obvious displeasure, they phrased their words with diplomatic tact—yet their meaning remained identical. They supported placing Fu Yixiao under solitary confinement with proper surveillance.
Feng Suige listened with forced patience, every muscle in his body rigid with suppressed emotion. He understood these ministers weren't being unreasonable by their own lights. If the situation involved anyone else, he might have raised no objections—might have considered such measures prudent before they'd even suggested them.
But they were discussing Yixiao. Yixiao, whose happiness had just been systematically dismantled by his father and sister working in concert. And he himself had been complicit in that destruction.
"Father." Feng Suige's voice cut through the surrounding clamor. Silence crashed down instantly. Every gaze—overt or covert—fixed upon him, for he represented their future, the man who would one day rule this kingdom. "Everyone is aware of how Fu Yixiao came to stay. Your son also understands Father's intentions." He paused, gathering his courage like armor. "But Father, do you not feel ashamed to place her under house arrest now?"
Rage surged through Feng Qishan with volcanic intensity. He'd known his son's thoughts had been occupied with Fu Yixiao lately. He'd speculated on what arguments the prince might employ to oppose house arrest. But never had he anticipated such direct, public challenge to his authority.
"For the sake of a woman, you dare speak to me like this?" His gaze sharpened to a blade's edge.
Feng Suige's expression remained preternaturally calm as he surveyed each person in the hall—those who gazed at him with surprise, doubt, avoidance, or open disapproval. "Regardless of whether she yielded under pressure, she has consistently conceded. She even rejected Xiyang's proposal and agreed to stay in Susha." His voice gained strength, carrying the weight of conviction. "Father once taught that in conducting oneself, the heart must be righteous and actions upright. One cannot go against reason, nor deceive the heavens. In this matter, we were initially indebted to her. Why does Father refuse to release her and continue pressing her relentlessly?"
"Indebted?" Feng Qishan's sneer dripped with contempt. "Do you think she stayed behind for no reason? Xia Jingshi has already married Xiyang. Even if she returned, she would at most become a concubine. What is a mere concubine of a marquis? How can that status compare with being consort to Susha's future monarch?" His voice turned ugly, vicious. "Did you not see how, as soon as she left Xia Jingshi, she couldn't wait to throw herself into your Water Painting Garden..."
"Father!" Shock stripped Feng Suige's composure. He could scarcely believe such venomous words could emerge from his always-respected father's lips.
Perhaps recognizing his loss of control, Feng Qishan drew a deep breath. His tone softened, took on notes of paternal concern. "This is precisely why, throughout history, the royal family chooses consorts only among noble ladies of princely houses. You must understand—in this world, things cannot be seen from only one perspective. You may treat others wholeheartedly, but others may not necessarily reciprocate in kind."
Feng Suige's expression shifted subtly. His furrowed brows and tightly pressed lips revealed sorrow too complex for simple description—disappointment, determination, grief for the loss of illusions he'd maintained about his father.
Seeing his son's change of countenance, Feng Qishan felt a flicker of compassion. "Father tells you this not to embarrass you before everyone. Father only—"
His words cut off abruptly as astonishment seized him.
Feng Suige smiled. The expression lifted his lips with resolute determination, transforming his features into something almost transcendent. "Truly embarrassing, indeed—very embarrassing."
He knelt with fluid grace, each movement deliberate, his voice resonating through the hall with unmistakable force. "Father, your son wishes to marry Fu Yixiao as his consort!"
The words detonated like thunder.
With a rumbling crash that seemed to shake the very foundations of the throne room, Feng Qishan overturned the dragon desk in explosive rage. The national seal, jade ornaments, scrolls, and ceremonial objects tumbled down the jade steps along with the massive desk, scattering like shattered hopes across polished stone.
The ministers dropped to their knees as one body, kowtowing frantically. "Your Majesty, please quell your anger! Please quell your anger!"
Feng Qishan's jade crown had tilted askew. Eyes blazing with fury, he pointed at the kneeling prince. "Do you dare repeat that for me to hear!"
Feng Suige's calm intensified, becoming almost preternatural. "Your son wishes to marry Fu Yixiao. Your son wants her to be Susha's royal consort."
Feng Qishan stumbled, descending the jade steps with dangerous haste. Anxious palace attendants trotted behind him, voices trembling. "Your Majesty, be careful! Your Majesty, be careful..."
In several swift strides, he reached Feng Suige. His hand rose and fell—a heavy slap that cracked through the silent hall like a whip. Prominent red marks bloomed across the prince's face, deepening from pink to scarlet.
Feng Suige's head turned slightly from the impact, but not a single other muscle moved. Not even his eyebrows flinched.
"I am not yet dead." Feng Qishan grasped his son's chin, forcing their faces close, his tone slow and ominous as gathering storm clouds. "And Susha does not have only you as a prince."
Feng Suige smiled—a terrible expression devoid of humor. "But they are not capable of bearing great responsibilities. That is why Father bestowed upon me the position of Regent Prince."
The words struck like a counterblow. Feng Qishan involuntarily released his grip, stumbling back two steps as if physically pushed. After a long, terrible moment, he gritted out through clenched teeth, "You insist on having her? She is merely a person from Jinxiu with no status or position. She is unqualified to be a royal consort!"
Feng Suige lowered his gaze, voice emerging with quiet conviction. "Everyone has their constraints, but what makes a person noble is only the heart."
"Very well." Feng Qishan's laugh carried no mirth—only rage pushed to its breaking point. "She is noble... I will let you choose. Do you want the position of Regent Prince, or do you want her!"
From among the ministers standing silent witness, an elderly, white-haired figure rushed forward. The Inner Prime Minister and Erudite Scholar—Feng Suige's Shao Fu, his childhood tutor—prostrated himself with desperate urgency. His aged voice trembled with sorrowful pleading. "Your Majesty, please quell your anger! The prince has been stubborn since childhood. His defiance of Your Majesty was only in a moment of agitation. Please, Your Majesty, quell your anger!"
Feng Qishan's expression eased fractionally. He issued a cold snort, flicked his robe sleeve with dismissive gesture, and walked toward the dragon throne atop the jade steps.
The Erudite Scholar crawled closer, whispering urgently to Feng Suige. "The monarch is furious right now. Besides, so many ministers are watching. Speak properly. Don't be so willful. First, admit your mistake to the monarch. We can discuss matters slowly later..."
Feng Suige drew a calming breath, some of his fevered intensity cooling. He whispered with genuine remorse, "I was reckless and made Shao Fu worry."
Then he prostrated himself fully, kowtowing to Feng Qishan with formal obeisance. "Your son was impulsive and defied Father. Please, Father, forgive me."
Feng Qishan paced several steps atop the platform, each footfall deliberate, measuring. Finally, he waved his hand with obvious irritation. "Enough. But this matter is far from settled. The Inner Prime Minister and the prince, remain behind. The rest of you lords may withdraw."
The palace attendant standing nearby swallowed audibly before raising his voice to announce, "Court is dismissed—"
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