Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 95: The Wedding is coming!!

   After returning from Changchun Palace, Hongli was still seething with undiminished anger.

“Me, liking that woman? No, impossible! I would never like her!” A huge pile of memorials awaited his review, yet he couldn’t read a single word. Grinding his teeth, he paced back and forth inside Yangxin Hall. “I possess all within the seas—what kind of woman can’t I have? As beautiful as Noble Consort Hui, as virtuous and capable as Noble Consort Xian, as talented and brilliant as Consort Chun…”

He listed one palace consort after another, finally convincing himself—it wasn’t that he was blind; clearly the Empress’s eyes were the problem.

No—obviously she had been bewitched by that damned girl, which had confused her mind and made her unable to tell north from south!

“Your Majesty.” Li Yu’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Fuheng, the Imperial Guard, has arrived.”

Hongli opened his eyes, took a deep breath: “Let him in.”

Fuheng entered and performed the greeting: “This servant respectfully wishes Your Majesty well.”

“Fuheng.” Hongli sat in his chair, looking down at him from above. “I have always kept you by my side to temper and train you. Now you are capable of standing on your own. After your marriage, you will take up a post in the Ministry of Revenue as Right Vice Minister.”

Fuheng was stunned upon hearing this: “Your Majesty, this servant is still young. To suddenly assume such a high position, I fear…”

Hongli waved his hand, cutting off the rest of his words: “Fuheng, my expectations for you go far beyond a mere post in the Ministry of Revenue. I know your ambitions lie elsewhere! But you must remember: a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. If you wish to establish great merit and achievements, you must first prove to everyone that my judgment was not wrong! The Ministry of Revenue will be your starting point!”

With the Emperor having spoken to this extent, Fuheng could no longer refuse. He prostrated himself: “This servant kowtows in gratitude for Your Majesty’s extraordinary grace!”

Once official business was concluded, Hongli hesitated for a moment before finally unable to resist asking about the other man’s personal affairs: “By the way, how are the wedding preparations coming along?”

“They are underway.” Fuheng’s face remained expressionless, as though he were discussing someone else’s private matters.

Looking at that wooden, emotionless face, Hongli said lightly: “Achieving top honors on the imperial exam and entering the bridal chamber on the wedding night are among the great joys of life. Yet today I have granted you a real official post and bestowed upon you a beautiful bride—why is there not the slightest trace of joy on your face?”

“Your Majesty’s grace, this servant will never forget in this lifetime.” Though he would not forget, he also felt no joy. Fuheng’s face remained devoid of any happiness—neither joy nor sorrow, like a piece of decayed wood that had lost all its moisture.

Suddenly, Hongli became angry. Because he had seen that very same expression on another person’s face. The two faces overlapped in his vision. Unable to restrain himself, Hongli slammed his fist heavily on the table and roared: “Get out!”

After Fuheng withdrew, Hongli’s mood still had not recovered.

He paced back and forth inside Yangxin Hall for a long time before suddenly stopping. Turning to Li Yu, he said: “Prepare the sedan—I wish to go out for a walk!”

In the depths of winter, the Forbidden City was bitterly cold. Each of the Eastern and Western Six Palaces had its own warming chambers, with heated flues laid beneath the floors. In autumn, the flues had to be cleaned; the palace servants responsible for tending the kang stoves were busy with the task.

Li Yu had originally assumed that when His Majesty said he wanted to “go out for a walk,” he meant the Imperial Garden or perhaps to visit one of the consorts in the rear palace. Who would have expected that, after wandering, he would end up outside at the side of the underground dragon flue. The kang-heating crew was working right there. One eunuch crawled into the tunnel, reached out his hand, and Wei Yingluo hurriedly passed him the cleaning tools. The eunuch took them and continued clearing the accumulated soot from the flue. Dust billowed everywhere, and Wei Yingluo coughed uncontrollably amid the choking clouds.

Hongli watched from the side for a long while before finally stepping forward. In a deep voice he demanded: “Have all the people at the kang-heating station died?”

The moment they saw it was him, the eunuchs at the kang-heating station hurriedly knelt. Those still inside the tunnel scrambled out in haste. The scene instantly became chaotic and disorderly.

Wei Yingluo was also kneeling among them. Besides her, there were several other palace servants from the Cleansing Division. Every year at this time, the charcoal flues had to be cleaned, and the twenty-five eunuchs in the kang-heating department couldn’t manage it alone, so they often requested personnel from the Cleansing Division.

Li Yu followed Hongli’s gaze and, seeing that it was her, immediately understood. Pretending to be surprised, he said, “Oh my, how is it you? The Cleansing Division should at least send a eunuch to do the work—why send a young girl?”

Wei Yingluo kept her head lowered and said nothing. The assignment had been arranged for her by Yuan Chunwang. Because of his prior arrangements, the work was very light—she was only responsible for passing cleaning tools. The rest of the time she rested, which was far more relaxed than in the Cleansing Division, and the injuries on her hands were almost healed.

A pair of bright yellow boots slowly approached her. Hongli’s voice came from above her head, calm and indifferent: “You’ve been in the Cleansing Division for so long. Don’t you want to return to Changchun Palace?”

Having suffered enough hardships under him, Wei Yingluo answered very cautiously: “This servant committed offenses and dares not hope for such favor.”

Her extreme caution only provoked Hongli’s displeasure. He didn’t even know what he was angry about, but his face turned cold as he said, “You can come and beg me!”

Li Yu glanced at him and chimed in: “Yingluo, His Majesty is giving you an opportunity.”

Wei Yingluo didn’t dare take the bait—she feared there was poison inside it.

Hongli stared at her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her cracked and dry fingertips. Suddenly he said, “The Empress has awakened.”

Wei Yingluo jerked her head up to look at him.

“She has been bedridden for a long time, unable to walk properly, and her mood has been poor. She has become much thinner.” Hongli spoke indifferently. “Wei Yingluo, you received great kindness from the Empress—don’t you want to go back and serve her?”

Wei Yingluo sighed inwardly. Some bait, even when you know it’s poisoned, you still have to force yourself to swallow it. She prostrated herself fully before Hongli and, as he wished, softened her tone: “I beg Your Majesty to show mercy and allow this servant to return to Changchun Palace to serve Her Majesty the Empress!”

Seeing that she had finally taken the bait, Hongli smiled. “I can let you go back. However, you have defied me many times—I cannot let that go unpunished!”

Wei Yingluo answered without the slightest hesitation: “This servant is willing to accept punishment.”

Hongli’s smile deepened: “You have to actually accomplish it first!”

Yingluo raised her head and looked straight into Hongli’s eyes: “If Your Majesty says it, this servant will certainly make it happen!”

Flying snow filled the sky. Unbeknownst to them, winter had already arrived.

White snow blanketed the capital. As far as the eye could see, heaven and earth were one color of white. Yet inside the Fucha residence, everything was a uniform red.

Red firecrackers crackled and popped. Fuheng, dressed in bright red wedding robes, sat in the inner courtyard, staring blankly at the red double-happiness character pasted on the window.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, followed by a laugh: “Brother, what’s wrong?”

Fuheng woke as if from a dream and turned to look at his younger brother: “A-Qian.”

Fuqian was young and handsome, bearing a strong resemblance to Fuheng, though he appeared more delicate, with a hint of scholarly refinement. He smiled: “Brother, tonight is your wedding night—why are you hiding here alone?”

Fuheng said in confusion, “I… I don’t know.”

Fuqian looked at him strangely: “Have you gone silly from happiness? Hurry back—the bride is waiting for you!”

Where in the world is there a paradise untouched by reality? After Fuqian found him, Fuheng was practically pushed all the way back to the bridal chamber. The door closed behind him. His face pale, he looked at everything before him: the red bridal veil, the red wedding robes, the red-clad bride.

The wedding matron brought over a weighing-rod scale and smiled: “Groom, quickly lift the veil.”

Fuheng slowly reached out and took the rod. He had held guns and swords before, yet he never imagined that this small weighing-rod would feel heavier than any gun or sword—he could barely hold it steady.

The rod slipped under the edge of the veil and slowly lifted it, revealing a shy, delicate face beneath.

Erqing had always been beautiful. After careful adornment for the wedding, she was now as radiant as peach and plum blossoms. Any man who saw her would want to taste her sweetness.

Only Fuheng, the moment he saw her, turned even paler.

Erqing kept her head lowered and did not notice the change in his expression. The matchmaker saw it but assumed he was simply overly nervous and did not pay it much mind. She used the bamboo pole already prepared and lifted the red veil up to the eaves, announcing in a loud voice:

“Perfect harmony and satisfaction, rising step by step!”

According to custom, this was the moment Fuheng should sit beside Erqing, yet he remained motionless for a long time, standing there like a wooden statue. The matchmaker had no choice but to go over and remind him:

“Groom, you need to sit here!”

Fuheng started slightly, came back to himself, and—with obvious reluctance—finally sat down next to Erqing.

The matchmaker came forward, overlapped the hems of their robes, and placed them on the kang table. On the table were “descendant dumplings” and longevity noodles. The matchmaker kept up a steady stream of auspicious words:

“Wishing the two of you every joy and fulfillment, blessings and longevity both complete!”

The maids chimed in from all sides:

“Yes, yes—may you soon give birth to a precious son!”

“A hundred years of harmony! Growing old together!”

“Many sons and grandsons! A hundred years of companionship!”

Amid the noisy congratulations, the matchmaker brought over a plate of dumplings:

“Now, eat the dumplings!”

She first took one dumpling and held it to Erqing’s lips. Erqing took a small, gentle bite, leaving a bright rouge-red mark on the snowy-white dumpling. The matchmaker smiled and asked:

“Will you give birth?”

Blushing, Erqing answered softly:

“Yes… yes, I will.”

Everyone clapped and laughed joyfully.

The matchmaker then took the same dumpling to feed Fuheng. Halfway there, Fuheng suddenly stood up, pushed her hand away, and rushed outside.

“Urgh—”

First the dumpling, then all the wine he had drunk earlier—everything in his stomach surged up his throat and poured out. It took a long while before he finally finished vomiting.

When Fuheng braced himself against the wall and slowly straightened up again, the bridal chamber had fallen deathly silent. Everyone stared at him in stunned confusion and bewilderment, unable to understand why he was in such agony.

“Everyone, get out,” Fuheng said hoarsely, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He dismissed them all.

Then he slowly sat down on a chair and looked across at Erqing, who was still seated on the edge of the bed.

Between them lay a distance that felt almost impossible to cross.

After a long silence, Erqing hesitantly ventured, her voice trembling and carrying the trace of a sob:

“Fuheng… are you… regretting it?”

Fuheng froze. The Empress’s warning echoed in his ears:

“Fuheng, I am very afraid… that you will regret this for the rest of your life.”

   Fuheng took a deep breath, as though trying to convince himself:

“No. I don’t regret it.”

Hearing this, Erqing let out a breath of relief and showed a gentle smile:

“I don’t regret it either. Even knowing full well that you love her, I am still willing to marry you! Fuheng, as long as I can become your wife, I am willing to do anything, endure any pain.”

Fuheng understood exactly what she was implying. He sighed, took her hand, and said softly:

“Erqing, from the moment I decided to marry you, I resolved to forget her.”

“Really?” Erqing looked up in delighted surprise, a teardrop glistening at the corner of her eye as she gazed at him with adoration.

“Yes. Since I have married you, I must take responsibility toward you. You are my wife now—the person I will spend my life with…” Fuheng spoke mechanically. He had once used these same words to comfort the Empress; now he used them again to comfort Erqing.

But while such words could deceive others, they could never deceive himself.

After a pause, he said in a low voice:

“It’s just… I still need a little time…”

Erqing raised her hand and gently pressed it to his lips, shaking her head tenderly:

“I understand. I understand everything. It’s all right. As long as you can say those words to me, I am willing to wait—no matter how long it takes. Fuheng, I am willing to wait!”

The same words he had once said to Yingluo…

Fuheng tried hard to suppress the pain in his heart and forced a smile at her. But that smile was as bitter as if he had drunk all the world’s bitterness

“Thank you, Erqing… thank you…”

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