Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 125: Return

When joy comes, the spirit flourishes. After reconciling with Wei Yingluo, Hongli had been visibly cheerful for several days in a row. Even when a young eunuch beside him accidentally spilled tea on his robes, he didn’t get angry; instead he spoke gently and told Li Yu not to punish the boy.

Perhaps good things come in pairs—on this day, while he was handling state affairs in the Yangxin Hall, Li Yu suddenly rushed in from outside.

“Your Majesty!” Li Yu bowed and reported, “Great victory at Jinchuan! General Fucha personally led the campaign and captured several Jinchuan blockhouses!”

Hongli immediately stood up, joy spreading across his face:

“Really? Jinchuan has been won? Fuheng has won!”

Li Yu: “Yes, Your Majesty. The Jinchuan chieftain Salawen has submitted a petition of surrender. The army will soon withdraw and return to the capital!”

“Good! Good! Good!” Hongli said the word three times in succession. “My judgment was not wrong—Fuheng is truly a rare military talent! Transmit the decree: Fuheng is to return to the capital first to report on his duties!”

This campaign had lasted a full two years. When Fuheng returned to the Fucha residence, the people of the household almost failed to recognize him. The elegant young gentleman who once shone like a full moon was now not only tanned dark but noticeably thinner, his face weathered by wind and dust—more like a lone wisp of smoke rising in the great desert than the bright full moon of before.

“Fuheng, Fuheng!” The old madam rushed out quickly. Her eyesight had grown even worse; even though the person was right in front of her, she couldn’t see him. Her hands kept groping around in all directions. “Where are you? Where are you?”

“Mother!” Fuheng hurriedly reached out to support her.

The old madam followed his hand, feeling her way up to his cheek. Gradually she recognized her son’s face and said with tears in her eyes, “You’ve been gone nearly three years, and you’ve finally come back. My son, you’ve grown so thin…”

“It’s good that you’re back.” Erqing approached in splendid attire, her smile radiant and charming. “From now on, don’t leave again, so that neither Mother nor I have to worry ourselves sick.”

The moment he saw her, Fuheng’s expression immediately darkened. “Why are you here?”

Though the old madam couldn’t see, she could hear the displeasure in his voice and spoke with a slight reproach: “You went away and left your wife behind. Poor thing—she was heavily pregnant and nearly died in difficult labor. If I hadn’t forced people to break open that building, you would have caused me to lose my grandson!”

Fuheng replied indifferently, “Isn’t everything fine now?”

The old madam didn’t understand why he treated her this way. He was kind to everyone else, yet toward Erqing he acted as if she were his mortal enemy. She had tried to persuade him many times, but it was useless. The two of them were like a mirror shattered into pieces—even if forcibly pieced back together, the cracks would always remain.

Now she could only pin her hopes on that child, hoping he might mend their broken relationship. The old madam said, “Come now, come and see your son—Fukang’an… Fukang’an…”

The crowd parted, and a small boy walked toward them.

He was about two or three years old, dressed in a brocade robe of blue with floral patterns, wearing a precious cap on his head adorned with a beautiful Eastern pearl that shimmered with light. The child walked up to Fuheng, raised his head, and timidly looked at him. His pair of extremely beautiful eyes were strikingly similar to those of Hongli in his youth, as Fuheng remembered them.

Fuheng felt as though a needle had pierced his heart. He quickly turned his head away. “Mother, I still have to enter the palace to report on official duties. I cannot stay at home long. I’ll come back tonight to keep you company and talk, alright?”

For people of the Fucha family, state affairs always took precedence over family matters. The old madam could only nod in agreement. Before he left, she still reminded him, “Come back early. Don’t spend all your time on the affairs of the nation. Occasionally you should also find some time to spend with your wife and your child.”

Fuheng gave a reluctant nod, but he had no desire whatsoever to look at that mother and son. After seeing the old madam off, he immediately prepared to depart, as though two ferocious beasts were chasing after him.

“Stop.”

One of the beasts called out to him.

Seeing that Fuheng did not pause, the other party simply ran over and blocked his way.

“Fuheng.” Erqing’s makeup was exquisite, yet no amount of thick powder or vivid rouge could conceal the malice hidden in her smile. “This is your son. How can you not even take a proper look at him?”

As she spoke, she pushed Fukang’an forward.

Once again, Fuheng averted his eyes. He truly did not want to see that familiar pair of eyes.

“Do you know I nearly died giving birth in that attic?” Erqing said with a laugh. “Now that you see me, you won’t even say a single word of apology?”

Fuheng replied coldly, “There were doctors and midwives in the building.”

He hated her for her infidelity, hated her for scheming against Hongli and conceiving a forbidden child. Even so, he had never intended to kill her or silence her. He still provided her with fine food and wine, and never skimped on her daily needs. From her, he had only taken one thing—her freedom.

Yet Erqing only remembered that he had taken her freedom; she forgot everything he had given her.

Perhaps in her eyes, Fuheng would always be the one who owed her, and therefore she could naturally take revenge on him and demand everything from him.

“I needed my husband’s care even more.” She moved closer to Fuheng, reaching for the thing she craved most—love.

But Fuheng stretched out his hand and pushed her away, giving a faint smile. “From the moment you did that thing, Fucha Fuheng ceased to be your husband.”

Erqing fell silent for a moment, then smiled at him. “Fuheng, you won’t be so heartless toward me.”

“Do you think that my keeping you here means I have feelings for you?” Fuheng looked at her, his eyes devoid of the slightest trace of affection. His gaze slowly shifted to Fukang’an, filled with an indescribable complexity. “It’s only for this child’s sake… Since you gave birth to him, be a proper mother from now on. Stop humiliating yourself.”

Fukang’an shuddered and hid his small body behind Erqing, then cautiously peeked out to observe him.

Fuheng looked at the child.

He could not give him fatherly love. He didn’t even know what kind of gaze he should use to look at him in the future. With a quiet sigh in his heart, Fuheng turned to leave.

Behind him, Erqing suddenly scoffed with icy disdain. “Lord Fucha, are you in such a hurry to enter the palace to see Wei Yingluo?”

Fuheng ignored her.

“Oh my, look at my loose tongue!” Erqing raised her voice slightly. “How could I call her Wei Yingluo? I should properly address her as her Ladyship Concubine Ling!”

Fuheng’s steps faltered. He whipped around sharply. “What did you say?”

Without immediately answering, Erqing bent down and picked up the hiding Fukang’an, holding him in her arms. The adult and child — two ferocious floods — stared at Fuheng together, carrying an unspeakable humiliation and unbearable shame.

“The humiliation I give you, the pain Fukang’an causes you… it seems that together they still cannot compare to one Wei Yingluo.” Erqing smiled sweetly and said, “Look at you — your face has gone so pale… Aren’t you going to see her? Go on then. Go to Yanxi Palace. Go kneel before her. Go call her Her Ladyship Concubine Ling.”

Each sentence, each word, stabbed into Fuheng’s chest like a knife, leaving him bleeding profusely, covered in wounds. “I don’t believe it.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then gritted his teeth and opened them again. “You’re lying to me!”

He stumbled away in near-disarray, mounted his horse, whipped it fiercely, and galloped through the palace gates.

Horses were not allowed inside the palace. He dismounted, tossed the reins to the guard, and hurried inside — but not toward Yangxin Hall.

“Fuheng!” A hand grabbed his arm. “Have you gone mad?”

Fuheng turned to look at the other person. “Let go.”

Hailancha seemed to have run all the way here; his breathing was slightly ragged, sweat beaded on his forehead. He glanced around warily, then lowered his voice: “The Emperor is still waiting for you at Yangxin Hall. What are you doing running to Yanxi Palace?”

As an outer court official, privately entering the inner palace could be a capital offense.

Not to mention Fuheng’s past with Wei Yingluo…

Fuheng knew it was improper, yet he could not control his own feet. They seemed to have a will of their own, desperately carrying him toward Yanxi Palace, toward that person.

“I…” Fuheng murmured, “I have one sentence I need to say to her.”

That sentence had been hidden in his heart for a very long time.

He had originally planned to tell her before going to the battlefield. But then he thought — if he died on the battlefield, wouldn’t those words become a burden to her? So in the Yuanmingyuan, he only looked at her from afar, swallowed the words that had reached his lips, turned silently, and marched off to war.

He told himself: “I will keep these words in my heart. If I die on the battlefield, this heart will rot with me. If I return alive, I will cut this heart open and give it to her.”

“…She’s coming!” Hailancha suddenly yanked him down. “Quick, lower your head!”

But Fuheng refused to bow. He stared straight ahead at the approaching palanquin with its ceremonial poles.

He had survived nine deaths and one life for the chance to speak to her.

   Yet now that he had finally returned alive, he had already lost the right to speak to her.

   This heart had not rotted on the battlefield — it would rot inside his chest instead…

   As if sensing something, inside the palanquin, Wei Yingluo suddenly turned her head. The bright moon-shaped earring swayed with her movement, flashing two streaks of snowy white light in the air. Her gaze was colder than the pearl’s gleam, fixing firmly on Fuheng’s face.

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