The roadside tea stand's table was already frail, one leg wobbling precariously. With a forceful shove, Lady Ye overturned it; the coarse teacup toppled into Ye Xi's lap, drenching him in a splash of scalding tea. He stood unmoving, his expression tinged with nostalgic melancholy.
"You've not changed, my lady," he murmured.
"If I had changed," she snapped, "I'd have died long ago!"
"The year you left, the Duke's estate descended into chaos. Our lands were seized, kin scattered. Ye Jiao was but five—yet she followed me into business deals, collected debts, and ran freight errands. She suffered hardship, never knowing the life of a noble daughter. Now, she has finally come of age and met a suitor worthy of her—handsome, virtuous, her equal in every way. But you return, say nothing, and forbid the match? You—her father! Even Feng Jie in our household is a thousandfold more sensible than you!"
Feng Jie had once served under Duke An, but after sustaining injuries, he retired to live at the estate, watching Ye Jiao grow up. Now he had accompanied Lady Ye in the carriage and was waiting at a distance.
Ye Xi accepted her scolding in silence. After a long pause, he picked up the fallen teacup from his lap, wiped it clean, and placed it behind him on the ground.
The tea vendor, roused from his nap, leapt down from the willow and rushed over in alarm. "Madam, I know you're angry, but must you flip my stall?"
"Feng Jie!" Lady Ye barked, ignoring the vendor entirely.
Feng Jie hobbled over at once, retrieving a string of coins from his pouch and tossing them to the vendor.
Clutching the hefty sum, the tea seller's expression brightened. "Madam, feel free to flip anything you like—even the stove if it pleases you."
He retreated back beneath the willow, squinting with lazy amusement as he eavesdropped on the quarrel.
Feng Jie tried to soothe Lady Ye and respectfully saluted Ye Xi, who nodded slightly and said, "Yanwei, I do not deny the young man is admirable. But you and I both know what brought the Duke's house to ruin. If misfortune can be avoided, why walk straight into it?"
"For joy! For the right to live freely!" Lady Ye shot back without hesitation. She paced before him, then turned abruptly, her phoenix eyes burning with fury.
"Would marrying another guarantee peace? Back when Fu Qian pitied our family and proposed an alliance, the date was set. Yet Fu Mingzhu still dallied with others. The entire capital laughed at us. My once carefree daughter wept for days."
"Jiao… does she cry easily?" Ye Xi asked. Though he didn't say so, he thirsted for every detail of his daughter's life.
"No," Lady Ye replied. "That one is Ye Rou. And when I speak of Rou'er, my anger only worsens. If it weren't for you… would she have—"
Would she have been bullied by her husband's family, lost her child, and ended her marriage? She couldn't finish. Her love for her daughter choked her voice, and tears welled in her eyes. Regaining composure, she bit out, "All these years, we've honored your every demand. When you sent for silver to aid disaster victims, we gave it without question. But now that I wish to marry off my daughter, you must stay out of it!"
"How can this be called meddling…" Ye Xi began, but Lady Ye turned her back, striding away with stormy steps. She climbed into the carriage and barked, "Feng Jie! Home!" Her voice was heavy with scorn and fury, as if unwilling to utter another word to him.
Feng Jie offered a sheepish bow and withdrew. Ye Xi waved him off, rose slowly with soaked garments clinging to him, and walked toward the Taoist temple.
The tea seller jumped down again to tidy his stall. When passersby approached to rest, he shooed them away. "Can't you see? The stand's been smashed. No more tea—go home!"
He tossed his things onto an ox cart with a clang, turned onto a quiet alley, and slipped into a courtyard.
Not long after, he reemerged in clean, well-fitting clothes. Strolling through the streets, no one acknowledged him. After a winding path through the city, he stepped onto the imperial avenue and made his way toward the Daming Palace.
"Halt! Who goes there?" barked the palace guards.
The tea seller said nothing. He simply drew a token from his robe and displayed it.
The guards immediately stepped aside, solemn and silent. He passed through the palace gates, ascended Danfeng Tower, lingered a while within, then departed, leaving the avenue.
Half an hour later, the eunuch waiting in the tower delivered his message into the palace.
In the imperial garden, where the Emperor was recovering and enjoying the blossoms, the news incited such fury that he nearly coughed up another mouthful of blood.
"Ye Xi?" he roared. "He refuses to marry his daughter to my son? Does he have a death wish?"
The Duke's house had barely begun to see better days, and now he dares defy imperial will?
My son—so what if he's frail, stiff, blunt, or poorly salaried? And his daughter? What of her? Loud, unruly, brash and reckless! Just pretty, healthy, cheerful, vivacious, and… adorable—
The Emperor's expression froze as he brushed away these unwelcome thoughts.
A flicker crossed his mind—could it be that Li Ce truly is not worthy of Ye Jiao?
No. He shook his head. Ye Xi fears a repeat of the past—a treasonous entanglement dragging House An into ruin again.
Blossoms swirled in the wind. The Emperor's gaze darkened.
How absurd. Li Ce is more prudent and cunning than the late Prince Chen. Beneath his mild facade lies ruthless decisiveness—equal to my own. Why else would I choose him to rival the Crown Prince, to keep the throne from slipping into his sole grasp?
Ye Xi overthinks.
"He still resides in that decrepit temple?" the Emperor asked.
"Yes. Its walls are low, the gates often left open, no one stands watch at night," the eunuch answered deferentially.
Gao Fu, the trusted attendant nearby, faltered, lowering his head to conceal a flash of worry.
The eunuch's every word seemed calculated—low walls, no guards, open doors… ripe for an assassin.
But the Emperor, still weak from illness, noticed nothing amiss. He nodded. "Have the Imperial Guards and Wuhou extend their patrols. With Prince Chu's wedding near, Ye Xi mustn't die now."
If Ye Xi died, Ye Jiao would have to observe three years of mourning. She could not marry.
The Emperor coughed lightly, anxiety flickering across his face. Three years was long—would he live to see it?
As the messenger left, the Emperor turned to re-enter the palace. He raised his arm, but Gao Fu didn't step forward to assist him.
Surprised, the Emperor looked down. "What is it?"
Tears streamed down Gao Fu's face as he fell to his knees. "Forgive your servant's breach of decorum! I am merely overwhelmed by Your Majesty's boundless mercy. That you would treat Ye Xi and House An with such grace…"
The Emperor smirked and gestured for him to rise. He leaned on Gao Fu's arm and walked slowly back toward his chambers.
"Mercy? I am not merciful," he said coldly. "I want Ye Xi to see the truth. For nearly twenty years I have toiled—morning and night—bringing peace and prosperity to Great Tang. I even forgave his past, gave his son an office, and betrothed his daughter to Prince Chu. He once wandered these halls, repeatedly recommending Prince Chen to the late Emperor—as if no one else could inherit the throne. After all these years, I want him to choke on his pride, to be consumed by shame, to submit utterly."
Then he recalled something.
"Is Ye Xi's sister still tending Prince Chen's grave?"
"Your Majesty did overturn the verdict against Li Qian," Gao Fu replied. "Perhaps she's simply grown used to life by the Huai River and doesn't wish to return."
The Emperor nodded and ascended the steps.
"I even gave Ye Jiao a silken pouch," he murmured. "Let her and Prince Chu share my burdens."
"Your Majesty is wise beyond measure," Gao Fu said, bowing low to support him.