Chapter 65: The Silk Marriage Contract
It wasn’t convenient to remain in the palace for long, so Liu Ting, along with her younger sister Liu Yu and Xie Yan, left together.
As soon as they walked down the steps before Funing Hall, Liu Yu stopped and looked toward Xie Yan. “May I ask who this gentleman is?”
He had appeared so suddenly earlier that she hadn’t had time to properly take note of him.
Liu Ting turned back to his sister and said, “Of course you wouldn’t recognize him. This is Xie Yan—top scholar of two reigns. He has been living in seclusion in our Qi State for many years.”
Liu Yu nodded in realization, and then noticed the streaks of white at his temples, the patches on his sleeves and knees.
“I think I’ve seen Mr. Xie before—at Jianguo Temple. He often speaks with the abbot in his meditation room. Once I visited with father, and while I was copying scriptures, one character was missing… Mr. Xie was the one who pointed it out to me, right?”
Xie Yan bowed. “Miss Liu has an excellent memory. It was indeed me.”
Liu Yu politely cupped her hands to him. “Then we’re friends from now on. Please take care of me.”
“Of course.”
Seeing Xie Yan’s mild and distant expression, Liu Ting smiled. “My sister is just like this. Please don’t mind her.”
Xie Yan shook his head with a slight laugh. “Not at all.”
The three walked along the palace road—Liu Yu swinging her sleeves, striding ahead; Liu Ting and Xie Yan walking side by side behind her.
Liu Ting asked, “What brought you here today?”
But Xie Yan asked instead, “That piece of calligraphy I wrote for you last time—did your father like it?”
“He loved it. Keeps admiring it every day.”
They exchanged smiles.
Xie Yan had lived at Jianguo Temple for a long time, and Liu Ting often visited with his family. The two had, in fact, known each other for quite some time.
After a moment, Liu Ting asked again, “Weren’t you determined never to serve in office? His Majesty invited you twice before and you refused both times. Why did you suddenly change your mind today?”
Xie Yan could no longer avoid the question. He thought for a moment and said, “Two reasons.”
“I have witnessed four monarchs. The first was the King of Song, then the three generations of Qi’s rulers. The King of Song and the late Emperor of Qi both blocked my path to service. Had Qi’s Emperor Dezong still been alive, I would surely have served him. When His Majesty invited me the first time, he had not yet gained power; the second time, I myself had fallen into despair. Had I come then, it would have been far less appropriate than coming now.”
Liu Ting asked, “What’s the second reason?”
Hands clasped behind his back, Xie Yan sighed softly. “Throughout history, those who carry out reforms must be prepared to die for them. Chu Zhuoshi insisted on taking part. I couldn’t dissuade him—so I could only accompany him to the end.”
Liu Ting laughed. “See? You ran for so many years, got your deed of freedom back, and still couldn’t escape the Chu family.”
Xie Yan said, “It’s not because of that. What I hate most is when people talk about ‘loyal bonds between master and servant.’”
At that moment, a procession came toward them from the opposite direction—quite an impressive one from the looks of it.
When they approached, it became clear they were envoys from Song State, entering the palace to attend the banquet.
Duke of Guangning, Zhao Cun, and Princess Rongning walked in the lead, followed by a crowd of servants.
The three from Qi bowed politely, straightened, and prepared to pass by.
As they passed, Zhao Cun muttered, “If I didn’t know this was the Qi palace, I’d think it was a marketplace. What a mix of people—some even dressed so poorly. And girls roaming without veils.”
His words were outrageously inappropriate. Princess Rongning immediately shot him a warning look and turned back to see whether the others had heard.
Xie Yan remained perfectly calm and unfazed.
But Liu Yu—young and hot-tempered—snorted coldly and said loudly, “In Song, maidens wear veils so men won’t see their faces. But the veil isn’t meant for them, is it?”
“We Qi women walk the streets openly and upright, and we don’t encounter the sort of men from Song who point fingers at strangers. What would we need to fear?”
She cast one final glance at Princess Rongning, whose hair glittered with jewels, then turned away.
Liu Ting and Xie Yan nodded politely and followed after her.
—
Tonight’s banquet was held in Heqing Hall to receive the Song envoys. All officials were present.
Dusk was falling, and the hall glowed with bright lanterns.
The banquet had not yet begun; ministers clustered together in conversation.
Wen Yan, who had injured his leg previously and rested at home for a long time, was attending this kind of event for the first time since recovering.
Dressed in the green robe of an imperial censor, he stood tall and straight like a bamboo stalk.
He stood with Chu Yu and Jiang Huan, chatting. Occasionally, officials they knew from before approached to greet them.
Then came the eunuch’s announcement: “Duke of Guangning of Song and Princess Rongning have arrived.”
Everyone stood to bow as the two entered Heqing Hall.
They were dressed in Song ceremonial attire. Song considered itself the orthodox center of civilization; its monarch prided himself on elegance, and the garments were indeed refined.
After taking their seats, Princess Rongning lowered her head to straighten her robes. Habitually, she touched the light veil covering her face, but then recalled the girl’s bold words on the palace road.
—So wearing a veil was never really for the women themselves.
She turned to look at her brother.
Zhao Cun was kneeling upright, hands on his knees, just about to lift the lid of the wine jug to see what good wine Qi provided.
Princess Rongning was about to look away when Zhao Cun glanced at her and warned softly, “Beloved sister, you must not make any mistakes tonight.”
She paused and simply replied, “I understand.”
Soon after, the eunuch announced: “His Majesty has arrived.”
Zhao Cun and Princess Rongning rose to bow. All officials stood with hands raised, performing the three deep bows.
Chu Yu muttered, “I envy Han Min so much—he doesn’t have to bow with us.”
Wen Yan frowned. “Too talkative.”
Indeed, Han Min, standing behind Fu Xun, did not need to bow.
Zhao Cun noticed and secretly curled his lip.
Qi’s imperial robes were solemn—dark black with red accents.
The shoulders bore sun, moon, and stars—receiving the mandate of heaven; the waist was adorned with jade pendants—blessings for all people.
Fu Xun walked down the center of Heqing Hall.
Han Min followed at his side, wearing a brand-new court attendant’s red uniform that almost dazzled the eyes.
A jade belt cinched his slim waist; dressed in bright red, he looked even fairer and taller. His hat and boots were also inlaid with matching jade.
Fu Xun climbed the nine jade steps, turned, and said mildly, “Rise.”
Only after he was seated did the ministers take their seats.
Fu Xun sat straight and turned to look at Han Min.
Han Min stood beside him, brush and paper in hand, jotting things down.
The hall was silent as ministers took their seats—until they heard Fu Xun say suddenly, “Come sit.”
Everyone looked up, unsure who he meant. Only Chu Yu didn’t lift an eyelid—he nudged the official in front of him and whispered, “Move along, he’s not calling you. His Majesty is calling Han Min, Lord Han.”
Indeed, Fu Xun was looking at the red-clad court attendant and pointing at the cushion beside him.
Seeing Han Min confused, he repeated, “Come sit beside me.”
He didn’t speak loudly, but everyone in the hall could hear it.
Han Min flushed with embarrassment—he didn’t want to sit, afraid it would stir gossip. But Fu Xun was insistent. So he hurriedly put his brush and paper away, lifted his robe, and knelt on the cushion beside the emperor.
A palace attendant quickly brought fresh dishes and utensils.
Han Min thanked him—only to have Fu Xun smack him on the head.
With the hat still on, Fu Xun’s pat pushed it down, almost covering Han Min’s eyes.
Han Min inhaled deeply. Calm down. Don’t get mad.
He adjusted his emotions, straightened his hat, and glared at Fu Xun.
Fu Xun coughed. “My hand slipped.”
Han Min turned and saw a hundred pairs of eyes stealing glances their way.
He puffed his cheeks, picked up his brush.
—Fine, look all you want. I’m the one getting bullied anyway. I’m writing this into the daily record.
—
Jade plates of delicacies, amber wine—yet to Zhao Cun of Song, Qi’s banquet felt like torture.
Song banquets featured dancers and beauties—soft-eyed, slender-waisted, intoxicating enough to make a man wish to die in their arms.
But Qi’s entertainment was… a formation battle.
Drums thundered, metal clashed, and sixteen masked men stood in four rows, wielding dulled blades and swords. Pair by pair they fought, movements crisp and deadly, as if truly killing enemies on the battlefield.
Zhao Cun, who rarely even visited training grounds in Song, was horrified. Each sword clash nearly made him jump from his seat. Food lost its taste entirely.
Savages in the south indeed—such violent things dared to be shown on formal occasions!
On the jade steps, Han Min eventually relaxed, propping his cheek with his hand as he watched the fighters below.
Fu Xun held a silver wine cup. “You enjoy this?”
“Mm.” Han Min nodded. “Between those two on the left, who do you think will win?”
“The one with the knife.”
“Really? I think the swordsman looks stronger.”
“Flashy nonsense. Calls himself orthodox.”
His tone had implications. Han Min looked at him.
“We have music troops too. Why did you pick this to show the Song envoys?”
“What do you think?”
Han Min thought. “You want to scare them back home?”
Fu Xun chuckled but didn’t reply.
Sure enough, the knife fighter won.
—
After three rounds of wine, Zhao Cun rose and bowed. “Reporting to Your Majesty of Qi—my younger sister, Princess Rongning, has long admired Your Majesty. She has specially prepared a song and dance performance for Your Majesty’s enjoyment.”
But Fu Xun replied coolly, “The late emperor has only recently passed. I am still in deep mourning. I swore before my ancestors to abstain from entertainment for three years. Today’s banquet is already an exception. Duke of Guangning’s goodwill is appreciated, but the performance is unnecessary.”
Han Min understood—Song wished to marry off their princess, hoping to move Fu Xun’s heart. But Fu Xun was like a stone—using mourning as a wall, giving them not even an inch.
The late emperor had been mediocre—but who knew he’d still be useful after death.
Princess Rongning quietly let out a breath of relief—but Zhao Cun said, “Since it concerns Qi’s late emperor, then Your Majesty all the more should permit the princess to present her performance.”
Fu Xun’s brow twitched. “How so?”
Zhao Cun beckoned a servant, who stepped forward with a wooden box. Zhao Cun opened it and revealed a rolled silk scroll.
“This is the marriage contract signed by my father, the Emperor of Song, and Qi’s late emperor. The late emperor had already arranged the betrothal to our Song State. My mission this time is to escort the princess to her marriage.”
Princess Rongning knew nothing of this. Her brother had never told her. She stared at him in shock.
Raised together in the cold palace, they had always relied on each other—this was the first crack between them.
Fu Xun’s expression remained cold.
The late emperor had poured all his scheming into such manipulations.
He had tried to control the court, to control the new emperor—even after death, his shadow lingered.
The assassins at Yuanyang Lake, this sudden marriage contract—everything was his doing.
He hated the Han family—first for failing to protect the former crown prince, later because Fu Xun continually defied him for Han Min’s sake.
He preferred submissive sons. Before dying, he had threatened Fu Xun with the throne itself to force him to exterminate the Han family. Even in death, he planted agents waiting for a chance.
And now this—one last scheme waiting to ensnare him.
While Fu Xun pondered what to do, he suddenly heard Han Min whisper anxiously:
“Your Majesty, what’s wrong? What should we do now?”
Seeing Han Min’s worried face, Fu Xun took his hand and said firmly, “It’s fine.”
Author’s Note:
He won’t marry her!
He also won’t leave the title or “duties” of Empress unused—those all belong to Minmin!
At this point, Old Fu still has one way to refuse—
“I can only get hard for Han Min.”
