Following her uncle inside, they walked along a long, carpeted corridor until they reached the center of the grand hall ahead.
“Father, Mother, look who’s here.”
At the delighted and smiling voice of Feng Moli ahead, Wan Qing and Leng Mingye stopped and looked up at the figures in the center of the hall.
Two people were seated in the middle of the grand hall.
A middle-aged man dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, his handsome and dignified appearance exuding a composed aura, looked up. Though his demeanor was far gentler than the cold and aloof presence of her uncle, the moment he raised his eyes, Wan Qing could still sense the hidden dominance and regal bearing within him.
At a glance, she could see traces of her uncle’s features in him. Without needing an explanation, Wan Qing guessed who he was—none other than her long-awaited grandfather, the King of Daqi, Feng Yizhen.
Beside him sat a woman adorned with a phoenix crown. Though clearly of advanced age, she appeared no older than her thirties. Her presence was both coldly elegant and inexplicably warm, yet carried an untainted nobility that commanded respect.
Seeing her own reflection in this woman, Wan Qing couldn’t help but feel a connection.
Given the reactions of those who had known the late Consort Hui upon seeing her, this woman struck her even more profoundly.
They were truly grandmother and granddaughter, their resemblance undeniable. Though Wan Qing lacked their striking beauty and regal air—her features were merely delicate—the shared contours of their faces made it impossible to deny their relation. After all, her grandfather had no other women in his harem besides her grandmother.
Wan Qing had already guessed the woman’s identity.
Sure enough, as Feng Moli spoke, the two figures above looked up. When the King of Daqi saw Wan Qing behind Feng Moli, his eyes brimmed with tears of emotion. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but restrained himself due to his royal dignity, offering only a warm smile. Suppressing his feelings, he blinked away the moisture in his eyes and nodded at her with composed inquiry.
“Qing’er, are you Linglong’s child?”
Meanwhile, her grandmother stood up in excitement, rushing forward to grasp Wan Qing’s hands, her face alight with joy as tears shimmered in her eyes.
“Qing’er, you’re Linglong’s child. Qing’er…”
“Yes, it’s me. I’m Qing’er.”
Though the elderly couple tried to contain their emotions, Wan Qing felt an inexplicable surge of sentiment. A pang of sorrow struck her heart, and tears welled in her eyes. But she sniffled, holding back her tears, and nodded at her grandmother and grandfather.
“Good child, let your grandmother take a good look at you. You resemble them—you look just like Liuli and her sisters. Li’er, this is all thanks to you. If not for your relentless search, we might never have met her. Come here, let your grandmother see you properly.”
Wan Qing’s poised yet deeply moved expression drew a satisfied glance between the King and Queen of Daqi. The queen, her eyes fixed solely on Wan Qing, took her hand and led her to her own seat, urging her to sit beside her while gazing at her face with delight.
When Wan Qing responded with a gentle smile and a shy but unfamiliar address—”Grandmother”—the queen beamed, holding her hand as she turned to her son below and spoke warmly.
Watching his parents completely absorbed in Wan Qing, Feng Moli shook his head with a chuckle. It had been a long time since he’d seen them so emotionally moved. Recalling his mother’s demeanor after the tragedies involving his two sisters, though she had never spoken of it, he had never seen her laugh so freely as she did today, her eyes filled with adoration and heartache for Wan Qing.
It even made him, their son, feel a twinge of envy.
Seeing his usually reserved father also leaning in to ask the girl something quietly, Feng Moli smiled and reminded them,
“Father, Mother, Qing’er isn’t the only one who’s returned. There’s someone else.”
“…Ah, the Crown Prince of Ji you mentioned earlier—is it this young man?”
Prompted by his son, the King of Daqi snapped back to attention. Glancing at his wife, who was still holding their granddaughter’s hand and chatting joyfully, he looked at Leng Mingye beside Feng Moli. Seeing the young man offer him a faint smile, the king nodded in satisfaction, recalling what his son had told him earlier.
“Indeed. Leng Mingye greets the King and Queen of Daqi.”
At the king’s inquiry, Leng Mingye noted the silent approval in his gaze. Though unsure whether the king was satisfied with his relationship with Wan Qing, he maintained his composure, clasping his hands in a respectful salute.
“So you’re Leng Mingye—the one who sacrificed ten years of his youth and all his inner strength for Qing’er?”
The queen, who had been fussing over Wan Qing, looked up at Leng Mingye, her hand still holding Wan Qing’s. Seeing his faint smile, she nodded approvingly but pressed further.
“Indeed. Greetings, Your Majesty.”
Leng Mingye remained neither submissive nor overbearing as he bowed.
“Hmm. Though you were once a highly praised prince across neighboring kingdoms, you’ve now lost all your inner strength and cultivation. Tell me—can you, as you are now, truly protect our Qing’er and ensure her a lifetime of happiness?”
The king, though aware of Leng Mingye’s reputation, studied him carefully. Satisfied with what he saw, he nonetheless asked with solemnity, considering the immense trials the young man had endured.
“Your Majesty, though I have lost my inner strength and cultivation, I will still devote my life to cherishing her. I will ensure she can pursue her desires and live without worry. Even if it costs me my life, I will do so willingly.”
Faced with such direct questioning, Leng Mingye wasn’t sure of the king’s intent. But recalling the shift in his own mindset during their journey, he glanced gratefully at Feng Moli, who offered him a faint smile in return. Then, with utmost sincerity, he met the king’s gaze and declared his resolve.
“Is that so? Yet as I understand it, Wan Qing’s primary purpose in returning is to save her mother and reunite our family. Her mother suffers from a rare illness—one that can only be cured by the heart’s blood of the man she loves, combined with her genuine tears. Are you still willing to make such a sacrifice for her?”
Though pleased with Leng Mingye’s answer, the king posed this question lightly, watching for his reaction.
“…”
His words left not only Leng Mingye solemn but also sent a jolt through Wan Qing, who turned to her grandmother and even her uncle in alarm. This wasn’t what her uncle had told her—did they truly need Leng Mingye’s heart’s blood to save her mother?
“First, Your Majesty, I will comply with your request. As she is Qing’er’s mother, I have but one plea—that you exercise utmost care when extracting my heart’s blood, leaving me a chance to survive. Even the slimmest hope is worth fighting for, as I do not wish for Qing’er to grieve my loss or face life without someone to cherish and protect her.”
Expecting anger or hesitation, the king was surprised when Leng Mingye merely furrowed his brows slightly before kneeling and clasping his hands in earnest supplication.
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