“It seems this is the only way, though I have already spoken to Marquis Jichang about breaking off the engagement with her. I…” The Empress’s words made Sun Fengyu glance at his father, who, despite his grave expression, nodded with a frown in reluctant agreement. Sun Fengyu could only accept with disappointment, recalling his words and actions at the Marquis’s residence. Feeling troubled, he turned to the Empress and said,
“It’s just a little girl. Can’t Yu’er coax her into submission? Or do you lack the confidence even for such a trivial matter?”
Sun Fengyu’s words caused the Empress’s delicate brows to furrow slightly, a trace of irritation and exasperation flashing across her face. Though her displeasure was fleeting, Sun Qingmin caught it clearly.
After all, though the Empress was his younger sister, the Sun family’s current status relied entirely on her. If his son failed in this matter, he knew that for the sake of the Celestial Ascendancy’s imperial power and her continued favor with the Emperor, his sister would not hesitate to abandon his son.
Seeing his son’s crestfallen and guilty silence—utterly spineless—Sun Qingmin quickly clasped his hands and pleaded on his behalf, offering assurances.
“Your Majesty, please calm your anger. Yu’er is young and impulsive, but I believe he will handle this matter properly.”
“The Celestial Ascendancy has no shortage of talented young men. The only reason I arranged this marriage for Yu’er was in hopes that he could obtain that item from the girl and present it to the Emperor himself. This would further solidify our Sun family’s standing in His Majesty’s eyes. I hope you will not disappoint me—otherwise, I shall have no choice but to entrust this task to someone else.”
Despite his uncle’s assurances, Sun Fengyu still wore a troubled expression. Empress Sun knew her nephew’s thoughts all too well—he had always assumed that, as her nephew, he ranked higher than anyone except the imperial princes.
In truth, aside from being the eldest son of the Sun family and his father’s favorite, he was utterly mediocre—average in talent, character, and capability.
As the Empress, how could she not seek to strengthen her family’s influence and secure a reliable ally? Seeing her brother’s reaction, Empress Sun smiled faintly and reminded him pointedly before turning a stern gaze toward her useless nephew.
“Aunt, forgive me. Yu’er understands his mistake. I will do it.”
Hearing the Empress’s words, Sun Fengyu felt a bitter taste in his mouth, but he knew the gravity of the situation. Swallowing his pride, he bowed and pleaded.
“Good. Your aunt believes in you. How could a descendant of the Sun family be inferior to others? Moreover, this is the Emperor’s test for our family—we must not fail. If His Majesty hadn’t forbidden Che’er from marrying that girl, I wouldn’t have troubled you with this.”
Sun Fengyu’s submission softened the Empress’s expression. She nodded approvingly, her tone now warm and familial.
“Yu’er understands. Please rest assured, Aunt. May I ask—if I obtain that token from the girl, may I marry Miss Mu? Or even… not marry her at all?”
Though reluctant, Sun Fengyu knew there was no room for refusal. The Sun family owed its current standing entirely to his aunt. Since she had spoken, what else could they say?
Thus, he responded earnestly to her expectations and reassurance, a flicker of hope rekindling in his heart as he ventured another question.
“It would be best to marry her—preferably winning her complete devotion and obedience. If you successfully retrieve the token, you may marry both sisters. As for who takes precedence, that will be your decision.”
Sun Fengyu’s question displeased the Empress slightly, but she answered before turning a weary gaze toward the father and son.
“If there’s nothing else, you may leave now. I am tired.”
The two could only bow and take their leave, escorted out of the palace by the Empress’s personal maid, Yuanyang.
“Why the long face? If you wish to marry the eldest Miss Mu as your principal wife, focus first on how to please that girl and obtain what she holds. I truly don’t understand you—she was once infatuated with you, yet you managed to ruin it. Tsk.”
Sun Qingmin had rarely defied his sister for his son’s sake, only to receive such news. Seeing his son’s dejected expression and recalling his account of the events at the Mu residence, he couldn’t help but scold him in frustration before storming off.
Meanwhile, Wanqing had slept until noon the following day before waking.
The moment news of her awakening spread, a small group arrived at the gates of Marquis Jichang’s residence.
At their head was Sun Fengyu. Though merely the Empress’s nephew, he carried himself with the arrogance of a future son-in-law of the Marquis’s household. His gaze fell upon the Prince of Ning, who was being wheeled forward by Qingfeng and Qingyun.
Since the Prince of Ning’s leg injury, though stripped of his position as Crown Prince, his former supporters had remained loyal. He was the greatest rival to Empress Sun’s beloved son, Prince Xie, in the race for the throne.
Uncertain why the Prince of Ning had come to the Marquis’s residence at this time, Sun Fengyu couldn’t resist a mocking remark, implying that a cripple could never achieve greatness—after all, no disabled heir had ever ascended the throne.
“Well, if it isn’t His Highness the Prince of Ning. I’ve come to visit my injured fiancée, who has just awakened. Might I ask why Your Highness has troubled yourself to visit despite your injury? Marquis Jichang is a man of stature—no amount of flattery from a cripple will change that, will it?”
“You—!” Qingfeng and his brother had always despised those who called their master a cripple. Hearing Sun Fengyu’s words, their expressions darkened instantly.
“Ah, so it’s Young Master Sun of the Empress’s family. I’ve come to visit my sworn sister. Every inch of this land belongs to the Emperor, and though I am disabled, I remain a son of the imperial family. If Young Master Sun may enter, why not I? Qingfeng, let’s proceed.”
Though Sun Fengyu was merely the Empress’s nephew, his insolence toward a prince was galling. The Prince of Ning clenched his fists on the armrests of his wheelchair but stopped his attendants from reacting. With a cold smile, he dismissed Sun Fengyu’s taunts and ordered Qingfeng to wheel him inside.
“You—!” Though Sun Fengyu had mocked the Prince of Ning’s disability, the prince’s insinuation that he owed his status solely to his aunt’s influence—and his reminder of his own imperial blood—left Sun Fengyu seething. Forced to swallow his anger, he followed them inside.
“Ahaha, greetings to His Highness the Prince of Ning! My daughter is truly fortunate to have earned such attention from both of you. I thank you on her behalf.”
As Sun Fengyu entered, he heard Marquis Mu Zhenfeng’s hearty laughter from the front courtyard’s reception hall.
Turning his gaze, he saw a man dressed entirely in black, his robes embroidered with gold and silver threads, lounging lazily in the seat of honor. One leg was casually crossed over the other, exuding an air of arrogance and dominance despite his seemingly frivolous posture.
This was none other than Leng Mingye, the heir of Prince Ji’s household—a man even the Emperor treated with deference. The shadowy pair of attendants behind him, one in black and the other in white, only heightened his intimidating presence, more fearsome than the King of Hell himself.
Seated below him was the Prince of Ning. Though dressed simply, his imperial bearing and gentle yet authoritative smile made Sun Fengyu’s eyes sting with resentment.
Uncertain why these two were so fixated on that girl, Sun Fengyu cleared his throat pointedly—”Ahem.”
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