Chapter 419 - 222: The New Night Lord

Chapter 419: Chapter 222: The New Night Lord

Tying his hair, changing his clothes, washing his face, applying incense, fastening his sash, and donning his jade.

In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Zheng Xiu was impeccably dressed, attended by four maids with Skillful Hands.

Feng Bei watched as eight hands belonging to four maids—each beautiful in her own way and proficient in music and song—moved all over Zheng Xiu. She calmly averted her gaze, her brow furrowing slightly. ’Why all this fuss just to see the Emperor?’

Feng Bei had become Xie Luohe, and Zheng Xiu had become Gongsun Mo. The two had lived a simple life in Richan Valley for ten years. Now that they were back in reality, everything was so different from what Feng Bei remembered.

Even though she had long known that Zheng Shan was Zheng Xiu, and that Gongsun Mo was also Zheng Xiu, Feng Bei still couldn’t fully reconcile the bearded, middle-aged husband from the valley with the dapper, sophisticated Richest Person standing before her.

A sense of disconnect.

The jumbled timeline and the experiences that blurred reality with illusion had created something inside Feng Bei called a "sense of disconnect."

Zheng Xiu knew, and Feng Bei knew as well, that the chasm between them couldn’t be bridged with a few simple words, nor in a short amount of time.

This was one of the reasons why, despite knowing each other inside and out, having no secrets between them, and even sharing a bed for ten years, they still hadn’t managed to break through that final, paper-thin barrier now that they were back in reality.

If it weren’t for Zheng Shan, if it weren’t for their experiences in the Cannibal Painting, Feng Bei and Zheng Xiu would belong to two different worlds—two parallel lines, destined never to intersect.

"After all, he is the Emperor."

Zheng Xiu felt no apprehension or unease, only a sense of relief. ’It’s finally happening.’

For days, the threshold of his Zheng Family home had been nearly worn through by officials, high and low. They must have heard a whisper of something on the wind. Now the Emperor was here, which was likely why those officials had been coming to build connections.

Stepping out of the room, he saw Qing Shisan smoking a long-stemmed pipe before the arched gateway to the main courtyard.

He looked at Zheng Xiu.

Ji Hong’ou sat perched atop the wall, her legs crossed.

They looked worried.

As the saying goes, no one shows up for no reason. An emperor making a low-profile, private visit was, to them, not a good thing.

"There are men from the Secret Ministry hidden around the Zheng Residence,"

Qing Shisan said.

"It’s fine. If the Emperor has come to see me, it must be for something important."

Qing Shisan understood. After a few seconds of hesitation, he let out a few whistles, signaling for his men to pull back from their standoff with the Secret Ministry.

On the rooftops, shadows stirred, flitting past one after another.

The Brotherhood was elusive, and so was the Secret Ministry.

’The Secret Ministry... the Secret Factory.’

Zheng Xiu suddenly thought of the Jianghu, obliterated from history two hundred years ago. He remembered those free-spirited Knights, and an inexplicable sense of melancholy and sorrow washed over him.

Qing Shisan stepped forward, grabbed Zheng Xiu’s hand, and traced a few words into his palm.

Zheng Xiu nodded and walked toward the gate.

Feng Bei followed silently. After a few steps, Zheng Xiu turned, exasperated. "Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like I’m going to pick a fight with the Emperor. Why are you following me? Did I ask you to get involved?"

Zheng Xiu’s expression turned serious. "We’re outside."

The implication being: out here, you listen to me.

Inside, it’s a different story. You can do whatever you want.

"MEOW!"

A chubby Orange Cat leaped from a nearby flowerbed, landed on Feng Bei’s shoulder, and stared at Zheng Xiu with wide eyes.

"See? Little Feng Miao thinks so too."

"Alright."

Although Feng Bei was puzzled by the Emperor’s sudden visit, after what Zheng Xiu had said, she could only agree resignedly.

The woman and the cat watched Zheng Xiu walk away into the distance.

Zheng Xiu pushed open the heavy gates of the residence by himself.

A Palanquin with Canopy stood waiting. The driver, dressed simply, looked powerful with his bulging shoulders. He rested his legs on the horse’s rump, his head bowed in silence. A beautiful Maid in a pale yellow gown stood quietly beside the carriage. "The Marquis is invited inside for a private conversation."

The street before the gate was empty. Preparations had clearly been made in advance of the Emperor’s procession.

"Zheng Xiu, Marquis Zhonglie, greets the Holy Emperor."

Zheng Xiu clasped his hands in a brief salute toward Venerable Wei Yang, who was concealed behind the curtain.

’His memory of other things might be hazy, but he clearly remembered one fact: the Marquis Zhonglie was not required to kneel before the Emperor.’

"No need for formalities."

The Maid lifted the curtain for Zheng Xiu, who slipped into the carriage without hesitation.

Venerable Wei Yang was dressed in a navy-blue robe, a folding fan in hand, and a small, jade-inlaid skullcap on his head. He sat sprawled on one side of the carriage, his gaze sharp and his spirit high. The sight almost made Zheng Xiu laugh out loud—for some reason, the getup reminded him of a wealthy patriarch in disguise, sneaking out for a night of carousing.

"Marquis Zhonglie, how has your health been recently?"

Zheng Xiu hadn’t expected Venerable Wei Yang’s first words to be a question about his health. Clearly, the news of his "grave illness" days earlier had caused quite a stir in the city and had, of course, reached the Emperor’s ears.

Zheng Xiu put on a display of overwhelming gratitude. "This Marquis is endlessly grateful for the Holy Emperor’s concern. I have fully recovered now."

A rare, humanizing smile touched Venerable Wei Yang’s lips. He chided, in a tone that was half-joking and half-serious, "You, now. No need to be so servile in front of me. Your temperament is just like your father’s—you respond to kindness, not force. Besides, when your father was alive, he and I fought side-by-side on the battlefield. We had a bond forged in life and death. We’re not in court now. You’re a junior to me, so there’s no need to be so formal."

Hm?

Zheng Xiu froze, his heart pounding. ’Is he playing the emotional card?’

While trying to figure out the Emperor’s intentions, Zheng Xiu leaned back against the soft cushions, shifting into a more comfortable position. He smiled. "In that case, this Marquis shall obey the Holy Decree."

The Emperor’s words were masterful. Zheng Xiu had to obey him and not be "so formal," which is why he’d shifted his posture. But he couldn’t be completely casual either, as if ignoring the Emperor’s authority. That would show he had no respect for the man.