Chapter 572 - 278: "All Under Heaven

Chapter 572: Chapter 278: "All Under Heaven

Zheng Xiu contemplated Uncle Huo’s words.

As the saying goes, attending to a monarch is like accompanying a tiger. As someone by the Great Emperor’s side, even if Huo Huo couldn’t fully grasp the Emperor’s thoughts, he still had some insight. The single phrase, "It’s going to snow," seemed to be telling Zheng Xiu that a storm was brewing.

In truth, what the so-called Princess of Beiman looked like, who she was, or what her Age was—none of it mattered to Zheng Xiu, or for that matter, to Venerable Wei Yang. What mattered was her status as the Princess of Beiman. The fact that she had personally traveled thousands of miles across the barren wilderness as an "Envoy" to reach the Daqian Capital and seek a political marriage—that was what held true significance.

The game between the two nations was far from simple. Zheng Xiu didn’t understand why Venerable Wei Yang was so insistent on dragging him, someone who had always stayed out of politics, into this strange vortex.

’Why does it have to be me?’

’What exactly is Venerable Wei Yang plotting?’

Zheng Xiu closed his eyes, recalling the vision Venerable Wei Yang had sent him using the Miracle Technique of "Official Yi Gao." He remembered the words spoken in the Imperial Study.

On the wall of the Imperial Study hung a work of calligraphy, inscribed with the words "Ruling the World with Benevolence."

Zheng Xiu sank into thought, imagining himself as Venerable Wei Yang.

Venerable Wei Yang faced the calligraphy, looking at the five words: "Ruling the World with Benevolence."

The words were clearly Venerable Wei Yang’s own work. The clamor of the city faded from Zheng Xiu’s ears as his mind seemed to drift away, floating into the Imperial Study. His consciousness overlapped with Venerable Wei Yang’s figure, standing before those five words.

The brushwork for the "benevolent rule" portion was mellow, upright, and peaceful. But for the part meaning "the world," the style changed abruptly, as if written by another person. It was sharp and forceful, hinting at the cold cruelty of the battlefield. In the blink of an eye, it transformed again, becoming like a sword striking down from above—a single stroke to level all creation.

Different arts often share the same wonders. Zheng Xiu had delved deep into the path of the [Painter], and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration for him to call himself a master now; he thus had a certain eye for calligraphy. Those words conjured a bizarre image in his mind: Venerable Wei Yang’s face seemed to split into two colors, one black and one white, one righteous and one evil. It was a vision of a face half-covered in benevolence and morality, the other half twisted in a maniacal, savage snarl—a clear and distinct separation.

The hearts of men are hard to fathom, but the calligraphy reveals the man.

By observing the writing, you can know the person!

"The world!"

A gust of cold wind blew into the carriage, startling Zheng Xiu awake. Qing Shisan, a puzzled look on his face, had just lifted the curtain. Hearing Zheng Xiu muttering to himself with an expression like he’d seen a ghost, a flicker of worry couldn’t help but appear in Qing Shisan’s eyes.

’So what if he’s getting another wife for no good reason? It’s not a big deal.’

The sky had grown dim. Zheng Xiu had unknowingly been sitting in the carriage for half an hour. Qing Shisan had gotten a bellyful of cold wind, which was the true source of his worried expression.

"Meow~"

Inside the Red King Mansion, a meow would sound from time to time, yet no cat was ever in sight.

The Orange Cat’s ghostly appearances had long since worn out everyone’s patience. Zheng Xiu walked along the long corridor, glancing around. Seeing no sign of the cat, he couldn’t be bothered to look for it and headed straight for Feng Bei’s quarters.

The sound of trickling water came from within the room, which was filled with hazy steam and lingering warmth.

Feng Bei had always been fond of her baths. He still remembered how, back in Richan Valley, water was scarce. To replenish their supply, they had to ride camels to an oasis and haul it back, bucket by bucket. Zheng Xiu was always either fetching water or on his way to fetch water.

He knocked on the door, and a soft reply came from within. This time, Zheng Xiu barged in openly and legitimately.

The figure in the wooden tub stiffened slightly. Through the partition screen, Zheng Xiu could vaguely make out Feng Bei’s silhouette and form. He sat down in the room as if it were his own, and Feng Bei went back to her business.

They were now betrothed, making his presence all the more proper. This time, Feng Bei didn’t kick Zheng Xiu out. After a moment of silence, Feng Bei asked with a smile, "Something on your mind?"

Zheng Xiu was startled. "You ’heard’ me again?"

Feng Bei covered her mouth with a laugh, propping her legs up on the edge of the wooden tub. Her damp hair draped over her body. Though separated by the screen, their gazes met, as if they could each see right into the other’s mind.

"Not entirely. Whenever you’re troubled by something, you always barge into my room without a second thought for what I might be doing."

Zheng Xiu nodded. So it was just their mutual understanding.

After a moment’s thought, Zheng Xiu told her everything that had happened at the imperial court that day.

"Ahem, I’ve become a Prince Consort."

The air instantly froze.

WHOOSH~

The next second, Feng Bei, her skin still damp and a thin robe draped over her, appeared behind Zheng Xiu like a gust of wind.

She sat down at her dressing table and stared at her reflection in the mirror, her expression momentarily dazed. After a while, Feng Bei pointed to the towel on the screen and said with a smile, "Dry my hair for me."

Zheng Xiu grabbed the towel from the screen, wrapped it around Feng Bei’s wet hair, and began to gently rub it dry.

"Will I be the first wife or the second?" Feng Bei asked unexpectedly.

Zheng Xiu froze, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "That’s what you’re worried about?"

Feng Bei pursed her lips in amusement, then sighed and asked in a low voice, "Is there going to be a war?"

Seeing how tense the atmosphere was, she couldn’t help but be a little cheeky just now. When she heard Zheng Xiu say he was to become a Prince Consort, her thoughts hadn’t turned to matters of romance. Though she never paid attention to politics, she was no ignorant fool. After so many years with Zheng Xiu, she had learned much through observation and experience, and she quickly grasped the heart of the matter.

For both Feng Bei and Zheng Xiu, their focus was never on the woman who was about to become "Madam Zheng"—the one with the title "Princess of Beiman." She wasn’t important; she didn’t matter. Feng Bei knew Zheng Xiu’s heart. If he truly wanted women, with his current status and wealth, wouldn’t they be lining up for him to choose? Why would he need the Emperor to assign him one? Why would he need a political marriage with another kingdom?

For this to fall upon Zheng Xiu was not a romantic blessing, but a heavy burden.