HNYWEF -Chapter 121 Personally Confirming

In the fourth year of Zhenguan, the fifth day of the ninth month.

Zhou Yi stood in the main hall of the marquis’s residence, looking out at the sky.

His father had gone to the iron shop again.

The iron shop was open as usual.

Zhou Xiong stood at the long workbench, the hammer in his hand rising and falling in steady rhythm.

The furnace burned fiercely. Sparks flew up and fell to the ground, quickly extinguishing.

Zhou Hong squatted at the entrance, not going inside.

He watched the people on the street.

Someone stopped at the shop door, peeked inside, then looked at him—his gaze strange.

Then the man left.

After a few steps, he turned back again for another look.

Zhou Hong knew what they were looking at.

They were looking at the marquis forging iron.

In all of Chang’an, this was the first time in history—an enfeoffed founding marquis, wearing a slightly worn robe, standing in an iron smithy, personally forging blades and tools.

Some said it was the Emperor’s grace, that the marquis was simply nostalgic.

Some said it was for show, to demonstrate that he had not forgotten his roots.

Others said the marquis was simply not right in the head.

Zhou Hong didn’t know which was true.

He only knew that every day the shop opened, he had to face those gazes.

His elder brother didn’t care.

He cared about nothing at all.

When it was time to forge iron, he forged iron. When it was time to curse, he cursed. It was exactly the same as before he was granted the title.

Zhou Hong was different.

He cared.

Those gazes felt like needles stabbing into him.

Zhou Yi’s arm stitches had not yet been removed. It was still wrapped in bandages and hung across his chest.

The imperial physicians said he needed a few more days of rest, but it no longer affected his daily life.

He had tried—so long as he didn’t move that arm, he could still exert strength everywhere else.

He stood there for a while.

Then he turned and called out.

“Someone.”

An old servant hurried in and stood respectfully.

This servant’s surname was Chen. He had been sent by Li Shimin, said to be a palace veteran who understood etiquette.

Zhou Yi didn’t know where he had served before, only that he spoke little but handled everything efficiently.

“What are your orders, young master?” the old servant asked.

Zhou Yi said, “Prepare a carriage. I’m going to the palace.”

The old servant froze slightly.

He looked at Zhou Yi, then at his arm in a sling.

“Young master… did His Majesty summon you?”

Zhou Yi shook his head.

“I have business of my own.”

The old servant’s brows twitched.

He stood there without moving.

Zhou Yi looked at him.

“What is it?”

After a brief hesitation, the old servant spoke.

“Young master, without imperial summons, foreign officials are not permitted to enter the palace. Though you are a consort-to-be, the marriage has not yet been completed. According to regulations…”

Zhou Yi cut him off.

“I know the rules.”

He took something from his chest and handed it over.

A jade pendant. Warm and smooth, tied with a bright yellow silk cord.

The old servant’s eyes lit slightly.

It was a palace item—and not an ordinary one. Only a very small number of people were permitted to use that color of cord.

He took it and examined it carefully.

Then he respectfully returned it with both hands.

“This old servant understands. I will prepare the carriage at once.”

He turned and left.

Zhou Yi stood in place and put the jade pendant back into his robe.

It was a betrothal token from Empress Changsun. He had carried it with him ever since that day, never once leaving his body.

Today was the first time he had used it.

The carriage rolled slowly through the streets.

Zhou Yi sat inside, leaning against the carriage wall with his eyes closed.

His mind was empty.

And yet it also seemed filled with everything.

After a while, the carriage stopped.

The curtain was lifted, and the old servant’s voice came in.

“Young master, we’ve arrived at the palace gate.”

Zhou Yi opened his eyes and got out.

Niu Jinda was on duty today. He was leaning against the gate passageway, half asleep. There hadn’t been much going on these days, so he was enjoying the peace.

Hearing the sound of a carriage, he opened his eyes and glanced over.

A black carriage was parked at the palace gate. The curtain lifted, and someone stepped down.

Niu Jinda froze slightly.

Then he straightened up.

“Bear cub?”

Zhou Yi walked up to him and stopped.

“General Niu.”

Niu Jinda looked him up and down, his gaze lingering on the arm, then at the carriage behind him.

He recognized that carriage—it was from the marquis’s residence.

“What are you doing here? Does your father know?” Niu Jinda asked.

Zhou Yi shook his head.

Niu Jindar’s brows furrowed.

“So this is…?”

Zhou Yi took out a jade pendant from his chest and handed it over.

Niu Jindar accepted it and lowered his head to look.

His eyes lit up slightly.

He handed the jade back to Zhou Yi, his expression shifting a little.

“Wait here. I’ll go report it.”

He turned and walked inside.

After a couple of steps, he stopped again.

He looked back at Zhou Yi.

“You came alone?”

Zhou Yi nodded.

Niu Jindar glanced at the carriage again, then at Old Chen standing by it.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

He scratched his head, then turned and left.

Zhou Yi stood at the palace gate, waiting.

He just stood there, motionless.

The jade pendant in his palm was gripped so tightly it felt hot.

After a long while—maybe it wasn’t even that long—Niu Jindar came back out.

Behind him was someone else.

Dressed in a dark robe, a faint smile on his face.

It was Crown Prince Li Chengqian.

He stopped in front of Zhou Yi.

“Father has allowed you in.”

Zhou Yi nodded.

Li Chengqian’s gaze fell briefly on Zhou Yi’s arm.

Then he spoke.

“I’ll go with you.”

Zhou Yi said nothing.

The two of them walked one after the other.

Through the gate, along a long corridor, around several winding hallways.

Zhou Yi walked slowly, but each step was steady.

Li Chengqian walked beside him without speaking.

When they reached a door, Li Chengqian stopped.

“We’re here.”

Zhou Yi looked up.

There was no plaque above the door—just a plain palace entrance. Two eunuchs stood at the sides, heads lowered, unmoving.

Li Chengqian looked at him.

“Going in alone?”

Zhou Yi nodded.

Li Chengqian stood there for a moment.

Then he patted Zhou Yi’s shoulder.

“I’ll wait outside.”

Zhou Yi still said nothing.

He pushed the door open and walked in.

The hall was quiet.

Light streamed through the window lattice, falling in neat square patterns on the floor.

Behind the desk sat Emperor Li Shimin, holding a memorial scroll, reading.

At the sound of footsteps, he raised his head.

Seeing Zhou Yi, he set the scroll down.

Zhou Yi walked to the center of the hall and stopped.

He looked at Li Shimin.

Li Shimin looked back at him.

Li Shimin spoke first.

His voice was calm.

“How is your arm?”

Zhou Yi said, “The imperial physician said it still needs a few more days of rest.”

Li Shimin nodded.

After a pause, seeing Zhou Yi still silent, he asked again:

“Does your father know you came?”

Zhou Yi shook his head.

A flicker passed through Li Shimin’s eyes.

Just for an instant.

He looked at Zhou Yi and said nothing more.

He simply waited.

Zhou Yi stood there, the jade pendant clenched tightly in his palm.

So tightly that his hand was already sweating.

He took a deep breath.

And spoke.

“Your Majesty.”

Li Shimin nodded.

Zhou Yi said, “I want to ask you something.”

Li Shimin looked at him.

“Ask.”

Zhou Yi looked straight at him.

That face was far too familiar—seen countless times from their very first meeting to now. Smiling, gentle, the man who once told him to call him “Uncle Li.”

But now he knew.

This man was not just Uncle Li.

He was the Emperor.

That man.

He spoke.

His voice was not loud, but every word was clear.

“My mother… how did she die?”