HNYWEF -Chapter 142 Hurt

Zhenguan Year 4, eleventh day of the winter month.

The weather had turned cold. In the palace, the charcoal fires burned strong, and the halls were warm and comfortable.

Li Shimin had arranged a family banquet. “Family banquet” was the name, but there were only a few people—Empress Zhangsun, Li Chengqian, Li Tai, Li Licheng, and Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi sat at the lower end of the table. The dishes in front of him barely moved. He kept his head down, lost in thought.

Li Licheng sat across from him, glancing at him from time to time.

Li Shimin lifted his wine cup, took a sip, and set it down.

He looked at Zhou Yi.

“Zhou Yi.”

Zhou Yi raised his head.

Li Shimin asked, “How has your father been lately?”

Zhou Yi was silent for a moment.

“Still the same.”

Li Shimin nodded.

“Up and down?”

Zhou Yi replied, “More bad days than good.”

Li Shimin studied him for a few seconds, then spoke again.

“Zhou Yi, tell me—do you have any difficulties?”

Zhou Yi froze slightly.

Li Shimin continued, “With your father like this, carrying everything alone… is it tiring? Do you lack anything? Do you need me to send someone to help you?”

Zhou Yi didn’t answer, but his grip on the chopsticks tightened slightly.

Li Licheng spoke softly from the side, “Father, Zhou Yi ge—”

Li Shimin raised his hand, stopping her from continuing.

He just looked at Zhou Yi, waiting.

Zhou Yi kept his head down, staring at the bowl in front of him.

A long time passed.

Then he looked up.

“Your Majesty… is this what you called me here for today?”

Li Shimin said, “Yes.”

Zhou Yi asked, “You’re done asking?”

Li Shimin paused slightly.

Zhou Yi stood up.

He stood there and looked at Li Shimin.

There was no expression on his face.

But in his eyes, something was surging.

Li Shimin suddenly felt a little uneasy.

“Zhou Yi, you—”

Zhou Yi spoke.

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

“Your Majesty, do you know? The thing my father has hated most in his entire life is everything you’ve forced onto him!”

Li Shimin froze.

Zhou Yi continued, “He doesn’t want to be a marquis. He doesn’t want to go to the Ministry of Works. He doesn’t want titles, honors, or promotions. He just wants to stay in his blacksmith shop, forge his iron, and live his life!”

His voice began to tremble.

“But you insisted! Titles, official posts, the workshop—one after another, you stuffed them into his hands! He couldn’t refuse, couldn’t escape, he could only accept them!”

“And then what?”

He looked at Li Shimin, eyes reddening.

Li Shimin opened his mouth.

Zhou Yi didn’t let him speak.

“Now he’s gone mad, and you want to hand all the responsibility of calming him down to me?”

Tears fell, but he didn’t wipe them away.

“You want me to watch him, stay with him, carry it all—do you know how heavy that is? Do you know what it feels like every single day to watch him like that?”

Li Shimin stood up.

“Zhou Yi, I didn’t—”

“What do you mean, you didn’t?”

Zhou Yi cut him off.

“You want to say you’re not passing things off? That you’re not dumping the hardest part onto someone else? That you’re not unwilling to carry it yourself, so you push it onto me?”

He pointed at his own chest.

“I was raised by my father alone. I owe him—I accept that! I’ll take care of him—I accept that!”

Then he pointed at Li Shimin.

“But you? What do you owe him? How much of it have you actually carried?”

The hall fell completely silent.

Empress Zhangsun covered her mouth.

Li Chengqian and Li Tai sat frozen, not daring to move.

Li Shimin stood there, his face pale.

He looked at Zhou Yi, trying to speak—but no words came out.

Zhou Yi stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily.

He looked at Li Shimin for a few seconds.

Then he turned around.

And walked out.

At the door, he suddenly stopped.

Without turning back, he said:

“Your Majesty, if you ever want to force something onto my father again, ask him first whether he even wants it.”

Then he pushed the door open and left.

Cold wind rushed in, making the candles flicker violently.

The hall fell into a silence so deep it felt like one could hear a heartbeat.

Li Licheng stood up.

She looked at Li Shimin.

In that gaze—Li Shimin had never seen his daughter look at him like this before.

Not anger. Not blame.

Disappointment.

Soft, but far heavier than anger.

She said nothing.

Turned around—and chased after Zhou Yi.

The door closed behind her.

Silence returned.

Li Shimin stood motionless.

Empress Zhangsun walked over and stood beside him.

Still, she said nothing.

Li Chengqian and Li Tai sat rigidly at their seats, not daring to breathe.

After a long time, Li Shimin suddenly sank down.

He crouched on the ground, holding his head.

He thought of everything Zhou Yi had said.

Each sentence was like a blade.

And yet he could not refute a single one.

Because it was all true.

He really had been forcing everything Zhou Xiong never wanted onto him—one thing after another.

He really had given him a title, a workshop, a post in the Ministry of Works.

He really had believed he was helping him.

And he really… had driven him to madness.

Now, he even wanted to pass the responsibility of calming him down to his son.

Li Shimin crouched there, motionless.

Only the charcoal fire crackled softly in the hall.

Then he spoke.

His voice was muffled, coming from between his arms:

“Am I… really just someone who passes everything off?”

No one answered.

Outside, the wind passed through the palace.

Howling softly.