HNYWEF -Chapter 143 The Person Who Shouldn’t Be There

When Princess Li Lichang chased after him, Zhou Yi had already walked far away.

The palace road was long, flanked by crimson walls, still covered with lingering snow.

He walked quickly, long strides, his figure swaying slightly in the dim evening light.

“Brother Zhou Yi!”

Li Lichang broke into a run, the hem of her dress lifting the thin snow off the ground.

She ran in a hurry, breathless, and finally caught up with him at a corner.

She grabbed his sleeve tightly.

Zhou Yi stopped.

But he didn’t turn around.

Standing behind him, Li Lichang gasped for breath, still holding onto his sleeve.

“Y-you… don’t walk so fast…”

Zhou Yi said nothing.

Li Lichang moved in front of him and looked up.

Her face was covered in tears.

Not the kind of red-eyed tears from before in the hall—she was truly crying now. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

She froze.

She had never seen Zhou Yi cry before.

The always gentle, slightly shy “Brother Zhou Yi” who blushed when he smiled had never cried.

But now he stood in front of her, crying like a child.

Something in her chest tightened.

She let go of his sleeve and took his hand instead.

It was cold—and trembling.

“Brother Zhou Yi.”

He lowered his head and looked at her.

Li Lichang looked up at him, her eyes red but not crying.

She said, “You can’t carry this alone. I’ll help you carry it.”

Zhou Yi froze.

“My father won’t face it, so I will. Your father’s matter—I’ll bear it with you.”

She tightened her grip.

“You’re not alone.”

Zhou Yi stood there, staring at her.

At this ten-year-old girl, standing in the snow, looking up and saying she would carry it for him.

His tears came harder.

Everything that had been pressing down on him—the state of his father, the injured Uncle Cheng, Li Shimin’s unclear debts, the nights he had sat alone in the courtyard—all surged up at once.

He suddenly crouched down.

Covered his head.

And cried out loud.

Not restrained anymore—but broken, released. His shoulders shook, voice forced out from deep in his throat, rough and bitter.

Li Lichang crouched beside him, saying nothing.

Just staying there with him.

Snow began falling again at some point—fine flakes landing on their shoulders and hair.

After a long while, Zhou Yi’s crying slowly stopped.

He stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve.

Li Lichang also stood beside him.

They looked at each other.

Zhou Yi’s lips moved, like he wanted to smile—but couldn’t.

Li Lichang didn’t speak either.

So they walked forward together.

Toward the palace gate.

The snow grew heavier, covering the stone path in a thin layer. It crunched under their feet.

Zhou Yi slowed down.

Li Lichang walked beside him without urging him.

When they reached the gate, Zhou Yi suddenly stopped.

He stood still.

Li Lichang followed his gaze.

At the palace gate stood a man.

He stood there in the snow and dusk, watching them.

He wore court robes—purple, embroidered with gold patterns, the rank of a marquis.

Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Yi’s mind went blank.

Father?

Why was he here?

Ever since being granted the title, his father had never worn those robes—they had been locked away in a chest.

Yet now he stood there, in full court attire, expressionless.

Zhou Yi didn’t know whether to move forward.

He didn’t know whether his father was lucid or in another episode.

He just stood there, staring.

Zhou Xiong also looked at him.

Father and son faced each other across dozens of steps.

Then Zhou Xiong moved first.

He walked over at an even pace, footsteps crunching in the snow.

He stopped in front of Zhou Yi.

He looked at his son’s tear-streaked face.

Then he spoke.

His voice was rough, squeezed from his throat, but every word was clear.

“That Li Er is really inconsiderate.”

Zhou Yi froze.

Zhou Xiong continued, “He didn’t even invite me to the family banquet.”

Zhou Yi opened his mouth—but nothing came out.

He just stood there, staring at his father.

Zhou Xiong didn’t look at him anymore.

He walked past him toward the guards at the gate.

He stopped.

The guard recognized him and froze, nearly dropping his spear.

Zhou Xiong spoke again.

Not loud—but everyone heard it clearly.

“Marquis of Jiuyuan County, Zhou Xiong, requests an audience with His Majesty.”

The guard stood there, stunned, unmoving.

Zhou Xiong didn’t rush him.

He simply stood and waited.

Snow fell onto his robes, his shoulders, his hair.

He didn’t brush it off.

Just stood there.

Behind him, Zhou Yi watched his father’s back.

In purple court robes, standing at the palace gate in the snow, asking to see the Emperor.

He didn’t know whether his father was sane or not.

He only knew one thing.

His father had come.

Li Lichang stood beside him and gently took his hand again.

It was still cold.

He didn’t let go.

The snow kept falling.

At the palace gate, the purple figure remained motionless.

Waiting for the door to open.