HNYWEF -Chapter 209 Set in Stone

The silence in the hall had not yet dissipated.

Zhang Liang was still kneeling in the center of the hall, forehead pressed against the floor tiles, not daring to lift his head. Xu Jingzong knelt beside him, his face pale as paper.

Emperor Taizong of Tang did not look at them anymore. His gaze moved away from Zhang Liang and swept across the hall, finally settling in one direction.

“Wang Gui.”

The Minister of Rites stepped out from the ranks. He walked steadily, each step measured and precise.

“I am here, Your Majesty.”

Li Shimin shifted his gaze to another direction.

“Dai Zhou.”

The Minister of Revenue stepped forward and stood beside Wang Gui, bowing.

“I am here, Your Majesty.”

His eyes continued moving.

“Fang Xuanling.”

Fang Xuanling stepped out from the line.

He did not walk as quickly as Dai Zhou, nor as rigidly as Wang Gui, but there was something about his manner—an assurance that made it feel as though anything placed in his hands could be accomplished.

“I am here, Your Majesty.”

Finally, Li Shimin’s gaze fell toward a position further back.

“Li Chunfeng.”

Li Chunfeng stepped out from the ranks. Wearing the simpler robes of the Imperial Astronomer, he moved more lightly than the others, though not hurriedly.

He reached the center of the hall and stood beside Fang Xuanling, bowing.

“I am here, Your Majesty.”

The four of them stood in a line, waiting.

Li Shimin picked up the book from the imperial desk, lifted it slightly, then set it back down.

His voice came from the throne, not loud, but every word was unmistakably clear.

“Zhou Xiong, Marquis of Jiuyuan County, recently used this book as betrothal gift—his son Zhou Yi is to marry Princess Chang Le, Princess Chang Le. The Ministry of Rites shall proceed according to regulations.”

Wang Gui bowed deeply. “The Ministry of Rites receives the decree.”

Li Shimin continued:

“The Ministry of Revenue shall calculate all expenses for the wedding and allocate funds accordingly, based on actual needs.”

Dai Zhou bowed. “The Ministry of Revenue receives the decree.”

He went on:

“The Imperial Astronomical Bureau shall select an auspicious date and report it.”

Li Chunfeng bowed. “The Bureau receives the decree.”

Li Shimin glanced at Fang Xuanling.

“As for this matter, Chancellor Fang, you will supervise it.”

He said nothing more, only gave a slight nod.

“I obey the decree.” Fang Xuanling stepped back half a pace and returned to his position.

Li Shimin’s gaze swept across the hall once more.

“Court dismissed.”

The eunuch called out loudly. The officials bowed, then filed out in orderly succession.

Footsteps echoed through the hall for a while, then gradually faded.

Outside, carriage wheels rolled along the streets—rumbling, steady.

Inside one carriage, Zhou Yi sat leaning against the side wall, hands resting on his knees.

His face was red—burning from his ears all the way down his neck. Even the small patch of collarbone visible at his neckline was tinged with pink, as though something inside his blood was on fire, heating his entire body.

He did not realize his face was red.

He only knew his mind was buzzing, as if a swarm of bees were trapped inside it.

“Zhou Xiong, Marquis of Nine Plains, hereby presents this book as betrothal gift for his son Zhou Yi’s marriage to Princess Changle, Li Lizhi.”

When Li Shimin said those words, Zhou Yi’s ears rang. After that, he didn’t hear a single word. Then the officials performed their formal bows.

He didn’t know how he walked out of the Taiji Hall. He didn’t know how he crossed the great courtyard. He didn’t know how he got into the carriage.

Only one sentence kept spinning in his mind—it’s been nailed down.

Not a private agreement. Not a tacit understanding between his father and the emperor. It was stated in court, in front of all the civil and military officials, personally declared by His Majesty.

The Ministry of Rites would organize it. The Ministry of Revenue would calculate the costs. The Astronomical Bureau would select an auspicious date. The chancellors would oversee it. From this moment on, no one could take it back, no one could say “let’s delay it,” no one could say “it’s not finalized yet.”

It was decided.

His matter with Li Lizhi—it was settled.

The carriage jolted. His body swayed, his hand slipping from his knee onto the wooden seat.

He didn’t bother steadying himself. He just leaned to the side against the carriage wall, staring up at the roof.

There were cracks in the carriage ceiling. Light seeped through them in thin lines, falling across his face and body, flickering with the motion of the carriage.

His thoughts started to spin again.

Not court affairs—Li Lizhi.

He remembered her gripping his hand at the palace gate, saying, “You can’t carry it alone. I’ll carry it with you.”

Back then he had been crouched on the ground, crying like a fool. She crouched beside him, said nothing, just stayed there with him.

When he finally finished crying and stood up, she stood too—still holding his hand, not letting go.

He remembered her standing in the courtyard of the marquis’ residence, calling him “husband” that night.

The dusk had spilled over the walls. The lanterns weren’t lit yet. She stood before him, a head shorter, looking up and saying it: “Husband.”

Just those two words. Then she turned and left without looking back. He stood there in the courtyard, watching her disappear beyond the screen wall, frozen in place until the lanterns were lit and his father came out to glance at him and ask, “What are you standing there for?”

Only then did he come back to himself.

He also remembered her kneeling before his father, calling him “Father” so naturally it sounded like she had been doing it for years.

His father sat by the stone table, tea in hand, stunned. She stood up after greeting him, brushed dust from her skirt, turned to look at Zhou Yi, and said with a smile, “Let’s go,” as if calling someone “Father” was the most natural thing in the world.

Zhou Yi’s face grew even redder.

He touched his face. It was burning. He dropped his hand and turned to look out the window.

Shops on the street drifted backward one by one—cloth vendors, grain sellers, general stores. Some were open, some half-closed, some not yet open.

Few pedestrians were on the road: porters, cart pushers, people leading children. None of them looked into his carriage.

Did she already know?

News from court would reach the palace quickly. What would her reaction be? Would she blush too? Would her mind also go blank like his?

He tried to imagine Li Lizhi blushing, but couldn’t.

He had never seen her blush.

In front of him, she was always quiet—speaking softly, smiling without showing teeth, even when she was angry it was subdued, calm, never loud.

What would she look like if she blushed?

He suddenly laughed.

Very softly—a sound that slipped out from his nose. But the carriage was quiet, and it was clearly audible.

He immediately regretted it. He felt like an idiot.

He straightened quickly, adjusted his collar. When his fingers touched his neck, it was hot—too hot.

He lowered his hand and leaned back again.

The carriage kept moving. Wheels rolled over blue stone streets with a steady clatter—like a heartbeat.

Listening to it, his pulse slowly steadied.

His face was still red, but the buzzing in his head faded. Only one thought remained, calm and steady:

It’s settled—her and his matter is settled.

The carriage stopped at the Ministry of Works.

Zhou Yi took a deep breath, picked up the official document beside him, and got out.

Standing at the entrance, he straightened his collar and walked inside. The redness on his face hadn’t fully faded, but it was no longer obvious.

He entered the office hall, sat behind his desk, picked up the document that had been untouched since morning, opened it, took up his brush, dipped it in ink—and held it hovering above the paper.

His hand was steady.

His face, now, was calm.