Xiao Jing felt like he was about to have a myocardial infarction.
Trembling, he raised his hand, fingers sweeping across that group of nodding, obedient yet unfilial descendants.
“You… you people… are you even human?”
“I am your father! Your grandfather!”
“And you just stand there and watch my head turn into a damn green meadow?!”
The answer he got was deathly silence.
The sons all looked away awkwardly—some studied ants on the ground, others stared at clouds in the sky.
Even the striped fierce tiger “Big Orange” lazily rolled its eyes, as if saying: Old man, don’t think so highly of yourself.
Xiao Jing’s mentality shattered—into pieces.
He was the dignified former emperor of the Great Xia Empire.
He had spent twenty years on his so-called “Phoenix Attraction Plan.”
Finally, he had managed to lure the true phoenix here.
And then what?
The phoenix had built a nest in his territory—but right in front of him, she brought back an old sparrow!
Is there still law in this world?
Is there still justice?!
Just as the atmosphere became so awkward it could be scraped into a three-room apartment, Feng Zeyuan stepped forward and delivered a graceful finishing blow.
“Former Emperor, this is because your perspective is too narrow.”
“The core problem of our village right now is what? Too many single men, too few high-quality women!”
“What’s wrong with Empress Dowager-level top-tier women starting some healthy competition?”
“In an adult world, there’s no such thing as pure black and white.”
“Whoever provides better service gets to go upstairs for tea. Whoever slacks off…”
“Heh. The two geese at the village gate are still missing a companion.”
Feng Zeyang on the side twitched his mouth, but still nodded in cooperation.
“My sister speaks… very reasonably.”
Xiao Jing felt blood rushing up his throat—neither up nor down.
Even the immortals said so. What could he do?
Was he really supposed to go keep the geese company?
“…Immortal… teaches wisely,” he squeezed out through clenched teeth.
On the other side, Lin Wanyu’s originally cloudy eyes suddenly lit up.
Brilliantly so.
Wonderful.
Truly wonderful!
She, Lin Wanyu, had spent her entire life in the harem, reading faces and walking on eggshells.
Now she was retired—was she still supposed to cling to some broken chastity monument for that old man?
Since even the children said it was fine, why should she still pretend?
The faint, reserved smile on her lips widened, becoming a queen-like dominance.
She brushed off nonexistent dust from her sleeves and didn’t even spare the two men glaring at each other a glance.
She turned and walked away.
Her back was overflowing with authority.
“In that case, let it be as the immortals said.”
Her voice drifted with the mountain wind—light, yet it struck like a hammer.
“I don’t keep idle people in my building.”
“Tonight, whoever brings up my foot-washing water first gets to sleep on the ground floor.”
“As for the loser…”
“I heard the geese at the village gate have been in a bad mood lately. Go keep them company.”
Before her words even finished—
“WHOOSH—”
“WHOOSH—”
Two afterimages vanished instantly from where they stood, kicking up a gust that sent leaves flying.
Then, from the stream came violent sounds of physical combat.
“Damn old man! That’s my basin! Let go!”
“Bullshit! My name is carved on the bottom! I am the Son of Heaven, how dare you touch my imperial foot basin?!”
“What Son of Heaven! In this place you’re just a farmer! This bucket is mine!”
“Ouch! Gao De, you old bastard! How dare you pull my beard?!”
“I’m not just pulling it! I’ll kick your damn leg too!”
Water splashed everywhere, mud flew through the air.
The former emperor who once shook the world and the general who guarded the borders were now rolling in the mud over a single foot-washing basin.
Dirty tricks—monkey stealing peaches, black tiger digs heart, low kicks—no honor at all.
Feng Zeyuan sat on a haystack, swinging her legs leisurely, brushing off sunflower seed shells.
“Yeah, that’s more like it.”
“Now this is the Empress Dowager’s proper main character energy.”
Night fell. Bonfires were lit.
In the Royal Village square, flames crackled and roasted meat sizzled.
The air was filled with cumin and chili aroma, intoxicatingly delicious.
The princes who should have been mourning “royal scandal” were instead happily behaving like oversized children.
Especially when they saw their once-imposing father happily squatting outside the Empress Dowager’s building after winning the right to deliver foot-washing water—grinning so wide his mouth almost reached his ears.
They understood.
As long as I’m not embarrassed, happiness is mine.
The Ninth Prince grabbed a greasy lamb leg, chewing loudly:
“Return to the capital? Return my ass!”
“My blacksmith shop just took a big order. I’ve got work tomorrow!”
The Thirteenth Prince was squatting nearby, diligently peeling shrimp for his physician wife, smiling obsequiously:
“Exactly! What’s so good about the capital?”
“In the capital I’m a prince, I have to act proper. Here… I’m also a prince—but a prince who gets spoiled by his wife!”
“No court, no scheming—this place is paradise!”
Feng Zeyuan stood on the roof. The night wind lifted her sleeves.
She looked at the royal family below—people who should have been solemn and tragic according to history books—but were now chaotic and joyous.
Her gaze drifted north.
There, only endless darkness and coldness existed.
“Hey, sis,” Feng Zeyang said softly, a hint of pity in his voice.
“Do you think the emperor would die of anger if he knew what’s going on here?”
Feng Zeyuan popped a grape into her mouth and shrugged.
“Die of anger? Nah.”
“I think he might just pack up and flee overnight.”
Capital City, Imperial Palace, Imperial Study.
The night was deep, lamps bright.
Xiao Juechen rubbed his aching lower back, staring at the mountain of memorials on the desk.
Frustration grew like wild grass in his heart.
“When… will this ever end…”
Flap.
A messenger pigeon landed on the window.
He untied the bamboo tube and unfolded the letter.
It was from the Third Princess, Xiao Mingyue.
The handwriting was messy, ink splattered, even faintly smelling of roasted meat.
Xiao Juechen opened it.
His hand trembled on the first line.
By the third line, his breathing grew rapid.
By the end, the yellow imperial paper was crumpled in his grip.
“Father… Grandfather is fighting General Gao De for a foot-washing basin by the river…”
“Grandmother is watching the show upstairs…”
“Uncles are dancing and eating barbecue…”
“The Feng siblings are pretending to be immortals, riding a tiger, and making the whole village go wild!”
“Father, the Royal Village is basically paradise!”
“This son and the Crown Prince are secretly staying in Grandfather’s room. The stilt house is great—just not soundproof.”
“I’m eating lamb leg stolen by the Crown Prince while listening to the gossip fight downstairs… so happy…”
At the end, a bold line:
“Everyone is happy. Only Father is not there.”
Only you are not there.
Only you are not there.
Those five words turned into countless knives, echoing in Xiao Juechen’s mind, stabbing wildly.
Puchi. Puchi.
Every stab hit deep.
He slowly raised his head.
His gaze swept across the cold, golden, yet lifeless imperial study.
Across the dragon throne that symbolized supreme authority.
Finally, he looked at the small patch of night sky beyond the tall palace walls.
Father was playing.
Mother was playing.
Those who were supposed to be “dead” were all playing.
Even his own children were playing!
Only him.
Like a blind donkey, circling a millstone in this cold palace again and again.
“Heh…”
A soft laugh escaped his throat.
Low, hoarse, carrying three parts cold mockery, three parts ridicule, and four parts madness.
The sound of his sanity snapping.
“Wang Dehai.”
The eunuch at the door jolted awake, hat crooked, stumbling in.
“Your Majesty… your orders?”
Xiao Juechen suddenly stood.
He tore off the dragon robe.
And strode toward the door, eyes blazing with an unprecedented light.
The light of freedom at the edge of destruction.
“Issue my decree!”
“Whoever wants this job, take it!”
“I… am going on strike tonight!!!”
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