Chapter 21: Thunder and Rain, Both Acts of the Sovereign’s Grace

The next day dawned clear, and Cheng Xueyang entered the palace alone.

When Nanny Xiao offered to accompany her, Cheng Xueyang refused. While it might have been unseemly for a princess to have no servants at her side, she wondered what kind of princess she even was anymore.

She was not left waiting all day; at noon, the Emperor summoned her to dine with him.

The table was set with the dishes she had loved as a child. It was hard to tell if he had remembered them himself or if those around him had ensured they were prepared. Cheng Xueyang glanced at Head Eunuch He, who stood behind the Emperor. He offered her an ingratiating smile, a stark contrast to his attitude the day before.

She had not seen her father in five years, yet he had changed little. His stern face commanded awe without needing to show anger, and his posture remained as upright and vigorous as ever.

When she bowed, his voice as he told her to rise carried a hint of aged huskiness, lacking the booming, sharp tone of years past.

After a brief exchange of greetings, a deathly silence fell. Neither father nor daughter spoke again, mechanically picking at their food without emotion. The maids and eunuchs waiting on them trembled with fear, and even Eunuch He was visibly shaken.

The Emperor’s moods were notoriously unpredictable. Sometimes he would speak with a smile while his heart was filled with displeasure, foreshadowing an inevitable eruption; other times, he might scold with a grim face, only for his anger to have already dissipated, leaving the target unscathed. But never had he been this solemn and tight-lipped—it was the calm before the storm.

He had specifically changed into new robes that morning and carefully instructed the Imperial Kitchen to prepare the dishes Princess Xuanyun supposedly loved, even questioning the head chef about her preferences. He had clearly intended to soften his attitude and welcome her back, yet the moment they met, everything changed.

It was her coldness.

If Princess Xuanyun had only spoken soft, warm words and acted like a daughter, the barriers between them might have crumbled. But having already been slighted the day before, she had failed to learn her lesson, remaining as aloof and proud as ever.

This was a direct challenge to the Emperor's patience.

After a long while, the Emperor finally broke the silence.

"How have you fared in your fief these past years?"

"I didn't starve."

"Are you accustomed to being back in the capital?"

"When one is homeless, every place is a foreign land."

"Are you bearing a grudge against me?"

"Thunder and dew are both favors from the Emperor; I bear no grudge."

"Is it that you bear no grudge, or that you dare not?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Cheng Xueyang, have you made enough of a scene? How long do you intend to act out this temper?"

The Emperor’s rage flared.

Since the death of her older sister, every meeting between Cheng Xueyang and the Emperor had ended in discord. For every three words he spoke, she would retort with ten. Naturally, she became unwelcome, and he saw her less and less, turning his affection toward more obedient princesses. Eventually, she left the palace to establish her own residence, then left the capital to fend for herself, and finally, returned to this city.

Much had happened, but one thing remained unchanged: when they faced each other, she would neither obey nor appease him.

At the start of their argument, the head eunuch had dismissed the servants, leaving only the two of them in the hall.

Cheng Xueyang took a deep breath, composed herself, and said quietly, "Father, why don't you simply state why you summoned me back to the capital? I believe Princess Yunxiang is also looking forward to the result."

The Emperor replied, "The nomadic tribes of the grasslands are a double-edged sword. One must not favor them too much, yet one cannot afford to lose their loyalty. Some time ago, the Khan requested a royal marriage. You must have already met Wugexi; he is young and promising, destined to inherit the Khan’s position. He would make a fine husband."

As she suspected.

In the end, she was nothing more than a pawn in his hand—useful when needed, and to be discarded when not.

Cheng Xueyang did not angrily accuse him of failing as a father. She remained calm, her tone indifferent as if discussing a trivial matter: "Wugexi is far too young, only eighteen. I am twenty-six. I fear I would be a burden to him."

Seeing she had not immediately refused, the Emperor sensed room for negotiation. "Though he is young, he has a mature appearance. He looks to be in his twenties; the difference is negligible."

The grassland people were hardy, and Wugexi was a standout among his peers—tall, brave, and weathered by the elements. He did not possess the delicate appearance of men raised in the capital, so he did indeed look older.

Cheng Xueyang continued, "Regrettably, I have a daughter out of wedlock. A normal man could hardly accept his future wife’s lack of purity, let alone a prince of the grasslands. If you insist on this, Father, I fear you will only reap resentment."

Wugexi was a man who appreciated beauty, but his status would not allow him to take a woman who had given birth out of wedlock as his primary wife; it would invite gossip and cause him to lose face in the grasslands. Even if she were a princess, she could not be a concubine, forcing him to take another woman as his wife. In any light, marrying her seemed to bring him more harm than good.

The Emperor seemed to have anticipated this. "You were young and reckless then. Do you now know shame and regret?"

Cheng Xueyang: "..."

The ruler of a nation certainly knew how to focus on the wrong point!

Self-deprecation! Did he not understand self-deprecation?

The Emperor added, "There is no need for such self-abasement. My daughter is a jewel of heaven; it would be anyone’s great fortune to have you. Even if you hold onto your past, Wugexi has personally promised that he does not mind."

Cheng Xueyang: "..."

Wugexi did not mind? She was almost amused. She had no idea she possessed such charm that Wugexi would overlook her past. It was far more likely that someone had intervened for Cheng Liuyi, making Wugexi realize he could never have her, and that if he wanted a princess, the older Cheng Xueyang was his only option. That person could be Prince Jing, or the man standing before her, or perhaps both.

And so, Wugexi had resigned himself to the situation and turned his attention to her. It had all been designed, waiting for her to return from her fief like a lamb into a tiger’s den.

She took a deep breath.

"Princess Yunxiang is of marriageable age," Cheng Xueyang said softly. "What are your plans for her, Father?"

The Emperor did not answer.

A mocking smile tugged at the corner of Cheng Xueyang’s lips. "It seems I am not qualified to know the answer."

The Emperor’s gaze rested on her face, his eyes filled with a complex, inscrutable emotion. He had already decided the fate of Cheng Liuyi’s marriage, but it was not yet time to reveal it.

At the Yilan Pavilion, Cheng Liuyi had spent the previous night boasting and feeling triumphant. When her trusted maid brought word that the Emperor and Cheng Xueyang were arguing, she was delighted.

What a foolish woman.

To not understand the heartlessness of the imperial family, and to crave affection, was the height of stupidity. Even if he was her flesh and blood, he was, first and foremost, the Emperor—a man standing at the pinnacle of power who would tolerate no challenge to his authority. He liked tame kittens; obedient kittens could get the dried fish they wanted. But if one bared its claws, its fate was already sealed.

"Ha! I truly look forward to seeing Cheng Xueyang cry."