Chapter Sixty-Seven: Promising You a Future

At the start of the month, the crescent moon hung in the sky like a smiling, curved brow.

In less time than it took for half a stick of incense to burn, Feng Jinye returned to the Prince of Zhan's residence with Weishao Qianyu in his arms.

Weishao Qianyu was not yet asleep; her heart was filled with surprise. To travel from the north of the city back to the west, Feng Jinye had once said it would take an hour, yet today, from the east of the city, it had taken but a brief moment.

Feng Jinye did not take her back to the Zhiyu Pavilion. Instead, upon entering the residence, he carried her up into a tree.

Leaning against the trunk, Feng Jinye closed his eyes, his back pressed to the bark, while Weishao Qianyu rested against him.

She felt the tension in his body slowly ease, though his arms, locked tightly around her, did not loosen in the slightest.

Her heart clenched. She reached up to smooth the furrow from his brow and whispered softly, “Jinye, I’m back. I haven’t been lost.”

At her words, Feng Jinye pulled her even closer.

Bitterness welled in her chest. She knew he would never let others see his weakness or unease. Perhaps he had grown accustomed to bearing everything alone; perhaps this tree was the driftwood he clung to in a sea of despair.

She gently pried open one of his hands wrapped around her and held it in her own, murmuring, “Feng Jinye, look at me…”

At her request, his eyes flickered open, meeting hers.

For a moment, the world stilled, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

The person before her was the one in her heart, and in one glance, her pulse was thrown into chaos.

Unconsciously, she clutched his sleeve, her fingernails pressing into the fabric, suddenly recalling the embroidered fan in the bridal sedan.

Feng Jinye could hear the wild pounding of his own heart. Suddenly, he pulled her into a fierce embrace and kissed her.

It’s said that during a kiss, one might feel as if the world is spinning; Weishao Qianyu thought there was some truth to this, for it seemed to carry her back three years…

Three years ago, on the third day of the Lunar New Year, it was the day of her coming-of-age ceremony.

Her ceremony was exceedingly simple—a new dress, a delicately carved jade hairpin, just like any other girl. The only difference was that she insisted her father, Weishao Zhantian, place the hairpin in her hair instead of her mother.

It was also the day Feng Jinye came to the general’s manor to formalize their engagement.

He arrived with the palace official bearing the imperial edict. The manor was surrounded by onlookers, and as soon as the edict was read, she took Feng Jinye’s hand and ran.

There was a long, red corridor from the main courtyard to her quarters—a corridor so long it seemed to stretch endlessly, making her feel as if she could walk on forever.

She ran hurriedly, only to be caught by Feng Jinye, who, with a hint of jealousy, asked, “Why are you running?”

She nearly forgot—they had quarreled just the day before.

Her cousin Lin Yichu, her aunt’s son, had come to take the provincial exams that year, and her aunt had brought him to celebrate the New Year with the family.

Her father had originally intended for her to marry Lin Yichu, but unexpectedly, the Prince of Zhan had requested the imperial decree during the palace banquet on New Year’s Eve.

After the family finished their New Year’s dinner, her father explained everything, worried that Lin Yichu would take it hard. She had soothed her father with some well-chosen words.

On the second day, she saw Feng Jinye and told him everything.

He only asked, “And what did you say?”

She hadn’t thought much of it and replied, “I can’t quite recall—something like, ‘Cousin is tall and handsome, elegant and talented, with the charm of Pan An. Surely he’ll find a woman of equal beauty and virtue.’”

At once, Feng Jinye’s face darkened. It was the first time she’d seen him look that way, and she was at a loss. “I… I was just saying it, that’s all…”

She thought to herself: Isn’t that just a classic line?

But from then on, Feng Jinye hardly spoke to her, and their parting was less than amicable.

In the corridor of the general’s manor, he asked again, “Why are you running?”

She was flustered, lowering her voice, “I have something to say to you.”

The previous night, she had thought it over; he was only upset because she’d praised another man. She realized she was in the wrong and resolved to make it up to him.

He glanced down at her hand gripping his sleeve—his heart had already softened. He had regretted their quarrel as soon as he’d returned home.

She took a breath, a bit awkward, and began, “Feng Jinye, you are gifted and distinguished, imposing and heroic, upright and strong—a true man among men…”

She unconsciously counted the words on her fingers. She had only used five to praise her cousin yesterday; surely this would suffice?

Feng Jinye’s face broke into a smile. “Is that all?”

She looked up to see the warmth in his eyes. His gaze was so intense that she took two steps back, retreating onto the carved window sill behind her.

He advanced, and in her daze, she stammered, “A graceful youth, the longing of my heart…”

Before the words had left her lips, his mouth was on hers.

On that cool night, nestled in the tree, she listened to the pounding of hearts—not knowing if it was hers or his.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his nose brushing gently against hers, his voice husky. “I remember now, how you looked at your coming-of-age ceremony…”

As he spoke, he reached for her chin, intending to kiss her again. She turned her head, and his kiss fell on her cheek.

“Can you not speak properly?” she said, feigning composure, though her burning cheeks betrayed her shyness.

Seeing her face flushed scarlet, he thought it best not to push her further. He gently pulled her into his arms and replied in a low voice, “Very well.”

“Do you often hide up in this tree?” she asked, with a hint of coyness.

“Not often,” he replied.

Not often, but clearly more than once or twice. He didn’t deny that he was hiding.

She felt a pang of tenderness for him. She wondered what he had been like before she came into his life.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves; moonlight bathed them in silver.

Her voice was like a bubbling spring as she murmured in his ear, “Feng Jinye, may I promise you a future?”

He was stunned by her sudden words, gazing at her in surprise.

She nodded, her voice clear and gentle, “A family at leisure, gathered warmly by the lamplight.”

His heart surged. In that moment, the woman before him merged with the girl from his newly awakened memories.

Back then, she had said, “A graceful youth, the longing of my heart…”

Now, she said, “A family at leisure, gathered warmly by the lamplight…”

“Yes,” he replied.

With just that one word, Weishao Qianyu knew: “A family at leisure, gathered warmly by the lamplight”—this was their shared promise.

“Is there anything you wish to say?” she teased.

Unexpectedly, Feng Jinye nodded. “Today, I broke a wine jar…”

She was taken aback at his remorseful look and asked in confusion, “A wine jar?”

“And fought with Huangfu…” he added, like a child admitting his mistakes.

She pondered, still puzzled. For a man like Feng Jinye, even arson and murder would not make him feel guilty—only failing a promise to her would.

“Is it because you promised to change your bad temper?” she ventured.

He remained silent, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Silly prince, I asked you to change your temper so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. You can fight anyone you want, just don’t get hurt—and make sure you win!”

“As for the wine jar, it’s only because Xue Chun manages the household too strictly. We have enough shops to support us now—smash as many jars as you like, just don’t get hurt.” In high spirits, she playfully tapped his nose.

Feng Jinye felt again that he was being coddled like a spoiled child. But perhaps that was only fair—after all, she was the one saying, “Feng Jinye, may I promise you a future…”

He hesitated, unsure whether to say the rest, but she asked, “Is there more?”

He sighed. “I killed a man.”

She paused, then lifted her eyes to look at him. “Then he must have deserved it!”

Feng Jinye was stunned—she trusted him so completely?

She continued to turn the events of the day over in her mind. Suddenly, she recalled something. “Wait, Feng Jinye, I just realized…”

“Yes?” he asked, puzzled.

Today, he had carried her home in less than half a stick of incense, yet on the night the pavilion burned, he had claimed it took an hour to walk back.

On that night, he had lied. She’d never known Feng Jinye to lie before. The thought made her laugh out loud.

“Feng Jinye, let me tell you a story called ‘Couldn’t Bear to Part’…”

“A long, long time from now, there was someone named Ye Jingfeng, who once said that if he ever lied, he’d write his name backwards…”

Feng Jinye suddenly remembered the day he had casually told her, “It takes an hour to walk to the Prince of Zhan’s residence, two to return to the Duke’s estate…”

He feigned a cough, pretending not to understand her playful teasing.

Watching his expression, she suddenly wanted to keep a little puppy; perhaps it would sometimes resemble him.

“I wonder if I could keep a little…” Before she could finish, Feng Jinye was already on guard. She barely finished the word, “puppy.”

She sighed. “Never mind, best not. I’d be afraid for the peace of the household!”

But Feng Jinye, hearing her wish, agreed. “Tomorrow, I’ll find you one…”

“No, no! I’m afraid any adorable little creature would be drowned in jealousy in this house!” she said hastily, and quickly changed the subject. “I’m hungry. Prince of Zhan, can you take me to supper?”

It was already midnight, and neither of them had eaten. Without hesitation, Feng Jinye helped her down from the tree, intending to carry her to the Zhiyu Pavilion.

She said, “You can put me down. It doesn’t take an hour to walk to the pavilion…”

He had nothing to say to that and set her down. She took his hand and together they ran toward the pavilion.

The night was gentle, tranquil and serene.

Feng Jinye’s lips curved in a faint smile, just as the young maiden three years ago had pulled him by the hand through that long, red corridor.