Legend of Fu Yao

He waved his hand and ordered, “Vice Minister, please continue the ceremony!”

Meng Fuyao turned around leisurely, receiving the Gold Seal from the trembling vice minister and bowed to the throne.

As she stood there elegantly, all the officials heaved a long sigh of relief.

It was certainly not an easy task for her to be crowned the Empress…

Zhan Beiye could only gaze at her, wondering when she would don on this dress for him.

The Emperor of Dahan turned to look at the skies and too, heaved a sigh.

The road ahead would be long, the climb, steep… The beauty as unreachable as the clouds in the sky!

With “her saving his life” as an excuse, it would naturally be reasonable for Zhan Beiye to propose a toast to her during the feast where the guests from various countries arrived.

As the Emperor and the Empress walked over to him, he lifted his golden cup up with a smile. But unlike the others, wishing the couple ‘a harmonious union’, he instead apologized. “I am very apologetic for the commotion I had caused previously. Would the Emperor of Xuanyuan allow me to propose a toast to the Empress in private, to apologize as well as to thank her?”

Xuanyuan Min stepped aside with a smile and generously replied, “Of course. Please.” With the wine cup in his hand, he went over to Shangyuan’s courageous and loyal Gong Yan Lie to have a conversation.

With a smile plastered on her face as she toasted to Zhan Beiye, Meng Fuyao covered half her face with her sleeve. With a menacing voice, she cursed under her breath. “Zhan Beiye, you’ve gone too far—”

Zhan Beiye ignored her comment and said, “I finally found you!”

Meng Fuyao paused. Then, she suddenly realized that he looked a lot more haggard after a mere few months. His eyes were bloodshot with dark eyebags underneath. One could tell the weariness in his eyes.

After some reflection, Meng Fuyao felt that perhaps she had gone too far. Even though she was mad at his actions, she should still leave behind a letter before she left.

The twist of fate had brought upon him suffering for no reason. Watching him attempt to stop the sedan chair without a care for his own safety, without a care for his dignity as an emperor, risking his authority and rushing into another country’s place out of worry for her made her forget what his subordinate had done. In fact, just seeing his haggard looks itself would be enough for her to bury the hatchet.

She sighed and toasted. The two held their wine cups as they politely “caught up”.

“Have you seen Little Seven? I ordered him to come to find you,” asked Zhan Beiye.

“No, he came alone?” asked Meng Fuyao, surprised.

“He should take responsibility for his wrongdoing.” Zhan Beiye explained Little Seven’s thinking behind his actions, and after listening, Meng Fuyao frowned and grumbled, “He’s still a child. Such harsh punishment… What if something really happened to him? Ah…”

As so, in between the toasts, the two exchanged brief updates on their situation. Zhan Beiye’s face remained stoic throughout, only frowning slightly at the mention of Shadow Blade.

“Just to save someone, did you really have to play the role of this fake Empress? Did you really… Ha…” His sentence was cleanly cut off by the expression of Meng Fuyao’s face. He could only change the topic. “You want to help Xuanyuan Min defeat Xuanyuan Cheng, but this might not benefit Zong Yue at all.”

“Do I have to?” Meng Fuyao laughed coldly. “Just watch.”

The two gold cups in their hands clinked, and they both went their separate ways. Meng Fuyao continued to go around and propose a toast to the guests. When she came to Yan Lie, she smiled. “Shangyuan’s Yan family is renowned, especially Yan Jingchen, taking over the sect at such a young age. Despite living in the relatively secluded north of Xuanyuan, I’ve admired his actions for a very long time.”

Yan Lie’s eyes darkened as he bowed slightly. “For his name to enter the ears of the Empress is his honor.” He lifted his cup and then quickly gulped it down as though he was forced to consume some sort of bitter tea.

Meng Fuyao glanced at him thoughtfully. She had been occupied lately and did not have any news of Yan Jingchen…

‘I wonder how Yan Jingchen, whose wife and teacher have been killed by me, is doing? Apparently, he doesn’t seem to be doing very well?’

The next table of guests were actually acquaintances from the True Martial Arts competition. The Wang Hua Yan from Xuanji that had lost to Yun Hen. Beside sat his wife, Feng Yu Chu, the eighth princess from Xuanji.

Just by noticing her identity as a Xuanji princess, Meng Fuyao immediately wanted to slaughter her. Thank goodness this eighth princess actually looked normal—in comparison to Princess Lotus, most people were, unsurprisingly, normal.

Her status was even higher than her husband. As she stood up in a sophisticated manner, she gently apologized with a toast. “The Emperor has fallen ill and is unable to come personally. He has sent me in his stead to congratulate Your Highness.”

‘That Old Man Feng has fallen ill? As a result of sadness over Princess Lotus’ death? Aiya, with that bunch of sons and daughters that are all able to inherit the throne, wouldn’t chaos ensue once that old man drops dead? To be sent out here at such a critical moment—that princess should be out of the game?’

Smiling slightly, Meng Fuyao finished her wine.

After toasting to all the guests, it was time for the guests to give their gifts. Most of the presents were gold and jewelry that was valuable but lacked any sort of consideration. The most shameless present was from Da Han, where he had directly moved over a statue of a gold Buddha. It was huge, but the craftsmanship was rough. God knew which family workshop had manufactured such a ‘piece of art’. Meng Fuyao glanced over at Zhan Beiye who was currently gulping down the wine with a black face.

‘Well, managing to give a gift is good enough, just look at the depressed, haggard face,’ Meng Fuyao thought to herself.

But the last present caught everyone’s attention.

From Wuji.

The relationship between Xuanyuan and Wuji wasn’t the best. Wuji not sending an ambassador to congratulate the birth of the new Empress was more than normal—Xuanyuan did not even extend the invitation to Wuji. Hence, this gift that they had asked Shangyuan to bring over caught everyone’s attention.

The heavily packaged lilac purple brocade box sparkled beautifully under the light from the luminous pearls. Looking at the color of the box, Meng Fuyao’s heart thumped.

Yan Lie opened the box.

One layer, two layers, three layers…

His face turned black. ‘Why didn’t the ambassador from Wuji mention that the gift had so many layers?’

But Meng Fuyao was reminded of the time in Yaocheng, the night of waltz where Lord Yuan Bao’s gift to his master was too covered in layers…

Her lips curled up slightly… Perhaps it was someone’s little surprise, or perhaps it was just mere coincidence.

The smile was abruptly replaced by a frown as she squashed that damn guinea pig in her sleeves. She seemed to remember Wuji explicitly mentioning his inability to receive any information on her for a period of time. But by the looks of it, he seemed to be up to date? Using what methods? That damn guinea pig?

The guinea pig squatted in her sleeve, its eyes rolling in exasperation. ‘Is it easy for me? Only the Heavens would know how much hardships and inner struggles I’ve had to go through send information to my master about my love rival… AHHHHHH! Only the Heavens would know how difficult it is to transmit a large amount of information from one end of the world to another… AHHH!’

Finally, the contents in the box were revealed after much wait. All was left was but a lilac pouch. The pouch was intricate with elaborate designs that coruscated under the light. But when the pouch was opened, there was nothing in there.

Everyone: “…”

“I’ve heard that the crown prince of Wuji possesses remarkable talent and even his actions are different from others, and today, I’ve witnessed that his actions are indeed different, very different…”

Everyone giggled. “Different indeed… different indeed…”

Meng Fuyao rolled her eyes. She hated the sardonic tone Xuanyuan Min had!

Initially, she felt that as long as she understood his message, it would be enough. After all, Zhangsun Wuji did not plan for anyone else to understand. But now, she had enough!

Just as the box was being kept away, Meng Fuyao suddenly reached out and picked up the pouch. She tugged on the silk strings and flipped the pouch over.

The pouch in her hands was now a handkerchief.

The strands of threads could be seen clearly, but they did little to diminish the elegance of the design. In fact, because of the individual strings, there was more depth to the pattern. Meng Fuyao held the handkerchief up, displaying it.

‘Wah—’

It was a picturesque scene of a royal couple admiring the sea.

In the scene, the sea reflected the evening sky, embellished with the rosy pink clouds. The rays of hues of orange cast down on the golden palace, softening the lines between the roof and the sky. The smoke danced around the pavilion as the elegant lady and honorable man stood there. Bearing the semblance of a smile, shoulder to shoulder, the two gazed at the intersection of the sky and the sea. The man pointed towards the horizon which the lady looked towards it with love and longing.

A simple action but somehow, the gracefulness and the charm was firmly embedded into each and every thread of the embroidery.

The same phrase immediately came to everyone’s mind: A match made in heaven.

There was no other word that could describe such perfection.

Yan Lie was the first to snap out of the daze. “A match made in heaven is the perfect way to describe the Emperor and Empress of Xuanyuan.”

Everyone began their compliments, but some of the sharper audience questioned, ‘The man and the woman’s clothes are similar, but Xuanyuan is a landlocked country. So where did the sea come from?’

But Meng Fuyao’s attention was on the material of the handkerchief.

This is another subset of Wuji’s Silver Embroidery, a rare type.

“Thousand Silk Embroidery.”

Thousands of silk, thousands of longing.

Longing, regardless.

Meng Fuyao gently caressed that smooth Thousand Silk Embroidery. The embroidered scene on the handkerchief brought happiness to her eyes…

‘Zhangsun Wuji, Zhangsun Wuji, to congratulate yourself being a match made in heaven with another’s wife on his wedding… And he even had to thank you for it… Only you would do something like that.’

But somehow, her emotions that had been weighed down by the deceitful schemes and dangerous acts, slowly but surely, lightened up…

After keeping the gifts, Meng Fuyao accompanied Xuanyuan Min around the hall to propose a toast to all the honorable guests adorned with gold and jade. Under the flickering lights, the “majestic match made in heaven” made their way around the hall.