Rising Phoenix-Chapter 228

Ning An Palace was blanketed by a suffocating silence.

The thick stink of rust filled the air as Imperial Physicians streamed in and out through the curtains, occasionally murmuring quietly to each other. In their wake stepped servant women entering with golden basins of clear water and leaving with basins of blood.

The Tian Sheng Emperor’s face was indiscernible as he waited in the Outer Palace, not able to read a single word of the book in his hand.

Madam Feng was beyond man’s arts. She had held nothing back when she had smashed her head, and all of the Imperial Physicians had agreed that it was a miracle she was still breathing, but somehow, the next breath was never her last.

The Emperor knew that she was waiting for Feng Zhiwei and had dispatched a Eunuch with an Imperial Order, though he held no hope. It would take too long for someone like Feng Zhiwei to make it through the questioning at each gate, and it would take the Eunuch some time to make it out of the palace and some time more to find Feng Zhiwei. Even if she were waiting outside the Palace Gates already, there was no time.

Lingering in pain and torment, for what?

“Your Highness…” An Imperial Physician said haltingly, hurrying from the curtain. “I’m afraid… it’s time…”

The Tian Sheng Emperor’s heart fell.

In the end, she had not made it!

“Your Majesty!” A Eunuch suddenly called out in a loud whisper, rushing forward. The Emperor turned in impatient anger, opening his mouth to scold the man as the Eunuch whispered into his ears.”

The Emperor’s brows flew and he set down his book.

“Already? So quickly?”

In astonishment, he repeated: “Broke through the first six gates!”

“Mingying’s heir…” The Emperor murmured as he thought back to the young girl’s display at the Imperial Banquet, some happiness flickering in his eyes as he turned, calling out: “Let her in!”

A figure moved forward, long hair over black dress as the young woman entered through the Ning An Palace doors.

She breathed hurriedly, light sweat dotting her forehead, catching the sunlight streaming in through the door.

She advanced quickly, her face paling with each step.

“You’re here.” The Tian Sheng Emperor greeted sadly. “Go see her.”

At these words, Feng Zhiwei relaxed and almost collapsed. After her crazed race back to Dijing and her headlong rush through the gates, she was a spent arrow.

But she could not fall here, and she laboriously kowtowed to the Emperor before ignoring him and rushing through to the Inner Palace.

The Tian Sheng Emperor watched her as she left, deeply satisfied. The more Feng Zhiwei resembled Qiu Mingying, the more comfort he took.

Feng Zhiwei limped forward through the empty halls, the physicians and servants nowhere in sight.

A white cloth lay wrapped around Madam Feng’s head, concealing her wound. The woman herself lay staring up at the palace ceiling, her eyes fading in and out of focus.

“Mother!”

Feng Zhiwei rushed forward, kneeling by the bedside.

Madam Feng stirred, her eyes brightening as she struggled to turn, her hands reaching out for Feng Zhiwei.

“You… came…” She managed weakly, a wan smile on the corner of her lips. “I almost…missed…”

Feng Zhiwei shut her eyes, clutching her mother’s hand tightly, her voice quiet as if in a daze. “I did not let you wait in vain… I made it…”

The brave young woman reached out under Madam Feng’s gentle, sorrowful smile, gently shifting the cloth on her mother’s head.

Feng Zhiwei stared at the ferocious wound, etching the image into her heart and carving it forever into her mind.

She refused to forget her mother’s wound, just another of the sins the merciless dynasty had heaped on her family. She refused to forget the harsh life, the pain, the suffering of her years. Even when she had thought everything was improving and that she could finally give her mother a comfortable life, the ruthless refused to spare them, tearing her dreams apart.

She wished to remember that the world was merciless, as cold as the torn flesh and shattered bones in front of her eyes. From now on, this wound would stay with her, only growing, never to heal.

The curtain parted as the Tian Sheng Emperor stepped in, too disturbed to wait outside.

Madam Feng said nothing and neither did her daughter. Feng Zhiwei just rested against her mother’s hand, her eyes closed as her mother wrote in her palm.

The callused finger shifted weakly over her palm, so weak that the character were barely recognizable, but Feng Zhiwei still felt these words cut deeper than anything she had ever felt, marking her spirit and soul.

“Zhiwei.” The Tian Sheng Emperor began, turning away from the horrible wound, his face gentle and sorrowful. “My deepest sympathies…”

Feng Zhiwei quirked her lips into a cold, soulless smile, squeezing Madam Feng’s worried hand as she caught her mother’s anxious gaze.

Mom, relax. I understand.

When she turned, her face was filled with sad gratitude. “Your Majesty…”

Madam Feng moved weakly, lifting her daughter’s hand and reaching forward to the Emperor. Feng Zhiwei bit her lip hesitantly, eyeing the Tian Sheng Emperor in obvious trepidation.

The Tian Sheng Emperor’s heart shook at the sight and he stepped forward hurriedly, accepting Feng Zhiwei’s hand from Madam Feng’s grasp.

He held Feng Zhiwei’s hand in his palm solemnly before letting her go, his voice deep as he spoke: “Zhiwei, your mother is a great patron of the Dynasty. All these years, I have failed her, but I will not fail you. Today, you are now the Sheng Ying[1] Princess, and I will treat you as my own daughter…you can…rest easy…”

Feng Zhiwei wept, her tears streaming silently down her face.

“This Female Minister [2]thanks His Majesty for his grace!” Feng Zhiwei choked out, falling down and kowtowing at the Emperor’s feet.

Feng Zhiwei dug her fingers into the golden bricks below her, her nails cracking and dripping with quiet blood, dripping down and joining the dried blood of her mother.

She lifted her eyes, her heart splintering with pain as she looked up at the Tian Sheng Emperor with boundless admiration and adoration as if seeing her own father.

The Tian Sheng Emperor met her gaze, his heart going out for the poor orphan’s miserable life, tears filling his eyes.

Feng Zhiwei had already turned back to her watching mother, nothing having slipped by those attentive, dying eyes.

Madam Feng smiled.

Zhiwei… her Zhiwei…

The daughter that she had spent all her mind, body, and soul to protect, always.

No matter her anger, no matter her pain, no matter the grief and devastation that made her wish to rise and destroy everything, she had maintained her lonely logic and chosen the right path, even if that choice meant that she had to bottle up all her hatred and crush it down until her joints seemed to ache and her bones crack.

[1] 圣缨 (sheng ying; sheng = holy/sacred/ or in this context, Imperial; Ying from her mother’s name Qiu Mingying)

[2] 臣女 is probably most easily understood in this context as “I, your servant.” 女 is the word for female, and 臣 is the word for official or minister, especially in the bureaucracies of the Imperial Dynasties. Princes and Princesses are considered Ministers of the Emperor first, and Sons/Daughters of the Emperor second. 臣女 is the status replacing Feng Zhiwei’s 民女, which is basically Female Commoner.