MFMH C112

Chapter 112 — Extra

Never before had the boy felt such anger. His bun-like cheeks puffed up as he furiously snatched up a stone from the ground and hurled it with all his might. With a thunk, it plunged into the water.

“Young Master…” Ming’an’s heart clenched at the sight of his reddened eyes, brimming with unshed tears.

“Ah—!” Su Qingze roared, “I’m so angry! Everyone is lying to me!”

“Young Master, don’t let your anger harm you,” Ming’an soothed cautiously. “I’ve long said the old madam hides malice in her heart. It is only your kindness that made you treat her with sincerity.”

“Hmph!” Su Qingze spat fiercely. “I will never bother with her again!” The old lady’s false face was unbearable! Caught insulting him, she’d fainted in a fit, and upon waking still had the gall to beg forgiveness!

Was his heart a toy for others to trample at will? It was infuriating!

“Then please don’t be angry with Master and Madam either. They only hid the betrothal from you out of fear you wouldn’t accept—”

“Shut up!” Su Qingze barked, face cold. He could forgive the old lady after venting his rage, but that his parents hid something as important as his betrothal—no wonder his mother had spoken so strangely that day.

If he had harbored other feelings for Ah Heng…

At that thought, his chest tightened painfully, breath hard to catch. He buried his face in his knees, nose twitching.

Ming’an panicked. “Young Master, d-don’t cry!”

“You’re the one crying!” Su Qingze snapped, glaring at him before rubbing his eyes and standing. Without sparing another glance, he strode off.

“Young Master! Where are you going?” Ming’an rushed after him.

“I’m running away from home!”

“What?” Ming’an’s eyes went wide, nearly dropping to his knees in fright.

Once he declared it, Su Qingze returned home and immediately began packing. In all his years, he had never left far beyond Qingzhou’s surrounding counties. Now, with his sister’s family arriving the next day, and his brother-in-law soon to depart for his official post, it was the perfect chance to follow along—clear his head and see the wider world.

At seventeen, Su Qingze left home. That same year, the new emperor Zhao Yu changed the reign title to Jianyuan. Su Jingheng, originally Qingzhou’s prefect, was promoted to Governor of Qinghe Commandery for his outstanding achievements and popularity among the people. His son-in-law, Hanlin Academy editor Li Zhiyuan, was dispatched as magistrate of Dongjiang County in Qinghe Commandery.

Knowing their guilt, Su Jingheng and Lady Wei did not dare stop their son. Neither did they tell their daughter Su Wanqing, but secretly entrusted their son-in-law with caring for Qingze along the journey.

Once away from home, the boy was like a freed bird. Though his parents never constrained him much, in Qingzhou he was always under the eyes of acquaintances, forced to mind appearances. Away from family and familiar gazes, he shed all pretense of being a genteel young master.

Just as now.

Su Qingze stared straight at the sturdy young shuang’er before him, eyes shining with envy. “Brother, your physique is incredible!”

The man, halted in his tracks, froze. Shame flooded his face, flushing crimson as he glared at Su Qingze, angry yet tongue-tied.

Poor, he worked daily in the fields, his arms, legs, and waist hardened far more than other shuang’ers. Such a broad-shouldered, thick-waisted build held no appeal for men, leaving him still unmarried at his age. He and his family worried endlessly—and now this wealthy young master mocked him in public!

“Brother, how did you train to have such a fine body?” Su Qingze’s gaze burned as it swept him up and down, nearly itching to reach out and touch.

Those strong arms looked like they could lift heavy weights with ease, those legs firm and powerful, surely swift in stride. That waist carried such tensile strength—perfect for bending at archery!

Su Qingze’s earnestness only mortified the man further. With a look of humiliated fury, he glared once more and bolted!

“Brother, don’t go! You haven’t told me how you train!”

Su Qingze made to chase, but Ming’an clutched him back.

“Young Master, I beg you, stop asking! Let’s just go!” Around them, passersby gawked as though they’d seen a fool, and Ming’an nearly burst into tears.

“I’m not leaving!” Su Qingze protested, glancing around, already seeking his next target. In Qingzhou, shuang’ers were delicate and frail, and rarely had he seen one sturdy enough to ask. But here, such men were more common.

If one refused to answer, he would ask another. If two refused, he’d ask three. Eventually, someone would tell him!

He had had enough of his flabby body. He wanted a way to grow strong without starving himself! That way, the next time he went autumn hunting with Ah Heng, he might ride that magnificent black stallion, Mo Yan, and not collapse gasping after only a short run.

Perhaps persistence does bear fruit. After countless refusals and insults, Su Qingze finally found someone willing to teach him how to train without hunger. But that person was not a brawny shuang’er at all—it was the shuang’er’s husband, a refined and scholarly young man.

Looking into the mirror at the youth before him, who looked slim in robes yet muscular beneath, Su Qingze rejoiced that he had persevered—thus meeting the couple Shen Yanbei and Gu Changfeng, and gaining kindred friends.

“Young Master, try this one next.” Ming’an held out the ceremonial robe.

Obediently, Su Qingze donned the moon-white garment embroidered with silver and gold clouds and a bright moon. No longer the round-bodied boy of old, he had grown into a tall, well-proportioned young man.

His lashes were long and curled, his eyes bright as obsidian, his nose straight, lips red and teeth white. Between his brows lay a vivid crimson birthmark, strikingly alluring. Draped in fine robes, he shone like polished jade, dazzling all who beheld him.

Spreading his arms, Su Qingze let Ming’an fasten his belt and jade ornaments. Today was his guan li — his coming-of-age ceremony. Afterward, he would be counted as a man.

As the son of a governor, the rite should have been held with grand celebration. But as Su Jingheng and Lady Wei were still in mourning, no feasts could be arranged. Instead, only a few relatives and friends attended. Thankfully, Su Qingze had already completed his filial mourning, so the ceremony could proceed.

Everything went smoothly. Su Qingze performed the three kneelings and nine kowtows, changed attire, and paid respects to his parents. They helped him up, Lady Wei’s eyes rimmed with tears, her heart full of joy.

Ming’an presented wine. Su Qingze raised his cup to thank the guests—when suddenly, a voice rang out from outside, startling all.

“An Imperial Envoy arrives—”

At once, a retinue of guards strode in, bearing heavy chests. At their head was a handsome young man in bright red official robes, who smiled and bowed to Su Jingheng and Lady Wei. “Lord Su, Lady Wei.” Then he turned to Su Qingze. “Young Master Su.”

Su Qingze’s eyes shone with delight.

It was none other than Shen Yanbei.

Shen Yanbei arched his brow, drawing from his sleeve a scroll of bright yellow silk. “The Emperor’s decree.”

Su Qingze froze. An imperial edict? Zhao Yu had only recently written him, and his congratulatory gifts had already arrived…

A thought struck him, and his heart began to pound.

Everyone dropped to their knees as Shen Yanbei cleared his throat, stepping forward to unfurl the decree.

“Heaven and Earth in harmony, yin and yang in balance, all things in order. Thus it is decreed: the son of the Su clan of Qinghe, Su Qingze, of pure heart and lively spirit, greatly pleases Us. Therefore We bestow upon him the title of Empress, to share Our body, inherit the ancestral temple, and be mother of the realm…

“In the past, We were cold of heart, disdaining mortal love, fearing a lifetime of solitude. We once vowed: should We find one true heart, never shall We part till white hair. Today, in granting this son of Su, We swear to cherish and love him, never wavering. May you share Our heart, Our virtue, as one…”

Shen Yanbei’s clear voice carried each word, infusing the imperial decree with the cadence of a love letter.

Su Qingze knelt in a daze, his heart sour and sweet at once. He had long known he would one day marry Zhao Yu, yet never imagined the Emperor would bare his heart through an edict.

Silence blanketed the hall. All present were stunned. Since ascending the throne, Zhao Yu had ruled with iron and daring, doing what his predecessors never dared. His reputation was that of a cold strategist. Who could have foreseen such tenderness, such declarations of love written into an imperial decree?

Shen Yanbei rolled the edict closed and grinned at Su Qingze. “Receive the decree, Your Majesty the Empress.”

At that, the guests stirred, hastening to bow. “We greet the Empress! Long live the Empress!”

Flustered, Su Qingze rose, accepted the decree, and bid them rise.

Lady Wei’s eyes brimmed with tears, the burden in her heart finally laid to rest. Su Jingheng sighed in relief, thinking he would no longer have to endure his wife’s daily worries.

With a wave, Shen Yanbei ordered the guards forward with the chests. “By His Majesty’s command, here are the ceremonial robes and dowry. The Ministry of Rites has set the wedding date. In time, the Duke of Zhen will come to escort the bride. Please prepare yourself, Your Majesty the Empress.”

Clutching the decree tightly, Su Qingze bowed. “Thank you, Lord Shen.”

The rite complete, and with such a joyous announcement, the guests showered him with congratulations. Su Jingheng welcomed the men with tea, Lady Wei gathered the women to the flower hall for sweets instead of feasting.

As tea was served, Shen Yanbei sighed heavily, muttering with a wry smile, “Now that you and His Majesty are bound, Changfeng and I can finally rest easy. You can’t imagine how he tormented me daily—sending me hither and thither, never letting me go home! My wife and children wait for me there!”

Su Qingze flushed red. He recalled Zhao Yu’s letters of complaint after Gu Changfeng bore twins. Though Zhao Yu had courted him years earlier than Shen Yanbei courted his husband, the latter already had children, while Zhao Yu remained alone, having yet to even touch the one he loved.

At that thought, Su Qingze glanced at the decree in his hand.

He had met Zhao Yu at fourteen. Now, at twenty, he had come of age.

Six years. But six years ago, he had been a chubby boy who could barely walk far without panting. When had Zhao Yu’s heart first turned toward him?