Chapter 17 — Wedding Day Switch: My Husband Traded Me Away

The evening meal was lavish beyond compare. The table groaned under the weight of an array of rich meat dishes, yet not a single sweet was to be found. It seemed he had truly committed my casual words from our previous encounter to memory. The two of us dined in a quiet solitude, exchanging no words, yet the atmosphere was entirely devoid of awkwardness. Instead, it possessed a serene tranquility, as if time itself were flowing by unheeded. Once the meal had concluded, the servants quietly cleared away the remaining dishes before retiring. Suddenly, he broke the silence.

Tomorrow, Gu Yan will be impeached by the Censorate.

I cast a slightly astonished glance in his direction.

For what reason?

Morally bankrupt, utterly lacking in personal virtue, abandoning his lawful wife to climb the social ladder through wealthy connections, and elevating a lowly concubine above her mistress.

His tone remained utterly indifferent.

Such a litany of charges is more than sufficient to strip him of his official rank and office, ensuring he is never appointed to a post again for the rest of his days.

I understood instantly. This was his doing—venting my frustrations for me. The very moment I chose to escort the gentlewoman to the temple, he had resolved to utterly obliterate Gu Yan future prospects. The two of us shared an unspoken, uncanny synergy.

Does Your Highness not fear others whispering that you are merely settling personal grudges and abusing your formidable authority?

I inquired. He let out a faint, dismissive chuckle.

As for my reputation, is it truly something I need to trouble myself with?

Throughout this entire realm, who would dare whisper a word against me?

That supreme, overwhelming arrogance, which treated the entire world with haughty disdain, radiated naturally from his person, stirring an involuntary sense of profound admiration within me.

My deepest gratitude, Your Highness.

This time, my words of thanks carried a sincerity deeper than any I had ever offered before.

Think nothing of it.

He gazed fixedly at me, then suddenly reached out to pluck a stray fallen leaf from my hair. His fingertips brushed lightly against the shell of my ear, the touch lingering with a pleasant warmth, carrying the faint, subtle roughness of calluses. The contact caused my entire body to freeze in place. He, too, paused for a fraction of a second, before swiftly acting as though nothing had happened, withdrawing his hand with unhurried composure.

Get some rest early.

Leaving behind only those brief words, he turned his wheelchair and departed. I remained seated in the exact same spot, unmoving for a long while. Slowly, I raised a hand to gently touch the burning heat radiating from my earlobe. Deep within my chest, it felt as though something long frozen was quietly melting away.

The following day unfolded precisely as Feng Yuan had foreseen. During the early morning court assembly, the outspoken officials of the Censorate united in presenting a memorial impeaching Gu Yan, the son of the Junior Minister of Personnel. The memorial was lengthy, meticulously cataloging over a dozen criminal offenses attributed to him. Each allegation was rooted in unvarnished truth, every single charge as sharp and unyielding as a drawn blade. The young emperor, seated high upon the dragon throne, was frightened to the point of absolute speechlessness, able only to cast anxious glances toward Feng Yuan expression. Feng Yuan sat quietly in his designated position just below the throne, uttering not a single word from beginning to end. It was only after every official had finished speaking that he slowly let fall a single, decisive sentence.

An individual of such thoroughly corrupted morality is profoundly unworthy of being employed by the imperial court.

With that single remark, Gu Yan fate was sealed. The imperial decree was swiftly issued. Gu Yan was stripped of his official title and reduced to the status of a commoner, barred for life from ever participating in the imperial examinations. His life was now entirely finished. By the time the news reached the estate, I was tending to the blossoms in the courtyard of the Prince Regent mansion, gently trimming overgrown branches. Mother Zhang stood close by, joyfully recounting the wretched spectacle of Gu Yan downfall. She described how, the very moment Gu Yan received the imperial decree, he collapsed unconscious on the spot, plunging the entire Gu household into a shroud of despair and gloom. Meanwhile, the common folk throughout the capital clapped and cheered in public squares, universally declaring it a fitting retribution for a wicked man. Hearing this, my expression remained entirely unmoved, and not a single ripple stirred within my heart. Toward Gu Yan, I had long since harbored any remaining feelings; whether his end proved fortunate or wretched was entirely inconsequential to me now. The person who truly commanded my concern was someone else entirely. I laid down my pruning shears and turned to Mother Zhang.

Where is His Highness?

Reporting to the Princess, His Highness has remained inside the study the entire time, without stepping out once.

Has he not even partaken of the midday meal?

Indeed not. His Highness stated that he had no appetite whatsoever.

My heart instantly sank heavily. I knew all too well that the old injury in his legs was flaring up once more. Whenever the damp, lingering rains arrived, his crippled limbs would throb with an excruciating agony, piercing through him like an awl driven into his heart—pain so intense that he could neither swallow food nor close his eyes in sleep through the night. I turned and walked straight into the small kitchen, personally simmering a restorative herbal broth meant to nourish vitality and blood. Once it was ready, I carried the bowl toward his study. The heavy study door remained firmly shut. I knocked gently, but no answering voice emerged from within. Hesitating for a brief moment, I pushed the door open and stepped inside anyway. The interior was dim, heavy shadows cast by the tightly sealed windows. A thick, pungent aroma of medicinal herbs rushed forward to assail my senses. Feng Yuan sat behind the mahogany desk, his complexion several shades paler than a blank sheet of paper. His forehead was slick with a fine layer of cold sweat, his teeth clenched tightly together, and the fingers gripping the armrests of his chair were tense, the veins bulging prominently beneath his skin.