Although Fang Zhen had now lost the Emperor's favor and seemed, in others' eyes, to have no future left, based on his understanding of the Emperor, being ignored at a time like this did not mean the Emperor was truly angry with him. Or perhaps the Emperor genuinely had not spared him a thought. The Emperor's health had been worsening by the day.
If the Emperor had truly been angered, Fang Zhen's fate would have been like Luo Pei's before—prison would become a place to recuperate.
So what if he was the Marquis of Huifeng's son?
Luo Pei had once been Prince Shu's right-hand man, a capable minister of considerable rank in the court, skilled in flood control. He was no stray cat or dog, yet because he had incurred the Emperor's wrath by association, had he not still been thrown into prison?
Over the past two years, the Emperor had become increasingly arbitrary, and his temper had worsened as well. When he was younger, he might still listen to his ministers' remonstrance. Now, if anyone dared obstruct the Emperor's enthusiasm, they might be dragged away on the spot, charged with some crime at random, and made to squat in prison.
Still, at least he exercised restraint. Those he vented his anger upon would not be killed.
That was getting far afield. This time, Prince Qi had struck him in the face and assassinated his household retainers. Prince Dai's Residence strengthening its guards was only natural, as inevitable as water flowing into a channel.
Not only would the entire court and public understand, even the Emperor would likely understand.
All at once, Fang Zhen realized why he had felt something was off just now.
It was precisely that feeling of inevitability, of clouds drifting and water flowing.
"Was this destiny,