Every minister's gaze turned toward Gu Qingzhou, some envious, some stunned, some suspicious. More than a few secretly wondered how many lifetimes of blessings this young duke must have accumulated for His Majesty to say such things to him.
Gu Qingzhou remained kneeling, not a ripple crossing his face.
He slowly raised his head toward the throne. Sincerity filled his rugged features, and his voice was utterly calm.
"Your Majesty's boundless grace moves your servant to tears. Yet my heart already belongs to someone, and I dare not accept the honor of an imperial marriage, much less profane the dignity of the palace. Your servant has but one request..."
His forehead touched the floor again. "I am willing to relinquish my dukedom. I ask only that Your Majesty pardon Ding Feiyong."
His calm voice drove into everyone's heart like a copper nail hammered into wood, making them shudder.
"If Your Majesty refuses, then your servant... will remain kneeling."
The air in the hall froze.
Beneath his sleeve, Emperor Chen's hand abruptly clenched the armrest of his dragon throne. His knuckles whitened, and the sharp edges of the carved dragon's head dug into his palm, leaving a deep red mark.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, his lips drawn into a thin, taut curve. Behind the curtain of beads, his gaze was like two iron spikes tempered in ice, piercing Gu Qingzhou's prostrate back. His voice was frigid. "You... are trying to force my hand?"
"Your servant would never dare."
Gu Qingzhou lay prostrate, his voice clear as a chime. "Your Majesty, the Ding and Gu families have rendered great service to Great Chen on the battlefield. The late chancellor Ding Fengyuan bent his back to the task and exhausted himself in service to Great Chen, and my grandfather followed the dragon