Two maids fastened golden bracelets onto Yi Xiao’s wrists, their weight pressing painfully against her skin. She lifted a hand and traced her fingertip across the mirror’s surface. The woman in the bronze reflection looked stunning — elaborate makeup veiling her pallor, yet unable to hide the sorrow etched between her brows.
Her attempt to escape the night before had failed, and the tower’s guards had doubled. Early that morning, after only a few mouthfuls of food, Yi Xiao’s strength had waned again. Today, the Jinxiu Dynasty’s wedding procession would enter Shusha’s gates, and Feng Suige had insisted she appear at the city wall to welcome them.
“The city wall or tonight’s banquet — choose one,” he had said with a smirk, motioning for the maids to dress her.
“Miss Fu looks truly beautiful when dressed up,” one maid said softly, tying the last ribbon. “No wonder the prince adores her so.”
Since the false alarm, rumors had spread throughout the estate — tales of the Shusha prince’s deep affection for a captive from Jinxiu. Each retelling softened the truth until it became a romantic legend: Feng Suige, venturing deep into enemy territory to reclaim his lover. Soon, everyone in the palace began calling her Miss Fu instead of Major Fu.
“His adoration is indeed… special,” Yi Xiao replied through gritted teeth, her tone sharp beneath the sweetness of her painted lips.
The maid finishing her hair secured the final hairpin and stepped back to inspect her work. Another approached with a tray bearing a coral-red brocade robe. Yi Xiao’s brows furrowed.
“I don’t want this one.”
A familiar voice drifted in from the doorway. “You don’t?”
Feng Suige entered with a leisurely smile. “I remember you used to wear coral red on the battlefield. I thought you loved it. I had this one made especially for you, yet you refuse?”
Yi Xiao lowered her gaze. “On a day like this, the one who should wear red isn’t me.”
“What’s wrong with red?” he said, circling to her side, his tone both teasing and cold. “It suits you. Why do you insist on dull colors? Isn’t this much better?”
She turned her head away. “I haven’t worn such colors since the war ended.”
“Why?” His voice deepened, curiosity edged with warning. “Such a bright color on the battlefield must have been… conspicuous.” His smile faded, ice creeping into his tone. “For that man — you used yourself as bait? Were you tired of living?”
Yi Xiao’s lips curved faintly. “Yet I’m still alive.”
Feng Suige let out a low laugh. “Trying to provoke me? A waste of effort.” He glanced around the room lazily. “You don’t like this outfit? Hmm… how troublesome. Where am I supposed to find something else at this hour?”
Without warning, he loosened his belt. Yi Xiao froze, watching warily as he removed his own gold-threaded robe and draped it over her shoulders.
“This should fit.”
She frowned, but before she could push it off, his arms wrapped around her, trapping her in the fabric’s lingering warmth.
“Let go!” she hissed. “I’ll wear the red one!”
“No,” he murmured beside her ear, his voice low and dangerous. “This one suits you better.”
Seeing her resist, he deftly caught his discarded belt with his foot, snatched it midair, and bound her hands together with effortless strength. Amid the maids’ gasps, Feng Suige lifted Yi Xiao into his arms and strode out the door.
The stunned maids were silent for only a heartbeat before bursting into gossip. Then one suddenly cried out and chased after them, flustered. “Prince! You’re not wearing your outer robe!”
Outside, even as Feng Suige mounted the horse with her in his arms, Yi Xiao cursed weakly, “You… battle-crazed lunatic…”
Her words were swallowed by his iron grip. “Make a scene inside Shuihuiyuan all you want,” he warned, voice calm but edged. “But outside, keep quiet. Or…” His gaze glinted. “Would you rather let the Duke of Zhennan see you like this — disheveled in my arms?”
Yi Xiao’s glare was sharp enough to cut, but in the end, she nodded stiffly. He smiled in satisfaction, pulled a cloak over her, and loosened the belt around her wrists, allowing her to fix her clothing.
When she had finished, Feng Suige’s expression softened. “If I were you, I’d hold on tightly,” he said, almost playfully.
Before she could question him, his heels struck the horse’s flanks. The steed neighed and surged forward like an arrow released.
Yi Xiao almost slipped from the saddle. Though she had ridden through countless battles, sitting sideways like this was torture. The jarring gallop forced her to clutch at Feng Suige’s chest. Of all the ways to die, she thought bitterly, falling from a horse in his arms was the most humiliating. Gritting her teeth, she clung tighter to his waist.
Feng Suige looked utterly pleased, eyes glinting with amusement as he galloped toward the city wall.
By the time they arrived, Yi Xiao’s face burned crimson — half from wind, half from fury. If she had known this humiliation awaited her, she thought, she should have shot him one more time back then.
But Feng Suige didn’t dismount. Ignoring her protests, he carried her up the city wall.
“Royal Brother…” Feng Xiyang’s voice faltered mid-sentence when she saw Yi Xiao. Her gaze swept over the man’s robe draped around Yi Xiao and curved into a teasing smile. “Royal Brother, such haste. Couldn’t you at least change clothes first?”
Yi Xiao’s fingers twitched, ready to retort, but one sharp look from Feng Suige silenced her. Instead, she pinched his waist with all her strength.
His expression didn’t flicker. Setting her down, he said evenly, “Sit with Xiyang. I’ll return after greeting Father.”
A messenger’s shout broke through the murmuring crowd. “Reporting to His Majesty, the Duke of Zhennan’s wedding procession from the Jinxiu Dynasty is one li away!”
The master of ceremonies glanced at King Feng Qishan. At the monarch’s nod, his voice rang clear and loud: “The Duke of Zhennan of Jinxiu arrives!”
A horn’s deep note echoed through the city, vibrating in Yi Xiao’s chest. She rose to her feet, ignoring the startled looks from the noblewomen, and ran to the edge of the wall.
He had come.
Feng Suige’s arm closed around her waist again, his tone mockingly soft. “So eager, are we?”
Yi Xiao didn’t answer. Her eyes locked on the long, winding procession below — and the banner at its head: a jet-black field embroidered with a single golden character — Xia.
He had come.
Feng Suige’s jaw tightened. “Staring won’t change anything. He didn’t come for you. He came for Xiyang.”
Yi Xiao turned to him with a slow, radiant smile, her gaze both sorrowful and defiant. “Can you truly deceive your own heart?”
The vein at his temple pulsed, his composure cracking for just an instant.
Below, Duke of Zhennan Xia Jingshi rode closer to the city gates. Lifting his head slightly, he bowed in formal greeting to King Feng Qishan seated above.
The king’s lips curved. He beckoned to Feng Xiyang. “Come, greet your husband.”
Feng Xiyang stepped forward gracefully, smiling down at Xia Jingshi. He only nodded in response, his face unreadable.
Then a sudden voice pierced the air.
“Yi Xiao!”
Everyone turned. Ling Xueying had broken free from Ning Fei and was pointing up at the city wall. “Yi Xiao is up there!”
Xia Jingshi’s head snapped upward. His gaze landed on the two figures half-shrouded in shadow — Yi Xiao and Feng Suige. His expression changed in an instant.
Perhaps Feng Suige loosened his hold intentionally, or perhaps Yi Xiao’s will surged stronger than her body — she broke free, staggering forward to the edge of the wall.
“Your Highness! Xueying!” she cried, her voice trembling with both fear and relief. “Yi Xiao is here!”
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