Feng Xiyang rested her chin on her palm, gazing absently into the bronze mirror. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the candlelight. A trace of melancholy lingered in her eyes as she recalled the first time she had seen him.
That day, something within her chest had clenched so tightly it nearly stole her breath.
He had sat upon his horse like a man carved from ice—empty, still, and lifeless. His expression bore no trace of warmth, only a quiet, hollow exhaustion. Two hours earlier, his younger brother had ascended the throne of the Jinxiu Dynasty with a radiant smile, while he knelt below to receive his new title: Duke of Zhennan.
Back in Shusha, Feng Xiyang found herself haunted by that image—the dead calm in his eyes that seemed to swallow one’s soul whole. A strange regret took root in her heart, one that extended not only toward him, but also toward herself.
If only their countries had not been enemies.
If only they were ordinary people.
How wonderful that might have been.
Years drifted by like fallen petals. When she finally reached marriageable age, her father had asked her which man she wished to wed. Without hesitation, she told him she would marry no one but Xia Jingshi.
For the first time in her life, Feng Qishan lost his temper with her and stormed away without a word.
Yet months later, to her astonishment, her father announced before the court that Shusha would cease hostilities with the Jinxiu Dynasty—and that he intended to marry his daughter to the Duke of Zhennan as a sign of peace.
When the news reached her, Feng Xiyang wept tears of joy.
Even when the appointed day came and he did not arrive, she waited. She waited through four long years, without ever asking herself whether she should. The thought of giving up never once crossed her mind. And when he finally came, her heart fluttered with hope, trembling between joy and despair.
Though the city wall was high, she could still see every shift in his face. His brows had softened, his eyes calm and unreadable, his lips faintly curved—but his presence seemed distant, untouchable. He stood there as though belonging to another world.
Perhaps, once, his heart had stirred.
But not for her.
A gentle touch on her shoulder drew her from her thoughts.
“Father!” she exclaimed softly.
Feng Qishan smiled, settling down beside her. “What were you thinking about so deeply that you didn’t even notice me come in?”
Feng Xiyang blinked and forced a bright smile. “I was thinking about which ceremonial robe to wear for the wedding. Should it be bright red with gold embroidery, or black trimmed with red?”
Feng Qishan chuckled, patting her hand. “The red and gold is lively, the black and red is stately. Either would suit you, my daughter. No matter which you wear, you’ll be the most beautiful bride in Shusha.” His smile softened. “But tell me—are you certain he’s the one you truly want?”
Her eyes sparkled with confidence. “Father, don’t you think he’s good?”
He sighed quietly. “I don’t doubt your judgment. But after meeting him today, I can’t help but worry. A man like him is difficult to love. Even if he returns your affection, there may still be things in his heart more important than you.”
Feng Xiyang’s smile didn’t waver. “He may value other things above me, but I believe that no matter what dangers come, he will never abandon me. And someday, he will fall in love with me—don’t you think so, Father?”
Feng Qishan looked at her for a long time, then finally smiled with quiet pride. “You’ve grown up, Xiyang. You’re no longer the little girl who used to beg me for stories. If your mother could see you now, she would be at peace.”
When a maid woke Yi Xiao with the message that a royal summons had arrived, she was still half-asleep.
Upon learning that King Feng Qishan wished to see her alone, she descended from the tower in silence.
At the bottom, the royal messenger was pacing impatiently, his hands tucked into his sleeves. The moment he heard footsteps, he turned and frowned.
“Major Fu, you certainly take your time.”
Yi Xiao offered him a small smile and a graceful bow. “And you certainly wield your authority, messenger.”
The man froze, realizing his mistake, and forced a strained smile. “I was merely anxious, Major Fu. Please forgive my rudeness.”
He had heard much about this woman—the female officer serving under the Duke of Zhennan, said to have the regent prince’s favor. If she wished, a single word from her could make his life miserable.
Seeing the messenger’s discomfort, Yi Xiao decided not to dwell on it. “Please, lead the way,” she said lightly.
As they reached the gates, the sharp sound of hoofbeats echoed from behind.
“Wait!”
Yi Xiao didn’t even lift her gaze. Without a word, she stepped into the carriage.
Feng Suige’s stallion galloped to a halt. He leapt down, striding to the carriage and pulling aside the curtain. His voice was low but furious. “I told you to wait! Didn’t you hear me?”
Yi Xiao turned to the messenger. “You were worried about being late. Why have we stopped?”
Caught between them, the messenger swallowed hard. “Your Highness, His Majesty’s summons was urgent. Please don’t make it harder for me.”
Feng Suige’s jaw tightened. He threw his riding crop aside and climbed into the carriage. “Then move,” he snapped.
The journey was suffocatingly quiet. When the carriage finally stopped, Yi Xiao brushed aside his hand as he tried to help her down. Without a word, she followed the messenger up the marble steps toward the palace ahead.
It was magnificent—three tiers of white jade, a grand hall flanked by smaller chambers connected through winding corridors. Silken murals of dragons and phoenixes danced across the walls.
“This is Bi’an Palace,” Feng Suige muttered, noticing her gaze. “Xiyang’s mother once lived here.”
Yi Xiao frowned slightly. “This is the inner palace? Shouldn’t foreign officials be received in a separate hall?”
He only grunted in response. She did not press the matter.
Feng Suige himself was uneasy. When Xia Jingshi first entered Shusha, Feng Qishan had summoned him to ask about Yi Xiao. After he explained, the king hadn’t rebuked him—merely told him to report such matters more promptly.
He had thought the matter settled, until this morning, when he received word that the king had sent for Yi Xiao personally. He had abandoned his duties and ridden back in haste, fearing that Xia Jingshi might have demanded her return. Yet what awaited him was something far more troubling.
The messenger led them through the gardens of Bi’an Palace before stopping. “His Majesty said Major Fu may enter directly. As for the prince…” He hesitated.
Under Feng Suige’s glare, the man quickly added, “Of course, Your Highness as well.”
When Feng Qishan saw Yi Xiao again, his gaze lingered longer than he intended. He had already heard of the woman the regent had brought from Jinxiu, and though he paid little attention at first, the events at the city wall had changed everything.
That moment when Xia Jingshi looked upon her—his mask of calm cracking into something fierce and alive—Feng Qishan had seen it.
A poisonous flower, he had thought then. Beautiful, but perilous.
Now that flower stood before him.
Yi Xiao bowed respectfully, her expression calm. Feng Qishan studied her quietly from his seat in the stone pavilion. He resembled Feng Suige, but where his son burned with restless energy, he radiated composed authority—soft-spoken, yet impossible to ignore.
“I’ve long heard that the Duke of Zhennan commands a female general famed for her archery,” the king said finally. “Seeing you today, I find the tales were no exaggeration.”
He expected a humble reply, but the silence stretched on. When he looked again, Yi Xiao was smiling faintly, her lips curved in amusement.
Feng Qishan’s brow furrowed, but before he could speak, Feng Suige stepped forward. “Father, what brings you to Bi’an Palace today?”
The king raised an eyebrow. “With Xiyang’s wedding near, I came to visit her mother. You should be in the council hall—did I summon you?”
Caught off guard, Feng Suige hesitated.
Feng Qishan’s tone softened, yet carried unmistakable weight. “As regent, if you cannot share in the burdens of your court during peace, how will you lead them in crisis?”
Feng Suige bowed stiffly. “Your son acknowledges his mistake and will return at once.”
Before leaving, he paused by Yi Xiao’s side and said in a low voice, “If Father grows angry, be humble and apologize. If not for yourself, then for the Duke of Zhennan.”
Yi Xiao hesitated, then inclined her head slightly. “I understand.”
Only then did Feng Suige bow deeply to his father and take his leave, his steps echoing down the marble corridor.
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