The atmosphere thickened like gathering storm clouds. Fury blazed in King Feng Qishan's eyes, his usually gentle features rendered harsh and unforgiving by lamplight. When he spoke, venom dripped from every word. "What a fine daughter I have. You trust him, but not your royal father?"
Feng Xiyang crawled forward two steps on her knees, face bleached of color. "That's not what Xiyang meant. I just didn't want Father to be upset over these matters—"
Feng Qishan drew a ragged breath—the sound of a drowning man breaking the surface.
Watching this tableau unfold, Xia Jingshi felt an unexpected pang of sympathy pierce his carefully maintained composure. An almost inaudible sigh escaped him. "That phoenix crown..." His voice softened to barely above a whisper. "Mother Consort wore it when she married the late Emperor. So please, Your Majesty, believe in this prince's sincerity."
Two gazes snapped to his face simultaneously—one brimming with tearful joy, the other with stunned relief.
Understanding dawned across Feng Qishan's features. His smile emerged complex, layered with acceptance and something resembling regret. "It seems I've grown old, becoming more fixated on formalities." He gestured toward his daughter. "Xiyang, rise. Go pack your things. Move to the guesthouse tonight."
Feng Xiyang's moisture-laden eyelashes fluttered. She stood slowly, voice barely audible. "Xiyang wishes to stay and talk more with Father."
Feng Qishan's expression shifted abruptly. His gaze found Xia Jingshi, and something dangerous glinted in those depths—a chess master contemplating his next move.
His words rang clear through the hall, reaching every ear. "I want to ask the Prince of Zhen Nan for a person."
Sharpness flashed through Xia Jingshi's eyes. His fists clenched so tightly they trembled, yet his face arranged itself into a pleasant smile. "Who has caught Your Majesty's eye?"
Feng Qishan's expression became inscrutable, his voice measured and deliberate. "Xiyang will be leaving Susha tomorrow. The palace will be quiet without her." His meaningful glance swept downward. "Ling Xueying, who came with you, is clever and lively. I took a liking to her immediately. I intend to keep her by my side."
So this is the game, Feng Qishan thought with cold satisfaction. At the wedding ceremony, he'd heard the word "hypocrite" clearly—and though Xiao Weiran had created a diversion, the guilt written across their faces remained unmistakable. Someone who could make Fu Yixiao rush forward to shield her must occupy a significant place in that captain's heart. The question has been posed. Let's see how you choose.
Dead silence descended. Even the crackling of lamp wicks seemed thunderous. Flickering candlelight painted pale faces across the brocade mats with shadows of fear.
The words struck Ning Fei like a physical blow, stunning him into momentary paralysis. His gaze sought Xueying instinctively. She appeared bewildered, uncertain. Meeting his eyes, she asked softly, "Is he talking about me?"
Feng Suige stared at his father in shock, trying to decipher that inscrutable expression. These past days, he'd considered countless scenarios—even secretly positioning guards around the guesthouse while monitoring all personnel movements throughout the city. But he'd never imagined his father would make such a brazen demand before the entire court. And the person he wanted wasn't even—
In Yixiao's mind, darkness crashed down like a tidal wave. A piercing scream surged through her consciousness, though her lips remained sealed. Rage erupted—scorching fire and glacial ice simultaneously—consuming reason, tearing at the fragile peace she'd constructed.
I gave up, the thought screamed through her. I surrendered the hope that happiness might find me. I only wanted peace. No anxiety, no sorrow, no fear, no hurt, no despair, no homelessness, no dead ends. Just peace. Why won't they leave me alone? Why?
That innate defiance—the quality that had kept her alive through every tribulation—roared back to life. She didn't seek power, but neither would she cower before it.
Her cold, sweat-dampened hand covered Xueying's with gentle firmness. "Don't worry," Yixiao said, voice soft but immovable as stone. "We'll return together."
A glance toward Ning Fei, then she stood—spine straight, head high—meeting Feng Qishan's expressionless gaze with open challenge. "Does the mighty King of Susha also engage in the despicable act of abducting young women?"
One of Feng Qishan's eyebrows lifted in sardonic amusement. "She's dressed as a young lady. How can you call it abduction?"
Yixiao's laugh rang hollow, utterly false. "Your Majesty seems to lack understanding of propriety. Are the noble ladies of Susha supposed to dress as married women after receiving betrothal gifts?"
Still processing the shock, Xueying caught a subtle signal from Xiao Weiran. Before she could react, Ning Fei stepped forward, voice proud and unwavering. "Indeed. Because we had to escort His Highness here for the wedding, Ning Fei had no choice but to postpone our wedding date. Otherwise, Xueying would already be my wife!"
Watching Ning Fei move to protect what he valued, Xia Jingshi felt approval curve his lips. His voice emerged gentle, diplomatic. "How about this? I will certainly convey Your Majesty's wishes to the Emperor. I'm sure His Majesty will carefully select a suitable candidate and won't disappoint you."
The Susha nobles cowered in their seats, not daring to draw breath. This wedding had devolved into something unprecedented—a political battlefield disguised as celebration. From Feng Qishan emanated the unmistakable scent of approaching bloodshed—that dangerous aura preceding a ruler's unleashed wrath.
"Very well." Feng Qishan's words fell like executioner's stones, cold and emotionless. "In that case, I'll take the one by her side."
Killing intent—pure and devastating—blazed in Xia Jingshi's eyes, bright as stars piercing night's darkness. Every muscle in his body coiled tight as a bowstring drawn to breaking. His smile vanished. "Captain Fu holds a military position and is not an ordinary woman. Your Majesty's request is unreasonable!"
Feng Qishan's smile turned leisurely, almost indulgent. "I've already considered that. Early tomorrow morning, I will draft a letter to be delivered with you to the guesthouse—for the Prince of Zhen Nan to carry back to Jinxiu's Emperor. I will personally explain my reasons. The Emperor should not refuse."
Xiao Weiran could contain himself no longer. He surged to his feet. Almost simultaneously, Feng Suige sprang upward, words tumbling forth desperately. "If Father feels lonely, this son can visit the palace more often—"
"Father." Feng Xiyang's voice cut through her brother's plea, smooth and bright. "So Father also admires Yixiao greatly. It seems Xiyang's judgment is sound."
Every eye turned toward her as she descended the jade steps with measured grace, crossing to Yixiao's side. Her hand closed around the captain's with deliberate gentleness. "Xiyang has always believed that if my husband were to take a concubine, Yixiao would be a most suitable choice..."
Stunned silence gripped the assembly.
Xia Jingshi stared at Xiyang, emotions surging through him in chaotic waves. He truly hadn't anticipated that the person stepping forward to shield Yixiao at this critical juncture would be his new bride—the princess who had every reason to remain neutral.
Feng Qishan's face mottled with fury. "You've just gotten married and you're already arranging concubines for your husband? Have you gone mad trying to be a virtuous wife?"
Yixiao turned to study Feng Xiyang's profile in disbelief. The princess's smile appeared forced, strained nearly to breaking. Her hand felt colder than Xueying's, trembling almost imperceptibly. Yet she didn't retreat.
"Xiyang has been pampered since childhood and has never had to worry about anything." Her voice remained steady despite the cost written across her features. "I've never learned the tactics of harem concubines vying for favor. So rather than having a stranger by his side, it's better to have Yixiao—whose temperament I understand—serve my husband alongside me."
As Xiyang's declaration echoed through the hall, Feng Suige stared fixedly at Yixiao. She would agree, wouldn't she?
Pain twisted through his chest with sudden, brutal clarity. He finally understood—when the heart becomes entangled, suffering follows inevitably.
The warmth of her body against his chest still lingered, achingly real—as vivid as when she'd stood outside Xuande Hall, held briefly in his embrace. It was always destined, he realized with bitter acceptance, that I could only watch from afar. Watch her arrive. Watch her depart.
A sad smile touched his lips. It's enough. In one lifetime, to meet someone who moves your heart is already rare fortune. Compared to those who live entire existences never knowing what they seek, having met her—having our paths cross, even briefly—leaves no room for regret.
Just because you exist in this mortal world, my heart knows contentment. That is enough.
Previous/Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
