Lu City, Jinxiu
The bridal chamber flickered with amber candlelight. Red candles wept tears of blood-colored wax, their soft crackling the only sound breaking the oppressive silence.
Feng Xiyang sat with bowed head, wringing her sweat-dampened hands. Who could have predicted that heaven would grant such favor? A single glance had made her aware of Xia Jingshi's existence. She, who had harbored no realistic hope, had unexpectedly gained her father's support and now wore the title of Princess Consort.
However—and this thought circled endlessly through her mind—her happiness had been purchased with another woman's pain. Fu Yixiao. Someone even she couldn't help but admire, whose strength and spirit had impressed her despite their awkward positions. Though Xiyang longed for Xia Jingshi to have eyes only for her, could she truly ask for more when heaven had already granted her such a towering man as husband? To demand absolute devotion seemed to invite divine retribution.
Yet Fu Yixiao had chosen to remain in Susha.
That day, when Xueying's cry had pierced the air—"Yixiao! Yixiao! Yixiao!"—everything had crystallized with painful clarity. As the carriage halted, Xiyang had witnessed something that carved itself into her memory like a blade etching stone.
Xia Jingshi—yes, Xia Jingshi, the man who always seemed unflappable, as if nothing in this world could truly move him—had leaped from the carriage ahead and run back with desperate, wild abandon.
Xiyang's smile emerged bitter as old wine. It seemed only that name could stir his very soul to such naked emotion.
Not just him, but everyone. Ning Fei, Xiao Weiran, Ling Xueying, and all the accompanying Jinxiu imperial guards—though unfailingly polite, their words and actions carried faint hostility, a cold distance that no courtesy could fully mask. She didn't know if she was being overly sensitive, but even at the grand wedding banquet held in Jinxiu, the military officials and civil servants who came to offer congratulations had regarded her with something that felt uncomfortably like assessment. Judgment.
She adjusted the heavy phoenix crown, feeling its weight press down upon her temples and crown. Being a bride was exhausting—physically, emotionally, in every way that mattered. Why hadn't he returned to their chamber yet?
But she was willing to wait. They would support each other through life's journey... Thinking of this future, she pressed her lips together and smiled secretly, nursing hope like a fragile flame.
The first watch passed... then the second watch...
The water clock counted time with mechanical indifference. Ceremonial music gradually retreated into silence. Bright lamps were extinguished one by one until only a pair of large red wedding candles remained, their light joined by a few luminous night pearls glowing softly in the corner.
The room suddenly felt cavernous, empty. Her heart echoed that emptiness.
Cold began to seep into her bones—the icy bed waiting untouched, the icy palace chambers holding only her solitary figure, the icy absence of the man who should be here.
Feng Xiyang stood, carefully removing her phoenix crown with trembling fingers. Perhaps her husband had fallen drunk somewhere in a distant pavilion, waiting for her to find him. When he woke tomorrow, she would tease him mercilessly. Yes. That must be it.
Clinging to this hopeful fiction, she began navigating the palace corridors by memory. She hadn't gone far when she encountered a night patrol guard.
The guard seemed startled to see Feng Xiyang abroad at this hour. He stuttered, "Greetings, Princess Consort. Do you need anything?"
She nodded with forced lightness. "Did you come from the front? Have the guests not yet dispersed?"
The guard hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "Perhaps the Princess Consort should retire first. The banquet should be ending soon."
Feng Xiyang considered briefly before moving forward with renewed determination. "It's alright. I'll go check on him. He might have drunk too much."
The guard hurriedly stepped into her path, blocking her progress. Seeing her eyebrow arch with imperial displeasure, he finally surrendered the truth. "The wedding feast ended two hours ago. His Highness went to his study afterward..." He swallowed hard. "Perhaps the Princess Consort should return to her chambers to rest."
With that hasty announcement, he lowered his head and departed quickly, nearly fleeing.
Xiyang stood frozen, the words slowly penetrating her careful defenses. Two hours ago. His study. Not coming.
Two lines of tears slid silently from the corners of her eyes, falling onto her red phoenix robe and soaking dark patches into the embroidered silk. She tried desperately to swallow the tears back, to maintain the dignity expected of a princess consort—but the more she fought, the more unstoppable they became.
Was this what being newly married felt like? She was already his Princess Consort, officially, legally, irrevocably. But how could the wedding night be like this? Why was it like this?
The unfairness of it struck her with physical force—after waiting for so many years, nurturing dreams through countless nights, what she had gained was this awkward, humiliating situation.
A room of solitude. A sleepless night. A marriage begun in absence.
As dawn broke, faint sounds of palace servants moving about and sweeping filtered through the chambers. Feng Xiyang sat before her mirror, confronting the reflection of swollen, reddened eyes—evidence of hours spent crying.
She removed her heavy makeup with methodical precision, peeled off the elaborate wedding dress, and changed into simpler robes. She needed to find Xia Jingshi. They needed to talk properly, honestly, without ceremony standing between them.
Circling past flower pavilions and crossing ornate water pavilions, she approached a corridor entrance when abrupt voices made her freeze mid-step.
"...Using his status to bully others, driving Colonel Fu away!"
Feng Xiyang's frown deepened. Judging by their accents and casual tone, these were palace servants from the royal city, but the people they were discussing...
"Colonel Fu is truly pitiful, staying all alone in Susha. Who knows if she's living well or not?" Another voice joined, heavy with sighs. "Ah, I miss Colonel Fu's divine archery. I only saw it once at the martial arts competition. Who knows when we'll see such skill again?"
"It's because Colonel Fu comes from humble origins. If you want to blame someone, blame the heavens for being unfair—for not making her born into an imperial family." A third voice, bitter with conviction. "If she were a princess too, how could the Susha princess have taken the position of His Highness's principal consort?"
The words struck like physical blows. Xiyang pressed herself against the wall, hidden by flowering bushes, unable to move forward or retreat.
"That's right, that's right." The first speaker again. "When Colonel Fu was accompanying His Highness through life and death battles, she was probably somewhere drinking wine and enjoying herself. I don't understand—after fighting with Susha for so many years, spilling so much blood, how can they just make peace and even marry their princess? I don't know how we'll face our fallen brothers at the grand sacrifices."
"His Highness probably left her to sleep alone in her chamber yesterday because of this—" The second voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "But the brothers who accompanied the army all say that in the whole world, only Colonel Fu, a woman, could match His Highness's grandeur. On the battlefield, wherever her arrow pointed, the Susha soldiers would flee, wailing like ghosts and wolves..."
Laughter erupted, cruel and casual, each peal driving deeper into Xiyang's chest.
After the mirth subsided, one person interjected with sudden urgency. "Alright, alright, it's about time. Everyone scatter to your duties. Listen carefully—if there's any movement in the room, quickly go to the kitchen to bring meals. If the princess gets hungry and can't find food, and her temper flares up, she might say she'll flay you instead of just beheading you. Hurry, hurry..."
The group murmured agreement and dispersed. One grumbled as he walked away, "I thought the princess was above earthly desires and only ate gold nuggets."
A distant voice replied with mocking laughter, "Maybe she ate so many gold nuggets that she emptied Susha's treasury, and that's why their king had no choice but to marry her off to Jinxiu..."
The speaker, smile still lingering on his face, turned around the corridor and yawned, walking away with listless steps—completely unaware that in the bushes by the corridor, Feng Xiyang crouched with both hands pressed over her mouth, tears streaming silently down her face, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.
This is what they think of me. This is how they see my marriage. Not as alliance, not as love—but as burden. As insult. As the wrong woman in the right position.
At Ning Fei's Residence
"Miss..." Xiumu poked her head through the door with cautious cheer.
Ling Xueying, engrossed in packing belongings, responded with harried impatience. "What, what, what is it? You—Ah!"
Her voice escalated to a shriek as she whirled around, pointing at Xiumu as if confronting a ghost. "You, you, you, why are you here? Didn't I tell you to go back to Cao City and tell Father that I'd be back a few days later?"
Ning Fei, who had been standing aside watching her pack with patient amusement, asked in surprise, "You didn't see her last night?"
"Last night?" Xueying tilted her head, thinking. Last night had been Xia Jingshi and Feng Xiyang's wedding banquet—chaos and celebration and too much wine. "I didn't see her last night."
Ning Fei's expression shifted, taking on notes of uncomfortable realization. "When we set off for Susha, didn't you hear His Highness's instructions to her?"
Xueying's confusion deepened. "What did Xia Jingshi say?"
Xiumu jumped over the threshold with cheerful obliviousness, smiling broadly. "The Prince of Zhen Nan told Xiumu to return to Cao City to inform the master to come to Lu City for his wedding banquet—"
"Ah!" Xueying's scream could probably be heard in the next courtyard. "That means..." She suddenly stopped, looking left and right with growing panic. "Ning Fei, is there a back door here?"
"Where do you think you're going!"
The shout boomed with paternal authority. A burly middle-aged man strode through the entrance with imposing presence—none other than Xueying's father, Ling Yuguang. "As soon as you leave home, you forget to come back. As soon as there's something new and interesting, you can't see your father anymore. Ling Xueying! Tell me yourself, how many books should you be punished to copy!"
"I'm not feeling well, I'm not feeling well," Xueying whimpered, scurrying to hide behind Ning Fei's considerably broader frame. "My head is spinning, my ears are ringing, and I can't see properly. Ning Fei, quickly take me to see a doctor."
Ning Fei regarded the glowering Ling Yuguang for a long moment. Then he drew a deep breath, stepped forward, and executed a formal bow with impeccable propriety.
"Father-in-law, please accept your son-in-law's respect!"
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