As Ning Fei’s figure vanished around the corner, Yixiao turned to Xia Jingshi with a faint, knowing smile.
“The day before yesterday we went boating on the lake, yesterday we prayed before Buddha, and today we’re strolling through the streets. Your Highness, no matter how vast Lucheng is, one day we’ll have seen it all. When that day comes, what excuse will you use to keep me here?”
Xia Jingshi didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze was calm but probing.
“Pingling,” he said quietly, “is there someone waiting for you there?”
Yixiao scoffed, a light mockery lacing her tone. “Is Your Highness… concerned about Yixiao?”
His eyes lowered to her bare feet resting against the black carpet. “You’ve changed a lot.”
Neither of them answered the other’s question.
Feeling uneasy under his steady gaze, Yixiao tucked her feet beneath her skirt and stretched languidly, masking her discomfort with an air of carelessness.
“Does Your Highness dislike the current Yixiao?” she teased lightly.
“I do,” Xia Jingshi said simply, his voice quiet but sharp. “This Prince preferred the straightforward and pure Yixiao from years ago.”
Yixiao laughed—a bitter, cutting sound.
“The person who made me change was you, Your Highness. Or…” her eyes glinted, “…do you regret that arrow from years ago?”
Xia Jingshi’s expression hardened. “This Prince never regrets his actions. If time turned back to that day—when you slaughtered a general before my eyes—I would still shoot that arrow. But this time, I would capture you myself, and never allow you to jump off that cliff.”
Her fists clenched, knuckles whitening beneath her sleeves. “If Your Highness had captured me that day, what would you have done with me?”
He hesitated, then said truthfully, “I’ve asked myself that question countless times these past four years. Even when Ning Fei reported finding you in Pingling, I had no answer.”
He leaned forward, his hand tilting her chin upward, forcing her to meet his dark gaze. “Yixiao, if you think the rank of Commander too low, I can make you Deputy General. Earn more merit, and you can even be named a General. Isn’t that good? Why must you always test me?”
Yixiao didn’t flinch, though fire flickered in her eyes. “Does Your Highness insist on seeing Yixiao’s every feeling as a ploy for promotion? In Your Highness’s eyes, am I nothing but a bow to be used in battle? Are my feelings just a burden to you?”
Xia Jingshi sighed softly. “Don’t ask anymore. Just come back to my side. Let’s treat everything from the past four years as a misunderstanding…”
“A misunderstanding?” Yixiao’s voice trembled, sharp as a blade. “You’ve always been so hypocritical—so unwilling to take responsibility! You don’t even know what love means!”
She shoved him away, voice trembling but resolute. “Take your hands off me. Don’t insult me again.”
Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath. “This time, it’s me who doesn’t want you. From this day on, Yixiao will never see you again.”
Blinking back the tears threatening her composure, Yixiao turned and strode into the inner chamber. Xueying wasn’t back yet—but she couldn’t stay any longer. Xueying would know where to find her. She always did.
Xia Jingshi didn’t stop her. He only watched, his eyes shadowed with a grief he couldn’t name, as she changed her clothes, gathered her belongings, and walked out of his sight—again, without looking back.
Night descended over the dense forest outside Lucheng.
A black carriage, flanked by towering guards, rumbled along a narrow path. Heavy gauze curtains veiled the interior, only faint candlelight seeping through.
Inside, Feng Suige leaned against the cushions, studying the unconscious woman lying at his feet.
The Prince of Zhennan of the Jinxiu Dynasty had broken his engagement and returned to Lucheng, angering his father. Worse, Princess Xiyang stubbornly declared she would marry no one else, stirring endless court debates. After countless petitions demanding she wed another, the humiliated prince left only a letter for his father and crossed secretly into the Jinxiu lands—to uncover what “illness” the Prince of Zhennan had that excused him from duty and marriage alike.
A cold smile touched Feng Suige’s lips. There was no illness—only secrets.
And this woman was at the center of it.
He stood and approached her. He remembered her vividly: the fierce commander in a coral-red battle robe, her bow gleaming under sunlight, arrows flying with deadly precision. Even amid chaos, she had never strayed far from Xia Jingshi’s side—her gaze always guarded, her expression protective.
Four years ago, she had vanished. The Susha Kingdom’s best spies could only discover that her disappearance was ordered by the Prince of Zhennan himself on a “confidential mission.”
Now, she had resurfaced—escorted into Lucheng by his two most trusted generals, returned to the Commander’s Mansion, and personally visited by the same prince who claimed illness and had not left the city in four years.
Four years—the same year Xia Jingshi became engaged to Princess Xiyang.
Yet no one knew what mission Fu Yixiao had undertaken, nor what had transpired in those missing years that made Xia Jingshi abandon his betrothal and feign sickness.
The carriage jolted violently. Yixiao’s eyes snapped open to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. Her mind spun as memory returned in fragments—the mansion, her departure, the market… the alley.
She had taken a shortcut she’d walked countless times before, Xia Jingshi’s gaze still burning between her shoulder blades. If Xueying had been there, she would’ve chided her for being soft-hearted again.
Then—
“Miss, need a carriage?”
Before she could even answer, a pungent smoke engulfed her face. Her last memory was a rough voice, thrilled:
“We’ve got her!”
Now, a mocking voice cut through her daze.
“You’re far too calm for a captive. Has the drug not worn off yet?”
Her eyes flicked toward the source. A man lounged casually against the carriage wall, dressed in black brocade embroidered with gold floral threads. His open collar revealed a bronze chest, and under the swaying candlelight, his beauty was almost sinister—sharp black eyes glinting with mischief.
Yixiao’s fingers curled into fists. “Feng Suige.”
His brows arched in surprise. “As expected of the Prince of Zhennan’s woman. Impressive memory.”
Yixiao’s lips curved slightly. “I’m not his woman,” she replied coolly. “But tell me, Prince of Susha—what brings you across our borders, abducting a commander from the Zhennan camp? Quite the scandal, isn’t it?”
While she spoke, she tested the numbness in her limbs, her eyes flicking briefly to the curtain—an escape route, perhaps.
But Feng Suige snapped his fingers sharply, drawing her gaze back. “Don’t even think about it. The thirty escorts outside are my kingdom’s finest. And you, Fu Yixiao—” his voice tightened with bitterness, “—you’re nothing without your bow and arrows.”
Her calm gaze met his, and for an instant, he felt that familiar sting in his shoulder—the ghost of an old wound.
He remembered the battle clearly.
He’d nearly captured Xia Jingshi—until she appeared. One arrow, and pain ripped through him. He fell from his horse, his men dead or scattered.
Before losing consciousness, he had met her gaze—those wild, proud eyes gleaming like stars.
You think you can harm him? they had seemed to say.
When the arrowhead was finally pulled from his shoulder, he’d seen a tiny character etched upon it—“笑” (xiao). He had nearly torn down his tent in fury.
That arrogant woman had even mocked him with her arrows!
It wasn’t until later he learned the truth.
That “笑” wasn’t mockery—it was her name. Fu Yi Xiao.
Now, she was awake and watching him with interest. “The Prince’s eyes seem to be torturing me,” she said softly, her tone teasing. “Do we have a grudge, Your Highness?”
Feng Suige’s jaw tightened. He reached into his robe and threw a small embroidered sachet into her lap. “This—don’t tell me you don’t remember!”
Yixiao blinked, confused, picking it up and examining it. “I’m not skilled in needlework…”
“Open it!” Feng Suige snapped, his patience breaking. “Open it and look!”
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