Yi Xiao arched her back, poised to leap forward.
"Bring more torches!" An urgent voice called out. "We must hold this position at all costs!"
Feng Suige? When did he return?
But now was not the time to wonder. If she delayed any longer, it would be impossible to escape once he finished deploying his forces.
She hesitated, then gritted her teeth and darted out. Several shouts erupted around her: "The Junior Consort is there!" "Junior Consort!" "Yi Xiao!"
Feng Suige practically lunged toward her.
He hadn't wanted to keep seeing her hot and cold behavior, so he'd provoked her earlier. But after she ran away, he regretted it immediately. On his way back, considering how to coax her forgiveness, he'd encountered servants hurrying to report—Yi Xiao was angry. Very angry.
Seeing him fly over to block her path, Yi Xiao's gaze turned fierce. She held the broken arrow close to her arm, lowered her head, and bent her elbow—then charged toward his chest like an arrow herself, merciless and precise.
The guards cried out in alarm: "Prince, be careful!"
Feng Suige instinctively slid back slightly, barely avoiding the arrowhead that grazed his chest. His clothes tore, and cold sweat broke out across his skin.
Yi Xiao's strike missed, but she didn't engage further. She spun around to leave, and Feng Suige didn't hesitate—he grabbed her desperately, urgently saying, "Don't go. I need to explain—"
"No need!" Yi Xiao's eyes reddened as she violently shook off his hand, quickening her pace.
A painful, numbing sensation spread from his hand to his heart. In that brief moment their eyes met, hers held only wariness. Behind that wariness, how much suspicion and anger lay hidden? He dared not look too closely.
"Gu Yu," he called out sternly. "Stop the Junior Consort!"
A tall, dark figure appeared, blocking her path. She paused briefly, then raised the broken arrow and pounced on him.
The sharp arrowhead pierced Gu Yu's chest. His body only reflexively flinched—he didn't dodge or resist.
Yi Xiao quickly pulled back her hand and stepped away, angrily saying, "Why didn't you dodge? Are you so certain I wouldn't kill you?"
Gu Yu stammered, struggling for words: "Junior Consort... is good person. Won't kill Gu Yu."
"Good person?" She laughed coldly, pressing the arrowhead to his chest again. "My hands are stained with Du Sha people's blood, yet you still call me good?"
"Junior Consort never called Gu Yu stupid," he spoke more clearly now, each word deliberate. "Even took Gu Yu to Moon Palace. Also... didn't kill Gu Yu."
He pointed at his bloodied chest as proof.
Yi Xiao froze, staring into Gu Yu's clear, untouched eyes. She stood there, stunned.
Many years ago, she too had possessed such a pure soul.
Feng Suige cautiously approached and moved the broken arrow away from Gu Yu's chest. She didn't object.
In the firelight, a faint glimmer crossed Yi Xiao's cheek and quickly vanished. Feng Suige became alarmed, excitedly grabbing her hand and pulling her into the light. "Why are you crying? Are you unwell? Why are you shaking?"
Yi Xiao suddenly laughed—a sound caught between hysteria and despair. She reached out to roughly grab Feng Suige's long hair. He bit his lip silently, allowing her to pull.
Her voice circled in her throat a few times before emerging hoarse and breaking: "Why did you barge into my life? Why bring me to Du Sha? Why do you keep entangling me? Why won't you let me go?"
Feng Suige just silently gazed at her, his complex expression more intense, tender, and resolute than ever before.
Suddenly, he grasped her right hand, gripping it firmly—as if to prove his existence through touch alone. Yi Xiao glared at him, instinctively trying to break free, but he held tighter, using greater force to press her hand against his heavily heaving chest.
"If you're willing," Feng Suige said softly, staring intently at her, "from now on, I'll give you everything I have."
Yi Xiao shook her head stubbornly, using her free hand to pry his fingers open one by one. "I don't want it. I don't want anything of yours!"
"You must take it," he insisted, pressing her hand even more tightly against his chest, his fingertips digging deep into her wrist. "Because I only want to give it to you."
The vibrations from his heartbeat nearly drove her to the brink.
Yi Xiao took a breath and screamed like a madwoman: "I said I don't want it! I don't want it! I hate social niceties, I hate status and reputation, and I hate those schemes and machinations even more. I just want to be an ordinary person. Why won't you let me go? I'm so tired. I beg you—let me go!"
Feng Suige suddenly smiled charmingly, leaning close. "Yi Xiao, you like me a little. Why won't you admit it?"
He sighed lightly. "Why are you so stubborn about not accepting me?"
Stubborn? Not daring to admit it?
He stared at her unrelentingly. Yi Xiao felt she couldn't bear it anymore. The heat from his palm was unbearable. She could see her own expression reflected in his pupils—hideous and broken. And his eyes were smiling.
What right did he have to smile? He had destroyed her life, yet he could still smile.
Yi Xiao was furious.
"Feng Suige," she suddenly laughed—a crazed, gloomy sound. "If this is some ploy you're playing, then you've succeeded. If you insist on dragging me down to ruin, then let's go together! Who's afraid of whom?"
"Alright," he agreed softly, grinning to show a row of neat white teeth. "Then let's see who gets scared first!"
Yi Xiao's face looked bewitching in the firelight, fox-like cunning flashing in her eyes. She leaned in close to him playfully and said softly, her voice like silk wrapped around steel: "But remember what you said—that you would never let go of me. You must remember not to release your hand, or I'll fly away, vanishing without a trace. You won't be able to find me or catch me. Don't hate me then—you shouldn't have let go!"
Feng Suige listened with a smile, then said solemnly, as if taking an oath carved into bone: "I won't. As long as I have breath in my body, I will never allow you to leave."
Yi Xiao smiled bitterly, and in that smile was surrender wrapped in defiance. "I'll remember too. Someone once said that marrying is worse than attacking a city. One shouldn't think that entering the city settles everything."
She paused, looking at where his hand held hers.
"Now I finally understand—after entering the city, the troubles truly begin."
And in the firelight, with her hand pressed against his heart and his fingers locked around her wrist, the warrior and the prince stood frozen—not as captor and captive, but as two people who had already chosen their fate, and chosen it together.
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