Yi Xiao sat in silence. After angrily pounding her chest with her fist, she remained motionless, her expression stubbornly heartbreaking.
She could endure thousands of curses and slanders from all levels of Su Sha's society. But she couldn't bear Feng Suige's single glance of contempt.
Life truly was just a deception. It tricked people into joy or sorrow, ultimately leaving them with nothing but heart-wrenching pain. No one understood this visceral agony better than she did, having experienced it before. Such pain was incomparable to mere physical wounds.
The pain had made her afraid. And she finally understood: rather than suffering again, it was better not to have anything to begin with.
In this suffocating atmosphere, Feng Suige suddenly couldn't bear it anymore. He rushed over and embraced her tightly. "Yi Xiao, why don't you explain? Whatever you say, I'll believe you..."
"Would you believe me?" Yi Xiao said with devastating calm. "If you trust me, why do I need to explain? All the happiness and tolerance you've shown these days have been self-deception. You can't ignore my past, so while there's still time, just let me go!"
Yi Xiao's words made Feng Suige's shoulders tremble. "Don't say that! Don't even think about leaving me!" His hands desperately clung to her, as if wanting to meld her into his body, to become one flesh and blood.
"Why bother?" Yi Xiao's eyes widened. "Is this mutual torment amusing to you? Maybe you find it interesting, but I'm tired. I can't play anymore. The game is over. I concede."
"I won't agree," Feng Suige held her tightly in panic, his words tumbling over each other. "I misspoke earlier. Hit me, scold me, but please don't be angry. I won't ask anymore. Never again. When you want to explain in the future, you can tell me."
She smiled bitterly. "If you trust me, you naturally wouldn't believe them. Prince Feng, I beg you—let me go!"
Feng Suige knelt before her, resting his head on her shoulder, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry. I spoke wrongly. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know," she suddenly smiled, and it was the most heartbreaking thing he'd ever seen. "But why apologize? You've never done anything to wrong me. You've even repeatedly opposed your father and ministers for my sake. Yet I've constantly angered and tormented you. Why don't you hate me? Why don't you send me far away?"
"You're not allowed to leave me!" His voice rose with desperate intensity. "I don't care about anyone else, but you're different. Do you hear me?"
He was as domineering as a child—willful, stubborn, tinged with helplessness.
Yi Xiao's eyes flashed with confusion and bewilderment. "Why?" she asked absently.
"Why?" Feng Suige's voice was filled with frustrated anguish. "You're still asking me why even now? When I told you I loved you before, did you never once take it to heart?"
"Love?" She laughed mirthlessly. "It's not that I don't believe it. It's that I simply can't see it. Is there love that torments the other person? Does such a feeling exist in this world?"
She stepped closer, and her words became a final blow. "I can't understand something so complex. I only know that love is love, pain is pain, and harm is harm. No matter the reason, a knife from love and a knife from hate can both be fatal. If this torment is your way of expressing love, you might as well just stab me to death and be done with it."
Feng Suige seemed to hesitate, then struggled to say, "I was jealous, Yi Xiao. I admit I sent people to Pingling to investigate you, but the news they brought back drove me mad with jealousy."
He looked at her eagerly, his eyes full of desperate hope, as if waiting for redemption from her lips.
"Don't wait," Yi Xiao revealed a smile cold to the bone. "I won't explain."
In another world, another room, another woman held a letter that destroyed her.
Xia Jingshi stood beside a black warhorse, speaking quietly with Xiao Weiran. He wore the black robe that Feng Xiyang loved most—dark red lapels and coral vines embroidered on the hem.
Under his broad forehead were a pair of sword-like eyebrows slanting into his temples. His black pupils were deep as whirlpools. His eyelashes occasionally fluttered lightly, sending ripples across her heart. Below his high, straight nose, those thin lips always seemed to utter hurtful words.
Xia Jingshi suddenly turned his head, meeting Feng Xiyang's gaze.
In his eyes, she saw only coldness and authority.
Feng Xiyang blinked, trying to offer a sweet smile. But Xia Jingshi acted as if he hadn't seen it, indifferently turning back to continue his conversation with Xiao Weiran.
Feng Xiyang dejectedly lowered her head, fiddling with the gold-threaded embroidery on her sleeve. Hidden in her sleeve was the letter from Xia Jingshi to Feng Suige—which Steward Huang had secretly copied before leaving.
The letter was crumpled and torn in her hands. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed that a man as cold-hearted as Xia Jingshi would remember so many trivial details about another woman:
Yi Xiao is impulsive and stubborn and likes to be difficult with people, but she's very kind-hearted. If you show her even a little kindness, she'll repay you tenfold, so don't worry about her becoming arrogant with favor.
Yi Xiao has many thoughts, so don't worry about having nothing to talk about. If you really can't think of a topic, just ask her about archery, and she can talk non-stop until you fall asleep.
Yi Xiao is a picky eater. She likes salty and spicy food and dislikes vegetables and bean sprouts. The only fruit she doesn't like is bananas.
Yi Xiao likes to lean on the window and watch the moon, even in winter, but she always forgets to put on more clothes. She also always forgets to close the window before sleeping.
Yi Xiao doesn't care much about her appearance, but she likes plain white clothes because her mother likes them.
Yi Xiao has always been filial. Her mother's death anniversary is approaching. If convenient, please help her arrange the memorial service.
She's very simple, like a child who doesn't understand things, so please take extra care of her, Prince Feng.
The matters mentioned in your letter will be arranged promptly by this King. With gratitude.
No signature. Only his vigorous handwriting lining up in rows, lashing at her heart like a poisoned whip.
Every detail was a knife. Every observation was a confession. He knew her in ways Feng Xiyang would never be known—not as a wife, but as a complete human being. Not as a possession, but as a person worthy of meticulous care.
Ning Fei arrived late with Xue Ying, mutually complaining about something as they walked. Although Xue Ying appeared angry, her eyes were full of lively spirit, and her large eyes seemed even more animated.
Feng Xiyang couldn't help but once again lament the unfairness of heaven.
Both were women. Both married. What virtue did Fu Yi Xiao possess to occupy the full hearts of two equally outstanding men?
Both were women. Both married. Yet Xue Ying's face was full of newlywed happiness, while her own was full of lifeless resentment.
Shouts came from ahead, signaling it was time to depart. Feng Xiyang lifted the carriage curtain and called out to Xue Ying as she passed by the phoenix palanquin. "Xue Ying, the long journey might become stuffy. Why don't you come ride with me? It would be nice to have someone to talk to along the way."
Xue Ying paused briefly, raising an eyebrow with a smile. "What a pity. Ning Fei promised earlier to teach me horseback riding during the journey. So I'll have to graciously decline Your Highness's kind offer."
She gave a slight bow, her manners impeccable.
Feng Xiyang forced a smile. "Alright then. If you get tired and want to rest in a carriage, feel free to come to mine. It's more spacious and comfortable here."
"I don't think I'll get too tired," Ning Fei politely interrupted. "We're about to depart. This subject will first help Xue Ying arrange her belongings."
And as the caravan moved forward, Feng Xiyang sat alone in her spacious, comfortable carriage, holding the evidence of her own worthlessness—a letter that proved some women were loved for their entire selves, while others were merely tolerated for their utility.
The letter crumpled in her fist as the carriage jolted forward into the journey.
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