"His Highness is safe! They're alive!"
A cheer erupted from the troops rushing down the mountain. Ning Fei's heart leaped with joy as he dropped Feng Xiyang and sprinted toward the commotion.
In the hazel grove of the valley, intertwining shrubs and tree trunks had slowed the water's force. Several people had managed to cling to the nearest tree trunks.
"Your Highness," Xiao Weiran called out after a violent coughing fit, "Are you injured?"
Xia Jingshi shook his head without speaking, his face a mask of controlled fury.
Xiao Weiran hesitated before complaining, "Even if we lost it, if you had explained to her, she wouldn't have said anything."
Xia Jingshi smiled faintly—a cold, terrible thing. "I didn't think we'd fall at that moment. Right now, save your strength."
With that, he fell silent, and Xiao Weiran could only turn to address the other two military officers, their similar exhaustion a testament to the violence they'd just survived.
The downpour continued for over two hours before gradually subsiding. The raging yellow water dragon began to show signs of fatigue. Ning Fei and several strong soldiers, hand in hand, waded through waist-deep muddy flow, slowly approaching the hazel grove to rescue the exhausted men clinging to life.
Feng Xiyang, her eyes red from crying, stood nearby, still sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing the bedraggled Xia Jingshi emerge from the water, she burst into tears again.
"Are you alright? I didn't mean to throw the hairpin away..."
At the mention of the hairpin, Xia Jingshi's eyes grew cold—glacial.
He slowly extended his hand toward her, palm up. In it lay half of a light blue glass hairpin, broken cleanly in two. The fracture was sharp, deliberate, final.
"It broke. Are you satisfied now?"
The words weren't a question. They were a verdict.
Xue Ying, who had been anxiously watching from the side, exclaimed in disbelief, "It was for this hairpin?!"
Xia Jingshi didn't respond. He withdrew his hand, closed it into a fist around the broken pieces, and slowly walked away, surrounded by a group of people. Behind him, Feng Xiyang stood frozen, understanding with absolute clarity that she had just lost something irretrievable.
Not his life. His forgiveness.
At the annual martial arts competition of the Shu Sha Kingdom, various shelters were set up around the stands. Those closest to King Feng Qishan were occupied by royal relatives and nobles, while state ministers sat in order of rank.
"I hate these occasions," Feng Suige said with a wry smile, watching the ceremonial official sweat profusely under the sun as he read out the king's edict. He turned to the bored Yi Xiao and said, "Because every time we have to listen to that official's voice droning on like a saw cutting wood. It's unbearable."
"Why do we have to have this grand meeting, and why am I forced to attend, only to find it so dreadfully dull?" Yi Xiao asked irritably.
"Because I'm the Prince Regent," came the simple and clear answer.
In Yi Xiao's view, the focus of this gathering wasn't on the martial arts competition. It was on his attendance. Every move of the rapidly rising Fu Yi Xiao was now the focus of public attention. If she didn't attend, it could lead to gossip, accusations of cowardice, or worse.
The horn sounded in the arena, signaling the start of the martial arts competition. Various contestants entered the field. According to Shu Sha Kingdom tradition, any weapon was allowed, and the victor could be appointed as a first-class military officer.
Feng Suige solemnly pointed to a young general entering the arena. "That's Marquis Cheng Xin, Ye Duanfang."
Yi Xiao glanced at him, becoming serious as well. "You mentioned him last time. Is there a problem?"
Feng Suige suddenly resumed his playful attitude, his voice taking on a theatrical quality. "Do you want to beat him?"
"No," Yi Xiao answered without hesitation. "I won't train archers for Shu Sha."
Feng Suige immediately put on an anguished expression, clutching his chest and lamenting dramatically, "You tell me not to let you go, yet you're willing to hand me over to someone else?"
Yi Xiao froze for a moment, then suddenly shuddered, her face twisting with genuine disgust. "If you take a male consort, you're not allowed to touch me ever again."
Feng Suige nearly fell off his chair. Ignoring the puzzled looks from those around them, he pointed at Yi Xiao, caught between laughter and tears. "What on earth are you thinking?!"
Yi Xiao glared back. "Didn't you say I was going to hand you over to him?"
Feng Suige was momentarily speechless. Taking a deep breath, he said slowly and deliberately, as though speaking to a child, "I said 'hand over to someone else.'"
Yi Xiao still argued stubbornly, "You were talking about him, and then you said if I lost, you'd be handed over. Isn't that handing you over to him?"
At this point, Gu Yu chuckled beside them. "He can, can be given to his sisters."
Feng Suige and Yi Xiao turned to look at him in surprise. "Gu Yu?" Feng Suige was taken aback, while Yi Xiao was genuinely shocked.
Pleased with the attention, Gu Yu continued with increasing enthusiasm, "Also to the maids in the mansion, and the cooks..."
Yi Xiao had already slid off her chair, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. A vein throbbed on Feng Suige's forehead as he restrained himself from interrupting Gu Yu further. He pulled Yi Xiao to a secluded corner outside the tent, his expression darkening.
"Fool!" Feng Suige cursed softly before kissing her fiercely. Between passionate kisses, his words came broken and desperate: "I didn't want to tell you about this, but seeing you so carefree, I feared you might inadvertently sell me off..."
Yi Xiao awkwardly responded to his intense kisses, her breath catching as he drew her closer. His hand caressed her waist, his expression tender yet complex—a man who had just realized how fragile everything was.
"When this is over, I'll make up for your wedding night properly," he murmured against her lips.
Yi Xiao, her face flushed, pulled back slightly and glared at him with clear eyes. "Can't you think of anything else? You didn't finish what you were saying earlier. Don't change the subject."
Feng Suige took a breath, his playfulness fading into something more serious, more desperate.
"Listen, Yi Xiao. Father intends that if Marquis Cheng Xin wins the archery contest, I might be arranged a political marriage to strengthen alliances."
"Another political marriage," Yi Xiao finished steadily.
Feng Suige nodded, but there was nothing playful about his smile now. "If you don't want to see me flirting with other women, you'll have to win this competition for me. Before, I protected you. Now it's your turn to protect me."
Yi Xiao stared at him for a long moment—really looked at him—and saw beneath the charm and mischief to the desperate man underneath, the one who was asking her to choose him not through manipulation but through vulnerability.
Then she suddenly bared her teeth at him—not in a smile, but in a predatory grin. "Don't even think about it."
Before Feng Suige could react, she pushed him away and ran off, laughing, but he knew now what that laughter meant: she would compete. She would win. Not because he asked her to, but because the alternative—watching him belong to someone else—was intolerable.
Halfway through the competition, as they waited for the next round, a muscular warrior rushed toward Feng Suige's tent, kneeling before it and shouting loud enough for all to hear, "Your subject, Xun Xiang, requests instruction from the Junior Consort!"
The arena erupted in an uproar. Even King Feng Qishan looked over in surprise.
Xun Xiang, due to Xia Jingshi's situation, had been demoted several ranks after the wedding banquet, with most of his family wealth confiscated. This martial arts competition was his chance to restore his reputation. But challenging Fu Yi Xiao directly?
As Yi Xiao was about to stand, Feng Suige grabbed her hand and commanded sternly, "Gu Yu, you go."
Gu Yu responded and slowly made his way out, entering the arena with his characteristic unhurried pace—a man whose simplicity masked devastating power.
Xun Xiang was taken aback but dared not defy Feng Suige. He hesitated. "Your subject..."
Feng Suige smiled slightly, his earlier desperation transformed into cold political calculation. "If you can defeat Gu Yu, then you may challenge Yi Xiao."
"Will Gu Yu be alright?" Yi Xiao asked, slightly worried.
Feng Suige crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair with perfect confidence. "Don't worry. With his valor, dealing with Xun Xiang will be child's play."
But as Yi Xiao watched Gu Yu enter the arena, she understood what Feng Suige had just done. He'd bought them both time—time for her to rest, time to assess her competition, time to prepare for what was coming.
Because if she won today, she would be entering the final rounds. And in the final rounds, she might face Ye Duanfang himself. And that was when the real game would begin.
Next
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