Xuan pu—the ancient method of suspension—appeared deceptively simple: hemp ropes binding the wrists while the body hung, toes barely grazing the ground. Yet this simplicity masked a torment. Should the straining body relax even marginally, the coarse fibers would bear the full weight, cutting off blood flow and eventually triggering spasms that would render the limbs useless.
As the rough hemp secured her wrists, Fu Yixiao's jaw tightened, her eyes blazing defiance at the official Feng Qishan had dispatched. The man regarded her with cold indifference, ordering a nearby captain curtly before retreating to the blessed shade, "Watch her closely."
The merciless summer sun beat down with relentless fury. Sweat soon drenched through Yixiao's garments, cascading down her skin.
Feng Suige's restraint lasted mere moments. With a strangled curse, he stormed onto the platform and pointed at the captain, his voice like a whip. "Let her down!"
The captain's face went ashen. "P-Prince, these are His Majesty's orders…"
"Get out!" he hissed between clenched teeth. The captain fell silent instantly, not daring another breath.
"Hey—" Yixiao's voice drifted down from above, steady despite her suffering. "They're not just watching me. They're watching you too."
Feng Suige stood motionless for a moment, regarding her with an intensity that made the world seem to contract. Then he approached the wooden post and unsheathed his sword with a metallic hiss.
"Feng—" Before Yixiao could finish, the blade sang through the air, embedding deep into the earth beside her. Without a word, Feng Suige positioned himself behind her, his tall frame casting a merciful shadow across her burning skin.
"Prince, let me assist you…" The captain tentatively stepped around the planted sword, reaching for the rope.
"No need," Feng Suige's voice cut like ice as he fixed the supervising official with a lethal stare. "Tell him if he utters so much as a syllable to the King, he won't live to see tomorrow's dawn."
For nearly two hours, Feng Suige remained immobile. Sweat soaked his clothes, dried, soaked them again—yet he never moved, never wavered.
Yixiao called to him repeatedly, receiving only silence in return. When she twisted her body to glimpse him, his hoarse voice finally emerged from behind her. "Save your strength. Hours remain. We can speak when we return."
"If you're going to stand, stand in front of me," Yixiao insisted stubbornly. "Why hide away?"
"Foolish woman," he said, and something almost like laughter colored his tone. "I have a lifetime to let you gaze upon me. Why rush the present?"
Yixiao fell silent briefly before asking, "What will you do tomorrow?"
Feng Suige's response came with mysterious amusement. "Can you guess?"
"Will you find someone to compete in my stead? Or will you enter yourself?" Yixiao arched her back slightly, as if testing her bonds.
"I plan to…" Feng Suige leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. "Marry him as my male consort, then poison him on our wedding night."
Despite her anguish, Yixiao laughed. "You might as well strike him down immediately. He wouldn't dare harm you, and the King cannot legally punish you for it."
"Brilliant strategy indeed!" Feng Suige exclaimed, genuine delight in his voice. Then, with impish mischief, "It's decided—when Father punishes me, you must come shield me from this cursed sun."
Yixiao had barely laughed a few times before her breathing grew labored. Feng Suige's expression sobered instantly. "Stop talking," he commanded gently, then fell silent. When Yixiao attempted to speak again, he offered no response, so she too quieted, conserving what little strength remained.
As the sun traced its arc westward, Yixiao's breath became increasingly ragged. Feng Suige rotated to face the descending sun, his mind counting each torturous second with agonizing precision.
The moment the final ray vanished beyond the horizon, he spun around. Drawing his sword, he unleashed a lightning-fast strike against the wooden post.
With barely a sound, Yixiao fell backward—directly into Feng Suige's waiting arms. He abandoned his sword and cradled her against his chest, running with desperate speed. Held within his embrace, Yixiao laughed weakly, "Run slower. You'll jostle me to pieces."
"You dare jest?" Feng Suige's curse came breathlessly between strides. "I've never encountered a woman like you!"
Yixiao merely smiled. After a moment, she called softly, "Feng Suige."
"Call me husband," he growled through gritted teeth, "if you must test my patience further. What scheme are you plotting now?"
"Run slower… I fear I'm growing dizzy from your speed…" Yixiao's voice faded to a whisper, her body gradually going limp in his arms.
Feng Suige stopped dead, disbelief flooding through him as he stared at her slowly closing eyes. In the next breath, he exploded into motion, his voice cracking with urgency. "Someone! Summon the physician! Someone, quickly!"
The King's Hidden Concern
In the palace, Feng Qishan sat before his dragon throne, listening intently as Steward Huang reported on his recent journey to Jinxiu. The King's expression remained unreadable. "The military officers' attitudes align with my expectations. Countless soldiers fell in the war between our nations. But Xiyang appears to be settling comfortably in Jinxiu. Did she convey anything of substance?"
Steward Huang kowtowed respectfully, sweat already beading on his brow. "In Your Majesty's presence, there was nothing further to report."
Feng Qishan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is that truly nothing, or nothing as instructed?"
The steward's blood ran cold. He trembled visibly, his voice barely audible. "Your Majesty's discernment is... extraordinary. The Princess said no more."
Feng Qishan rose abruptly and began pacing, his movements sharp with barely contained fury. "I believe he and Xiyang perform adequately when observers are present. But given Xia Jingshi's nature, he would never serve her food publicly—I ask you once more: think carefully before you answer. How dire is Xiyang's predicament?"
After an agonizing silence, Steward Huang stammered, "In response to Your Majesty, due to the profound enmity between our kingdoms, the Princess faces considerable hardship in her life at Jinxiu. However, this unworthy subject believes that with the Princess's intelligence and grace, she will surely win the Southern Garrison King's heart in time…"
"Lies!" Feng Qishan's voice thundered through the chamber, raw and unfiltered. "If Xia Jingshi capitulated so easily, he would be unworthy of the name!"
Witnessing the King's wrath, Steward Huang prostrated himself frantically, repeating desperate pleas. "Your Majesty, I beg forgiveness…"
Feng Qishan collected himself with visible effort and commanded coldly, "You have one final opportunity. Speak truthfully, or face consequences."
Steward Huang then recounted every detail witnessed in Jinxiu, his voice trembling. To his astonishment, Feng Qishan's expression gradually softened with each revelation. When the steward described how Xiyang feared distressing her father and had coached him on how to respond, a subtle smile emerged on the King's face.
"My excellent daughter, my loyal subject—is that so?" His voice carried layers of meaning. "You concern yourself with upsetting me? Or do you doubt my capacity to govern from a distance?"
"The Princess instructed that she did not wish Your Majesty to worry on her account," Steward Huang ventured tremulously. "This worthless servant merely followed her orders…"
"Enough," Feng Qishan interrupted sharply, though not unkindly. "I require no explanation." He paused, then issued a directive with calculated precision. "When you deliver Xia Jingshi's letter to Suige, instruct him to read it, then burn it. Tell him such was Xia Jingshi's explicit command."
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