Feng Suige downed cup after cup of tea with barely suppressed desperation, until finally he abandoned all pretense and drank directly from the pot, oblivious to the liquid spilling across his silken robes. Suddenly, the delicate chiming of the bead curtain drew his attention. He swept his mouth with his sleeve and rushed to intercept the physician. "How is she?"
The physician bowed with solemn gravity. "Your Highness, I have done everything within my power, but the Consort…"
Before he could finish, Feng Suige's face drained of all color. He bolted into the inner chamber.
Fu Yixiao reclined on the couch, cushioned by soft pillows, her head tilted gently to one side. Long black lashes lay peacefully against her skin. Blood stained her lips where they had cracked and dried.
In that terrible instant, the world hemorrhaged of all warmth and light. Feng Suige stood paralyzed—then snapped back with violent urgency. He lunged forward, seizing the physician by the collar, his voice hoarse with anguish. "You charlatan! How could she… How could she…" The words choked in his throat as his grip tightened. "Tell me! Who dispatched you here?!"
The physician's face went deathly pale, his eyes darting wildly before he cried out desperately, "Consort! Consort! Please wake up! His Highness is here!"
Though unconvinced, Feng Suige turned. He witnessed Yixiao's eyeballs shifting beneath closed lids, her eyelashes fluttering open with agonizing slowness. Her hoarse, confused voice emerged like a distant whisper. "Why are you two embracing?"
"Yixiao!" Feng Suige released the physician instantly and rushed to her side. "You're awake." Before she could respond, he whirled back on the doctor with blazing fury. "What were you saying?"
The physician stammered nervously, "This humble servant was only stating that I have done my best, but the bruises upon the Consort's wrists may require considerable time to fade…"
Feng Suige had already turned away, gently capturing Yixiao's wrists in his hands. As his fingers traced the mottled purple and black, his voice dripped venom. "Those dogs, binding you so viciously… I'll obtain blood-activating salve from Old Qin tonight. The bruises should yield within days."
Yixiao leaned to examine the damaged skin and offered a self-deprecating smile. "My first collection of bracelets. Perhaps I'll keep them a while longer."
"Then allow me to add another ornament," Feng Suige said playfully, pretending to bite her wrist. Yixiao pulled back with a laugh. "You're jesting? It seems the archery competition tomorrow holds no terror for you at all."
Feng Suige's expression sobered, darkness creeping across his features. "Worried or unconcerned, the outcome remains unchanged. There is nothing left to contemplate—Father King forever finds you in his sights. Don't you fear what comes?"
Yixiao scoffed lightly. "Would his targeting cease if I cowered? Besides, when misfortune arrives, I have you as my shield."
Feng Suige's smile returned as he pinched her cheek tenderly. "How did I come to love such an audacious woman? Rest more. I'll have the kitchen prepare restorative broth for you."
The Carriage Confession
After several days of recuperation, most of the carriages swept away in the flood had been painstakingly repaired. A handful remained beyond salvation, destroyed by rushing water and relentless stone. After considerable resistance, Xue Ying was finally consigned to share a carriage with Feng Xiyang.
As they traveled, Xue Ying dozed by the window, her eyes half-shuttered. Feng Xiyang observed her quietly for some time before venturing, "Xue Ying, can you play the zither?"
"The zither?" Xue Ying's lids lifted slowly in surprise. "What prompts the question?"
Encouraged by her willingness to engage, Feng Xiyang brightened and explained with practiced ease. "I've heard the music and dance of Jinxiu surpass all others in the world. Even ordinary girls there possess considerable skill with the instrument. I was merely curious."
Though reluctant, Xue Ying answered with honesty. "My mother taught me to play. Father always said she possessed exquisite talent in her youth, but when she first wed him, our family's circumstances proved too humble. She abandoned her music entirely."
Feng Xiyang's smile carried genuine warmth. "Since we have only this journey, would you honor me with a performance? Please don't misunderstand—I harbor no ulterior motives. I simply wish to hear such beauty."
Xue Ying rested her chin upon her hand and studied Feng Xiyang for a lengthy moment before capitulating. "Very well."
A six-stringed zither appeared in her hands moments later. Xue Ying closed her eyes in deep concentration, then slowly raised her fingers. Her elegant fingertips descended upon the strings, drawing forth the first trembling note.
The music emerged as a young girl dancing joyfully beneath moonlight, graceful and unburdened. Then it transformed—becoming a melancholic woman gazing into mist and rain, waiting for a lover whose return date remained unknown. Finally, the melody shifted once more: a proud, solitary woman applying her makeup before a mirror, whispering to herself, "Perhaps it's better to forget…" The final notes lingered sorrowfully before dissolving into silence.
The carriage fell into profound quiet. After an eternity, Feng Xiyang asked as if waking from a dream. "Do you believe it true that when love runs deep, there are no regrets?"
Xue Ying's response came slowly, almost wearily. "Emotions are the easiest to divine yet the hardest to grasp. They arrive unbidden and depart reluctantly." She turned to Feng Xiyang with a faint, knowing sigh. "The saying 'when love runs deep, there are no regrets' holds merit. But for a man like him, if this love isn't what he requires, no measure of selflessness or devotion will penetrate his heart."
Feng Xiyang trembled visibly and asked with barely concealed urgency. "You're close with her, aren't you? Can you tell me—where do I fall short compared to her?"
Xue Ying shook her head, her laughter tinged with melancholy. "The heart of this world isn't like game pieces you can arrange according to desire. If he could love you so easily, he wouldn't be Xia Jingshi."
"But I only love him," Feng Xiyang's voice became whisper-soft. "I ask so little. I only wish to stand beside him. If he could show me even a fraction of the kindness he bestows upon her—even the smallest measure. But I cannot fathom why our connection deteriorates constantly. This hairpin incident… I didn't mean to throw it down. I never imagined he would…"
"This incident bears no relation to you," Xue Ying interrupted gently. "Truly. Xiao Canjun told Ning Fei that His Highness claimed he simply acted on impulse when retrieving the hairpin. He didn't anticipate the fall, much less sliding so far. So this isn't your fault. Actually, I've long struggled to know how to address you—whether to use Xiyang, Princess, or Lady Wang. But I've always wanted to tell you something: you needn't concern yourself with Yixiao's existence. Everything that has transpired has nothing to do with her because she and His Highness never truly began…"
"Really?!" Xiyang's eyes suddenly ignited with desperate hope. "Nothing happened between them?"
Xue Ying fixed her with a prolonged stare, then sighed deeply. "What I meant to convey is that his heart is like stagnant water. No matter how large a stone you cast, it creates only momentary ripples…"
Feng Xiyang cut her off urgently, her voice brimming with renewed determination. "No—if nothing ever started, then I can do this. I truly can!"
"Then," Xue Ying set down the zither and rose, "I must tell you two things. First, that hairpin belonged to Yixiao. Second, the last time he coughed blood was because he learned Yixiao had written asking for the hairpin's return." Witnessing the sudden hollowing of Feng Xiyang's eyes, she added softly, "Let it go," as she reached to lift the carriage curtain.
"Ling Xue Ying," Feng Xiyang's frigid voice pursued her. "You're too cruel."
Xue Ying paused but didn't turn. Her reply carried quiet conviction. "If I were truly cruel, I wouldn't have told you any of this."
Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)