The moment they stepped out of the torture chamber, the oppressive stench of blood, excrement, and urine still clinging to the air, Yi Xiao's resolve finally shattered. She rushed to a nearby flowering tree and retched violently. Feng Sui Ge was immediately at her side, his hand gentle against her back. "You're just being stubborn—you could have left this to me, but you insisted on doing it yourself!"
Yi Xiao remained crouched for several moments, waiting for the nausea to subside. When his words finally registered, she smiled bitterly. "There are some things that, as the regent prince, you absolutely cannot do. But I'm different. I'm already the poisonous flower and grass they speak of, so being a little more poisonous doesn't matter."
Feng Sui Ge's sigh was heavy with concern. "We've already been interrogated this far. Leave the rest to me from now on."
Yi Xiao raised her head with sudden determination. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy above, creating brilliant patches of light that danced across her face. "No, I want to root out the mastermind behind this with my own hands, to avenge Gu Yu!"
"Impossible!" Consort Zhuang's scream tore through the chamber, her face contorted beyond all recognition of imperial decorum. "Father told me that he had instructed them. Once the heat dies down, he would find a way to release them. They couldn't possibly reveal anything during the interrogation!"
Feng Qi Shan sat in the shadows, his expression dark as a storm cloud. His rebuke was cold and cutting. "Those useless fools confessed everything after just one round of torture, and you're still saying it's impossible?"
Consort Zhuang threw herself at his feet, her hands clutching desperately at his knees as tears streamed down her face. "I beg Your Majesty to save my father and brothers."
Feng Qi Shan's eyes narrowed to calculating slits. After a long moment of contemplation, he sighed. "It's difficult. If this goes wrong, not only will we be unable to protect them, but I will also be implicated." His tone shifted abruptly to anger. "It's all because of you a lot! You swore it was foolproof, but look at the result!"
Consort Zhuang's grip tightened on his legs, her sobs broken and desperate. "It was unexpected. Please, Your Majesty, show mercy…"
Feng Qi Shan pushed her away with irritation, rising to pace the length of the room. His footsteps echoed in the tense silence as he walked back and forth, back and forth. Then, suddenly, he stopped. "It's not completely hopeless."
Consort Zhuang's tears ceased as if cut by a blade. She looked up, her face still wet and bewildered. "What hope?"
Before Feng Qi Shan could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention. A man dressed as an attendant slipped through the doorway, bowed low, and whispered something into the emperor's ear.
Feng Qi Shan's expression transformed dramatically. "Is it true?" The urgency in his voice was unmistakable.
The attendant hesitated, weighing his words carefully. "Everyone present saw it, but whether it's true or not hasn't been confirmed yet."
A complex array of emotions flickered across Feng Qi Shan's face—surprise, calculation, hope. After what felt like an eternity, he waved his hand in dismissal.
Consort Zhuang approached cautiously. "Your Majesty…"
Feng Qi Shan gritted his teeth, the words emerging slowly. "Fu Yi Xiao might be pregnant!"
Another downpour descended upon the palace, heavy raindrops drumming against the tiles. Yi Xiao stood beneath the eaves, her eyes reflecting a weariness and sorrow too profound for words. Was this the nature of all royal courts? Such endless cycles of open and covert struggles, devoid of any true sense of right and wrong…
But Gu Yu was dead. Gone forever. Even when the culprits were found and punished, he would never return.
The truth had crystallized with brutal clarity: the entire incident was masterminded by Consort Zhuang's father and brothers, but with Feng Qi Shan's support. Perhaps "support" was too strong a word—yet without his tacit consent, how could those assassins have penetrated the heavily guarded hunting forest?
Feng Sui Ge must be aware of this too, mustn't he?
Could they still make grand promises of eternal love as before?
Born as enemies, yet love had grown between them like a twisted vine. Who had betrayed whom? Would he truly forsake his country and closest kin for the pleasure of her embrace?
Caught in this impossible situation, they were no longer in control of their fates.
"Junior Consort." A maid's soft voice drifted from the corridor, breaking through her melancholy thoughts. "The Prince has instructed the kitchen to prepare some snow frog cream. Would you like to have it now?"
"Snow frog cream?" Yi Xiao frowned in confusion. "I don't eat such things. Save it for the Prince."
The maid didn't retreat as expected. Instead, a strange expression crossed her features as she stepped closer. "The Junior Consort's tastes indeed haven't changed…"
Yi Xiao's gaze sharpened. "I didn't know servants had so much to say."
Undeterred by the ice in her voice, the maid continued, "The old madam's death anniversary is approaching. How does the Junior Consort plan to arrange the memorial service?"
Yi Xiao's head snapped around, her eyes locking onto the maid's face with sudden intensity. Suppressing the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm her, she returned a cold smile. "That's not something you should concern yourself with. I'm more curious about how you know the date of my mother's death anniversary."
The maid ignored the question, pressing forward with her cryptic message. "This servant has already started selecting plain white fabric to be given to skilled weavers to make a ceremonial dress for the Junior Consort to wear during the memorial. The old madam's spirit in heaven will surely be delighted to see the Junior Consort wearing her favorite color…"
"Who are you?!" Yi Xiao's heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst free. The only person who would know these intimate details was…
"This servant is just a maid in the household." The woman's smile was enigmatic. "I was just asked to inform the Junior Consort that although she doesn't like vegetables, she shouldn't avoid them completely…"
"Where is he?" The words erupted from Yi Xiao, barely short of a shout.
It was another dream—always another dream.
In this one, he approached with a smile that made her heart soar. She stretched out her arms to welcome him, joy flooding through her—but he walked past her as if she were made of air. Not far behind her stood a figure draped in fiery red.
She couldn't move. Couldn't speak. She could only watch, frozen and helpless, as her husband embraced another woman right before her eyes.
The two figures intertwined with passionate abandon. The rustle of silk against skin, coy moans that pierced like daggers, loving smiles that should have been hers, and the occasional subtle sounds of lips meeting—all mixed with intermittent gasps and low groans that echoed in the chamber.
Yi Xiao, Yi Xiao, Yi Xiao…
He was murmuring the name—her name—but as it reached her ears, it transformed into a deafening roar like mountains collapsing and seas surging. The sound was simultaneously fiery hot and desolate, wild and violent, yet also grieving and desperate.
A terrifying floral scent drifted through the air, thick and suffocating. She wanted to scream but couldn't produce a sound. She wanted to cry but had no tears. Finally, through frantic struggling, she managed to break free from the nightmare's grip and jerked upright, eyes flying open.
She was drenched in cold sweat.
After a long while, Feng Xi Yang released a soft sigh and slowly lowered herself back onto her pillow.
He harbored a cold heart, deliberately digging an insurmountable chasm between them. This feeling was like poisoned wine—warm and mellow upon first taste, yet laced with a sharp, metallic edge. As it slid down her throat, it burned with agonizing intensity straight to her heart.
She had thought that simply seeing him each day would bring happiness, that merely being by his side would be enough. But in the end, she discovered there was no way to deceive herself.
She remembered a palace consort once saying that resentment makes people ugly. Yet she didn't know how not to resent.
Wanting to let go but unable to release her grip. Wanting to possess but incapable of having. It was because her love was selfish that she couldn't tolerate the reality. She couldn't tolerate being ignored, couldn't tolerate another person occupying his heart.
It truly was as the Empress Dowager had said—a karmic entanglement, binding them in cycles of pain.
With nothing else to occupy her tormented mind, tomorrow she would go and speak with the Empress Dowager again. Perhaps the older woman's wisdom could offer some solace, some way through this labyrinth of suffering.
Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)