In the soft glow of paper lanterns and flickering candlelight, Xia Jingshi sat motionless at the table, unconsciously counting each drip of the water clock.
In the instant that massive tree had collapsed, Xiao Weiran had pushed him out of harm's way with all his might. As a result, Xia Jingshi had suffered only minor scrapes, while Weiran had taken the full brunt of the impact. Severely injured, Weiran had shown no signs of improvement since. The physician assured them he had only suffered internal injuries and would gradually recover with bed rest—yet that recovery remained frustratingly elusive.
The broken rope had been found. One look was enough to tell it was an old rope, weathered by sun and wind, with an uneven break that showed no signs of deliberate sabotage. Yet the craftsmen swore that the rope they had originally received with the log was new.
Could someone have switched it? If it wasn't an accident, then what had truly happened?
Xia Jingshi rubbed his temples in mounting frustration before standing to push open the half-closed window. A cool night breeze immediately rushed in, doing little to calm his troubled thoughts.
Beyond Weiran's injuries, Feng Xiyang's increasingly close association with the royal family in the inner city worried him greatly. If it weren't for the mandatory pilgrimage, he would never have set foot in the imperial capital again.
He had originally planned to return to Lu City after moving his mother's mausoleum, but given Weiran's condition, it would likely be at least a month before they could depart.
He could only hope that no further incidents would occur during this time.
As dawn barely broke, a lone rider galloped along the official road outside the Splendid Holy City. The horse's mouth and nose constantly sprayed white foam as it ran, every labored breath revealing signs of extreme fatigue.
Since entering the borders of the Splendid Kingdom, Ning Fei had left his four deputy generals far behind. He changed horses at every border post, replenishing water and provisions along the way. Riding without rest for days on end, he had returned to the imperial capital in less than ten days.
As the outer city came into view in the distance, Ning Fei gritted his teeth and cracked his whip once more on the horse's flank, spurring it toward the city gate.
"Open the gate!" Ning Fei's shout rang out as he leaped from his horse, wiping the sweat mixed with morning dew from his face. He pounded on the heavy wooden gate, calling out urgently, "Which squad is on night duty? Come open the gate!"
"It's not even daybreak yet, what's all the noise about?" A garrison officer lazily poked his head out from atop the city wall. The moment he recognized Ning Fei, he immediately perked up. "Oh, General Ning, you're back!"
Before Ning Fei could respond, the officer had already ducked back inside.
In just a moment, there was a thunderous sound of the inner bolt dropping, and the city gate swung wide. The junior officer and several guards emerged to greet him. "General Ning, you've made such quick time. I thought it would take at least half a month—eh? Where are the others?"
"I rode ahead," Ning Fei said hastily, already mounting his fresh horse. Not bothering with pleasantries, he asked quickly, "How is His Highness's injury? Where is he?"
The junior officer smiled reassuringly. "The Prince of Zhen Nan is currently doing well. He's naturally staying at Ming De Palace…"
Upon hearing this, Ning Fei tossed back a "Thank you" and galloped away. The rhythmic sound of hoofbeats echoed particularly clearly through the dim, empty streets.
"Thanks?" The junior officer snorted softly, exchanging a knowing look with the guards beside him. "Did you hear that? He thanked us. Well, I suppose that makes all these days of guard duty worthwhile."
The others immediately burst into snickers.
Feng Suige leaned against the cushions in the corner of the carriage, with Fu Yixiao sleeping on his lap. He gently brushed away the strands of hair falling across her cheek, then idly played with the silken ends.
On that spring night when he had abducted her, he had watched her this closely too. The difference was that back then, he had gazed upon a face so peaceful and serene in sleep—untroubled, almost angelic. Now, even in her dreams, her brows were furrowed with invisible burdens.
Compared to the Fu Yixiao who burned as brightly as fire during the day, she now appeared delicate and fragile, profound yet sorrowful, beautiful yet achingly lonely.
Perhaps it was the carriage wheel hitting a pothole, causing a slight jolt and a small noise. Yixiao was immediately startled awake, her eyes fluttering open with the alertness of a hunted animal. He quickly soothed her, patting her gently and murmuring softly, "It's nothing, go back to sleep."
Yixiao smiled at him hazily through the fog of exhaustion, turned over, and fell back into a fitful slumber.
At Yixiao's insistence, Xueying had moved from her carriage to share with Yixiao. Every night, Yixiao would secretly slip away to keep watch until dawn. Only when most of the Splendid Kingdom's imperial guards had risen would she sneak into Feng Suige's carriage for a brief nap—a few stolen hours of rest before the day began anew.
Feng Suige's fingers traced the slight dark circles shadowing her eyes. He had once asked Yixiao why she insisted on personally guarding Xueying. After a moment of heavy silence, Yixiao had answered with just two words: "I'm afraid."
Yes, she was afraid.
She was terrified that with one moment of carelessness, Xueying would vanish before her eyes again—spirited away by fate or malice. If anything were to happen to Xueying, she would never be able to forgive herself. And he didn't want to see that deathly stillness return to Yixiao's eyes—that hollow emptiness that left only a body without a soul, not the vibrant Fu Yixiao he loved.
Just as he had said before, because he was a son, because he was still a royal subject, because he would one day become the ruler of the country, there were many things he was powerless to change. His father's stubbornness also left him feeling guilty about abducting Yixiao in the first place.
If he hadn't brought her back to Xusha that day, if he hadn't drawn her into the treacherous vortex of palace intrigue, perhaps she would now be living happily in some distant corner of the world. Instead of being constantly on guard against everyone around her, day and night, she might be smiling freely—unburdened by schemes and suspicions.
But he didn't regret it. Not for a moment.
If he hadn't abducted her, how could he be by Yixiao's side like this now, greedily drinking in the sight of her sleeping face, waiting with quiet anticipation for her to wake up and smile again? How could he have learned the texture of her laughter, the weight of her trust, the depth of her resilience?
So he had always been trying to make amends for his father's actions. He only hoped that one day his father would truly understand Yixiao's heart, and Yixiao would be able to forgive his father's overly stubborn words and heavy-handed actions in the past. From then on, the two of them could set aside all grievances, no longer resenting or opposing each other—finding peace instead of endless conflict.
He just didn't know how far away that day might be.
Or if it would ever come at all.
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