"Why target me?" Fu Yixiao's confusion was evident in her furrowed brow. "And what does this have to do with Ning Fei?"Feng Suige shrugged with deceptive casualness. "It's just a guess. If it's not aimed at you, then it's targeting Ning Fei…"
"At worst, he might have offended someone with his quick temper, but why would anyone want him dead?" Ling Xueying's voice rose with a mixture of shock and mounting anxiety. "By my calculations, he should be nearing Jinxiu soon. This is so nerve-wracking…"
"The most likely target is Xia Jingshi," Feng Suige said, his gaze sliding toward Yixiao with calculated intent.
She immediately furrowed her brow in protest. "How is that possible? His Highness rarely interacts with outsiders. How could he have made enemies?"
Feng Suige rested his chin thoughtfully on his fist, speaking with deliberate slowness. "It's just a theory for now. Perhaps someone is jealous of your princess title, and Xia Jingshi is caught in the crossfire. We can't rush this—we'll know more soon enough."
Seeing Yixiao glare at him with barely concealed frustration, he raised an eyebrow in mock innocence. "When have you ever known me to be so particular as to send four guards ahead? The most pressing issue now is to figure out who's pulling the strings behind all this."
As night fell and darkness settled over their lodgings, Xueying and Yixiao chatted idly in their comfortable guest room, their voices a quiet murmur against the evening stillness. Feng Suige reclined nearby, listening and occasionally offering a comment.
Suddenly, a low voice reported from beyond the door, cutting through their conversation like a blade. "Your Highness, we've obtained it."
"Come in and speak," Feng Suige commanded, his posture immediately shifting as he sat straight with alert attention.
Yixiao and Xueying fell silent mid-sentence, both turning to watch as the black-clad guard entered the room with practiced stealth.
After paying his respects with a precise bow, the guard approached Feng Suige and whispered urgently in his ear, then presented a bamboo tube. Feng Suige's expression remained carefully neutral as he nodded. "Keep a close watch. Report any unusual activity immediately."
As the guard departed and the door closed with a soft click, Feng Suige peeled away the wax seal on the tube with methodical precision. He shook out a small paper scroll, examining it under the flickering lamplight. The silence stretched taut as he read. Then he turned and handed the paper to Yixiao, his voice dropping to something grave and dark. "Look at this!"
The note, written in tiny, cramped characters, read: "Fu and Feng have arrived together. Humbly request swift action."
Xueying jumped up in shock, one hand flying to cover her mouth as she exclaimed in a strangled whisper, "Heavens, what's going on?"
After a moment of stunned silence that seemed to stretch into eternity, Yixiao asked hoarsely, "Where did this come from?"
Feng Suige gestured toward the bamboo tube sitting innocuously on the table. "It was a message sent by carrier pigeon. They intercepted it, but we still don't know who sent it."
"What should we do now?" Fu Yixiao's hands clenched into fists without her conscious awareness, nails biting into her palms. "No news from Ning Fei, and His Highness and Weiran's fates are uncertain. Our enemies are hidden while we're exposed. Who knows what kind of trap awaits us…"
Feng Suige fell silent for a long moment, his mind clearly working through possibilities and permutations. When he finally spoke, his tone was solemn. "Don't panic. Let me ask you this: What's the military structure of the Imperial Guard in Jinxiu?"
Before he'd even finished speaking, Yixiao and Xueying's expressions transformed simultaneously—comprehension dawning like a cold sunrise. They exclaimed in perfect, horrified unison, "It's the Holy Emperor!"
After her meal, Feng Xiyang had rested briefly on the couch, but still felt extremely fatigued when consciousness returned.
Before meeting Xia Jingshi, she never could have imagined that a man renowned for his military prowess could give off such an ethereal impression—gentle yet aloof, accommodating yet distant. This feeling was too complex and unique to easily define. If viewed as an ordinary person, he seemed too saintly; but if one tried to revere him as something more, he would scoff at the notion with barely concealed disdain. This blend of purity and aloofness made it impossible not to be moved by him.
Before marrying Xia Jingshi, she had dreamed too much—allowed her imagination to paint pictures that reality would never match. She had envisioned their wedding day: herself wearing a phoenix crown and cloudy cape, walking slowly toward him amidst praise from the assembled crowd, while he stood proudly on a high platform, smiling down at her with that beautiful face, so arrogant and imperious.
In her dreams, when she placed her hand in his, she thought he would grip it tightly and then, laughing with unrestrained joy, announce to everyone, "Look, this is my bride, Xia Jingshi's most beautiful bride!"
Little did she know her love would prove so wild and obsessive, yet so achingly lonely. She had lost her heart but gained not even a smile in return. In the blink of an eye, she had been away from Shusha for half a year. Everything she had experienced felt like a fleeting dream, and upon waking, they remained as separate as ever—two parallel lines without the slightest connection.
A light knock sounded from the outer door. Judging by the time, it should be the carriage sent by the Empress Dowager to escort her to the palace. Feng Xiyang released a soft sigh and sat up from the couch, her movements heavy with reluctance.
The Empress Dowager had sent people repeatedly to persuade Xia Jingshi to move back to Mingde Palace, but these attempts had all been unsuccessful. Fearing Xiyang would be upset by the rejection, the Empress Dowager had taken to inviting her to the palace daily for conversation, chess, flower appreciation, and tea tasting. As time passed, she inevitably encountered the Holy Emperor when he came to pay his respects at Ciyang Hall.
Perhaps it was because the Holy Emperor resembled Xia Jingshi so much that she couldn't help but be drawn to him—like a moth to flame. Yet sometimes, the cold aura he emitted made her want to flee instinctively, fearing that one misstep could lead to irreversible consequences. Whenever she thought of this, an indescribable emotion welled up in her heart, turning her daily diversions into a burden—going was difficult, not going even more so.
Opening the door, Feng Xiyang's heart skipped a beat. She instinctively clutched at her still-loose collar, fingers trembling slightly. "Your Majesty… I didn't know you had arrived. Xiyang has been discourteous in not welcoming you."
The Holy Emperor gave a soft "Mm" in response, his expression unreadable. "The Empress Dowager is slightly unwell today and unable to receive you. I happened to be leaving the palace to inspect city defenses, so the Empress Dowager asked me to check on you."
Xiyang nervously glanced at the maid, who stood rigidly to the side with eyes fixed downward. Feeling slightly more at ease with the witness present, she said with practiced grace, "Your Majesty and the Empress Dowager are too kind. With the Empress Dowager unwell, Xiyang should be the one visiting the palace. How could I trouble Your Majesty to come personally…"
"I've always admired your boldness in thought and action. Why suddenly put on this delicate, timid act? Is it because of others?" As the Holy Emperor spoke, he cast a cold glance toward the maid beside them—a look sharp enough to cut.
Even with her head bowed, the maid could sense that piercing gaze like a physical presence. She hurriedly bowed deeper and retreated with small, quick steps. As Feng Xiyang opened her mouth to call her back, the Holy Emperor chuckled—a sound that held no warmth. "Didn't you ask the Empress Dowager what I intend to do? Surely you don't want her to hear this as well?"
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
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