"Let go! What are you trying to do—"
The dimming light gradually brought Xiyang back to her senses. She began struggling desperately, but Yixiao held her wrist firmly, refusing to loosen her grip no matter how much Xiyang flailed and twisted.
Only when the campfire became mere flickering dots amidst the trees—distant as stars through the dense canopy—did Yixiao finally release her. She turned to face Feng Xiyang, her expression hard. "Get a grip. Do you think this is the Su Sha Imperial Palace or Lu City Inner Garden? Even if you don't care about your own dignity, at least save some face for His Highness!"
Feng Xiyang, scolded so bluntly, was both humiliated and furious, heat flooding her cheeks in the darkness. But she couldn't think of a retort. She forced out a reply, "This is between me and my husband. It's none of your concern."
"Is that so?" Yixiao yawned openly, deliberately exaggerated, then grinned with feline mischief. "Then why did you keep calling out 'Fu Yixiao' over and over, making it impossible for me to even pretend to sleep? Don't tell me you like that name—but if you do, I don't mind giving it to you. From now on, you can be Fu Yixiao, and I'll be Feng Xiyang. How about that?"
"Who said I like— You—you're insane! I don't want to talk to you!" Feng Xiyang stamped her foot like a petulant child and turned to head back toward the camp, her skirts swishing angrily through the undergrowth.
"Hey—" Yixiao didn't chase after her, merely calling out lazily, almost carelessly, "So all those words you said at the wedding were just lies, huh?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but it struck Feng Xiyang like thunder echoing through a valley, freezing her in place as surely as if roots had suddenly grown from her feet.
Seeing her stop, Yixiao also dropped her smile and spoke slowly, word by word, each syllable deliberate. "You were the one who said you'd do everything to be a good wife—to share his burdens, stand by him through honor and disgrace, advance and retreat together. That was why I could let go and stay in Su Sha. But tell me, what have you actually done so far?"
"I wanted to!" Feng Xiyang whirled around, choking on her sobs, her voice breaking. "If only he treated me even a hundredth as well as he treats you, I'd be content. But I never had the chance—he won't even spare me a smile! How can I be good to him? How can I share his burdens?"
Yixiao fell silent. The dark space was filled only with Feng Xiyang's quiet weeping—broken, hitching sounds that spoke of exhaustion rather than hope.
After a long pause, Yixiao exhaled deeply and said with difficulty, as if the words cost her something, "He really isn't an easy man to move." Seeing Xiyang's sobs weaken, she stepped forward and gently patted her back with tentative comfort. "But the way you're acting now will only push him further away. Stop crying. Once we're out of this mess, I'll talk to His Highness—"
"No!" Feng Xiyang suddenly slapped Yixiao's hand away with a hysterical shriek that sent night birds scattering from nearby branches. "Stay away from him! Don't you dare go near him again!"
Yixiao's hand hung in midair, her expression stunned, as if she'd been struck. Though tears still streaked her face, catching moonlight like silver trails, Feng Xiyang glared at her with pure venom, as if transformed into a different person entirely—someone Yixiao had never seen before. "What do you really want? You already have my imperial brother—isn't that enough? How much longer are you going to cling to him?!"
"Me?" Yixiao barely managed to get a word in before Feng Xiyang cut her off again, her voice rising hysterically. "If it weren't for you always hanging around him, he would never have treated me like this!"
Understanding dawned on Yixiao like cold water, but it was quickly overtaken by anger that heated her blood. She narrowed her eyes and sneered. "Oh, so that's what this is about. You and your father really are cut from the same cloth."
Just then, Feng Suige's voice called out from afar, carrying through the trees—it was time to move on.
"Coming," Yixiao called out loudly, stretching lazily as if shaking off the entire conversation. "Tsk, didn't even get a proper nap," she muttered as she lowered her arms. Noticing Feng Xiyang's still-hostile expression—eyes burning like coals in the dark—she curled her lip. "Oh my, you really seem to hate me—how about this? Once you've recovered, let's have a fight. The loser gives up His Highness."
Before Xiyang could react, before her mouth could even form a response, Yixiao had already brushed past her, heading toward the campsite with long, confident strides.
Feng Suige handed the reins to Yixiao while picking off the dried twigs and leaves clinging to her clothes from trekking through the woods, his fingers gentle and thorough. "How did it go?" he asked softly.
Yixiao shot him a glare. "If I had a knife, I'd have sliced her into a thousand pieces by now."
Seeing his startled expression—eyes widening, mouth parting—she pursed her lips into a smirk. "Luckily, I remembered her kindness in giving me medicine, so after some consideration, I mercifully decided to bury her alive instead."
Only then did Feng Suige realize she was joking. Grinning, he made a playful grab for her cheek, but Yixiao dodged with practiced ease, leading the horse a few steps ahead while shouting dramatically, "The Imperial Son is hitting people!"
Immediately, the surrounding soldiers turned to look, some grinning, others quickly hiding their amusement.
Embarrassed, Feng Suige withdrew his hand, face flushing. Turning, he spotted Xia Jingshi standing not far away, holding his horse's reins, his gaze fixed tenderly on Yixiao's retreating figure—watching her the way one might watch the sun rise, knowing it would set again.
Noticing Feng Suige's stare, Xia Jingshi smiled at him before mounting and riding briskly toward the gathering troops, his back straight, his expression unreadable once more.
When Xiyang emerged dazedly from the woods, moving like a sleepwalker, only Feng Suige and his personal guards remained in the clearing. Seeing her, Feng Suige exhaled in relief and hurried over. "Let's go. We're only waiting for you."
Xiyang nodded obediently but suddenly glanced toward the departing group and called softly, "Elder Brother..."
Feng Suige turned back, puzzled. "What is it?"
Xiyang shook her head. "Never mind. Let's go."
The mounted party rode until noon, the sun climbing high and hot overhead. Rounding a sharp bend in the mountain path, Yixiao pointed excitedly ahead. "Once we cross Weiyu Mountain ahead, we'll be near His Highness's territory. If we pick up the pace, we might meet Weiran and the others in a day or two."
Feng Suige raised an eyebrow, amused by her enthusiasm. "Don't celebrate too soon. We're only half a day ahead of the Imperial Guards at most. We might spot them at the mountain's base before we even reach the summit."
"Way to kill the mood," Yixiao grumbled, though her expression grew tense as she frequently glanced back over her shoulder, scanning the terrain behind them.
Sure enough, halfway up the mountain, a large flock of birds suddenly burst from the forest below in a dark, chaotic cloud.
"They've caught up," someone murmured from behind, voice tight with tension.
Feng Suige looked surprised. "That was fast."
Yixiao shot him a worried glance. "What do we do?"
"Keep running, of course," he replied cheerfully, as if discussing the weather. "Unless you want to wait for them."
"Feng Suige!" Yixiao leaned over to punch him in frustration, her fist connecting solidly with his shoulder. "Can you be serious for once?!"
"Fine," Feng Suige said solemnly, turning to her with a grave expression that transformed his usually playful face. Yixiao withdrew her hand, waiting intently for his next words, hope and anxiety warring in her eyes.
"We must all move faster," he declared grandly, with mock gravity. "Or they'll catch us!"
Unable to contain himself, he burst into laughter and spurred his horse forward, overtaking Yixiao in an instant. Torn between anger and amusement, she urged her mount after him, cursing colorfully under her breath.
A military officer following Xia Jingshi chuckled softly and murmured, "I can hardly believe this is the same Feng Suige who once faced us on the battlefield."
A Su Sha military general riding beside him had already grinned widely and chimed in, "Since the Minor Imperial Concubine arrived, the Imperial Son has been smiling much more."
Xia Jingshi listened quietly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips—bittersweet, like medicine mixed with honey.
Yixiao was still the same Yixiao as before, yet not the same Yixiao anymore.
Wasn't this what he had always hoped for?
Then why did his heart still ache?
Why did watching her laugh feel like a blade between his ribs, sharp and cold, twisting with every breath?
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