Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One
In the open space before the small cottage, Feng Suige sat listlessly, watching the newly hired maids bustle in and out. They carried basin after basin of clean water inside, only to bring out the same basins now dyed a vivid red with blood, which they poured with a splash into the dark ditch at the side of the courtyard.
Xia Jingshi appeared behind him at some point, standing silently for a while before finally speaking. "Once the physician has treated Xiyang’s wounds, I’ll have her moved here so you can look after her." Feng Suige gave a slight shudder and lowered his head. "Is she alright?" Xia Jingshi glanced at the cottage and sighed softly. "Go to her. I’ll stay here."
When Feng Suige entered, Yixiao, who had been half-reclining against the headboard, immediately sat up. "I heard Xiyang was injured—how is she?" Feng Suige hesitated mid-step. "I thought you’d be angry." Hearing this, Yixiao smiled. "If you had abandoned her just to stay here with me, you wouldn’t be Feng Suige."
Sitting beside her on the bed, Feng Suige gazed at her faint smile and inexplicably felt his eyes grow moist. Unable to hold back, he leaned forward and pulled her into his arms. "I’m sorry. I didn’t take good care of you. If I hadn’t left you alone in the room, you wouldn’t have been taken..." "Don’t say that," Yixiao soothed, gently patting his back. After a pause, she suddenly added, "First, tell me how Xiyang is. Then, I have something very important to tell you."
Hearing her serious tone, Feng Suige forced down his emotions and spoke as calmly as he could. "We used all the remaining Black Chalcedony Marrow, but not only did it fail to stop the bleeding, the blood washed it all away. The physician said if the bleeding doesn’t stop soon, she won’t make it." Yixiao was visibly shocked. "It’s that serious?"
Feng Suige closed his eyes and nodded. "Nearly half her shoulder was split open... I should have learned my lesson and left someone to guard her." Yixiao silently grasped his hand and, after a long moment, said, "No one could have foreseen this." Feng Suige gave a bitter smile. "It’s too late for regrets now. We can only leave it to fate—you said you had something important to tell me. What is it?"
Yixiao sat in a daze for a while, only speaking after Feng Suige pressed her several times. "This might not be the best time, but I still want to tell you as soon as possible." Feng Suige unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand, his eyes searching hers nervously. "What is it?"
With a faint, almost imperceptible smile, Yixiao whispered, "Earlier, the physician examined me and said I’ve been pregnant for nearly two months."
It was as if a loud gong had been struck right beside his ear. Feng Suige stared at her in stunned silence for a long moment before hesitantly asking, "What did you say?" Yixiao sighed. "I said, by next summer, you’ll be a father!"
Feng Suige remained frozen for a while, his face suddenly flushing crimson before all color drained away just as quickly. Meeting Yixiao’s puzzled gaze, he gently cupped her cheek and murmured, "Thank goodness you came back safely—if anything had happened to you, I would never have forgiven myself."
As he hurried back, Feng Suige’s heart remained a tumult of emotions. Yixiao’s pregnancy should have been joyous news, but Xiyang’s injury weighed on him like a heavy stone, pressing relentlessly against his chest.In the past on the battlefield, whenever he encountered soldiers wounded so severely, he would always order his guards to deliver a final mercy strike—not out of cold-bloodedness, but because he had witnessed firsthand those who bled to death. The agony from convulsions turned death into a nightmarish process. Thus, letting them bleed out was the true cruelty.
Entering the courtyard, Xia Jingshi stood with his hands clasped behind his back. The physician had already emerged from the room, standing before him with bloodstained hands hanging limply. Hearing his footsteps, Xia Jingshi turned his gaze toward him, his expression as composed as ever. "You're back."
Suppressing the unease in his heart, Feng Suige nodded. "How is she?" Xia Jingshi remained silent, but the physician, startled, dropped to his knees with a thud, despair evident in his voice. "Though I’ve done everything I can, the wound is too large, and the patient is too weak. In her current state, at most she can—" "Enough!" Feng Suige couldn’t bear to listen any longer and turned to leave, but Xia Jingshi stopped him. "Wait."
Dismissing the physician, Xia Jingshi walked up behind Feng Suige. After a long silence, he spoke softly, "Are you truly prepared to let her bleed to death?" Feng Suige jolted as if stung by a wasp. "What do you mean?!"
"You know what I mean," Xia Jingshi’s voice was as casual as if discussing the weather. "If this continues, her suffering will only worsen. If you truly care for her, make the decision sooner."
Feng Suige lowered his head, silent.
Xia Jingshi was right. But this was Xiyang—the Xiyang who had grown up with him, the Xiyang he had cherished and protected in the palm of his hand.
"I can’t do it," Feng Suige finally spoke, his voice trembling slightly. "She is my flesh and blood. How could I possibly...?"
Xia Jingshi studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Very well. If you’ve made your decision, let me do it."
Feng Xiyang lay quietly on the bed, dark red blood seeping from the wound on her back, dripping onto the bedding. The scattered peonies embroidered on the satin seemed to glow brilliantly, as if feeding on her life.
Her body felt as though it had been torn apart, the pain from her shoulder to her back burning fiercely. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was his shocked eyes—those clear, bright eyes, now filled with such emotion.
People came and went around her, but none of their voices were his. Even her imperial brother was nowhere to be seen. Had they all gone to Yixiao’s side? No, he hadn’t. He was nearby—she could sense it.
Suddenly, she heard soft footsteps. The people bustling around her quickly retreated, and then someone approached, reaching out to touch her forehead. The familiar scent of sandalwood—it was her imperial brother.
She tried to open her mouth, to ask where he was, but no sound came out. Just as she grew anxious, a scalding drop fell onto her cheek, trickling into the corner of her lips. So salty—was it a tear? Before she could wonder further, her imperial brother abruptly withdrew, the breeze from his movement chilling the wet trail on her cheek. Then, with a loud clang, the door slammed shut.
Still puzzled, she heard the rustle of fabric again. A warm finger brushed her cheek, sending a shiver through her entire body.
It was him. He was speaking."For the second time," he murmured, a sound caught between laughter and a sigh, his warm breath brushing her forehead. "Perhaps it was all predestined. In this life, I've had too many constraints, too little freedom. Yet I never asked for much—only wished for her happiness. But I’ve been unfair to you, letting you give so much without offering the same in return."
She had intended to simply listen, but tears welled up uncontrollably beneath her lashes. Never before had she felt so close to him, neither in body nor in heart.
"Can you hear me?" His hands, ever gentle, wiped away her tears. "I don’t want to deceive you, so I won’t promise you an afterlife. This life—I owe it to you. In the next, I could die for you. But I will live only for her."
He tilted her head up slightly, and a porcelain cup warmed by his touch touched her lips. A thin, icy liquid trickled into her mouth, and she swallowed instinctively.
So bitter.
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