Chapter Twenty
Feng Suige gave a bitter smile. "Can I take that as a compliment?" "Of course you can, but—I hold grudges and forget favors easily, Feng Suige. Be careful!" With a sly smile, she turned and walked toward the side door. Xueying shot him a half-amused glance before hurrying after her with quick steps.
"Fu Yixiao," Feng Suige called out, striding forward to stop her. "You're right, I am arrogant and my attitude is terrible. So—" A mischievous grin spread across his face as he suddenly stepped forward and pulled Yixiao into a tight embrace, his warm breath brushing against her neck. "You surely won't mind adding one more grievance to your list."
Xueying covered her mouth, staring at the rigid Yixiao with a mix of shock and amusement. Before Yixiao could struggle free, Feng Suige had already released her and stepped back, not bothering to hide his satisfaction. "Go on in. The guards here will be back soon."
Yixiao's tense body gradually relaxed, and the corner of her lips curled. "I won't forget this."
Feng Suige's smile faded as the door closed behind her.
Her gaze wasn't like this before. In the past, her eyes were direct, as if piercing straight into one's soul, occasionally flickering with a dangerous charm—like that time in the carriage. But now, her sharpness had dulled, replaced by weariness and a deep, indifferent understanding of people's hearts.
In just a few short days, she had changed so much.
Xiao Weiran, who had been frantically searching for them, finally relaxed when he saw the two return. He didn't scold them, only murmuring softly, "As long as you're safe."
Meanwhile, Feng Xiyang had changed into a new headdress and was now sharing the ceremonial nuptial cup with Xia Jingshi.
Feng Qishan's eyes flickered discreetly toward Fu Yixiao and Ling Xueying as they returned, then shifted to Feng Suige, who had quietly resumed his position.
Xia Jingshi's hasty arrival had prevented him from noticing Yixiao among the entourage, but Feng Xiyang's sudden act of defiance had infuriated Feng Qishan. Seizing the moment before Xia Jingshi could respond, Feng Qishan glanced at Feng Suige standing to his left, considering how to prompt him to smooth things over.
Just then, Feng Suige tilted his head slightly, as if casually glancing toward the back left. Feng Qishan instinctively followed his gaze—there stood Fu Yixiao, steady and composed, her pale lips still curved in a faint smile.
Feng Qishan felt a pang of sympathy. She was truly a remarkable woman, exuding pride and defiance from her very bones. Even when facing his authority alone, she had never shown a trace of fear. That was why he hadn't stopped Feng Suige from leaving earlier—he had pretended not to notice.
As the pair of jade nuptial cups were returned to the tray, Feng Suige quietly took his place again. Sensing the gaze from above, he suppressed his unease and offered Feng Qishan a perfectly measured smile before naturally turning his attention to Feng Xiyang, whose cheeks were flushed from the wine.
The ceremonial officer, beaming, announced, "Return the bow—"
Feng Qishan descended from the Dragon Throne with a broad smile. By the time he reached Xia Jingshi and Feng Xiyang, the couple had already completed three deep bows. Feng Qishan helped them up with a hand on each of their arms, laughing. "Now that we're family, there's no need for such formalities..."
As the Lord of the Nation spoke, all murmurs ceased abruptly. The musicians stopped playing, and the hall fell so silent that even the trailing note of an unguarded, disdainful whisper could be heard—"Hypocrite..."Everyone's expressions changed as they turned toward the source of the voice. Feng Qishan, flushed with anger, bellowed, "How dare you!"
Ning Fei's face paled, while the faint amusement in Xia Jingshi's eyes gradually sharpened into a piercing glint. At the center of attention stood two figures—Fu Yixiao and Ling Xueying.
Feng Qishan's face darkened with unprecedented fury. "Who said that?" he demanded. To everyone's surprise, both Yixiao and Xueying answered simultaneously, "It was me," and "I said it," before glaring at each other.
Feng Suige stepped forward solemnly. "Father, please calm down. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding—" "Then what did you hear, Suige?" Feng Qishan sneered.
Feng Suige opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words. Meanwhile, Ning Fei cast a pleading look at Xia Jingshi, hoping he would intercede. Yet Xia Jingshi seemed oblivious, his icy gaze fixed on Yixiao like a blade.
A light cough drew everyone's attention. Xiao Weiran emerged unhurriedly from the side and bowed deeply. "My Lord, please restrain your anger. I happened to be nearby when Captain Fu and Miss Ling spoke and heard every word clearly. However, judging by the situation, it seems the Imperial Son's guess was correct—you must have misheard."
"Oh?" Feng Qishan arched an eyebrow. Though he was certain he had heard the word "hypocrisy," Xiao Weiran's composed demeanor suggested absolute confidence. Suppressing his rage, he waited for an explanation.
Xiao Weiran smiled faintly. "If I may be so bold, what did you hear, my Lord?" A flash of murderous intent crossed Feng Qishan's eyes before he finally replied, "This lord did not hear clearly."
Xia Jingshi's expression softened slightly, his dark lashes lowering to veil his emotions. When he looked up again, his composure had returned.
Still deferential, Xiao Weiran bowed his head and reported, "Captain Fu and Miss Ling were discussing the Imperial Son's wedding with the new princess consort. Due to the sudden silence in the hall, their conversation was cut short. The word you were concerned about, my Lord, was likely the last one spoken—'awaiting an empty seat.'"
Murmurs spread through the crowd. Feng Qishan studied Xiao Weiran for a moment before nodding with a smile. "Ah, 'awaiting an empty seat.' It seems this lord truly misheard and nearly wronged our esteemed guests."
Seizing the opportunity, Xueying stepped forward with a stiff, insincere bow. "This was Xueying's recklessness. It is my first time attending a royal ceremony, and in my excitement, I spoke too freely. I apologize for disturbing you, my Lord."
At this point, Feng Qishan could no longer press the matter. Feigning a smile, he said, "Today is Xiyang's joyous occasion—it should be lively! There is no offense to forgive. Proceed!" The last command was directed at the protocol officer.
The protocol officer, who had never presided over such a challenging royal ceremony, looked dazed. Swallowing hard, he steadied his voice. "My... my Lord, the banquet may now commence."
Though it was a wedding feast, the guests inevitably mingled, exchanging pleasantries and laughter.
Feng Qishan clearly doted on Feng Xiyang, even ordering an additional seat beside the throne so Xia Jingshi and Feng Xiyang could sit at his side.Xia Jingshi coldly observed the Su Sha ministers below the steps. They cast furtive glances his way—some envious of his long-celebrated reputation in both nations' armies, some resentful of his status as a Brocade noble sharing the seat of honor with the Lord of the Nation, others puzzled by how he had won the devotion of their own princess, Feng Xiyang. Their insincerity was transparent to him, yet he couldn't be bothered to expose it.
In Su Sha, apart from Feng Xiyang, no one likely held any fondness for him. But for the sake of this contractual alliance, he could only adopt the attitude of a spectator, amused by the forced smiles and concealed displeasure on their faces. Meanwhile, his soul stood in another corner, watching this body seated at the head of the hall, confirming that he was truly experiencing all of this.
His gaze swept slowly over the crowd performing their roles with great effort, finally settling on Fu Yixiao. She wore an ivory-white archer's robe embroidered with pale purple moonflowers, her loosely tied hair cascading down her back. She and Xueying were huddled together, whispering and laughing—perhaps sharing a joke about "reserving a seat."
At the thought of that heart-stopping moment and Feng Qishan's undisguised murderous intent, a shadow darkened Xia Jingshi's eyes.
When Feng Xiyang held up the phoenix crown and smiled at him, he should have responded without hesitation, like a husband doting on his new bride. Yet, emotion defied reason, and he found himself searching Feng Xiyang's eyes. If he detected even a hint of triumph there, he would... He shuddered slightly. Would what?
Swiftly returning reason urged him on. He heard himself say, "Alright," but his outstretched hand felt as heavy as a stone tablet. The gaze behind him held no warmth, yet it seared his insides until they bled. He couldn't help but wonder if anyone had ever died from such internal burning... Just as he was about to smile, the sudden absence of pain made him glance in that direction as he accepted the golden crown. Empty.
Was it slipping away, or had it already slipped away?
It didn't matter. Hadn't this always been the outcome he sought? He laughed softly to himself. So be it. At last, his heart could be as still as water.
"...Hypocrite..." A whisper brushed past his ear, sharp and mocking—the same tone Xueying often used when speaking to him. For a moment, he nearly failed to register why Feng Qishan's expression had darkened.
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