Chapter Thirty-One
A pair of jade-inlaid rhinoceros horn pillows lay upon an eight-foot ivory bed, with a multicolor dragon whisker mat spread over silver-embroidered border felt. This was a room fit for immortals, yet it now felt desolate and cold.
Feng Xiyang sat before the dressing mirror, lost in thought. Four days had passed, and she still hadn’t caught a glimpse of Xia Jingshi.
During the day, he was either in council meetings or practicing chess and martial arts with Xueying’s father. At night, no matter what hour she sent someone to summon him, the reply was always the same: His Highness still has unfinished business and requests Her Highness to rest first.
That day, she had watched him stride resolutely back to the carriage, loudly commanding the procession to continue. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that a thread had attached itself to him—stretching thinner and thinner as the distance grew, yet never snapping.
She had thought that even if she couldn’t receive the profound tenderness he showed Yixiao, simply seeing his serene smile every day would be enough. But—Xiyang laughed bitterly at herself—she loved him so deeply, yet he remained utterly indifferent.
Since childhood, she had been the jewel of Su Sha, concerned only with beautiful dresses and exquisite jewelry. Then she had set her heart on him and became the King Who Pacifies the South’s consort in the Brocade Dynasty—his wife. She had believed this would bring her happiness for the rest of her life, only to suddenly collide with an invisible wall. She had barged into his life with her dazzling naivety, and if not for the accidental eavesdropping, she would never have known that no one here truly welcomed her.
She was so terribly lonely—there wasn’t a single person around her to confide in. Was life truly as fleeting as Zhuangzi’s dream of a butterfly? And when would the butterfly in her dream finally achieve its wish?
The air around her suddenly grew scorching. Feng Xiyang turned dazedly and saw, amidst the undulating gauze curtains of the doorway, a strikingly crimson Mandala flower that hadn’t been there before. The wind stirred the curtains, sending rippling waves through them, while Mandala petals drifted everywhere, exuding an intoxicating fragrance—the flower was so breathtakingly beautiful…
Then the flower moved. No—it wasn’t a flower. It was Fu Yixiao!
Her face was obscured by the fluttering drapes, but every faint gasp and the flames of hatred radiating from her body spoke volumes: Feng Xiyang, do you know what despair is? It is an endless, icy, desolate feeling. It will gently take your hand, slowly climb onto your shoulders, softly caress your face, and gradually strip away every shred of hope before mercilessly choking every last breath from you—until you return my happiness to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A heart-wrenching scream, wrapped in swirling crimson petals, came hurtling toward Feng Xiyang and struck her forehead.
Darkness swallowed her vision.
"...A light, easily digestible diet is recommended. With proper rest, she should recover in two or three days." When Feng Xiyang awoke, the medical officer was standing with hands clasped, reporting his diagnosis to Xia Jingshi, who stood with his back to the bed.
He had finally come. Feng Xiyang nearly sat up to throw herself into his arms, to pour out all the grievances and sorrow she had suppressed these past days into tears against his chest. But she restrained herself, carefully holding back her tears, and closed her eyes again.After leaving a few prescriptions for recuperation, the medical officer took his leave. Feng Xiyang listened as the deliberately light footsteps gradually faded away, her heart growing increasingly tense—would he leave too?
A long silence followed. Just as she could hardly resist opening her eyes, a soft sigh came from beside her. The rustling of fabric brushed against her, the light on her face dimmed, and the bed shifted slightly as Xia Jingshi sat down beside her. Gently, he pulled the silk quilt over her exposed hand.
His quiet tenderness enveloped her, and Xiyang could no longer hold back her tears. She opened her eyes and called out in a choked voice, "Husband."
Xia Jingshi paused, then gave her a gentle smile. "You fainted earlier. The medical officer prescribed some tonics. I’ll have someone prepare them—"
Before she could wipe her tears, Xiyang hastily sat up, clutching the quilt and grasping his sleeve pleadingly. "The medicine can wait—could you stay with me for a while?" Xia Jingshi patted her hand reassuringly. "Lie down first. I’ll stay with you a little longer."
She didn’t let go, her voice tinged with unease. "Husband... did I make you angry?" The corner of Xia Jingshi’s lips twitched slightly as he soothed her. "Don’t overthink it. I’ve just been busy lately. After being away from Brocade for so long, there’s been a backlog of affairs. It’ll ease up soon."
Xiyang’s heart settled, and color gradually returned to her face. Just as she was about to speak, she suddenly remembered the datura flowers that had rushed toward her earlier. Instantly tense, she instinctively glanced toward the doorway—empty.
Xia Jingshi followed her gaze and asked curiously, "What’s wrong?" Xiyang hesitated before asking, "The red datura by the door... did you have someone take it away?"
"Red datura?" Xia Jingshi looked surprised. When she nodded firmly, he thought for a moment. "The doorway was empty when I arrived. Besides, there are no such flowers in the Royal City, and who would place plants right at the entrance? Maybe you mis-saw it."
Xiyang exhaled slowly, forcing a smile. "Perhaps I did... At the time, I saw red datura flowers, and... Fu Yixiao." As she uttered the last three words, her eyes fixed intently on his.
Xia Jingshi’s pupils contracted sharply, freezing into icy blades. Before Xiyang could react, his lashes flickered, and his eyes softened into a faint smile, as if the earlier coldness had been an illusion. "It must have been a hallucination. Yixiao is thousands of miles away—how could she be here? The medical officer said you’re suffering from acclimatization. It’s best to prepare the medicine soon." As he spoke, he gently but firmly pulled his sleeve free from her grasp and made to rise.
Seeing him about to leave, Xiyang panicked and threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders. The force of her movement sent a warm tear splashing onto his exposed neck, trailing down his skin. "I’m sorry... don’t be angry..." Xia Jingshi quietly pried her arms away and pushed her back, his voice calm as still water. "I’m not angry. Don’t overthink it."
As she slowly withdrew her arms, her expression despondent, Xia Jingshi softened slightly. "Focus on recovering quickly. After Ning Fei’s wedding, we’ll depart for the Imperial City to attend the royal audience with the Holy Emperor. You’ve never been to the Imperial City, have you...?"When he mentioned the Imperial City, a spark lit up in Feng Xiyang's eyes, and her expression brightened. "I've been there. The first time I saw you was in the Imperial City," she said. Xia Jingshi was taken aback. "When?"
Feng Xiyang's eyes curved into crescents, but she deliberately avoided answering his question. "Can't you remember?" she teased. Xia Jingshi pondered for a moment. "I truly can't recall. I didn't spend much time in the Imperial City... When was it?"
"It was the day the Holy Emperor ascended the throne. I don’t remember the weather that day, or who else was around—only that you were there," Xiyang said softly, her eyes brimming with memories. "Afterward, I often wondered if it was fate that made me spot you among so many people." Seeing him listening intently, she blushed and lowered her head. "And perhaps it was also fate that made me fall in love with you that day. But I never imagined we would actually become husband and wife—my lord, Xiyang doesn’t ask for your whole heart. But in your heart, apart from Yixiao, could you spare a small corner for me?"
Feng Xiyang gazed at Xia Jingshi with fervent hope, but he seemed dazed, his eyes unfocused. Biting her lip, she suddenly leaned forward, grasped his collar, and kissed him.
With all her heart and instinct, she pressed her lips to his. Perhaps too stunned to react, Xia Jingshi didn’t push her away. His lips were thin and soft, yet utterly flavorless—bland, like plain water.
A deep sorrow welled up from within, enveloping Feng Xiyang like the silent, frigid depths of the ocean. The water was icy and piercing, yet she was willing to sink into it, all the way to the bottom.
Her kiss turned into a plea, then into a desperate demand, as if she were trying to draw out his cold, distant, unfeeling soul through sheer force.
Suddenly, Xia Jingshi’s expression darkened. He shoved Feng Xiyang away with force and stood up, wiping his slightly damp lips slowly and deliberately with his gold-embroidered sleeve, his face twisted in disgust. "This prince’s heart is too small. In this lifetime, it was given to her—there is no room for anyone else."
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