Chapter Thirty-Two
A chill shot up from her feet to the crown of her head, and a searing pain burned from her throat all the way to her stomach. It was a fatal blow. Feng Xiyang couldn’t stop trembling as she shrieked, “Then why didn’t you marry her?!”
Xia Jingshi was also stunned. It took a long while before the fire in his eyes slowly dimmed. He let out a bitter laugh. “Often, fate is just like that. Only the person who has gone through those experiences with you can enter your life. After that, no matter how many others come along, if they’ve missed those moments, they’ve missed a lifetime.” As he spoke, he gradually calmed down. “What I’m about to say may sound cruel and selfish, but it’s necessary for you to know—even without Yixiao, a marriage of political alliance like this would never bring happiness. However, I can promise you this: you will be the only mistress of this household. As for all material needs, as long as they are within my means, you may ask for anything.”
Xiyang shuddered, her voice so faint it was almost inaudible. “If it were just for those things, why would I have married into Brocade? If it were only for the alliance, I could have married the Holy Emperor.” Her nails, digging tightly into the bedframe, snapped, but the pain was negligible. “Does love that comes too easily mean it’s not worth cherishing?”
“Perhaps I should be the one asking why you insisted on marrying me,” Xia Jingshi’s voice grew even colder. “In the war between Brocade and Su Sha, the Su Sha soldiers who died by my hand numbered no less than ten thousand, and the casualties among my own troops were even greater. Why were you so certain I would treat you kindly, let alone fall in love with you?”
Feng Xiyang’s eyes widened. She wanted to say something, but no words came out.
“Enough. Get some rest.” Without giving her a chance to plead, Xia Jingshi turned gracefully and walked toward the door.
Xiyang stared blankly as his figure disappeared behind the closing door. Her eyes brimmed with a misty haze and a hollow, crushing disappointment. Why? She had only wanted to love him, purely and simply.
Exhausted, she closed her eyes.
So, in this chase called love, whoever spoke of love first lost their heart first. And before it had even begun, she had already lost utterly—yet she found it strangely sweet.
The rain poured down violently, its torrents from the eaves knocking pale blossoms from their branches. The golden canary in its cage fluttered restlessly in the damp air. Fu Yixiao stood quietly on the corridor, watching the rain, her skirts billowing in the wind, her gaze distant and desolate.
After the wedding ceremony, she had taken up residence in Feng Suige’s Prince’s mansion. The estate was a sprawling complex of elegant bamboo pavilions, waterside towers, and terraced buildings—a stark contrast to the delicate charm of the Water-Painting Garden, yet lacking much of its comfort and ease.
Feng Suige had not shown his face for days. The servants whispered behind her back, speculating why the Imperial Son had neglected her the very day after their wedding, spending his nights instead with his former dancer and singer companions. Even Yunyi, who had caused a scene at the ceremony, had merely been reprimanded before strutting freely in and out of the Prince’s mansion as if nothing had happened.Though she was neglected, setting aside the warning Feng Suige had publicly declared on their wedding day, Fu Yixiao had risen from a prisoner to the status of a side consort in the Prince's mansion. The effort Feng Suige had spent on her was no less than what he devoted to state affairs. And just because she was out of favor recently didn’t mean she would never have a chance to regain it. Thus, none of the servants in the Prince's mansion dared to show any arrogance in her presence.
A gust of wind scattered the raindrops and the tassels beneath the eaves. Fu Yixiao took a few steps back, avoiding the rain that drifted toward her, and suddenly parted her lips into a radiant smile.
She had never known that watching the rain from under the eaves could be so beautiful. The endless drizzle carried a desperate poison, falling chaotically to the ground before vanishing without a trace.
If only human worries could be absorbed by the earth along with the raindrops—how wonderful that would be.
Because of the rain, Feng Suige hadn’t gone out. At this moment, he stood by the half-open window of the study, watching her from afar.
He hadn’t stepped into the bridal chamber for days. During the day, he was always occupied with political discussions and military inspections, and at night, he drowned himself in wine and revelry. Yes, he couldn’t afford a moment of stillness. The moment he had leisure, his mind would be filled with her cold words: "...This is just a game, it has nothing to do with feelings!"
Hearing those words, he had been stunned. Perhaps he had spoken wrongly first, but seeing the icy, thorny look in Yixiao’s eyes, a sense of helplessness suddenly overwhelmed him. Was this what love was like? If the other person didn’t care for you, no matter how much effort you poured in, she would never accept you. The thought that all his tenderness and affection couldn’t earn a single genuine smile from her finally exhausted his patience, and he turned and left.
A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a thunderous roar that seemed to strike directly into Feng Suige’s heart—one after another, so painfully clear. Why couldn’t he treat her with detachment? Not only was his mind restless, but his heart also ached with suffocating heaviness.
He hated the woman standing beneath the eaves. He hated how she always swayed his emotions, leaving him without a moment’s peace. He truly wanted to destroy her with his own hands, and then... There would be no "then." By that point, he would likely be destroyed along with her.
He hadn’t been wrong that day—she was indeed a poisonous flower. Dazzling, peculiar, yet dangerous. That venomous nature had thoroughly corroded his heart. Even if she was heartless, he couldn’t tear himself away.
Suddenly, Feng Suige narrowed his eyes sharply. After only a brief glance, he strode hurriedly toward the door.
A faint presence stirred the vigilance she had honed during wartime. Fu Yixiao gathered her wandering thoughts and tilted her head slightly, her gaze settling on the corner not far away.
It was her again.
Yunyi was surprised that Yixiao had noticed her so quickly, but she still feigned nonchalance and walked over slowly.
Clearly, Yunyi had dressed up deliberately before coming. She wore an ornate forehead ornament studded with pearls and a multicolored, intricately embroidered spring silk gown, its hem adorned with jade pendants that chimed with every movement. Her haughty demeanor made it seem as though she were the official consort recorded in golden scrolls.
"Sister, you seem rather haggard lately," Yunyi stopped beside Yixiao and gave her a deliberately scrutinizing look. "The Imperial Son is truly inconsiderate. You’re already married—what’s the point of holding grudges? When he comes to my chambers again tonight, I’ll surely put in a good word for you...""What did you call me?" Yixiao looked down at her disdainfully. "Who gave you permission to see me without paying respects?"
Yunyi was instantly infuriated. Her expression shifted several times before she finally swallowed her pride and knelt down. "This humble concubine Yunyi greets the Imperial Consort."
Yixiao didn't hurry to let her rise, speaking indifferently, "I'm not the Imperial Consort. I'm merely a secondary consort who lost favor right after the wedding."
Yunyi had no choice but to perform the salute again. "This humble concubine Yunyi greets the Secondary Consort."
"Rise," Yixiao twitched her lips but didn't smile warmly. "What were you saying earlier? Continue."
Gritting her teeth as she stood, Yunyi sneered, "Actually, it's nothing much. I was just worried the Secondary Consort might still resent those two lashes I gave you before, so I came to check on you and pay my respects. But with Your Highness standing so loftily above, surely you wouldn't stoop to settling old scores with Yunyi?"
Yixiao chuckled lightly, then struck like lightning—her palm landing heavily across Yunyi's face. Caught off guard, Yunyi staggered back several steps before regaining her balance, a deep handprint already rising on her left cheek.
As if having touched something filthy, Yixiao lifted her skirt to wipe her palm before looking up with a faint smile. "You should have known long ago that I'm not of noble birth. I was always going to settle this debt with you. But since you've kindly delivered yourself to my doorstep, there's no need for whips. Come here—one more slap and we're even."
Shocked and furious, Yunyi clutched her swollen cheek. Though Fu Yixiao hadn't drawn a bow in years, her natural arm strength remained formidable—that single slap had nearly knocked her unconscious. There was no way she'd step forward for another. Masking her venomous glare, she hissed, "Fu Yixiao! Even if you've been made Secondary Consort, there'll always be a principal consort above you! What's more, you're just a low-born, promiscuous whore! The Imperial Son only favored you for novelty—don't overestimate your importance!"
Yixiao remained lazily composed, her smile faint. "No need to remind me—I'm well aware every moment." Yunyi turned her head aside and spat. "Who do you think you—"
"What's all this noise?" Feng Suige's voice suddenly cut in. Startled, Yunyi immediately adopted a tearful tone and threw herself into his arms. "Imperial Son! Yunyi only came to chat with the Consort, but she struck me without a word! Look at my face—"
Shifting his gaze from Yixiao's unruffled demeanor, Feng Suige gently held Yunyi and tilted her face to examine the mark. "Yunyi, you're truly thoughtless. Making Fu Yixiao understand her place is easy enough—but do you understand yours?" In the moment Yunyi froze in confusion, he seized her hair and punched her stomach. Yunyi collapsed to the ground, moaning in pain, her face a mask of shock.
"I've said it before—Fu Yixiao is my consort. Anyone who insults her will face my wrath," Feng Suige said coldly, slowly pressing his foot down onto her face.
OpenNovel