Chapter Forty-Four
Feng Xiyang's eyes were flustered, her lips trembling slightly as she stared at Xia Jingshi in disbelief. Slowly, a glimmer of joy surfaced in her gaze. "You're here."
"Mm." Xia Jingshi's gaze lingered on her face, deliberately or not, ignoring the tears that silently rolled down. "You don't seem well."
"No, I'm fine now," Xiyang hastily wiped her tears with her sleeve. "Is there something—I mean..." Xia Jingshi smiled faintly, stopping her explanation. "This prince understands. No need to explain." With that, he stepped inside.
He stopped before her. "Ning Fei and Xueying are about to marry. The necessary preparations must be made. Can you manage it alone?" Xiyang stared blankly at his rain-dampened lapel before hesitantly asking, "You're really entrusting this to me?" Xia Jingshi gave a slight nod. "Of course. If you feel—"
"Please rest assured, my lord," she lifted her head, her eyes bright and clear. "Leave everything to Xiyang!"
Xia Jingshi paced thoughtfully for a moment before speaking gently, "Upon returning from the Imperial City, this prince will have the inner court affairs transferred to you. Take your time to familiarize yourself with them one by one. After all, you are this prince's principal consort. Many matters should naturally fall under your authority." As he spoke, his gaze landed on a jade-green snowflake-patterned letter on the desk. He tilted his head slightly to take a closer look.
Feng Xiyang, flustered, rushed over and crumpled the paper in her hand, pouting slightly. "My lord shouldn’t just read what others have written!"
With just that glance, Xia Jingshi had already seen the words on the paper. His eyes darkened from clarity to something deeper. "Rest early," he said, already turning to leave.
Seeing him about to go, Xiyang instinctively chased after him, blocking the doorway and anxiously holding out the crumpled paper. "Xiyang never meant to hide anything from my lord. It was just idle scribbling, and I feared my lord would laugh at it—that’s why I hurried to put it away."
Xia Jingshi quirked the corner of his lips but didn’t reach for the paper. "This prince meant nothing by it either. It’s just that there’s still official business to attend to. It’s late—you should rest early too."
Xiyang remained silent, stubbornly holding up the crumpled paper as she stood in his way.
After a brief standoff, Xia Jingshi sighed softly. "'Though there are a thousand tender feelings, to whom can they be spoken?' This prince has already seen it. If there’s anything else you wish to say, you might as well say it all now."
Feng Xiyang was silent for a moment. When she looked at him again, sorrow and pain spilled from her eyes. She forced a self-deprecating smile. "Lately, I’ve grown so weak—so unlike Feng Xiyang. Very well. Since things have come to this, let me speak plainly... Perhaps my lord sees our marriage as nothing more than a political alliance. But for Xiyang, wealth and power mean nothing at all. Be it a prince or a common peddler, as long as I’m with the one I love, even the hardest days would be sweet."She unconsciously crumpled and then smoothed the paper in her hand. "I just want my husband to stay by my side often, to talk with me, to share burdens together. I’ve hinted, I’ve pleaded, always hoping my husband would accompany me through this life. Perhaps my status has caused him trouble, or perhaps there are other barriers between us. But Xiyang’s admiration for her husband is genuine in every way. Aren’t we already husband and wife? Why can’t my husband try to accept Xiyang, little by little?"
Xia Jingshi remained calm, as if what he heard had nothing to do with him. Only the faint shimmer in his ink-black pupils betrayed an unusually profound depth. "People always say what they can't have is the best. So, this feeling you have now may be intense, but it will soon fade and disappear. When you look back later, you’ll realize it was just a momentary illusion. True, this prince can offer you support and warmth, but none of that will ever be love." He cast a fleeting glance at the stunned Feng Xiyang before continuing evenly, "Even if this prince were willing to give, you’d do best not to covet that fleeting warmth. Because you never know when it might vanish—and then you’ll only feel colder than before."
"Your tenderness and thoughtfulness truly are unmatched. Of course, so is your cruelty." Xiyang gave a bitter smile. "Why won’t you even lie to me... If you’d just say it, I’d believe you. If you’d say you love me, I could even persuade Father to let Fu Yixiao—"
"This has nothing to do with Yixiao." Xia Jingshi’s fingers tightened imperceptibly. "Do not disturb her happiness." "Then what about my happiness? Why won’t you consider me?" Xiyang laughed, accidentally blinking away a tear. "Why is she all you think about? What is it that I lack compared to her...?" The pain felt real this time—a visceral, bloody ache. For years she’d poured her whole heart into loving him, sinking deeper without realizing, wanting nothing more than to make Xia Jingshi happy, to give everything for him—only to be shattered by his few careless words.
Xia Jingshi said coolly, "Someone as intelligent and self-assured as you shouldn’t need to ask such questions. We both know this marriage is a poisoned quagmire, yet we willingly sink into it, indulging each other’s weaknesses. Why insist on confronting this prince now?"
By the corridor lantern’s light, Feng Xiyang saw his eyes clearly. This elegantly aloof man had eyes devoid of emotion, hope, or even the slightest ripple. Though black as obsidian, they somehow exuded a hollow, despairing gray.
She shivered involuntarily.
"Rest now." The words were almost a sigh as Xia Jingshi brushed past her. Feng Xiyang whirled around, her gaze blazing. "Husband, I won’t let go!" His figure paused briefly before continuing forward. The howling wind snatched his indistinct reply, hurling it skyward before dashing it brutally against her ears: "As you wish."
As if those final words had drained her last strength, Feng Xiyang leaned weakly against the wall, groping her way back to the bed before collapsing onto it.The silk sheets and quilt remained cold, as if they could never be warmed. The spirit beast patterns on the bed curtains danced menacingly as usual, their claws bared, seemingly ready to pounce and devour her at any moment. She had nowhere to flee, no strength to resist, and could only lie motionless with her eyes open until dawn.
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