Chapter Fifty-Eight
Yixiao sat in silence.
After punching herself hard in the chest, she remained motionless, her stubborn expression heartbreaking to behold.
She could endure the countless curses and slanders from the entire court of Su Sha, but she couldn’t bear the dismissive look in Feng Suige’s eyes.
Life, it turned out, was truly nothing but a deception—one that lured people into joy or sorrow, only to leave them with nothing but soul-rending pain in the end. And no one understood that kind of agony, the kind that seeped into one’s very bones, better than she did. Such pain could never be compared to mere physical wounds.
She had suffered enough to fear it, and she finally understood that it was better never to have something than to endure the pain of losing it again.
In the suffocating silence, Feng Suige suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. He lunged forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Yixiao, why won’t you explain? Just say something—anything—and I’ll believe you, no matter what…”
“Would you really?” Yixiao replied calmly. “If you truly trusted me, why would I need to explain? The truth is, all the happiness and tolerance you’ve shown me these past days—it was all just you deceiving yourself. You can’t let go of my past. So, before it’s too late… let me go.”
Her words made Feng Suige’s shoulders tremble. “Don’t say that! You’re not leaving me!” His arms tightened around her desperately, as if he wanted to crush her into his very flesh and blood.
“Why bother?” Yixiao’s eyes widened. “Is this mutual torment fun for you? Maybe it is for you, but I’m exhausted. I can’t play anymore. The game is over—I surrender.”
“I won’t allow it!” Feng Suige clung to her in panic, his words frantic. “I was wrong just now—hit me, yell at me, do whatever you want! Just don’t be angry. I won’t ask anymore, never again. I’ll wait until you’re ready to explain.”
She gave a bitter smile. “If you trusted me, you wouldn’t believe them in the first place. Phoenix Prince… I beg you, let me go.”
Feng Suige half-knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry… I said the wrong thing. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know,” she said softly, suddenly smiling. “But why apologize? You’ve never wronged me. In fact, you’ve repeatedly stood up for me against your Father and your ministers. Yet I’ve done nothing but provoke and torment you. Why don’t you hate me? Why haven’t you sent me far away?”
“You’re not leaving me! I don’t care about anyone else, but you—you can’t go. Do you hear me?” His tone was as domineering as a child’s, stubborn and willful, yet tinged with helplessness.
A flicker of confusion passed through Yixiao’s eyes as she murmured, “Why?”
“Why?” Feng Suige’s voice was thick with frustration. “You’re still asking me why? Before, when I said I loved you—did you never once take it to heart?”
“Love? It’s not that I don’t believe in it—it’s that I can’t see it,” she laughed humorlessly. “Is tormenting each other love? Does such a thing even exist? I can’t understand something so complicated. All I know is that love is love, pain is pain, and hurt is hurt. No matter the reason, a stab from love is just as deadly as one from hatred. If this torment is how you express love… then you might as well just stab me outright. It’d be quicker.”Feng Suige seemed hesitant, struggling for a long moment before finally admitting, "I was jealous, Yixiao—I confess I sent people to investigate you in Pingling. But the news they brought back drove me mad with envy. I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t. I wanted to understand your past, but I didn’t ask you directly for fear you’d misunderstand my intentions..." He gazed at her eagerly, hope flickering in his eyes, as if waiting for the truth to spill from her lips.
"Don’t wait. I won’t explain anything," Yixiao replied with a smile so cold it chilled to the bone.
Xia Jingshi stood beside a black warhorse, speaking quietly with Xiao Weiran. He wore the black robe she loved most, its dark red collar embroidered with intertwining coral vines.
Beneath his broad forehead were sharply arched brows that tapered toward his temples, and deep, vortex-like black eyes. His lashes fluttered occasionally, sending ripples across the surface of her heart. Below his high-bridged nose, his thin lips parted only to utter words that wounded.
Suddenly, Xia Jingshi turned his head and met Feng Xiyang’s gaze. In his eyes, she saw only indifference and authority. Blinking, she attempted a sweet smile, but he ignored her entirely, turning back to continue his conversation with Xiao Weiran as if she were invisible.
Dejected, Feng Xiyang lowered her head, fiddling with the gold-thread embroidery on her sleeve. Hidden within it was the letter Xia Jingshi had written to Feng Suige, secretly copied by Steward Huang before his departure. The paper was crumpled and torn in her grip. Had she not seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed that a man as cold-hearted as Xia Jingshi could record so many trivial details—about another woman.
Yixiao is impulsive and stubborn, always at odds with others, but she’s kind-hearted. If you treat her well, she’ll repay you tenfold, so don’t worry about her growing arrogant from favor.
Yixiao has many thoughts, so you’ll never run out of topics. If you truly have nothing to say, ask her about archery—she can talk until you fall asleep.
Yixiao is picky with food. She likes salty and spicy dishes but dislikes greens and bean sprouts. The only fruit she doesn’t like is bananas.
Yixiao loves leaning by the window to gaze at the moon, even in winter, but she always forgets to add layers or close the window before bed.
Yixiao isn’t particular about clothing, though she favors plain white garments because her mother liked them.
Yixiao is filial. Her mother’s death anniversary approaches—if convenient, please arrange the memorial rites for her...
...In truth, she’s simple, like a child who doesn’t know better. So, Phoenix Prince, I ask for your patience and care.
The matters mentioned in your letter will be settled promptly.
With gratitude.
There was no signature.
His bold, forceful script lined the page like a poison-laced punishment whip, lashing at her heart.
Ning Fei arrived late with Xueying in tow, the two bickering as they walked. Though Xueying wore an expression of irritation, her eyes sparkled with vivacity, making them all the more lively.
Once again, Feng Xiyang couldn’t help but lament the unfairness of fate.
They were both women, both married—so why was Fu Yixiao worthy of occupying the hearts of two equally outstanding men? They were both women, both married—yet Ling Xueying’s face glowed with bridal bliss, while her own was weighed down by lifeless resentment...Shouts came from ahead signaling the departure. Feng Xiyang lifted the carriage curtain and called out to Ling Xueying, who was passing by the Luan Carriage. "Xueying, the long journey might get dull. Why don't you ride with me? We can keep each other company along the way."
Xueying paused slightly, raising an eyebrow with a smile. "What a coincidence—Ning Fei has already promised to teach me horseback riding during the trip. So, I must respectfully decline your kind offer, Your Highness." She gave a slight bow, her courtesy impeccable.
Feng Xiyang forced a smile. "Very well. If you get tired and wish to rest in a carriage, feel free to join me. It's more spacious and comfortable here..."
"I doubt she'll be too tired," Ning Fei interjected politely. "The convoy is about to depart. I’ll first assist Xueying in settling her belongings."
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