Chapter Sixty-Five
Feng Suige poured himself several cups of tea in agitation, his restlessness growing until he finally tore off the teapot lid. Without caring whether the liquid would spill all over his front, he tilted the pot and gulped down the tea in noisy swallows. Suddenly, he heard the faint chime of beaded curtains from the inner chamber. Hastily wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he rushed forward. "Well?"
The medical officer bowed solemnly. "This humble servant has done his utmost, but the Minor Imperial Concubine—" Before he could finish, Feng Suige had already turned deathly pale and charged into the inner chamber.
Fu Yixiao lay reclined on the couch, her upper body propped against soft pillows, her head slightly tilted to the side. Her long, dark lashes rested peacefully over her closed eyelids, and her dry, cracked lips still bore traces of blood.
For a moment, the world seemed to lose all color. Feng Suige stood frozen, dumbstruck. When he finally snapped back to reality, he lunged forward, grabbing the medical officer by the collar and roaring, "You quack! How could she—how could she—" His voice broke, and with reddened eyes, he tightened his grip on the man’s throat. "Speak! Who sent you here?!"
The medical officer’s face turned ashen with fear. His eyes darted, and he frantically called out toward Feng Suige’s back, "Minor Imperial Concubine! Minor Imperial Concubine!! Wake up, the Imperial Son is here!"
Though skeptical, Feng Suige glanced back—and saw Yixiao’s eyes shift faintly beneath her lids. Slowly, bit by bit, her lashes lifted as she rasped out in confusion, "What are you two hugging for?"
"Yixiao!" Feng Suige immediately released the medical officer and threw himself to her side. "You’re awake!" Without waiting for her reply, he whipped his head around and glared at the medical officer. "What were you about to say earlier?"
The medical officer coughed awkwardly. "This servant was merely going to say that despite my best efforts, the bruising on the Minor Imperial Concubine’s wrist will take quite some time to fade..."
Before he could finish, Feng Suige had already turned back, gently lifting Yixiao’s wrist to examine it. As he tenderly traced the purplish marks, he muttered angrily, "Those bastards—they tied you so tightly... Tonight, I’ll ask Qin Lao for some medicine to improve blood circulation. The bruising should start fading in a few days."
Yixiao leaned in to inspect her wrist as well, chuckling wryly. "First time wearing so many bracelets. Might as well keep them on a little longer."
"Then let me add another pattern," Feng Suige teased, pretending to bite her wrist. Yixiao pulled her hand back, laughing. "You’re in the mood for jokes? Seems you’re not worried at all about tomorrow’s archery test."
Feng Suige sighed, his expression dimming slightly. "Worrying won’t change anything now. Besides—Father always targets you like this. Aren’t you worried for yourself?"
Yixiao scoffed. "Would he stop if I were? And even if trouble comes, I’ve got you to shield me."
Feng Suige laughed, pinching her cheek. "How did I end up falling for such a carefree woman? Rest a little longer. I’ll have the kitchen prepare some nourishing broth for you."
After several days of repairs, most of the carriages that had been swept into the woods were now functional. However, a few had been irreparably damaged by the boulders carried in the floodwaters. Despite repeated protests, Xueying was ultimately assigned to share a carriage with Feng Xiyang.After breaking camp and setting off, Xueying dozed by the window with her eyes slightly closed. Feng Xiyang sat silently for a while before suddenly asking, "Xueying, can you play the qin?"
"The qin?" Xueying lifted her eyelids in puzzlement. "Why do you ask?"
Delighted that she was willing to respond, Feng Xiyang smiled and explained, "I’ve heard that the music and dance of Brocade are unparalleled in the world—even ordinary girls there are skilled with the qin. So I just thought I’d ask."
Though reluctant to engage in conversation, Xueying still answered honestly, not wanting to rebuff her goodwill. "I learned from my mother. My father always said she played beautifully in her youth, but after marrying him, their circumstances were difficult, so she set it aside."
Feng Xiyang smiled faintly. "Since we have nothing else to do, would you play a piece for me now? Perhaps the request is abrupt, but I mean nothing by it—I simply wish to listen."
Xueying rested her chin on her hand and studied her for a moment before replying simply, "Very well."
A six-stringed qin was soon passed from a maid to Ling Xueying’s lap. Closing her eyes in contemplation, she slowly raised her hands, her gentle fingertips settling on the strings and plucking the first trembling note.
The melody began like a spirited maiden, dancing lightly and joyfully under the moonlight. Then it transformed into a sorrowful woman, gazing into the distance on a misty, rainy day, waiting for a lover whose return was uncertain. Finally, the tune shifted once more, becoming a proud yet lonely lady, carefully applying makeup before a mirror, murmuring to herself—better to forget... As the last melancholic strains faded, the music ceased.
The carriage was utterly silent. After a long pause, Feng Xiyang asked faintly, "Do you think it’s true that when love runs deep, there are no regrets?"
Xueying replied leisurely, "Emotions are the easiest to guess yet the hardest to grasp. Often, they are easy to pick up but hard to let go." She cast a faint glance at Feng Xiyang, sighing softly. "There’s nothing wrong with saying that deep love brings no regrets. But for a man like him, if this love isn’t what he wants, no amount of devotion will move him."
Feng Xiyang trembled slightly and instinctively asked, "You and she are close friends, aren’t you? Can you tell me where I fall short compared to her?"
But Xueying shook her head and chuckled lightly. "Human emotions are nothing like the black and white pieces on a chessboard, allowing you to arrange them as you please. If he could love you so easily, he wouldn’t be Xia Jingshi."
"But I love only him," Feng Xiyang’s voice grew quieter. "I’m not greedy—I just want to stay by his side. Even if he treated me just a third as well as he does her—no, even just a tenth... But I don’t understand why things between us keep worsening. Like this time—I truly didn’t mean to drop that hairpin. I never thought he would...""This matter has nothing to do with you," Xueying finally couldn't help interrupting her. "Truly, Xiao Canjun told Ning Fei that His Highness said he just instinctively went to pick up that hairpin, never expecting to fall, much less slide so deep. So this really isn't your fault—Actually, I still don't know what to call you. Should I call you Xiyang, or Your Highness, or refer to you as the Princess Consort? But what I've always wanted to tell you is that you don't need to mind Yixiao's existence. None of this has anything to do with Yixiao, because she and His Highness never truly began..."
"Really?!" Xiyang's eyes suddenly shone with dazzling light. "Nothing at all happened between them?"
Xueying gazed at her steadily for a moment before sighing. "Actually, what I wanted to tell you is that his heart has already become a stagnant pool of dead water. No matter how large a stone you throw in, it can only cause ripples for a moment..." Feng Xiyang urgently cut her off, "No! If they never began, I can do it—I truly can!"
"Then," Xueying set aside the qin on her lap and stood up, "I'll tell you two things. First, that hairpin belonged to Yixiao. Second, the last time he coughed up blood was because he received a letter from Yixiao asking for the hairpin back." Having said this, she couldn't bear to look at the sudden emptiness in Feng Xiyang's eyes. Throwing out a final "Let it go," she reached to lift the carriage curtain.
"Ling Xueying," came Feng Xiyang's icy voice from behind, "you're too cruel." Xueying paused but didn't turn back as she replied, "If I were truly cruel, I wouldn't have told you any of this."
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