Chapter Seventy-One
"It's been so long, why isn't she back yet? Could the Empress Dowager have kept her for a meal...?" Ning Fei muttered under his breath, glancing at Xia Jingshi, who stood by the door with his hands clasped behind his back. Seizing the opportunity, he quickly snatched a piece of chilled cake from the table and was about to pop it into his mouth when he noticed Xueying staring at him wide-eyed. Hastily changing direction, he shoved the cake into Xueying's mouth instead.
Xueying chewed silently but vigorously, gesturing to Ning Fei—who had already succeeded in stealing a second piece—to rearrange the remaining cakes on the plate. Just as Ning Fei moved two pieces, Xia Jingshi suddenly turned around. "Serve the meal!"
"Ah, I'm starving to death!" Ning Fei's awkwardly suspended hand sprang to life, grabbing two more pieces and stuffing them into his mouth as he mumbled, heading for the door. "I'll go fetch Weiran from the front..."
"No need," Xia Jingshi stopped him, sweeping his robes aside as he took a seat at the table. "Weiran went to wait at the palace gates earlier. Let's eat first."
Throughout the meal, Xia Jingshi seemed distracted and barely touched his food before setting down his chopsticks. Xueying, while discreetly piling food into Ning Fei's bowl, kept stealing glances at him. Unable to hold back any longer, she whispered to Ning Fei, "Do you think His Highness is sick?"
"Sick?" Ning Fei eyed Xia Jingshi skeptically. "I’ve never seen His Highness fall ill before."
Xueying scoffed. "With his temperament, even if he were sick, he wouldn’t tell you. It’s no surprise you’ve never seen it."
Ning Fei immediately protested, "Well, neither have you! You haven’t seen him sick, and you haven’t even seen him injured. At least I’ve seen him wounded!"
"But we’re talking about him being sick now!" Xueying shot back.
As the two bickered, Xia Jingshi let out a light cough. "This prince—"
Xueying’s eyes lit up, and she pointed at him triumphantly. "See? He coughed!"
Xia Jingshi chuckled helplessly. "You two really have nothing better to do, do you?"
Xueying and Ning Fei froze simultaneously, then wordlessly lowered their heads and resumed eating. Ning Fei’s silver chopsticks scraped noisily against the empty bottom of his bowl, prompting Xueying to roll her eyes and add more food to his bowl while muttering, "Idiot." Ning Fei glared back indignantly.
Xia Jingshi watched the quarrelsome pair with amusement. "Since you both seem so idle, you can make another trip to Su Sha."
"We just got back—why go again?" Ning Fei asked, puzzled.
Almost at the same time, Xueying slammed her chopsticks on the table. "I’ll go!"
A distant look flickered in Xia Jingshi’s eyes. "The Phoenix Prince sent a letter entrusting me to request a title from the Holy Emperor for Yixiao—one that would ensure her protection. Today, I mentioned it to the Holy Emperor, and he immediately agreed to bestow upon her the title of Royal Princess. Once the imperial decree is issued—which should take no more than ten days—an envoy will be dispatched to Su Sha to deliver the official documents... Besides, Yixiao must have many things she’d want brought over from Brocade."
He glanced at Xueying. "I’ve also inquired—the imperial kiln will produce a new batch of Glass Hairpins in a few days. The one she had broke last time, so take several new ones for her."
Xueying hesitated slightly. "Yixiao’s mother’s death anniversary is approaching. She asked me in her letter to visit the grave on her behalf, but if we leave in ten days...""Since Yixiao has been conferred a title, her mother's tomb must also be renovated according to regulations," Xia Jingshi said gently. "So, the matter of the memorial rites will be entrusted to me. It won't be delayed."
"Good," Xueying immediately beamed with joy. "Then we'll trouble Your Highness!"
Watching Xueying cheerfully discuss with Ning Fei what to bring to Su Sha, the smile on Xia Jingshi's lips deepened. His hand unconsciously reached into his robe, fingertips lightly brushing against the narrow wooden box.
That aqua-blue Glass Hairpin was the last keepsake Yixiao's mother left her before passing away. It had once adorned her hair, warmed by her touch. Now, the remaining half lay quietly in the wooden box, still carrying his body heat. Across the passage of time, their warmth seemed to intertwine.
She was always so stubborn, as if no hardship could ever bow her head. She was also like a blank sheet of paper, untainted by any filth. He loved Yixiao's natural, clean appearance. Making her happy and ensuring her safety brought him more joy than anything else.
He had once thought he could calmly let her go, sending her to another man's side. From Su Sha to Lucheng, then from Lucheng to the Imperial City—the growing distance only made his longing for her more unbearable. The torment of unrequited love had long since turned into a raging fire, nearly consuming him from within...
A heart-stopping intoxication, yet also a despairing heartbreak.
Even now, the only one who could satisfy him and fill the bottomless void in his heart was her. But she was someone he could never touch—because he bore the mark of a forbidden curse...
"Your Highness," Xiao Weiran's composed voice came from outside, accompanied by hurried footsteps that drew nearer, interrupting Xia Jingshi's thoughts. "The Empress Dowager has sent a message through the eunuch. The Princess Consort will stay at Ciyang Hall tonight and return to Mingde Palace after breakfast tomorrow..."
Fu Yixiao coldly faced the dressing mirror, carefully affixing a delicate gold-traced emerald ornament to her forehead—a symbol of noblewomen of the royal family. Behind her, maids bustled about nervously yet efficiently, arranging her hair and attire. The assailants who had attacked her during the martial competition had all been captured by the Imperial Son. Today was the first day of the joint trial by the four ministries, and Feng Suige would accompany her, allowing her to personally preside over the proceedings.
After a final inspection of her attire, Fu Yixiao closed her eyes slightly, a confident smile curling at the corners of her lips.
Feng Qishan, though I come from humble origins, grew up in the military, and know nothing of royal etiquette, I will make you understand that sometimes, what is called a fatal weakness can also become a winning tool.
The victor becomes king, the loser a bandit.
What I love is not the challenge itself, but the victory that follows.
Feng Suige sat in the grand chair at the head of the hall, uncharacteristically restless. Yixiao, leaning against him in full regalia, was more alluring than he had ever seen her—as if she were attending a grand banquet rather than presiding over the trial of serious criminals.
During a brief pause while the prisoners were being brought in, Feng Suige whispered to Yixiao, "If Marquis Jianxin hadn't suddenly appeared and killed two of them, the investigation would have been much harder—I interrogated them beforehand, but they refused to talk."
Yixiao let out a crisp laugh, drawing the attention of everyone in the hall. She lazily leaned against Feng Suige, idly playing with her sleeve. "How could that be? You must have used the wrong method."The four elderly ministers serving as jurors all looked at Fu Yixiao with disapproval. When the Imperial Son proposed having the Minor Imperial Concubine preside over the trial, they had assumed the Lord of the Nation would never allow it. To their surprise, he agreed without hesitation. They had speculated about what kind of formidable figure this Minor Imperial Concubine might be, but now she seemed no different from any ordinary consort. Perhaps this trial was merely a pretense to placate her after the fright she had endured.
Soon, all fourteen prisoners were brought in. Yixiao straightened slightly in her seat, her gaze sweeping over the accused with varying expressions. Her eyes brimmed with amusement. "Now that you're in my hands, you'd best prepare yourselves—the lives I've taken are many, and a few more or less won't make a difference. The Embroidered Army has ten great tortures, each capable of ending your lives. But each of you only has one life to spare, so I suggest you confess quickly!"
At her threatening words, the four elderly ministers exchanged smirks, while the fourteen prisoners kneeling below wore mocking expressions. One even sneered, "Oh dear, I'm so scared..." The group burst into raucous laughter.
Yixiao showed no trace of anger. Instead, her smile deepened. "Since you're so frightened, we'll start with you—bring me what I asked for." As soon as she spoke, several maids stepped forward, some carrying jars, others holding burlap sacks, and one even bearing a carpenter's toolbox. The bizarre display wiped the smiles off several faces in the hall.
Leaning lazily against Feng Suige, Yixiao casually instructed the bewildered jailers, "Knock out all his teeth and give him a hundred lashes."
Everyone except Feng Suige paled. As the man was dragged away, screaming, to the back hall for punishment, Yixiao smiled and gestured for the maids to hand their items to the jailers. "Later, drive a long nail into the back of his neck—to ensure he remains perfectly conscious and fully enjoys everything I've prepared."
One of the elderly ministers hesitated. "Minor Imperial Concubine, isn't this too—"
"Too much?" Yixiao's voice turned icy. "When Guyu died, none of you stepped forward to say it was too much. Had I died in those woods, I doubt any of you would have uttered a word of protest either."
Feng Suige frowned slightly and issued a cold command, "Do as the Minor Imperial Concubine says."
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