Chapter Eighty-Five
As she traced her brows with dark pigment and painted her lips with rouge, Yixiao suddenly recalled the small attic in the Water-Painting Garden. Memories drifted like smoke and clouds—who could have imagined that Fu Yixiao, once a prisoner and slave, would first ascend to become the Imperial Son's minor concubine and now, today, be enfeoffed as the Brocade Dynasty's Princess Xingping in Vermilion Sand Country.
"In just a while, you'll be crowned with the Princess Insignia—a princess!!" Xueying paced excitedly around the room before suddenly stopping to clench her fists. "Let’s see who in Vermilion Sand Country dares to lay a finger on you after this." Then, her anger flared again. "That Feng Qishan is nothing but a madman. If it weren’t for Feng Suige’s obvious care for you, I’d have forced Ning Fei to snatch you back to Brocade..."
Yixiao smiled faintly, casually pulling the ceremonial robe embroidered with six pairs of colorful phoenixes from the wooden rack and draping it over herself. Xueying watched as she deftly secured the Moonstone Hairpins—bestowed by the Holy Emperor—into her hair. Suddenly, Xueying covered her face and groaned, "Are you the one who’s gone mad, or is it me? Don’t just smile without saying anything—it makes me feel like I’m hallucinating."
Yixiao paused as she tied the sash. "Xueying, do you think I’m happy?" Caught off guard, Xueying fell silent for a long moment before softly countering, "What about you? Do you feel happy?"
"I don’t know," Yixiao murmured, a fleeting look of confusion crossing her face. "It seems there’s no second choice but to keep moving forward." She glanced back at the pensive Xueying. "But no matter what, I must press on—because no one deserves to be sacrificed for nothing."
Feng Qishan gazed at the distant western mountains as the sun slowly sank, staining the sky with blood-red twilight.
Fu Yixiao was no longer the lowly woman who had nothing yesterday. From this day onward, her every word and action bore the mark of the Brocade Dynasty’s royal family. She represented Brocade, just as Xiyang represented Vermilion Sand.
"My Lord," a timid palace attendant approached. "The Minor Imperial Concubine requests an audience." Feng Qishan withdrew his wandering thoughts and let out a cold laugh. "Truly a thing unfit for grand occasions—already eager to flaunt herself before this king."
Yixiao stepped slowly into Biying Palace beneath the autumn sunset, her resplendent robes shimmering with the delicate hues of rouge in the fading light. Envious and admiring eyes followed her every move, and she met their gazes from afar—those who had once resisted or fawned now bowed in reverence dozens of steps away.
Even if they cursed her behind her back, in this moment of direct confrontation, they still had to grovel before her. That was enough for her. All she wanted was superficial submission—keeping up appearances was sufficient.
As he took in the sight of Fu Yixiao in her magnificent attire, Feng Qishan couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration. The Fu Yixiao of the past, who had nothing but pride, had long galloped beyond his memory—now so unfamiliar, so distant."I underestimated you," Feng Qishan sneered coldly. "I never imagined you'd have such means, even deceiving the Holy Emperor of Brocade." Yixiao suppressed her irritation and calmly explained, "Precisely because I anticipated the Lord of the Nation might think this way, I took the initiative to enter the palace and meet with you. This conferment came as a complete surprise to me as well—it wasn't obtained through any schemes as you suspect."
After a pause, Yixiao continued, "Speaking these words now might be seen as provocation, but I must say it. Every step I've taken in Su Sha was forced upon me by the Lord of the Nation. Thus, I find it baffling that you regard me as a thorn in your flesh, though I no longer seek the reasons behind it."
Seeing Feng Qishan remain silent, Yixiao pressed on, "It's natural for the Lord of the Nation to worry about the Imperial Son. But you're too accustomed to controlling everything—such concern can also be harmful. So—" "So you presume to teach me how to act?" Feng Qishan coldly interrupted. "Do you think you're qualified? Or have you forgotten whom you're addressing!"
"The Lord of the Nation overinterprets," Yixiao replied with a faint smile instead of anger. "I merely meant to suggest that since we're fated to walk the same path, why not each take a step back to avoid further conflict and spare the Imperial Son from being caught in the middle." She bowed slightly. "From now on, I shall rely on your guidance."
"That old fool!" Xueying slammed her teacup onto the table with a loud thud, seething. "Even after you yielded, he still refuses to relent—one day, all the malice festering inside him will rot his brains and ooze out from his head and soles!" Yixiao reclined lazily on the couch, barely lifting her eyelids. "If I got angry over every word he says, I'd have died of rage long ago. Save your energy—you're about to become a mother, yet your temper remains so fiery. I truly don't understand how you and Ning Fei don't end up fighting."
"He wouldn't dare," Xueying retorted smugly, tilting her chin up. "You're no different. With that bearish temper of yours, only Feng Suige could tolerate you. Anyone else would've written a letter of divorce the day after the wedding."
Yixiao fell silent for a moment before sitting up and asking softly, "How is he doing?" Xueying hesitated, then shrugged. "He's fine. You know how Xia Jingshi is—he never says anything. Even Ning Fei can't guess what he's truly thinking, and I can't be bothered to try."
Yixiao nodded, rose, and walked to the dressing mirror. Opening the wooden box Xueying had brought, she picked out several brand-new Glass Hairpins and examined them carefully. "I don't know if it's because so much has happened lately, but I've been feeling uneasy these days, as if something terrible is about to occur..."
"Xueying!" As if in response to her words, Ning Fei's booming voice, thick with urgency, grew louder as he approached. "Xueying—" Yixiao's heart clenched. She tossed the hairpins aside and hurried to pull open the door. "Ning Fei, what's wrong?"
Ning Fei reached the doorway in an instant, panting. "Yixiao, can you look after Xueying for a few days? I need to return to Brocade immediately." "What happened?" Xueying stepped out, puzzled. "What's so urgent?""Your Highness," Ning Fei wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, "Brocade sent an urgent message by swift horse, reporting that Your Highness and Weiran have suffered severe injuries and are in critical condition. They ordered me to return immediately..."
A wave of dizziness struck Yixiao, who dug her fingers tightly into the doorframe to maintain her balance. She murmured in disbelief, "How... how could this happen?"
Ning Fei shook his head grimly. "The messenger didn't provide details. We only know that logs at the Shuxiang Temple Mausoleum construction site collapsed and struck Your Highness and Weiran. Xueying is with child—I can't bring her on this urgent journey. Please take care of her for me. I'll return to fetch her as soon as possible!"
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