Chapter Eighty-Eight
Bathed in the glow of paper lanterns and candlelight, Xia Jingshi sat motionless at the table, unconsciously counting the drops from the water clock.
At the moment the massive timber collapsed, Xiao Weiran had pushed him out of harm's way with all his strength. As a result, Xia Jingshi escaped with only minor scrapes, while Weiran was struck squarely by the falling beam and remained in critical condition with no signs of improvement. Yet the medical officer insisted that his injuries were merely internal, requiring only bed rest for gradual recovery.
The snapped rope had been found—clearly an old one, weathered by sun and wind, its frayed ends showing no signs of tampering. But the craftsman swore up and down that the rope issued with the timber had been brand new...
Had it been swapped out? If not an accident, then what was it?
Xia Jingshi rubbed his temples in frustration and stood, pushing open the half-closed window. A cool night breeze rushed in.
Aside from Weiran’s condition, Feng Xiyang’s increasingly close interactions with the inner court nobility also weighed heavily on his mind. Were it not for the mandatory royal audience dictated by law, he would never have set foot in the Imperial City again.
Originally, he had planned to return to Lucheng immediately after relocating Yixiao’s mother’s mausoleum. But given Weiran’s state, their departure would likely be delayed by at least a month.
He could only hope no further complications would arise during this time.
At the break of dawn, a lone rider galloped down the official road outside the Embroidered Holy City. The warhorse’s muzzle foamed with white froth, a clear sign of exhaustion.
Since entering the Embroidered Nation’s territory, Ning Fei had left his four accompanying lieutenants far behind. At every border post, he changed horses and replenished his supplies, pressing onward without rest. In less than ten days, he had reached the Imperial City.
The outer walls loomed in the distance. Gritting his teeth, Ning Fei lashed his whip across the horse’s flank, urging it faster toward the city gates.
"Open up!" Ning Fei leapt from his saddle, wiping sweat mixed with morning dew from his face as he pounded on the gate. "Which squad’s on night duty? Open the gate!"
"It’s not even light yet—what’s the rush?" A yawning officer peered down from the wall. Recognizing Ning Fei, he immediately perked up. "Ah, General Ning! You’re back!" Before Ning Fei could respond, the officer disappeared.
Moments later, the heavy thud of the inner bar being lifted echoed, and the gates swung open. The officer and several guards hurried out. "General Ning, you made excellent time. I thought it’d take at least ten days or more—Huh? Where are the others?"
"I rode ahead," Ning Fei replied brusquely, remounting without ceremony. "How’s His Highness’s injury? Where is he now?" The officer smiled. "The King Who Pacifies the South is doing well. Naturally, he’s staying at Mingde Palace—"
Before he could finish, Ning Fei tossed out a "Thanks" and spurred his horse forward. The sharp clatter of hooves rang through the empty, dimly lit streets.
"Thanks?" The officer snorted softly, elbowing a nearby guard. "Hear that? He thanked us. Makes all those nights on duty worth it." The others chuckled in agreement.
Feng Suige reclined against a cushion in the carriage corner, Fu Yixiao asleep with her head resting on his lap. Gently, he brushed away the strands of hair falling across her face, idly twirling the ends between his fingers.On that spring night when he abducted her, he had looked at her just as closely. The difference was, back then he had faced such a serene and peaceful sleeping face, while now, even in sleep, her brows were furrowed. Compared to the fiery Fu Yixiao of the day, she now appeared delicate and fragile, profound yet sorrowful, beautiful yet lonely.
Perhaps the carriage wheel hit a pothole, causing the carriage to jolt slightly with a soft thud. Yixiao immediately stirred awake, her eyes fluttering open slightly. He quickly patted her reassuringly and whispered, "It's nothing, go back to sleep." Yixiao gave him a dazed smile, turned over, and eventually succumbed to exhaustion again.
At Yixiao's insistence, Xueying had moved from her own carriage to share one with Yixiao. Every night, Yixiao would secretly rise to keep watch until dawn, only sneaking into Feng Suige's carriage for a brief nap when most of the Brocade Guards had already awakened.
Feng Suige traced his fingers over the faint shadows beneath her eyes. He had once asked Yixiao why she was so determined to personally watch over Xueying. After a moment of silence, Yixiao had replied with two words: "I'm afraid."
Yes, she was afraid.
She feared that with the slightest misstep, Xueying might vanish before her eyes again. If anything happened to Xueying, she would never be able to forgive herself—just that alone would be an insurmountable hurdle. And he, too, never wanted to see that lifeless, ashen stillness in Yixiao's eyes again—a body without a soul, no longer the Fu Yixiao he knew...
As he had said, because he was a son, because he was still a subject of the king, because he would one day become the Lord of the Nation, there were many things beyond his control. His father's obstinacy had also left him with lingering guilt over abducting Yixiao.
If he hadn't taken her back to Su Sha that day, if he hadn't dragged her into the devouring vortex of the palace, perhaps she would now be living happily in some corner of the world—not like this, wary and guarded against everyone around her, day and night.
But he didn't regret it. If he hadn't taken her, how could he now be by Yixiao's side, gazing contentedly at her sleeping face, waiting for her to wake again and smile once more?
So he had also been trying to make amends for his father. He only hoped that one day, his father would truly understand Yixiao's heart, and Yixiao would forgive his father's past overly stubborn words and actions. Then, the two could set aside all grievances, no longer hostile or at odds with each other.
Only, he didn't know how far away that day might be.
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