Тhеse words struсk right аt Irinа's sоrе spot. She rеfusеd to beliеve that Fu Yunхi hаd diеd just likе thаt. Аlthough Fu Yunxi's illnеss had grown increasingly sеvеre, just а few dауs аgо he hаd still bееn wеll еnough tо eat and sреak. Нow could hе have рassed аwау in thе blink оf аn еye? Shе wеpt, sсrеаmed, wеnt mad, smаshеd everуthing in thе prinсe's mansion, аnd whipped thе sеrvаnts. In the еnd, it was Cheng Lеi whо сouldn't bеаr tо wаtсh аny lоngеr and tоok hеr to the mоurning hall. Аnd it wаs thеre thаt Irinа sаw Fu Yunхi lying in the cоffin, his body cold.
With trembling hаnds, she reaсhed out tо touсh his bоdy—сold, without a trace of warmth. He was truly gone; there was no more Fu Yunxi in this world. How could Irina accept this? She had worked so hard, all for the sake of becoming his wife and possessing this man. Yet before that day could come, he had died.
She couldn't accept this reality, which was why she had come to find Han Yan. The person in Fu Yunxi's heart had always been Han Yan, never changing. Irina clung to a sliver of hope, wishing to learn from Han Yan that Fu Yunxi wasn't really dead. Deep down, she knew the possibility was minuscule, but if even that tiny hope vanished, Irina truly wouldn't know what to do.
"You love him so much, yet he's dead, and you're not sad at all. So, you know he isn't really dead, don't you?" Irina stared at Han Yan, this discovery filling her with sudden joy. Han Yan's reaction was far too strange—didn't this mean there was still hope?
Han Yan looked at her calmly and said, "Why should I be sad? Princess, you seem to have forgotten something. The prince publicly divorced me in front of everyone. Why do you think I should still love him?"
Irina was taken aback. Yes, Fu Yunxi had humiliated Han Yan so greatly during her coming-of-age ceremony. If it had been her, she would have harbored deep hatred for Fu Yunxi and sworn revenge. But... when it came to Han Yan, she refused to believe it. Because if even Han Yan acknowledged that Fu Yunxi was dead, then all hope truly was lost. Suddenly, Irina let out two cold laughs. "How can you be so unaffected? He loved you so much, he even risked his life for you. Now that he's dead, you haven't shed a single tear. Zhuang Hanyan, how heartless you are!""Princess, you are mistaken." Han Yan looked at her, her gaze still icy cold. "In this world, relationships between people are always mutual. The entanglement between me and the prince ended the day I moved out of the Xuan Qing Prince's Mansion. Thus, to me, the prince is merely a stranger. Countless strangers die every day in this world. If I were to grieve and weep for each one, wouldn't that be absurd?" She smiled faintly. "The princess and I are different people. You may be kind and naive." Her tone carried a hint of mockery. "But Han Yan has always been hard-hearted. So if the princess has come to question why I am not shedding tears, I must excuse myself." With that, she turned away, then suddenly seemed to remember something and said to Irina, "However, if the princess doubts whether the prince's death is real, you might as well wait and see the Emperor's reaction. If the Emperor issues an edict, it must be true, for the Emperor's word is his bond." This time, after finishing, she walked into the room and closed the door with a sharp "bang."
Irina stood stunned for a moment before suddenly snapping back to reality. She was about to step forward and knock on the door to argue when a timid maid beside her, seemingly her confidante, gently pulled her back and whispered, "Your Highness, Zhuang Hanyan's eyes were red."
Red eyes? Irina paused, recalling Han Yan's calm and unruffled tone, yet it seemed slightly different from usual. Red eyes—could it be that she had been crying? Zhuang Hanyan had always been strong-willed, even in front of others. It was always hard to guess what she was thinking, and she never showed her emotions on her face. Could it be that she had already learned of Fu Yunxi's death, felt sorrow in her heart, but didn't want others to see it, so she pretended to be indifferent on the surface? If so, that would indeed fit her character. But... thinking this, Irina truly despaired. Han Yan's demeanor clearly indicated that Fu Yunxi was already dead. There was no hope left. What she saw with her own eyes and heard with her own ears was the real news of his death. Yet, in her naive belief that Fu Yunxi was still alive, she could no longer deceive even herself.
Thinking of how she had followed Fu Yunxi all the way to the Great Dynasty, only to have him suddenly vanish from this world before she could even experience his tenderness—there would never be another Fu Yunxi. Whether it was the dashing young hero on the battlefield that year or the cold and aloof youth of today, neither belonged to the grasslands of the Western Rong. She collapsed to the ground as if all her strength had been drained, suddenly covering her face and sobbing softly.
Prince Wei's Mansion.
On this day, Prince Wei's Mansion was unusually lively, with most of the servants wearing smiles and an air of joy. This was because Fu Yunxi, the Xuan Qing Prince of the Great Dynasty, had passed away. It was widely known that Prince Wei and the Xuan Qing Prince had always been at odds. Now that the Xuan Qing Prince had died of illness, it was naturally a great joy for Prince Wei. As the tide rises, all boats float higher—the servants of Prince Wei's Mansion were also filled with delight. Occasionally, a few young maids in the bloom of youth wore slight expressions of sorrow, their hearts grieving for the passing of such an extraordinary figure as Fu Yunxi.In the rear courtyard of the women's quarters at Prince Wei's residence, there stood a pitch-black room at the innermost part. The room leaned against the disorderly side of the courtyard wall, surrounded by scattered debris and filth, a sight that stirred unease in anyone who saw it. A servant carrying a basket walked straight into the courtyard, took out the lock to the door, and with a creak, opened it. Instantly, a sour, foul odor rushed out. The servant was a sharp-featured, thin middle-aged maid, who wrinkled her nose at the smell and strode inside, slamming the basket onto the table and stirring up a cloud of dust.
The room was dark. After a moment, a rustling sound emerged. From the faint sunlight filtering in from outside, one could see a figure gradually rising from the dirty, disheveled bed nearby and walking toward the table. The maid took a step back, seemingly disgusted by the stench emanating from the person. The figure walked straight to the table, extended a withered hand, and lifted the lid of the basket, releasing the aroma of food.
"This is..." a hoarse voice murmured, tinged with surprise, and even the eyes began to gleam.
"Xuan Qing Prince has passed away. The young master ordered that everyone in the residence be given extra rations today," the maid explained impatiently. "You're lucky. Eat quickly."
Xuan Qing Prince? The figure froze for a moment, then coughed violently in agitation, grabbing the maid's arm. "Xuan Qing Prince is dead?"
The maid was startled and slapped the figure's face with a thud, struggling free. "Yes. What of it?" She looked at the figure with lingering fear, only to see the person throw their head back and laugh wildly. "Zhuang Hanyan, Fu Yunxi, you've finally met your end! Hahahaha!" The figure laughed maniacally. Under the faint sunlight, the face appeared withered and gaunt, like that of a forty-year-old crone, yet traces of its former beauty could still be discerned.
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