Hearing this, the man in white raised a hand to stroke the snow-white strands beside his cheek. His expression seemed half-murmur, half-reminiscence. The faint curve at his lips carried nothing but bitterness. His unfocused eyes gazed back at Feng Xuanyi as though looking not at the man before him, but through him—toward a distant past, or perhaps an unreachable future…
“Using a borrowed excuse to make your move… truly a brilliant justification! What a fine method! This subject admires it wholeheartedly!” The white-robed man smiled beautifully. “I could uphold righteousness by destroying my own kin, I could become disloyal and unfilial, I could let the entire world point fingers and curse me, I could hurt everyone for your sake—even willingly lower myself to serve and please others!…” In an instant, his anger exploded beyond restraint. His exquisitely carved features tightened sharply, and though agony already filled his eyes, not a single tear would fall. “But you still wouldn’t believe me!…”
“…Come back. That is an order.” Feng Xuanyi finally spoke after a long silence, his tone eerily calm, devoid of any discernible emotion.
“Believe me… or not?!” the man in white demanded again. His hoarse voice was painfully sharp. Even now, he still longed for an answer—even if it were only a lie…
But this time, Feng Xuanyi did not reply. The rigid outline of his face disappeared behind drifting clouds, swallowed in shadow. A long while passed until the moonlight emerged once more from the deathly silence, illuminating the increasingly cold and composed face of a ruler. The white-robed man gave a sorrowful smile, speaking as though murmuring to himself, yet also seeking confirmation.
“So this is what it means to be an emperor… Your Majesty…” His desolate smile eclipsed all beauty beneath heaven. “What’s the point anymore? Things have already come to this. Whether you believe me or not—isn’t the answer obvious?… Humiliating myself… humiliating myself… I truly understand now…”
Raising a hand, he lightly flicked his sleeve. In that instant, a strange calm settled over him, as though a heavy burden had finally been lifted. No more grief. No more obsession. No more hatred. Black hair turning to snow, swaying within the wind; white robes like drifting sand, ethereal and indistinct. The dreams and memories of the past were nothing more than flowers reflected in a mirror, moons reflected in water. What could not be abandoned, what could not be relinquished, what one could never willingly let go of… now, at last, the curtain should fall.
In the water-cold night, that pale moon-white figure seemed impossibly elusive. Like a wild horse breaking free of its reins, or perhaps a firefly escaping from one’s palm, glimmering faintly before inevitably hurling itself into the flames.
“In this life, I wish you ten thousand generations upon the throne, an eternal and unshakable reign…” Turning back, his expression held both yearning and release. It was a blessing, yet also the lament of love itself. His eyes carried only ashen resolve. “If there is another life… may we meet again without recognizing one another.”
With a single leap, he cast aside all the tangled love and hatred of this lifetime and the last. The shouts behind him were drowned beneath the howling wind at his ears. His long-dried eyes curved into a final smile born from utter resolve.
The darkness of night, the coldness of the wind—eighteen short years of life. Like flowers in mirrors and moons in water, everything felt both unbearably illusory and cruelly real. Familiar yet distant fragments of memory flashed through his mind one after another like fleeting scenery glimpsed from horseback…
If three years ago I had never reached out my hand, and you had never turned back…
Like a white plum blossom falling upon cicada wings—that was Nalan Xuan.
To the world, he had been the most honored and exalted beauty beneath heaven, devastatingly beautiful and peerless in grace; the shortest-lived empress of the Hua Dynasty, who controlled the harem and influenced the imperial court, yet whom the world condemned as shameless and insatiably greedy.
Watching that pale figure disappear into the night, watching the single remaining shred of white gauze left in his hand, Feng Xuanyi stood alone atop the city wall. At the place where Nalan Xuan had stood, no one knew what expression rested upon the face of the always calm and restrained emperor, and no one dared approach to find out.
The emperor remained motionless atop the wall after the empress leapt. Those who had followed behind him were all frozen in fear, not daring to act rashly.
After a long while, Feng Xuanyi finally turned and strode down from the wall, leaving behind only the bright yellow silhouette of his imperial robes.
“Return to the palace!”
His voice remained as calm and restrained as ever, utterly undisturbed. One could almost believe that what had just happened was merely an illusion—or that the person who leapt had been nothing more than a stranger unrelated to him, rather than the male empress of the Hua Dynasty.
Below, the sound of Mo Yan loudly announcing, “Escort His Majesty back to the palace!” was soon followed by receding hoofbeats fading into the distance.
The generals atop the wall, however, could not leave so freely like the emperor. One by one, they turned with troubled expressions toward the magnificently dressed man who had arrived last among the crowd—the imperial noble consort currently favored above all others, Han Ruifeng.
Under everyone’s gaze, Han Ruifeng slowly walked to the edge of the wall, to the place where Nalan Xuan had fallen. Looking down from above into the pitch-black abyss below, all traces of the worry and urgency on his powder-covered pale face vanished completely, replaced by a faintly smug smile.
“Send people down to search. Alive or dead, we must find him. No matter what, he was still the empress of our dynasty.” His tone shifted, carrying both confusion and a charming smile. “Though from such a high wall, even someone with heaven-defying abilities couldn’t possibly survive, could they?” He dabbed at the corners of eyes incapable of producing tears. “Ah… things had only just calmed down, and now we’ll have to hold another state funeral again.”
Turning around, Han Ruifeng’s gaze swept across everyone present, seeming sorrowful yet resentful. His murderous intent was unmistakable. Whether Nalan Xuan lived or died, once this order was issued, survival itself would only lead to death. And among these soldiers, there certainly would not be anyone willing to plead for a disgraced empress who had fallen from favor and been cast into the Cold Palace.
“If he’s dead, don’t let the body remain near the imperial city gates. Too inauspicious. Find some place with decent feng shui and bury him there.” Pulling out a heavy gold ingot from his robes, Han Ruifeng tossed it toward a nearby soldier before turning to leave. “There’s no need to report back.”
“Young Master, don’t blame me for being ruthless. Once one enters these palace walls, neither you nor I can choose our own fate. To the emperor, no one is irreplaceable. Your peacock will naturally be replaced by another. Your former glory will be sealed away forever. The one destined to receive the love of all three thousand beauties in the harem will be me—not you!”
Supported gracefully by his attendant, Han Ruifeng stepped elegantly into the soft sedan chair. Sitting alone within the returning palanquin, his eyes filled with ruthless sharpness as he muttered—perhaps to himself, perhaps like an oath:
“Since you wanted so badly to leave, since you hated remaining within the palace so much, then I’ll send you on your way. Consider it repayment for all the years we spent as master and servant… In a dynasty, within an imperial palace, there is never any shortage of empresses!…”
Below the city wall, Nalan Xuan had already resigned himself to death. The shrieking wind sliced across his face, the rushing air stabbing painfully into his eyes and making every breath increasingly difficult. Yet strangely enough, his mind had never been clearer. Those forgotten years, those buried memories, fragments of the past—all surged forth one after another.
Before he could fully process anything, Nalan Xuan suddenly felt his waist tighten sharply. His uncontrollably plummeting body abruptly halted.
Turning back, he saw a masked figure whose appearance could not be discerned. In a daze, Nalan Xuan only vaguely felt several rises and falls before he landed safely upon the ground.
Futile Devices Scans 
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