Futile Devices Scans

Unexpectedly, though Ning Xuan was merely a servant within the manor, he spoke with clarity and logic, his understanding of advantage and risk strikingly perceptive—enough to make Feng Xuanyi regard him in a new light.

“This lowly one would not dare presume to speculate on Your Highness’s thoughts,” Ning Xuan said, lowering his head, “I merely speak of a hypothetical.”

“If even Your Highness, as a blood brother, were to align with the Eldest Prince while harboring such thoughts, then what of the other princes—those aligned with the Crown Prince’s faction or the Eldest Prince’s faction out of shared interests?”

“How many of them are truly loyal without calculation? Perhaps even the Crown Prince and the Eldest Prince themselves could not say for certain.”

“At present, their forces are evenly matched, neither side yielding, and so they hold their positions, appearing united and restrained.”

“But when one side begins to falter—”

“That will be the moment when those previously subdued princes begin to stir, each revealing their own methods.”

“You do seem to understand quite a bit,” Feng Xuanyi said.

His eyes remained narrowed as he studied Ning Xuan, who spoke with his head lowered. His tone revealed no discernible emotion.

“You may withdraw.”

At those words, Ning Xuan was startled.

He looked up in astonishment at Feng Xuanyi, who still appeared leisurely and composed, as though trying to determine whether those words were genuine.

Sensing Ning Xuan’s gaze, Feng Xuanyi lifted his eyes.

A faint smile—half-present, half-not—curved at his lips, carrying a subtle, almost dangerous allure.

The way he looked at Ning Xuan sent a chill down one’s spine.

“Reluctant to leave?” he asked.

Ning Xuan froze, snapping back to himself.

At the same time, he realized—

This man, though the exalted Prince Rong, was also the same shameless Yi Hua from before.

Seeing that meaningful, teasing gaze, Ning Xuan’s fair and delicate face flushed bright red.

Memories of their earlier interactions—tinged with ambiguity—flooded his mind all at once, startling him into action.

In a flurry, he scrambled to his feet and fled the study in near panic.

Watching Ning Xuan’s figure disappear from view, the enigmatic smile on Feng Xuan Yi’s handsome face faded instantly, replaced by a calm, cold composure.

“Bring robes. Prepare the bath.”

At his command, the attendants who had long been waiting outside entered at once.

One draped a cloak over his shoulders, while another walked ahead carrying a lantern, illuminating the path.

Steam rose thickly in the bathing chamber.

A faint fragrance of incense lingered in the air.

Within the spacious bathing pool, Feng Xuanyi leaned back against the edge, one arm resting languidly along the stone. Tilting his head, he closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh.

On either side stood two maids, their features delicate and refined. They attended to him carefully—massaging and kneading with alternating pressure, occasionally scooping water to pour over his arm, which rested along the edge of the pool—its lines well-defined, muscles firm yet not overly exaggerated.

“Mo Yan.”

Within the quiet bath chamber, where only the gentle sound of water flowed, a low, magnetic voice suddenly rang out—neither abrupt nor jarring, but instead blending with the water’s murmur, soothing and resonant.

“Your servant is here.”

Even within the mist-filled, sweltering bath chamber, where heat caused sweat to bead and soak garments, Mo Yan stood with his usual rigid composure—expressionless as ever, head lowered, posture precise and immaculate.

Sweat dripped from his temples, his robes damp at the back—yet he remained as though entirely unaware, standing respectfully at attention.

“Investigate his background,” Feng Xuan Yi said, half-opening his eyes, his tone thoughtful. “See whether he has any family remaining.”

Though he did not specify, Mo Yan—being his trusted confidant—understood immediately and responded, “Yes.”

“Also, have some food prepared and sent to him.”

As Mo Yan’s footsteps gradually faded into the distance, Feng Xuanyi leaned back comfortably against the smooth jade wall.

His dark, deep-set eyes, softened slightly by the warm mist, remained sharp beneath the haze.

For a long moment, he gazed absently at the intricately carved beams above, before murmuring softly—so faint it was almost imperceptible:

“Liu Yin.”

At his call, one of the attendants—ever alert and attentive—paused her movements. She gestured to another maid waiting nearby to take her place, then quietly withdrew to carry out the summons.

Meanwhile, Ning Xuan, having received permission to return and rest, remained alone in the vast room. He waited for a long while, yet no one came to attend to him—nor was there any word regarding how he would be dealt with.

Only then did he finally relax a little.

Yet as he looked around the empty, cavernous chamber, he found it strangely desolate.

Compared to before—when he had enjoyed “special treatment”, with a fully furnished single room—this place felt… cold.

And before long, he unexpectedly began to miss the days when he shared quarters with Mo Qi.

Though the two of them had clashed more than once and gone through their share of friction before reaching the brotherly bond they now had—eating together, living together, coming and going together—

At the very least, there had always been someone to talk to.

Even if most of the time was spent joking and bantering rather than exchanging gentle words of concern, those moments of laughter had driven away much of the loneliness of being alone.

Opening the window, he leaned against the sill and gazed at the bright moon that had already risen into the sky.

He could not help but wonder what Mo Qi and Qing Zhu were doing now.

Were they eating?

Were they gossiping again?

With him suddenly gone, would they feel unaccustomed?

Would Mo Qi, left alone, find the room too quiet—without even someone to talk to?

A cool night breeze drifted into the room, startling Ning Xuan into a shiver.

Raising his hand, he slapped himself sharply across the face without mercy.

“Damn it! What the hell am I thinking?!”

“I’ve gone full maiden mode, getting all sentimental and brooding over spring and autumn?!”

But speaking of eating…

Ning Xuan could not help but grimace as he rubbed his completely empty stomach.

By now, he was so hungry he didn’t even have the strength for his stomach to protest anymore.

Thinking back—

He had rushed about frantically, hurrying here in a panic. No sooner had he set his things down and tidied up a little than he had been dragged off to serve tea.

Then came that absurd misunderstanding—mistaking the wrong person—trying to seize the chance to “get even,” only to end up striking himself instead.

Even that might have been manageable—

But then he had gone and spoken out of turn, rambling on and on, leaving his master with that unfathomable expression, scaring him half to death until his legs trembled.

In the end—

Not only had he failed to enjoy even a fraction of the benefits of this coveted position—renowned for its plentiful perks—

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to act like a proper sycophant before being thoroughly frightened out of his wits.

Even now, his legs were still trembling.

Watching the servants bustling back and forth in the courtyard, Ning Xuan found himself oddly envious.

It wasn’t that he had grown accustomed to servitude—

It was simply that being stuck alone like a prisoner, with nothing to do but wait in uncertainty for judgment, was truly unbearable.

Just as Ning Xuan, bored out of his mind and left with nothing but his wandering thoughts, reached his limit—

The door suddenly burst open.

A crowd of people entered all at once, chaotic and overwhelming, leaving him completely stunned and at a loss.

Before him was laid out a table of food so lavish it bordered on extravagant.

Setting aside the quality—

Just the sheer quantity of dishes, one after another, would have been enough to feed countless starving people.

Chicken, duck, fish, and meat were all present, along with delicate seafood dishes—and even some unfamiliar delicacies Ning Xuan had never seen before, unable even to name them.

As the maids moved about placing the dishes, waves of aroma drifted through the air, deliberately teasing his senses, slipping straight into his nose.

Already so hungry that his chest felt hollow and his vision blurred with dizziness, Ning Xuan struggled with all his might to suppress the urge to pounce on the table and devour everything in sight.

Inside, it felt as though a little cat’s claw was incessantly scratching at his heart, making him restless and uneasy.

Forcing himself to retain the last shred of rationality, he shifted his gaze toward the man who had entered with the group and now stood silently by the table—

The steward of the manor, Mo Yan.

He stood there like a statue, utterly motionless, as though his presence barely existed.

“Steward Mo… may I ask… what is all this—?”

Ning Xuan’s voice trembled as he stretched out the final syllable.

Meanwhile, in his heart, he muttered anxiously:

This isn’t some last meal before sending me to the Yellow Springs, is it…?

I’m only fifteen! I only said a few wrong things—I haven’t lived enough yet! Please, don’t let it be this!

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