The Crown Prince Feng Xuanmo merely smiled upon hearing this, offering no comment.
At this moment, Emperor Huawen suddenly spoke: “Enough. It is getting late, and I am weary. You may all disperse and return.”
At these words, the seven princes lined within the hall knelt in unison, paying their respects. “Your sons take their leave.”
They exited the imperial study one after another. Upon the jade steps before the door, Crown Prince Feng Xuanmo cast a faint, knowing smile toward Prince Yi, Feng Xuanzhe, who walked beside him, cupped his hands in greeting, then laughed aloud as he departed.
Watching Feng Xuanmo’s retreating figure, smiling with hidden intent, Feng Xuanyi turned back with a puzzled expression. Carefully observing Feng Xuanzhe, he asked cautiously, “Elder Brother, did I say something wrong again? Did I do something wrong? Father Emperor… is Father Emperor angry with me?”
“You!” Feng Xuanzhe raised his hand as if to strike Feng Xuanyi’s head, feigning anger. “You’ve already been granted a princely title and even taken a wife—how are you still so naïve and without sense of propriety? All your brains and wits have been spent chasing pleasures and women! How did I end up with such an unpromising younger brother? You only ever make trouble!”
Sensing vaguely that he had indeed erred, Feng Xuanyi kept silent and obediently endured the reprimand.
Seeing Feng Xuanyi so unusually compliant—neither interrupting nor making remarks about this family’s beautiful daughter or that household’s charming young master, nor setting his sights on some new fancy—Feng Xuanzhe sighed helplessly. “It’s nothing serious. It was all stirred up by Feng Xuanmo anyway. One truly cannot afford to relax vigilance for even a moment.”
“But when we left just now, Father Emperor didn’t look too pleased… it couldn’t be that I angered him, could it?” Feng Xuanyi asked, feigning ignorance.
Feng Xuanzhe let out a cold laugh. “After all these years, when has his expression ever been good?” Then, glancing at Feng Xuanyi, he added, “It has nothing to do with you. You just happened to stumble into good fortune—like a blind cat catching a dead mouse—and escaped a disaster by sheer luck. But don’t get complacent. Next time, you may not get away with it so easily!”
“You’d best learn to be more mindful. Don’t go blurting out whatever comes to mind without regard for time or place. If you weren’t my own brother—and if others wouldn’t take the opportunity to weaken my power by targeting you—I wouldn’t bother with someone like you, so carefree, obsessed only with pleasure, and utterly lacking ambition.” Though his words were harsh, beneath them lay the unbreakable bond of blood.
Watching Feng Xuanzhe’s departing figure fade into the distance, the brilliant smile on Feng Xuanyi’s face gradually stiffened, faded, and withered—until only a faint, inscrutable curve lingered at the corner of his lips. His dark eyes gleamed sharply, like those of a hunting eagle.
“Master, the carriage is ready at the Xuanhe Gate. May I ask—shall we return to the residence, or…?” Yi Heng approached slowly, stopping at a respectful distance as he inquired.
Among the seven personal attendants bearing the “Yi” name within the residence, only Yi Heng and Yi Yang were permitted to leave the estate and accompany Feng Xuanyi outside.
Feng Xuanyi seemed to recall something. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but then he paused, his gaze lowering for a moment before he strode forward. “Have Xuanji come to the Qunfang Courtyard to see me.”
Receiving the order, Yi Heng bowed respectfully and withdrew to carry out the command.
Qunfang Courtyard, as its name suggests, was a place where a hundred flowers bloomed—a renowned pleasure quarter within the imperial capital. Among the capital’s scholars and romantic poets, two oft-recited lines described the enduring rivalry along Liuxiang Street: “Fragrance drifts through Qunfang Courtyard, while green willows shade the New Phoenix House.” The ladies of Qunfang Courtyard were each more alluring and enchanting than the last, while the young masters of New Phoenix House were each more refined and ethereal than their peers. By coincidence—or perhaps inevitability—the two establishments stood directly opposite one another on the same street, their rivalry so palpable that even from ten streets away, one could practically sense the tension in the air.
Over time, Liuxiang Street came to settle into a clear divide: the eastern side belonged to the young male courtesans, while the western side belonged to the ladies. Every male entertainment house took root along East Street as if enchanted, while the women proudly dominated West Street, the two sides locked in opposition for countless years. As for Prince Rong himself, he refused no invitation and had become the most prominent figure on Liuxiang Street—a veritable god of wealth among patrons. Not only was he rich and powerful, he was also strikingly handsome and charming, stealing the hearts of countless ladies and young men alike, who spent their days and nights longing and waiting for his arrival.
Ordinarily, Liuxiang Street was not entirely lifeless during the day, but most of the courtesans, having worked through the night, would be resting. The madams and matrons, having spent the night welcoming guests and counting silver until their hands grew sore, would also seize the chance to rest. Yet all it took was one sharp-eyed attendant spotting Prince Rong’s carriage approaching at a leisurely pace from afar—once the news spread into the courtyard, everyone instantly sprang to life.
The carriage, modest in size and almost understated in its elegance, had barely come to a stop before the entrance of Qunfang Courtyard when a woman of about thirty, still full of lingering charm, hurried out with several graceful and seductive beauties in tow. Smiles already adorned their faces as they waited at the doorway well in advance.
Those familiar with Qunfang Courtyard would immediately recognize that the women standing behind the madam were no ordinary courtesans, nor merely those of modest beauty or status. They were the top-ranking courtesans of the establishment, each accomplished in the four arts—music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Many had come from afar, flaunting their wealth and fortunes, merely to catch a glimpse of the capital’s foremost courtesan, only to be turned away by a simple remark of “not in the mood today,” rejecting even ten thousand taels of gold. Yet today, they had all gathered of their own accord, standing in neat formation—proof enough of Prince Rong’s immense reputation within the pleasure quarters and how effortlessly he moved within them.
As the carriage door opened, Feng Xuanyi stepped out with elegant grace, his noble bearing and refined demeanor immediately commanding attention. Seeing the five already waiting at the entrance, he smiled and said, “I never expected that I would have the honor of drawing Miss Qingqin, Miss Qingqi, Miss Qingshu, and Miss Qinghua here in person to receive me. This truly shames me with such courtesy.”
The madam eagerly stepped forward to lead the way, while Qingqin, Qingqi, Qingshu, and Qinghua smiled with radiant charm, their eyes sparkling as they gracefully moved aside to open a path for him.
“Your Highness certainly knows how to flatter us,” Qingqi said with a playful reproach. Yet her exquisite features brimmed with emotion, her phoenix eyes shifting with allure—so that even her feigned annoyance only made her more captivating. “I’ve heard that Your Highness recently took a liking to a certain young master, doting on him so much that you’ve forgotten all about us sisters.”
Hearing this, Feng Xuanyi pretended to ponder, even nodding from time to time. “He is indeed rather likable,” he said. Seeing Qingqi grow more visibly indignant at his words, his smile deepened. “But he is only rather likable, after all. He still cannot compare to you. Otherwise, would I have come here?”
Only then did Qingqi truly brighten with delight, her beautiful face radiant—whether in joy or irritation, she was stunning beyond compare.
Suddenly, without warning, another face overlapped in Feng Xuanyi’s mind—a face with no real resemblance, yet equally vivid in expression, alive with joy, anger, sorrow, and laughter. Most of all, that slightly sullen, downcast look… stirred within him an inexplicable urge to tease.
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