But if one were to say he was deeply calculating, that did not quite fit either. Feng Xuanyi had seen many people of profound scheming, and if someone were of the same kind, he could sense it at a glance—almost as if he could smell it. Yet to claim that the boy had been deliberately trained and planted in his residence as a spy was equally far-fetched. That person was far too green. Though literate, he lacked refinement in poetry and classical learning, and when it came to matters of intimacy, he was so inexperienced it was something Feng Xuanyi had never encountered before. If he truly were someone’s planted agent, he would have been thoroughly instructed and drilled in such matters.
But he… seemed to know nothing at all. Like a headless fly, he blundered about recklessly. When he got hurt, he would put on a pitiful expression, showing rare traces of respect and obedience—perhaps better described as instinctive survival. Yet whenever he managed to escape unscathed, he would grow even more unrestrained, lacking all sense of propriety. Yesterday, upon hearing Mo Yan’s report about his behavior within the residence, Feng Xuanyi had nearly burst out laughing three separate times, unable to maintain his composure. A person like that—kept by his side—made him unable to resist wanting to probe deeper, wanting to claim him entirely.
Thinking back to that moment before court this morning—when that person, flushed and soft, had collapsed into his arms, his eyes brimming with allure—Feng Xuanyi’s smile deepened. Though it had begun merely as a small punishment for his insolence and lack of restraint, in the end even Feng Xuanyi himself had grown serious. Had Yi Guang not interrupted at that critical moment, he might well have taken him right there on the spot. Just the thought of it stirred him again, the heat in his body rising as if protesting the restraint he had endured since early morning.
A flicker of surprise passed, quickly replaced by an ambiguous smile. Feng Xuanyi had never been one to deny himself. Anything he desired, he had never failed to obtain. And as for that person—he was certain of victory, determined to have him. It was not merely desire; he had been thinking about him day and night, his interest burning steadily for days. Though the boy’s background and identity were still uncertain, that was no reason to restrain himself.
Since childhood, Feng Xuanyi had never been constant in his attachments. Even things he once liked would lose their appeal over time. Gradually, he began seeking something that could hold his interest a little longer. He believed that that clever, mischievous little creature might just be one of those rare exceptions—even if it were only for three to five days more.
In high spirits, he returned all the way to the prince’s residence. Though his expression remained as inscrutable as ever, carrying that faint, ambiguous smile, the moment he pushed open the study door, he still did not see the figure he had been thinking about ever since entering the gates. Not even a single strand of hair was in sight.
He sat leisurely upon an exquisitely carved sandalwood chair. The cushion was made of fine Sichuan embroidery, with threads woven of gold and silver—brilliant, refined, noble, and elegant without being gaudy or vulgar. Yet such imperial luxury, something ordinary households could hardly even glimpse, was utterly commonplace to Feng Xuanyi. Indeed, without such standards, it would not even qualify as a seat cushion in his eyes.
With one hand, he lifted the teacup; with the other, he idly nudged the lid, gently brushing aside the tea leaves floating upon the surface. The fragrance of premium pre-Grain Rain Longjing tea filled the air, evoking the freshness of open mountains and wilderness. Yet Feng Xuanyi remained unmoved. His deep black eyes were veiled with a faint mist from the rising steam. He sipped slowly, soundlessly, every movement refined and elegant. His gaze lowered, seemingly at leisure, yet not a single word escaped his notice as he reviewed memorials, letters, and reports from various regions.
He set the teacup down lightly. The faint sound of porcelain against wood was soft, yet clear enough for all those attending nearby to hear. Yi Quan and Yi Guang, who had been standing at his side, immediately straightened their focus, awaiting his command at any moment.
Bored, he casually flipped through the documents he already knew by heart, picking them up one by one, shaking them idly before tossing them aside. His gaze swept over Yi Guang and Yi Quan—men who had served him for years with caution and precision, always proper and respectful. Yet suddenly, he found them unbearably dull. Without warning, that vivid face flashed across his mind—the one that could be fierce one moment, reckless in speech the next, then suddenly meek and cautious. It was so lively, so full of color, that even the most sordid and brutal struggles among royal brothers—the schemes and killings—seemed less cold and lifeless by comparison.
His fingers tapped lightly against the table, producing a crisp rhythm. Resting his head in one hand, he gazed out through the open window. The sunlight was bright and warm. Compared to staying indoors reading, it seemed a far better day for going out and wandering.
“Where is Ning Xuan?” Suddenly, he found himself curious—what would someone so unable to sit still be doing right now? Perhaps he had already turned the rear courtyard upside down.
As he thought this, the signature half-smile that Feng Xuanyi always wore actually softened slightly, no longer as cold or inscrutable as before.
No one had expected that when their master spoke, he would ask about such trivial, inconsequential matters. Though surprised, not a trace of it showed on their faces.
Those who had served at Feng Xuanyi’s side for so many years naturally had their own capabilities. More importantly, as servants—especially those attending closely to their master—they knew their place. What they should be curious about and what they should not, what they could casually join in discussing and what they should stay far away from, seeing nothing and hearing nothing—these were things they remembered with their very lives. As for reading expressions and intentions, if anyone could surpass Yi Shu, Yi Xuan, Yi Ji, Yi Quan, Yi Heng, Yi Yang, and Yi Guang, it would perhaps only be Steward Mo Yan.
“He’s been with Yi Xuan since early morning,” Yi Quan replied.
Yi Xuan? Feng Xuanyi could not help but shake his head inwardly. Birds of a feather truly flock together—among those at his side, there were plenty of taciturn types, but as for someone who could tolerate Ning Xuan’s temperament and keep up with his antics, there was probably only Yi Xuan. Still, it felt like he was at a loss here—if those two caused a commotion in his own rear courtyard, would he still have any peace at all…
Meanwhile, on the other side, after seeing Feng Xuanyi off early in the morning, Ning Xuan had not had a moment’s rest.
Originally, he had thought that he must not slip into “maiden mode” again, thinking that keeping himself busy might help him forget those troublesome thoughts. But now, even if he was furious to the point of provoking universal resentment, it was of no use. He had overlooked the fundamental nature of being a servant—how could someone bound by a contract of servitude ever hope for leisure? Not to mention that earlier, his tiny wish—no bigger than a sesame seed—had been simply to be “a little busy.”
And now? This was far beyond just “a little” busy—he was practically being worked to the point where he could no longer straighten his back!
“Hey, I’m talking to you—hurry up! What are you squatting there for, incubating eggs?” Yi Xuan, now familiar with him after repeated interactions, had long since dropped any initial restraint or politeness. Besides, this little apprentice suited his temperament well; maintaining a formal façade would only feel stifling even to himself.
Ning Xuan had barely managed to catch his breath when he heard Yi Xuan calling out again. Panting, he looked up, staring at Yi Xuan—who was clearly built about the same as him—and wondered how his stamina could be so absurdly good.
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