The cold wind, carrying the damp chill of winter, sliced across his face. It hurt as though it were trying to tear him apart. It billowed into his wide sleeves, yet Ning Xuan paid it no attention. He hurried forward with rapid strides. Though the snow-covered ground was difficult to traverse, he moved as though walking on level earth. He stumbled and fell repeatedly, covering himself in snow. Even the corners of his brows and the tips of his hair had gathered tiny crystals of ice, but he noticed none of it. His eyes stared blankly and hollowly ahead as he ran all the way toward Liu Xiang Pavilion in the eastern wing, where Madam Liu, Liu Xiaoyun, resided.
Night had already fallen, yet it did nothing to diminish the liveliness of Liu Xiang Pavilion. The courtyard was filled with servants and maids who should have been attending nearby. They stood shivering in the ice and snow, not daring to make a single sound. Small groups of them carried lanterns, casting a dark red glow across the snowy paths where people came and went. Yet the contrast between the red and white was far less striking than the pair of mandarin duck lanterns hanging prominently above the entrance. Everyone knew exactly what those lanterns signified.
Ning Xuan panted heavily as he stared blankly at the red lanterns hanging high above. The lifelike mandarin ducks painted on the paper shades nestled against one another in perfect affection, a sight that would make anyone envious. How much he wished he could return to the ignorance and innocence he had possessed when he first arrived. He did not want to know what they meant. At least then he could still cling to a shred of hope. At least then he could still deceive himself into believing that everyone had simply joined forces to put on an elaborate act.
Yi Shu, who had been waiting outside the door and whose drowsiness could no longer be chased away even by the cold, froze when he saw Ning Xuan. Quickly lifting his lantern, he hurried over in astonishment. “Y-You… why are you here?” Turning sideways, he glanced behind Ning Xuan. “Where’s Yi Xuan? Didn’t he tell you to go rest early?”
Ning Xuan had no time to care about how disheveled he looked, nor whether there were more people genuinely concerned about him or eager to watch him make a fool of himself. His mind felt as though it were about to explode. He struggled to control his trembling. His face had gone pale and rigid, and even his voice shook as he spoke, whether from the cold or humiliation it was impossible to tell. “Why can’t I come? I’m one of the prince’s personal attendants too. If all of you can come, why can’t I?”
His words left no room for compromise. They were sharp, almost hostile. Under normal circumstances, he would never have spoken to Yi Shu like this. But at this moment, he was not really looking at Yi Shu. His gaze had already moved past him and fixed itself on the tightly shut doors behind him. The intensity of that gaze was so fierce it seemed capable of burning two holes straight through the paper-covered doors.
Yi Xuan, Qing Zhu, and Mo Qi arrived moments later, one after another, all of them panting heavily from running. Qing Zhu grabbed Ning Xuan by the arm and forcibly pulled him back several steps. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go back.”
“Why should I go back? My duty is to attend to the prince’s daily needs and remain at his side at all times in case I’m needed. Brother Yi Shu and the others haven’t abandoned their posts. I’m just a newly assigned attendant. How could I dare neglect my duties?” Ning Xuan turned around and shot Qing Zhu a cold, disdainful look. He had no idea how terrifying his eyes appeared at that moment. The razor-sharp edge in them and the invisible pressure they exuded far exceeded what should have belonged to a mere servant. Such overwhelming force was rare even among nobles and high officials. With a single glance, Yi Xuan, Qing Zhu, and Mo Qi all fell silent. Even Yi Xuan, who was accustomed to seeing all manner of situations, could not help but shudder and stand there in stunned disbelief.
Having finished speaking, Ning Xuan shook off Qing Zhu’s hand with a sweep of his arm and strode toward the door.
Everyone in this courtyard either served Feng Xuanyi or Liu Xiaoyun. Who would dare stop Ning Xuan? The people of Liu Xiang Pavilion certainly would not. No matter what, he belonged to the prince’s household. Although everyone appeared equal on the surface as servants, there were ranks among servants just as there were ranks among masters. As for Feng Xuanyi’s attendants, they were even less likely to stop him. Everyone knew perfectly well what kind of relationship existed between Ning Xuan and Feng Xuanyi. After months of them being inseparable, after all those openly intimate interactions, after witnessing Ning Xuan casually speak the prince’s name aloud without hesitation, only a fool could fail to understand. Even Yi Shu, Yi Xuan, Yi Ji, Yi Quan, Yi Heng, Yi Yang, and Yi Guang—the seven attendants closest to the prince—always spoke to Ning Xuan politely and carefully. How could these others possibly dare lay a hand on him?
The distance from the courtyard gate to the main entrance of the building was no more than a few dozen steps, yet to Ning Xuan it felt as though he were walking on the edge of a blade. His heart pounded like a war drum, each beat slamming painfully against his ribs as though it might burst free from his chest at any moment. The veil separating truth from falsehood, right from wrong, was about to be lifted in an instant. For the first time, he regretted coming. Would it have been better to turn around and leave immediately? Would it have been better to preserve a possibility, however faint? If he never learned the truth, couldn’t he pretend nothing had happened? Was self-deception perhaps the wiser path after all?
“Ah… ah… don’t be so impatient… ah… my lord is so naughty…”
Before his fingertips could even touch the edge of the doorframe, soft gasps spilled from within the room. They sounded half like protest and half like delight, filled with sweetness and intimacy. The sounds were so eager, so heated, that Ning Xuan could vividly imagine the scene unfolding inside.
This isn’t real… it isn’t… it isn’t!
His eyes reddened as something hot swirled within them again and again. His vision blurred, yet he stubbornly told himself it was all a lie. If he gave in, if he cried, then it would mean he had accepted it. He refused. He refused because he believed the man he loved loved him just as deeply.
Yet the next moment, a low, magnetic voice drifted from inside. It carried traces of amusement and cruelty, though not dominance. Once again, it shattered the fragile fortress of self-deception he had only just managed to build.
“If Yun’er is unwilling, then this prince cannot very well force you.”
That voice was unmistakable. For more than three months it had lingered by his ears day and night. It had asked after his well-being, laughed softly with him, spoken to him in quiet tones, remained calm and patient. It had never raised its voice at him. It had always indulged him—sometimes helplessly, sometimes in surprise, sometimes laughing because of him. Ning Xuan knew the owner of that voice better than anyone. And because he knew it so well, he could not mistake it. The final shred of hope he had clung to vanished completely.
Feng Xuanyi.
Prince Rong.
The Fifth Prince of the Hua Dynasty.
“My lord~”
The woman’s voice was sweet enough to drip syrup, yet for some reason it filled Ning Xuan with nausea.
A soft chuckle followed.
Ning Xuan could picture Feng Xuanyi perfectly at that moment—arrogant, noble, and commanding. He had fallen for exactly those qualities himself. So rakishly charming, so elusive yet imposing, so capable of making people surrender without resistance. Sometimes all it took was a slight curl of his lips, a gaze that had lost its usual coldness. It was not even particularly tender or affectionate, yet it created the illusion that you were drowning, willing to sacrifice everything and blind yourself completely for his sake.
“Ah… ah… so good… my lord… ah… mm… s-so amazing… ah!”
The intimate sounds rose and fell, mingled with faint rustling cloth and occasional impacts. Did anyone really need to explain what was happening inside? One only had to look at the unnatural flush on the faces of the servants and maids standing nearby. To continue insisting otherwise would not be confidence or perseverance—it would be genuine stupidity.
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