Had it been like this yesterday, the day before, and throughout every one of the hundred days that had come before? While he lay in Feng Xuanyi’s embrace, believing that embrace was his entire world, were all the servants inside and outside the courtyard standing guard, listening as though to a performance? While the two of them lost themselves in passion, ignorant of everything else, had he been shamelessly indulging himself beneath everyone’s watchful eyes, enjoying something that had never truly belonged to him for even a moment? And for that reflection in the mirror, that moon in the water, he had willingly sunk into it, staked everything on it, and poured out all he had.
Before, he had been the one inside that room, abandoning himself and becoming entertainment for others, letting an entire household of servants satisfy their curiosity. Yet now, as the saying went, thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river. He had become one of those spectators, listening as the person he loved shared tenderness and affection with someone else.
Ning Xuan only wanted to ask him one thing—what exactly had he ever been to him?
This was why the maids and servants whispering in the corners had been so fearless, so brazen, deliberately making sure he could hear them. This was why, from the moment he stepped into the courtyard, countless gazes had landed on him—some mocking, some disdainful, some contemptuous, some pitying. When a tree falls, everyone rushes to push it over. Yet he was not even a tree. At best, he was a blade of wild grass that had become too pleased with itself. Thinking there was no grass taller than him nearby, he forgot to consider whether he was standing in a barren wasteland where nothing grew. Mistaking himself for an unshakable towering tree—how utterly ridiculous.
Standing motionless in the freezing wind, even shivering alongside everyone else felt like a waste of energy. He did not know when the sounds from inside finally ceased. He only felt, for the first time, that a single night could be so unbearably long, long enough for even his bones to stiffen.
He did not know how he had returned. He only remembered Yi Xuan saying that the night watch had begun and there was no need for so many people to remain. Then he followed the others back in a daze. Naturally, Ning Xuan could no longer stay in Feng Xuanyi’s bedchamber. Although he had lived there for three months, eating, sleeping, and carrying out his daily life there, practically becoming half a master of the main courtyard, and although Feng Xuanyi had never explicitly ordered otherwise and the servants dared not gossip about it, Ning Xuan still possessed enough self-awareness. Was he really supposed to shamelessly wait until Feng Xuanyi personally drove him away?
The small room he had not lived in for three months welcomed him back once again. There was nothing inappropriate about it. Or rather, this was how things should have been all along. It was proper. Yet propriety did nothing to soothe the heart.
Lying on the wooden bed, Ning Xuan felt for the first time how cold a winter night could be and how hard the bed truly was. The icy surface dug painfully into his body. He laughed bitterly. He had clearly been born with the fate of a rough-skinned servant, yet somehow he had grown accustomed to a life of comfort and privilege. At first he had resisted it. At first he had despised and looked down upon people like that. Yet now he himself had fallen into it. How laughable.
How many emperors in history had ever been truly devoted? What comparison could there possibly be between love and power? Even if Feng Xuanyi was merely a prince now, he had still grown up within the imperial family. Raised in such an environment, educated in such a way—how many people could truly be different? Ning Xuan had always known this. History itself offered countless lessons and warnings. Others had already shed their blood and tears before him, paving the road with their mistakes. He should not have needed to learn the lesson himself. So why had he still thrown himself forward so eagerly? Why had he blinded himself with faith and trusted completely, without reservation? Yet he could not accept it. How could he possibly accept it? No one could calmly endure hearing sweet words whispered into their ear one moment, only to watch that same lover turn around and embrace someone else the next, showing not the slightest concern for their feelings.
He truly could not accept it.
The tears he had held back all night finally burst through. Three months. Not a long time, yet not a short one either. Had it all been fake? Everything had felt so real. The words still echoed in his ears. Their laughter, their arguments, every memory remained vivid. If there had been no love, if it had all been an act, then how could Feng Xuanyi have tolerated an unrelated person clinging to him every hour of every day? How could he have spent so much effort caring for him, worrying about him, knowing exactly what he ate at every meal, how much he ate, and what foods he disliked?
Everyone called him Prince. Everyone called him Master. Before the world, he was the lofty and untouchable Prince Rong. Yet before Ning Xuan, he had been nothing more than an ordinary man. Though he had never said it aloud, the emotions he revealed before Ning Xuan—the joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness he never concealed—had all felt genuine. He had even allowed Ning Xuan alone to call him by his personal name, Yihua. What greater honor could there be?
To him, Ning Xuan had been special. Of that, Ning Xuan was certain. That certainty had only made him more reckless. He loved Feng Xuanyi’s restraint beneath his carefree exterior, just as Feng Xuanyi seemed to love his own boldness and lack of restraint. Yet somehow he had forgotten that Feng Xuanyi was renowned throughout the realm, handsome, charming, and endlessly romantic. How could such a man devote all his attention to one person? Ning Xuan possessed neither talent nor virtue. He was merely a servant of low status. Worse still, he was a man. He could not even leave Feng Xuanyi an heir. To put it bluntly, perhaps it had all been a game. What right did he have to demand wholehearted devotion? What made him believe this affection could last forever?
The woman in Feng Xuanyi’s arms now was his true wife, both in name and in reality. She could bear him children. That single fact alone left Ning Xuan with no chance of victory. This was the ancient world. It was an undeniable reality. Men might accept or even admire relationships between men, but the principle that the greatest act of unfilial behavior was failing to produce descendants remained an eternal law.
What Ning Xuan could not understand was what he actually meant to Feng Xuanyi. Had he truly believed that a single message delivered by Yi Xuan would be enough to keep him obediently confined to his room? Did he think he could hide the truth today and conceal it forever? Had he ever considered how he would face Ning Xuan once everything came to light?
Or perhaps… he simply did not care whether Ning Xuan knew or not.
Ning Xuan laughed bitterly. The night deepened. Listening to the watchman’s calls echo again and again outside the window, he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. It held no warmth. His fingers clenched so hard that it felt as though he might tear the fabric apart.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three nearly inaudible taps sounded at the door. Under normal circumstances, Ning Xuan would have ignored them completely. The knocks were so gentle they barely surpassed the scratching of a mosquito. Yet tonight, they rang in his ears with startling clarity.
Outside, the night remained pitch black. The damp cold in the air seemed capable of freezing one’s lungs with a single deep breath.
From beyond the door came Yi Xuan’s quiet voice. “It’s the Hour of the Tiger. His Highness needs to get up for morning court. You should prepare yourself as well. Don’t be late.”
In truth, Yi Xuan meant well. A fallen phoenix was worth less than a chicken, and Ning Xuan was not even a phoenix. At best, he had been a little chick the prince happened to take a liking to for a while, holding him in his hands and playing with him. Now he had been tossed aside without a second thought. Before, people had hesitated to order him around because of Feng Xuanyi. But now he was nothing more than an ordinary servant of the lowest rank. Who would bother being polite when ordering around a servant with little seniority who had fallen out of favor?
Blinking his dry eyes, Ning Xuan mechanically threw back the covers and sat up. He had not slept for a single moment all night. Instead, he had simply stared blankly through the window into the darkness outside. He did not know whether the heated flooring had failed to keep the room warm or whether his heart itself had gone cold. Despite lying in bed the entire night, the mattress felt as icy as though no one had touched it.
A bitterly amusing thought flashed through his mind.
Looks like even if I wanted to crawl into someone’s bed and warm it for them now, I no longer have that privilege. Holding someone like me would be no different from holding a block of ice.
Futile Devices Scans 
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