The moment he stepped out the door, he found himself face-to-face with Ning Xuan. Yi Xuan frowned as his gaze swept repeatedly over Ning Xuan’s face. Ning Xuan merely sat up abruptly and splashed his face with cold water. He had no energy to care what sort of state he looked like right now. The droplets that had not yet dried felt especially cold beneath the biting wind. Ning Xuan laughed bitterly to himself. The fact that he could still feel cold and warmth at a time like this was probably a good thing.
In truth, the workload at Feng Xuanyi’s side was relatively light. The servants and maids working in the kitchens, on the other hand, never enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep. They had to keep one eye open at all times in case one of the masters suddenly developed a craving for something in the middle of the night. Before dawn even broke, they had to prepare Feng Xuanyi’s breakfast. Too early and it would grow cold. Too late and it would delay his affairs. If everything went well, they were simply doing their jobs. If not, they could lose their heads before they were even given a chance to explain themselves.
Following closely behind Yi Xuan, Ning Xuan hurried toward Liu Xiang Pavilion in the eastern wing. He had never realized there were so many people in the Prince’s Manor, nor had he realized that the manor could be so lively before sunrise. Servants came and went, greeting Yi Xuan with respectful bows and formal salutations, yet all of them seemed to overlook Ning Xuan standing no more than a step behind him. He could tell himself not to overthink it. He could pretend not to care. It was still dark, after all. People missed things. Perhaps they truly had not seen him. Even if their remarkable unanimity felt suspicious. But what about the cold mockery, the sneers, and the disdain that accompanied them as they brushed past?
Someone even “accidentally” crashed directly into him. An elbow drove with uncanny precision into his stomach. Since noon the day before, food had tasted like ash in his mouth, and he had not taken a single sip of water the previous night. His stomach, already weakened, could hardly endure such a blow. After living in comfort for so long, even a body accustomed to hardship had been spoiled into one of delicate habits, though not a delicate fate. His stomach cramped violently, sending waves of sour bile rising into his throat.
The offender offered a completely insincere apology. Ning Xuan lacked even the strength to reply with “It’s fine.” He could only force himself to hold his breath and keep from vomiting on the spot.
“Look at you. You actually apologized to someone like that.” The speaker clicked his tongue. “If you can say it, then you should be able to do it. If you don’t have the ability, why put on airs?”
Though the men had already walked away, every word of the comment carried clearly into Ning Xuan’s ears.
“Are you alright?” Yi Xuan hurried over to check on him, acting as though he had heard none of the insults.
“What could possibly be wrong with me?” Ning Xuan shrugged as though it were nothing, but his face had already gone deathly pale from the relentless spasms twisting through his stomach.
Before this, he might still have deceived himself into believing the subtle provocations and the suddenly increased “quiet” gossip were misunderstandings. He could have convinced himself they meant nothing. But now, if he still failed to understand why the bustling courtyard had fallen completely silent the instant he followed Yi Xuan into Liu Xiang Pavilion, then he might as well have been dead.
Ning Xuan followed Yi Xuan into the courtyard. Servants and maids stood arranged in neat rows according to rank. Feng Xuanyi’s personal attendants occupied the positions closest to the doorway, while the servants belonging to Liu Xiang Pavilion stood behind them.
“Has His Highness risen yet?” Yi Xuan asked quietly as he approached Yi Ji, who had arrived earlier.
“Not yet.” Yi Ji instinctively glanced at Ning Xuan. “We were just about to… go wake him?”
It was not that they were unwilling. Nor were they bullying a newcomer or shirking their duties. It was simply that Feng Xuanyi himself had decreed that waking him in the morning and attending him at night were Ning Xuan’s responsibilities. When the prince personally gave an order, who dared question it? Who dared disobey? During those three months, Ning Xuan had often slept until the sun was high in the sky, yet Feng Xuanyi had been perfectly content to wake naturally. Sometimes he would even skip breakfast altogether and go directly to court if it meant not disturbing Ning Xuan’s rest. Under the circumstances, who would dare make such a decision on his behalf now?
The implication was obvious. How could Ning Xuan not understand? The man he loved had spent the night in another woman’s bed, and now, the next morning, Ning Xuan was expected to calmly wake him, speak gently, and remind him not to be late for court. Why should he? And how was he supposed to face the sight of the person he loved embracing someone else?
Someone once said that the person who falls in love first suffers, and the one who loves more suffers most. Ning Xuan had always thought that saying was ridiculously melodramatic. Love involved two people. How could one hand clap alone? As for unrequited love and one-sided devotion, how long could those possibly last? If someone stubbornly threw themselves at another person despite getting nothing in return, then they were simply an idiot. Failing to cut things off only led to greater pain. If they suffered, they had only themselves to blame.
Yet now that the situation had become his own, everything suddenly felt so powerless. If love could begin whenever one wished and stop whenever one wished, like a faucet that could be turned on and off at will—or reduced to a trickle whenever one felt unhappy—then would it still be love at all?
Resting one hand against the doorframe, his fingertips clearly felt the cold texture of the carved wood. He drew a deep breath. The freezing air nearly turned his lungs to ice. Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A faint fragrance of roses lingered in the room, mixed with a cloying sweetness. The floor heating made the chamber feel like an entirely different world from the one outside. A single doorway separated fire from ice.
Only Ning Xuan knew how heavy each step felt. Only he could know. Pulling aside the pale pink bed curtains and seeing the person he loved wrapped in another woman’s embrace, he forced himself to focus. Look at the nose. Look at the mouth. Look at the heart. Again and again he told himself to stay calm. To remain unaffected. To grow numb. To understand the difference between them. To understand what his place was. To understand what it meant to stay within his station. To understand what it meant to harbor impossible dreams.
“Your Highness, it is the Hour of the Tiger. It is time to rise.”
Not Yihua. Not anymore. Only Your Highness. From this day forward, you are merely the Prince, and I am merely a servant to be ordered about. The distance between heaven and earth—an unreachable gulf. Yet he had not expected that he could actually speak those words so calmly, so evenly, even while the pain in his chest made breathing difficult.
Feng Xuanyi seemed entirely unsurprised by Ning Xuan’s appearance. It was as though he did not care whether Ning Xuan saw this scene, whether he minded, or what he thought. Or perhaps Feng Xuanyi simply did not care at all.
Feng Xuanyi frowned slightly, displaying the irritability he always had upon waking. “I know. Wait outside.”
He had once said the same words to others. Because of his possessiveness, he had never allowed anyone to touch what belonged to him, not even to look at it. During the nights they had shared a bed, Ning Xuan often slept deeply, yet he had still vaguely known these things. The problem was that Feng Xuanyi’s possessiveness only lasted as long as his interest did.
Ning Xuan obediently withdrew to the outer chamber and lowered the curtains behind him. Surely there were words of tenderness and affection that should not be disturbed. People always thought he was dense and clueless, but in reality, he understood perfectly well. He knew exactly how to read a situation. Though at this moment he wished he could be more foolish, more impulsive. He wished he could storm forward without hesitation, drag that faithless man from the bed, beat him senseless regardless of the consequences, or scream every curse he knew into his face. Anything but this. Anything but feeling so weak, so humble, so helpless.
He opened the door and signaled that the prince was awake and could now be attended by the servants. Then he retreated into a corner and watched everyone bustle about their duties. Once, this scene had been amusing. Now, it was simply humiliating.
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