Call Ning Xuan heartless if you wanted, or say he forgot the pain once the scar healed and had no memory for suffering. Either way, he could not spend his entire life hanging himself from that “crooked-necked tree” whose only merit was slightly better hardware. Days still had to pass, and people still had to live—especially after inexplicably going through a brush with death and returning from the gates of hell.
Because of his injury, along with Yi Xuan pleading on his behalf, Steward Mo Yan proved quite reasonable and agreed that Ning Xuan did not need to hover around the prince for the next few days, nor did he have to do the physical labor assigned to lower-ranking servants. In name, he was still the prince’s personal attendant and did the same work as the other seven personal attendants. The only difference was that he did not have to appear in front of the prince.
For example, if the prince was thirsty and someone immediately brought out a teacup, Ning Xuan would quickly go over, take it, and run a few steps to add hot water. For example, when it was nearly mealtime, without waiting for instructions from inside, Ning Xuan would take the initiative to trot over to the kitchen and give the order. Of course, gossip along the way was unavoidable, and cold looks had become commonplace. If he cared, then he really would not be able to live for even a moment. If he did not take it to heart, then it was only someone else’s gaze and a bit of lip-flapping, with no way to turn into actual harm. He could simply treat it as nothing and move on. As for the people doing the talking, when they spoke entirely to themselves and Ning Xuan did not even offer them an angry, ashamed, or pitiful expression in return, they usually ran out of things to say after two or three remarks.
The experience of the past few days taught Ning Xuan what it meant to remain calm in the face of change. Although he was rather surprised to discover that he actually possessed such a skill, deep down, he was still relieved that he did not have to face Feng Xuanyi. He knew perfectly well that this was not a long-term solution. Mo Yan was only doing this out of consideration for Yi Xuan, and given Ning Xuan’s current physical condition, even if he forced himself to take up his serving duties, he would probably only keep making mistakes and causing trouble, making things unpleasant for everyone. So Mo Yan had simply done him an easy favor. But injuries always healed. When the day truly came when he had no choice but to face Feng Xuanyi, Ning Xuan did not know whether he would still be able to remain as free and easy as he was now.
That was someone he had loved. Although he now knew it had only been his own wishful thinking and was not worth it, there was always a gap between theory and reality. Just as even now, when he could greet others with a shameless smile and ignore all their insults as though he were made of copper walls and iron ramparts, he still could not completely stop the tremor in his heart the instant he heard that name. He could not control the longing that came in the dead of night, nor the stubborn urge to ask why. Although he already knew the answer, he did not know what exactly he was still hoping for.
There was a phrase that described it well: an unspeakable difficulty. Perhaps he was also hoping for an outcome like that. He did not want Feng Xuanyi to be so cruel as to tell him it had only been a game. Even if that was the undeniable truth, he still hoped Feng Xuanyi would spend a little time fabricating a beautiful excuse, telling him that he had actually loved him, only that for this or that reason—identity, status, anything at all—the result could not be changed. At least then Ning Xuan would have a reason to leave helplessly, yet still remember him from time to time without being called someone who had brought suffering upon himself.
Naturally, such dark fragments hidden in his heart could not be shown to others. Perhaps it was precisely because his heart was so dark that his face had to appear especially bright and sunny. Sometimes, even Ning Xuan himself could hardly stand how cheerful he was. So, as a matter of course, he gave this behavior a grand and dignified name: gratitude.
Once a person carried gratitude in his heart, the way he behaved and handled matters changed. He smiled more. He became more proactive. His attitude grew optimistic. Even his words became lengthy and meaningless. These behaviors were especially obvious toward Yi Xuan, because it was only after thinking of Yi Xuan’s “life-saving kindness” that Ning Xuan had come up with such a perfect excuse. Whenever he encountered Yi Xuan, Ning Xuan could be described as extraordinarily attentive.
“Brother Yi Xuan, what would you like for lunch today? I’ll have the kitchen prepare it in advance. I’ll pay from my monthly wages.”
“Brother Yi Xuan, I heard you cough this morning. This is medicine I asked someone to bring in from outside. It specializes in treating wind chill. Try it. I heard it works really well.”
“Brother Yi Xuan, these are pastries I just brought back from the kitchen. Master Cao said they were extras, and since His Highness couldn’t finish them, they were sent back. So I brought them here. Try them and tell me what you think.”
“Brother Yi Xuan, why do you have two dark circles under your eyes? Did you not sleep well last night? Was it because…”
“Brother Yi Xuan, your complexion hasn’t been good lately. Have you been overworking yourself? You need to pay attention to your health. Otherwise…”
“Brother Yi Xuan…”
This overly frequent contact made Yi Xuan shudder again and again whenever he saw Ning Xuan from afar. He practically wanted to crawl and roll his way out of existence. One who offered favors without reason was either treacherous or thieving. Whichever it was, Yi Xuan had no time to waste fooling around with him. In the past, Ning Xuan had at least restrained himself somewhat because of Yi Xuan’s looks or words. But now, whether it was because the demon had risen ten feet after the Dao rose one foot, or because Yi Xuan’s own cultivation had regressed, Ning Xuan had become utterly impervious to blades and spears. As long as he had not achieved his goal, he could completely block out every external factor, especially the ones he did not want to see. It drove Yi Xuan nearly insane. Even when he dreamed at night, he heard a certain someone saying “Brother Yi Xuan” again and again, making his scalp prickle. Sometimes he even woke with a start, listening carefully to see if the nightmare had come true. Not only did Yi Xuan develop auditory hallucinations, but several times, when everyone waited outside the door early in the morning, whether they were pretending or had simply been frozen awake, each of them looked alert and full of energy. Only Yi Xuan stood there with two panda eyes, looking like an eggplant beaten by frost.
Ning Xuan, who had absolutely no understanding of Yi Xuan’s thoughts, enjoyed it tirelessly. Believing Yi Xuan was merely sharp-tongued but soft-hearted and embarrassed, he carried forward his tenacious spirit of having a heart harder than stone, a face thicker than a wall, and the vitality of a cockroach. He frightened Yi Xuan so badly that the man nearly regretted being born.
Recently, he had not seen Qing Zhu or Mo Qi. He did not know where the two had gone. Perhaps they had returned to the library pavilion. After all, the two of them had been people Ning Xuan had insisted on bringing over. They could not be used as attendants at the prince’s side, so in the main courtyard they had merely helped look after Ning Xuan. Now that Ning Xuan was nothing more than an utterly ordinary servant, how could a servant still have other servants waiting on him and taking care of him? It was only natural that they would return to the library pavilion.
The wound on his arm healed very quickly. Sometimes, Ning Xuan really did not know whether he was naturally blessed with beauty or whether the wisdom of ancient people was truly infinite. Modern people had researched again and again but still had not found any method that could remove scars without leaving a trace. Even though advertisers boasted every day, hiring one shill after another to praise how wonderful their products were and how astonishing their scar-removing effects could be, deceiving beauty lovers and perfectionists into rushing forward time and again without learning their lesson, emptying their wallets again and again, then cursing those products for being scams—once a new product appeared, they would hand over money all over again without another word. It worked every time.
As for Ning Xuan, he had no such demands at all. At most, he only hoped the wound would not worsen. Yet after only these few days, never mind his astonishing recovery speed—even the areas that had been less severely burned had not only healed, but returned perfectly to their original state without leaving even half a trace. As for the more severely burned areas, judging by how things were progressing, Ning Xuan no longer held any hope that they might leave something behind for him.
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