What was real, and what was false? Could two people act with such convincing sincerity, as though cast from the same mold? Blood brothers—so they truly were blood brothers after all…
Ning Xuan had clearly thought he had understood everything thoroughly and seen it all with perfect clarity, yet he could not control the strength with which he returned the embrace. What it meant to sink into something, Ning Xuan did not know, nor did he want to know.
His icy hands were enveloped in warmth. Without hesitation, Feng Xuanzhe pulled open the front of his robe and pressed Ning Xuan’s hands against his chest. He rubbed them continuously between his own hands, occasionally blowing warm breaths over them. His face was filled with gentleness and heartache, so earnest that it showed not the slightest trace of pretense or hypocrisy. For one fleeting instant, Ning Xuan could no longer distinguish what was real from what was false. Were each of them naturally gifted actors who could perform with effortless ease, or was Ning Xuan himself still trapped within the game, unable to see it clearly?
“How was today? Did everything go smoothly? Did anyone make things difficult for you?” His voice was soft and exceedingly gentle. Whether in every movement or in the worry and pain inadvertently revealed at the corners of his eyes and brows, everything about him was enough to make someone sink into that warmth.
“Don’t you already know everything? Why ask me?”
With only one sentence, Ning Xuan destroyed every trace of warmth in the atmosphere. His devastatingly beautiful face remained wooden, his tone calm and utterly without fluctuation. Watching Feng Xuanzhe’s movements stiffen instantly, Ning Xuan felt a flash of morbid satisfaction pass through his heart.
“I don’t like it when you speak to me in that tone.” Feng Xuanzhe was neither angry nor indulgent. He continued gently rubbing the hands in his embrace as they gradually regained warmth, his dark eyes still as ink.
“I don’t remember ever speaking to Your Highness in a manner you liked.” Ning Xuan made no attempt to avoid the matter, as though he were eager to provoke Feng Xuanzhe into anger so he could calm the corner of his heart where ripples were beginning to rise.
With a soft sigh, Feng Xuanzhe reached out and brushed aside a loose strand of hair obscuring Ning Xuan’s vision. “Don’t be so impulsive in the future. Whether acting or speaking, you must think carefully first. Today, you were fortunate. There is no guarantee things will always go this way.”
Feng Xuanzhe’s gentleness and concern were worthless in Ning Xuan’s eyes. Far from being moved, he remained as hard and cold as frost. “Isn’t this precisely what Your Highness wanted? One receives a ruler’s salary and bears his worries. If I were not relying upon Your Highness, how could Ning Xuan have reached where he is today? To reassure Your Highness, to put Your Highness at ease, I cut off every path of retreat and every other choice, making enemies everywhere so I can only cling tightly to Your Highness in search of protection and safety. Isn’t that my finest strategy—and precisely what Your Highness is pleased to see?”
A ripple flashed through Feng Xuanzhe’s eyes, and Ning Xuan did not miss it. That warm, burning chest and those powerful, unyielding arms held him securely, giving him something to lean upon, yet they stirred not the slightest ripple in Ning Xuan’s eyes. Feng Xuanzhe lowered his head and gently kissed Ning Xuan’s temple and the top of his head. “Sometimes, I truly wish you weren’t so clever.”
When one stood within the filthy mire of power and desire, even clever people could not withdraw unscathed and meet a good end, much less fools. Fools could only deceive themselves, trapped to death within the fantasy they had created while longing for things that could never come true. Ning Xuan remained silent, but his heart was as clear as a mirror. Cleverness was not something one could proclaim for oneself, nor was it something Feng Xuanzhe could determine with one or two sentences. Since Ning Xuan was already trapped within it, all he could do was try his utmost to see clearly, so he would not be sold by someone and then joyfully count the silver for them.
He did not know when it had begun, but an embrace, a warm declaration of affection, or a gentle gesture could no longer warm his heart. It was not because his heart was dead, nor because it had grown cold, and certainly not because his capacity for love had dried up. He had merely erected a towering barrier around his heart. All he could do was make that wall as tall and hard as possible, because he could not suppress the tremors within his heart and therefore dared not imagine the complete collapse that would follow if anyone ever crossed that barrier.
It was the bitterest depth of winter, with winter plum blossoms everywhere. Yet within Prince Yi’s Residence, only that courtyard was filled with blooming red plum blossoms. At first glance, one might mistake it for spring, never realizing how desolate and sorrowful the pairing of red and white, ice and fire, truly was.
Red lanterns hung high outside Fufeng Pavilion. An entire group of servants crouched along the corridor, trembling from the cold as they kept night watch, not daring to disobey their orders. Red plum petals drifted down one by one in silence. No one knew, and no one cared, whether several more flashes of vivid color would be gone by tomorrow. Inside Fufeng Pavilion were a tall bed, soft pillows, and delicate gauze curtains. One person lay on his left side, the other on his right, both sleeping fully clothed, just as Feng Xuanzhe had originally promised: respect, affection, and the equality and protection that someone of Ning Xuan’s identity and status could never otherwise obtain in this lifetime. Feng Xuanzhe had said he could give it. As long as Ning Xuan wanted it, only he could give it.
It was a peaceful night’s sleep, yet one person was determined to possess what he sought, while the other remained deeply uneasy.
At the Hour of the Rabbit, morning court began as unfailingly as ever, regardless of winter or summer, wind or rain. Inside the hall, it was warm as spring, with the dynasty’s assembled talents divided into civil and military ranks. Outside the hall, everyone stood silent as winter cicadas, shivering in the cold.
Emperor Huawen no longer possessed the brilliance of his earlier years. Though clearly still in the prime of life, illness had left him looking far more haggard than he should. Even with such power and status, even clad in the imperial yellow robe, he could not defeat time and disease. Before death, all people were far too insignificant.
Within the grand hall, Marquis Dingbei, Nalan Jian, stepped steadily out from the ranks and stood apart from the others. His declaration shocked the entire hall into complete silence.
“What does my beloved subject mean by this?” Even Emperor Huawen, who had sat upon the dragon throne for many years without revealing joy or anger, could not help changing expression and asking for confirmation.
“In this subject’s foolish opinion, although the situation in the northwest is urgent, it is nothing more than a counterattack by the remaining barbarian forces—a cornered dog leaping over a wall, the final effort of a spent crossbow. Our dynasty must not lower its guard, but neither must we make a mountain out of a molehill. If Your Majesty commands this subject to go suppress the rebellion, this subject naturally will not refuse and would gladly offer his life. However, the northwest is not the only region stirring. The southwest and northeast have also coveted and watched our dynasty for a long time. Once an opening is left, we may protect one side only to lose another. Therefore, this subject recommends that Prince Yu march out to pacify the northwest, while the position of commander-in-chief be given to Ning Xuan, Bureau Director of the Ministry of War.” Nalan Jian pronounced every word clearly and loudly, his expression mild and his face unchanged, as though entirely unaware of how shocking his declaration was.
It would have been one thing for an imperial prince to march to war, but for the prince not even to hold supreme command, while an obscure minor Bureau Director of the Ministry of War who did not even possess the qualification to enter the grand hall was appointed instead—it was like a bomb dropping into the crowd. After a moment of silence, uncontrollable discussions erupted. Within the ranks, Feng Xuanyi, Feng Xuanzhe, and Feng Xuanzhen all changed expression, their faces turning pale at nearly the same moment.
Before Emperor Huawen could speak, the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor was the first to step forward and question him. “What does Marquis Dingbei mean by this? Eighth Prince has only accompanied an army on campaign once. Even though he returned victorious, he still requires much experience. Appointing him deputy commander would already be a stretch, but naming that Bureau Director commander-in-chief is utterly absurd. Has our dynasty truly run out of people, that we must entrust such a campaign to an unknown, inexperienced child? Has he ever entered battle, killed an enemy, seen blades and spears, or learned what it means to march and wage war? Marquis Dingbei’s recommendation is far too biased and rash.”
“Eighth Prince fought alongside me in the northwest for several months. I believe I understand his abilities somewhat more clearly than the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor does. I have never doubted his capabilities. Of course, my lord is correct that Eighth Prince is still young and requires further experience, so this campaign may also serve as an opportunity for him to temper himself. Furthermore, the awe left by Eighth Prince’s bravery on the battlefield has not yet faded. There could be nothing better than striking while the iron is hot and using it to intimidate the frontier. Therefore, my lord need not trouble himself over this matter.”
Leave a Reply