Just like now. Ning Xuan’s deeply rooted belief that all people were equal had been forcibly made to adapt to the hierarchy of this world, with him occupying the lowest position. He had constantly bowed and saluted, knelt and humbled himself before others. Yet now, fortune had turned and their positions had been reversed. Ning Xuan could not deny the impact this dramatic, subversive scene had upon him. It struck straight into his heart, bringing an indescribable sense of superiority and pride, as though everything had suddenly become clear and every pore in his body had opened in sheer exhilaration.
He did not know who had once said that a woman’s value lay in the investment she made by wagering her youth, while a man’s value lay in power and status. No matter how righteous, noble, or loyal a man appeared on the surface, there were far too few who truly cared nothing for power, position, or reputation. Even if such men had once existed, even if they perhaps still did, they could not withstand the ruin and corrosion of worldly convention. Making society submit to you and move closer to you was far too difficult. Thus, it was always those lofty individuals who refused to “fit in” who ultimately softened and yielded.
Ning Xuan raised a hand and expressionlessly motioned for everyone to dispense with the formalities. He was not deliberately putting on airs. His status had changed so suddenly that before he could feel joy or savor it, he first experienced fear. From now on, countless eyes would be fixed upon him, circling him constantly. Even if he went hundreds of years without making a mistake, people would still rack their brains to invent some pretext and pin a crime upon him. And no person was perfect—how could anyone ensure that nothing ever leaked and everything was handled flawlessly? The higher one rose, the more clearly one understood how bitterly cold it was at the summit. One could only cling tightly to a life-saving straw and seek protection. In a single instant, Ning Xuan had already faintly tasted what that felt like. He had to admit that Feng Xuanzhe’s methods and abilities could not be underestimated if he was capable of contending for the throne against the rightful Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace.
Feng Xuanzhe dismissed everyone from that day’s discussion early and ordered the servants to carefully prepare Ning Xuan’s luggage and provisions.
Once the two of them were alone again, the study became exceptionally quiet. After removing his heavy court robes, Ning Xuan wore a plain robe embroidered with subtle patterns, making him resemble a banished immortal. Outside, the world was frozen in bitter cold, while inside, the room was filled with warmth and tenderness. He rested quietly in Feng Xuanzhe’s embrace, feeling the man’s warmth and breath as they chatted aimlessly about wind, flowers, snow, and moonlight, like intimate confidants who could discuss anything. It was peaceful and serene. Ning Xuan did not know when he had stopped rejecting this embrace so strongly, nor whether he might eventually grow accustomed to it…
“Winning Marquis Dingbei’s appreciation is a good thing. I never expected my Ning Xuan to be such a fortunate person.” Feng Xuanzhe murmured softly beside his ear. Their temples brushing together had already become habitual. Ning Xuan could not tell whether Feng Xuanzhe was pleased or merely emotional. As for Feng Xuanzhe repeatedly emphasizing his ownership, Ning Xuan had already learned to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to it. “But the battlefield is nothing like ordinary life. You must be especially careful. Protecting yourself is enough. Don’t spend every day thinking about charging into battle and earning military merit. At least, I don’t need you to risk your life like that. It doesn’t matter if you’re mediocre. Even incompetence doesn’t matter. Listen to Eighth Brother more and rely on him when necessary. He won’t harm you. If that still isn’t enough, there is Han Fei. You need only offer your ideas. Even if you do nothing and merely hold the title in name, that is fine.”
Feng Xuanzhe tightened his embrace, but Ning Xuan remained silent. For one fleeting instant, Feng Xuanzhe had the illusion that the person in his arms would one day escape his control and grow far beyond his expectations. Though it vanished in a flash, less than a month had passed. Advancement had been expected, but it had come too suddenly, too unexpectedly, and far too swiftly. Possessiveness flashed through him. He wanted only for the person in his arms to remain there forever, unable and unwilling to go anywhere else.
“Aren’t you afraid there might be something between him and me?” Ning Xuan smiled without quite smiling. His skill at destroying an atmosphere with a single sentence had already reached perfection. Either he remained silent with a wooden face, or the moment he spoke, he would make the other person want to strangle him.
“You are mine!” Feng Xuanzhe seized Ning Xuan’s chin and turned his head, forcing him to meet his gaze. Suppressing the bloodlust instantly provoked deep within him, Feng Xuanzhe enunciated each word through gritted teeth. Why could Ning Xuan always manipulate his emotions so effortlessly? Why was he always so helpless when it came to him?
Ning Xuan’s brows and eyes curved beautifully. His thin lips pressed together before parting slightly. “I belong to myself.”
Feng Xuanzhe lowered his head and sealed those watery lips that endlessly prattled and knew only how to vex him. He kissed and ground against them until the faint metallic taste of blood lingered between their lips and teeth, then reluctantly stopped. “You are mine.”
Feng Xuanzhe spoke calmly, and this time, Ning Xuan did not contradict him.
That night, two large red lanterns still hung high outside Fufeng Pavilion. Despite Feng Xuanzhe’s blatant favoritism and exclusive affection, there was neither a flood of gossip nor any resentful favored concubines coming to cause trouble. Even Princess Consort Yi, the mistress of the residence, neither asked nor interfered, as though she knew nothing of the matter.
The night before a separation always held too many words that could not be spoken in time and too many emotions that could not be suppressed. Feng Xuanzhe kissed him lightly, and Ning Xuan did not refuse. The kiss deepened, and Ning Xuan did not resist. Ning Xuan’s unexpected attitude meant that tonight, Feng Xuanzhe did not stop after merely taking a taste. Through the thin undergarment, his fingers lingered over the graceful lines of Ning Xuan’s body. Beneath the soft fabric, his fair yet far from frail chest was faintly visible, along with two pale-red buds that appeared and disappeared beneath the cloth.
Feng Xuanzhe’s hand slipped beneath the hem of Ning Xuan’s undergarment, kneading the firm curve of his waist. The breath that had once restrained itself to a mere taste gradually became stained with desire. Placing one leg between Ning Xuan’s thighs, Feng Xuanzhe pressed himself down over him. Ning Xuan’s brows tightened as an unfamiliar presence overwhelmed all his senses. Though he had known this day would inevitably come, he still could not suppress the instinct to push Feng Xuanzhe away. Yet the difference in their strength, along with his inability to truly embrace mutual destruction, rendered every struggle futile. Nor could his resistance awaken the eyes already burned red with desire.
The sash at his waist loosened, and the front of his robe was abruptly torn open. A sudden chill struck his chest as hot, damp breath traveled from his neck downward. Ning Xuan desperately suppressed his last instinct to struggle and resist, hypnotizing himself and trying to accept everything calmly, pretending he was merely a corpse whose lingering warmth had not yet faded. But he could not control the suffocating ache in his chest or the tears that instantly gathered at the corners of his eyes. Warm liquid slid down his cheeks. Ning Xuan did not even have the right to question the man above him. Had Feng Xuanzhe not promised to respect him? Had he not promised never to take that final step unless Ning Xuan agreed? But the respect granted by one who possessed absolute power always had limits and conditions. If Ning Xuan had taken it seriously, then the fault was his own.
Staring at the pale-red canopy above, Ning Xuan saw only Feng Xuanyi’s face—joyful and furious, righteous and wicked, frivolous, gentle, cold, and solemn. The fragments he had thought long sealed away flowed out in an endless stream. Ning Xuan could only bite his lips hard to suppress the urge to call Feng Xuanyi’s name.
The hazy images reflected across the canopy like a revolving lantern were suddenly replaced by an endless curtain of white. The weight upon his body vanished, and even the oppressive sensation surrounding him disappeared in an instant.
Ning Xuan, together with the quilt wrapped around him, was gathered into an embrace. As he struggled to calm the trembling in his heart, Feng Xuanzhe’s heavily restrained breathing echoed beside his ear. “Go to sleep early. Tomorrow is the day you depart for war.”
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