Futile Devices Scans

Their figures were reflected not only in each other’s eyes, but also in the eyes of Prince Rong, who had remained hidden in a corner all along.

Auspicious snow swirled through the air, carrying the sharp fragrance of plum blossoms. The flying black hair, the affectionate gaze, the intimate gestures—every last detail was reflected in those ink-dark eyes. Feng Xuanyi’s expression was cold as frost and utterly impassive, yet the hands concealed beneath his sleeves had clenched tightly into fists. Though no emotion or disturbance appeared upon his face, the restraint and suppression within him were unmistakable.

“Ning Xuan.”

The voice was low and pleasing, distant and dreamlike. Ning Xuan had long since abandoned the possibility that this voice would ever call his name again. He spun around abruptly. Beneath the bright, flawless moon, even the man’s outline seemed blurred. His long hair streamed in the wind and his sleeves fluttered as Ning Xuan stared incredulously at the figure emerging from the shadows. Every resolution he had made over the past few months instantly lost all meaning. The heart he had thought would no longer—or at least not so violently—race because of Feng Xuanyi began pounding uncontrollably, catching Ning Xuan completely unprepared. He felt flustered, bitter, and somehow sweetly delighted. If anything was different from before, perhaps it was only the pain accompanying that excitement—clear and bone-deep, inexplicably piercing straight through his heart.

Yet it was also true that a single quiet call from Feng Xuanyi could shake him so profoundly. It was cruel, but painfully real, as though everything had already been arranged by fate. All his struggles and resistance were useless; there was nothing he could do except submit and obey. Just when he had resolved to forget Feng Xuanyi, the man had appeared—and at precisely such a moment. The intentions of Heaven were truly impossible to fathom.

“This servant greets Prince Rong. I trust Your Highness has been well.” Ning Xuan clearly had a thousand things to say, along with longing and grievances carved into his bones. Yet the countless thoughts gathering in his throat ultimately emerged as nothing more than this distant, perfunctory greeting.

A quiet laugh escaped Feng Xuanyi as the corner of his lips rose. It was once again that deeply concealed half-smile few others ever saw, paired with eyes that looked down upon all living beings and a suppressed, chilling authority. They had been apart for only a few months, yet the bearing of an unquestionable emperor had already suffused his every movement. Mixed emotions surged through Ning Xuan—joy for Feng Xuanyi, and sorrow that all Feng Xuanzhe’s efforts would ultimately come to nothing.

“Prince Rong…” Feng Xuanyi chuckled. “When did the boundary between us become so clearly drawn?” It sounded like a joking lament, yet a trace of bitterness inevitably colored it.

“There is a distinction between superior and inferior. This servant would not dare forget it.” Ning Xuan’s entire body remained taut, his teeth clenched tightly. He seemed ready to freeze solid in the bitter winter cold, as though only by holding himself so rigidly could he prevent a single glance, movement, or word from Feng Xuanyi from making him waver or lose his way.

“Superior and inferior? Status?” Feng Xuanyi approached one step at a time, as though deeply curious to see Ning Xuan’s expression while speaking those words. Their gazes met, and he did not stop until they stood close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath. “I never knew when you began caring about such things.”

I didn’t care. That was why I fell in love with you without the slightest hesitation. That was why I wanted to swallow every humiliation and endure every burden when you offered all kinds of reasons as excuses for your so-called true love. But I overestimated myself and underestimated this world. The distance between reality and ideals is far more than a snap of the fingers. How easy is it to become the legendary lotus that rises unstained from the mud? How many people in this world can hold their heads high and proclaim without changing expression that they never once lost themselves, compromised, or yielded throughout their entire lives, and that they preserved their true nature to the very end? Even if I wished to accept everything calmly, that possibility vanished the instant you forced me to see the gulf between reality and ideals.

“Since you saw everything, why bother asking me?” Ning Xuan’s voice tightened and trembled faintly. Stop shaking my resolve. I can’t withstand it. “I’m the one who has wronged you.”

“Why?”

It was not spoken as a question, but as a statement, as though Feng Xuanyi did not care about the answer at all. Yet he had still asked. Ning Xuan could not understand him.

Astonishment flashed across Ning Xuan’s face. He had never imagined Feng Xuanyi would ask such a thing now. He had believed Feng Xuanyi was carefree, that he looked down upon everything, and that nothing beneath Heaven except power could ever command so much of his attention. Then what was the purpose of this “why”?

“I will use every means at my disposal to help you obtain the throne. So long as you need me, so long as you say the word. But once it is accomplished, please set me free.”

This is the only promise I can make now, and the only way I can avoid breaking my earlier vow. I hope you can believe me. I will give you my support in power and status; in return, please set my heart free…

Feng Xuanyi’s eyes were black as ink, too dark for even moonlight to illuminate. Against the surrounding snow, they possessed an indescribably bewitching allure. “Only I can give you what you want.”

In that instant, phantom images overlapped, and memories surged over Ning Xuan like a tide—brilliant fragments so dazzling that they left him dizzy and completely unprepared.

I will give you the opportunity to choose. The only person you may choose, however, is me, because only I can give you what you desire.

Ning Xuan smiled bitterly. They truly deserved to be called blood brothers. No matter how different they appeared or how thoroughly they disguised themselves, they could not alter the fact that they shared the same roots and nature. The same appearance, the same expressions—Feng Xuanzhe had once spoken exactly the same words as Feng Xuanyi, without changing a single syllable. Now their positions had merely reversed. For one fleeting instant, Ning Xuan could no longer distinguish which of them was right and which was wrong.

If either of them had acted earlier—just a little earlier—Ning Xuan would not now be trapped between two impossible choices. Had Feng Xuanzhe come earlier, Ning Xuan could have rejected Feng Xuanyi without hesitation and might even have turned against him. Had Feng Xuanyi come earlier, Ning Xuan would never have fallen into this dilemma. Why did they both insist upon forcing him? Why had they chosen this precise moment, neither sooner nor later?

The first lunar month marked the New Year. It should have been festive and bustling, yet for some reason, everything was eerily calm—calm enough to inspire unease, like the stillness before a storm. Ning Xuan spent several days in apprehension, but nothing happened. He began to think he had worried needlessly and that peace still reigned beneath Heaven. Unexpectedly, the storm eventually arrived, and it came with overwhelming force.

On the fifth day of the first lunar month, Ning Xuan went to Prince Yi’s Residence as usual after morning court to discuss affairs alongside the Eldest Prince’s other supporters. Such was the nature of factional politics. In the imperial court, everyone behaved respectfully, maintaining the proper distinction between sovereign and subject. Each official appeared honorable, upright, neither servile nor overbearing. Once court adjourned, however, they held secret meetings under the pretext of drinking with friends or even having happened to encounter one another. They exchanged intelligence in private, coordinated their positions, and rehearsed the script for the next day’s performance at court. Even when unexpected matters arose, they watched the expression of the person leading them and acted accordingly, either supporting or opposing the motion in perfect order. Naturally, all of this depended upon the leader remaining unshakable, firmly established, and backed by formidable power.

Emperor Huawen’s health was deteriorating with each passing day, and his complexion had grown markedly worse. The Crown Prince’s faction was becoming increasingly vocal and active in demanding that the Crown Prince inherit the throne. The Eldest Prince’s faction was no less busy, raising ever-louder calls to establish the eldest legitimate son, without resting for even a moment.

In the past, their lack of genuine military authority had given them cause for concern and left them one step short of complete confidence. Now, however, Ning Xuan’s glorious return, laden with military achievements, had added wings to the tiger. Fifty thousand troops remained stationed less than five li outside the city, awaiting Ning Xuan’s orders. Yet to whom the soldiers under his command truly belonged was not nearly as straightforward as appearances suggested.

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