Ning Xuan ordered tea and refreshments to be prepared in the pavilion beside Moon Lake. After he and Han Ruifeng had taken their seats, he dismissed the palace attendants waiting nearby. He had imagined that two close friends who had once shared every hardship would have countless things to say after such a long separation, countless experiences to discuss, and countless grievances and sorrows to share. Instead, they now sat facing each other in silence.
Ning Xuan had never liked tea. He thought it terribly bitter, almost like medicine, yet people still insisted on pretending to savor its lingering taste. He had once avoided the teacup in his hands whenever possible, but someone had half-jokingly told him that sweetness came only after bitterness. To appreciate tea was to appreciate its spirit, comprehend its bitterness, and cultivate patience. Ning Xuan had not believed him then. He had stared in alarm at that handsome, contemplative face and sympathetically accused the man of enjoying self-torture and inventing trouble for himself. Yet in less than a year, Ning Xuan had somehow learned to drink tea with such ease and familiarity. Life truly was unpredictable.
“His Majesty still has you in his heart.” Han Ruifeng’s gaze was calm and distant as he took a small sip of tea and spoke quietly.
Ning Xuan had imagined countless possibilities, but he had never expected their reunion to begin with Mo Qi trying to persuade him on Feng Xuanyi’s behalf.
He merely smiled without answering. The curve of his lips held seven parts mockery and three parts helplessness. Holding the teacup in one hand and the lid in the other, he idly stirred the leaves floating upon the surface. He had once hated tea so much, yet now he could drink it with a trace of elegance. The world truly changed without warning.
What about Qing Zhu? The question remained lodged in Ning Xuan’s throat for a long time, but in the end, he could not bring himself to ask. Reuniting with an old friend should have been joyful, but Ning Xuan feared he could not bear whatever other changes awaited him.
They remained silent for a long while. In the end, they exchanged only a few polite words of concern. If one chose to regard them as genuine care, they were indeed warm; if one regarded them as empty pleasantries, then they held no sincerity at all.
After seeing Han Ruifeng off, Ning Xuan felt inexplicably exhausted. Perhaps his heart had grown weary, dragging his entire body into lassitude with it. Only a few months earlier, he had fought across battlefields amid flashing blades and thundering cavalry, spending every day on edge while swords drank blood, yet he had never slackened or shown the slightest fatigue. Now, however, he seemed like an entirely different person.
“Master, General Yelü requests an audience,” Xiao Dezi reported after hurrying over at a run.
Surprise flickered across Ning Xuan’s face. General Yelü… He searched his memories for anyone who could fit that title, but the only possibility was Yelü Zhen, the enemy commander they had captured on the battlefield. Yet that was precisely why Ning Xuan could not understand. As a captured general in an enemy nation, Yelü Zhen should have thanked Heaven that he had not been subjected to torture and interrogation. How could he still move about so freely, even passing unhindered through the depths of the imperial palace?
“I have nothing to say to him. Tell him to leave.” Ning Xuan waved dismissively, only for the visitor to enter without waiting for permission.
“How heartless. I came especially for you, yet you’re already rushing to drive me away without hearing why I’m here. Or are you afraid to acknowledge it? Are you avoiding me because you fear hearing the truth confirmed again and again?” Yelü Zhen’s tone sounded faintly mocking, but his face was dark and grim.
“Master, I…” Four servants came running after him. They had finally caught up, but how could they possibly have stopped Yelü Zhen?
“All of you, leave.”
Ning Xuan waved a hand. Though the attendants remained suspicious and worried, they could only obey.
Today is certainly lively, Ning Xuan thought. Either I go several days without seeing so much as a ghost, or every conceivable person suddenly appears before me at once.
Once the final servant had passed him with a wary expression, Yelü Zhen gave a cold laugh and disdainfully surveyed every corner of the palace. “So this truly is a golden house built to hide away a beauty. The emperor of Hua certainly knows how to enjoy himself. After standing outside for so long, I never would have guessed that such a remarkable place was concealed within.”
But when Yelü Zhen’s gaze swept over the vast beds of hibiscus surrounding Ning Xuan, his already cold eyes abruptly tightened, growing even darker and more frigid.
“I respect you as a hero, and I treated you with courtesy when we first met. Yet now you come here and speak so offensively. I do not believe we have anything to discuss. The exit is behind you, to the left. I won’t see you out.” Ning Xuan turned half away and sat down. He ignored Yelü Zhen’s every word and movement, remaining calm, neither submissive nor overbearing, as though he had heard none of the ridicule in the man’s voice.
A fierce gust whistled past Ning Xuan’s ear. He tilted aside and barely avoided the strike, though its force swept across the bridge of his nose and cheek, sending the loose strands at his temple flying. Another fist followed. Ning Xuan raised an arm to block it, driving his elbow precisely into the numbing point on the inside of Yelü Zhen’s wrist. The attack faltered, its force partly dispersed.
Their upper bodies exchanged attack and defense while their legs remained equally active. Yelü Zhen lowered his stance and planted his feet firmly, then launched a rapid succession of kicks aimed at Ning Xuan’s legs and joints. Having lost the initiative, Ning Xuan retreated step by step, defending, blocking, and evading while searching for an opening. In the blink of an eye, they had already exchanged dozens of moves.
But as Ning Xuan twisted and retreated to evade another strike, the movement pulled at the injury that had still not healed despite several days of rest. Needle-sharp pain shot like lightning from his tailbone straight into his brain, instantly covering him in cold sweat. His body stiffened, interrupting the smooth flow of his offense and defense. The gloom in Yelü Zhen’s eyes deepened, and his brows drew even tighter. Yet he knew the opportunity would not come twice. A sweeping kick struck Ning Xuan’s ankle and sent him staggering. Yelü Zhen immediately leaned forward, seized him with a swift grappling maneuver, and closed in with the speed of lightning. Knowing the advantage was lost, Ning Xuan could only allow himself to be captured. His arms were forced behind his back and locked firmly in Yelü Zhen’s grasp.
“General Yelü isn’t planning to use me as a hostage to escape the palace—or even flee Hua altogether, is he?” Ning Xuan raised a brow with a faint smile, showing no awareness whatsoever of his disadvantaged position. He studied Yelü Zhen’s profile with keen interest. Although the man had won, there was no trace of joy or relief on his face. “If so, General Yelü thinks far too highly of me.”
Ignoring Ning Xuan’s mockery, Yelü Zhen held both of Ning Xuan’s arms behind him with one hand while seizing one wrist with the other. His fingers found Ning Xuan’s pulse, and he closed his eyes in concentration. Ning Xuan watched him in confusion, unable to understand what performance the man was putting on. But as Yelü Zhen’s expression grew increasingly dark and cold, his brows drawn so tightly they looked capable of crushing a fly, Ning Xuan almost began to suspect that he was terminally ill and had little time left to live.
After a long while, Yelü Zhen slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was as black and impenetrable as thick ink. Without warning, he released both hands. Ning Xuan, abruptly freed, was left even more bewildered. Yelü Zhen calmly poured himself a cup of tea, sat on the jade stool opposite him, and uttered four cryptic words through tightly pressed lips. “Just as I thought.”
Ning Xuan still had no idea what he meant, but after crossing hands with Yelü Zhen several times, he knew the man bore him no genuine malice and therefore relaxed his guard. Whatever purpose Yelü Zhen had in creating this mystery, Ning Xuan would listen if he wished to explain. If he did not, then at worst they would simply sit there wasting time.
Having made up his mind, Ning Xuan recovered his composed, indifferent demeanor. He sat leisurely on the opposite side of the jade table and resumed drinking the tea he had not yet finished.
“General Ning—or rather, I suppose I should now address you as Virtuous Jieyu. Congratulations indeed—”
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