At three quarters into the Hour of the Snake, Ning Xuan entered the imperial study dressed entirely in crimson and bowed respectfully. “This subject pays his respects to Your Majesty. May Your Majesty enjoy endless blessings and peace.” His fine boots, embroidered with gold-thread cloud patterns, made not the slightest sound as he walked. Sunlight caught the jewels and jade adorning him, scattering mottled glimmers over his figure, while the ornaments in his hair chimed softly as he bent into his salute.
Feng Xuanyi behaved as though he had heard nothing. Sitting upright behind his desk, he continued reading and annotating memorials with unwavering concentration. Without permission to rise, Ning Xuan could only remain kneeling, neither impatient nor flustered, his expression perfectly composed. The silent confrontation, however, terrified the servants attending the emperor so badly that none dared breathe too loudly. Their entire bodies stiffened with tension. Xiao Dezi, who had accompanied Ning Xuan, went weak at the knees and dropped down with a muffled thud, head lowered so that he would not look directly upon the imperial countenance, yet still trembling uncontrollably beneath the oppressive weight of the emperor’s authority.
Click. A crisp sound broke the silence. The vermilion ink upon the wolf-hair brush had not yet dried when Feng Xuanyi turned his wrist and rested the brush across the inkstone. “Rise.”
Elio’s Note: A wolf-hair brush (狼毫) is a traditional calligraphy brush usually made from weasel hair rather than actual wolf fur. Vermilion ink was commonly used by emperors to annotate official memorials.
Feng Xuanyi raised his eyes from the memorial in his hand. “Everyone else, leave.”
“Yes.” The servants answered in unison and withdrew from the hall in perfect order. Within moments, the enormous imperial study held only the two of them. Their gazes met, each harboring entirely different thoughts.
“From now on, you are not permitted to wear red when you go out.” Feng Xuanyi thought for a moment, then paused slightly. “If you want to wear it, wear whatever you like inside your own palace.”
Ning Xuan had assumed Feng Xuanyi had spent all this time putting on airs, filling the room with oppressive tension and deliberately giving him a show of authority. He had not expected the very first thing out of the man’s mouth to be something so completely unrelated.
Anyone skilled at reading expressions and avoiding danger would know that, no matter how many explanations or grievances they might have, even absolute truth could not compete with an imperial decree. Ning Xuan had once served in officialdom himself; naturally, he understood the virtues of avoiding unnecessary trouble, obeying imperial will, and behaving with diligence and respect. Yet precisely because he understood all that, he understood something else even better: men like Feng Xuanyi, royal descendants born with golden spoons in their mouths, indulged and obeyed since childhood and destined from birth for privilege and splendor, were not necessarily angered by a measured degree of resistance. Sometimes, a little defiance made a person far more memorable.
“You think I wanted to wear this? You’re the one who sent someone over first thing this morning with that message. If I wore red, apparently that was wrong, and if I didn’t, that would probably be wrong too. You’re ridiculously difficult to please.” Ning Xuan muttered complaint after complaint, doing his best to restrain himself as he gave Feng Xuanyi a gentle roll of the eyes. His voice was just loud enough for Feng Xuanyi to hear without every word being perfectly distinct. Outwardly, however, he still answered weakly and obediently, “Yes…”
Feng Xuanyi watched Ning Xuan pretend to be docile while complaints poured from his mouth like a string of firecrackers. He did not know whether to laugh or become angry. The gloom brought on by the memorials vanished instantly, leaving him inexplicably refreshed, though his face remained stern. “What did you say?”
Ning Xuan raised his eyes with an expression that practically screamed that he had been wronged despite getting exactly what he wanted. The words leaving his mouth, however, sounded as though they came from an entirely different personality. “This subject accepts Your Majesty’s command. I merely find imperial intentions difficult to fathom, so I suppose I must be more attentive in the future. If only I could understand Heaven’s will and His Majesty’s heart as well as Consort Shu does, perhaps my days would be considerably easier.”
Perfectly ordinary words had somehow turned sour and vinegary, dripping with insinuation, yet Ning Xuan delivered them with utter seriousness and composure.
“Come here.” Feng Xuanyi’s expression remained cold as he beckoned with one hand.
Ning Xuan studied him warily for quite some time before reluctantly shuffling forward. There were barely two steps between them, yet he dragged them out as though shackled beneath a thousand catties of iron.
“If you truly thought that way, you should have avoided her. Who behaves like you—walking straight into her path, then speaking disrespectfully and openly defying her?” Feng Xuanyi caught Ning Xuan by the wrist and pulled him onto his lap. His other hand immediately secured Ning Xuan around the waist. Through the fabric, he followed the elegant curve with practiced ease, quickly finding a sensitive spot and applying just enough pressure to stroke it. Satisfaction flashed through him when Ning Xuan’s pale, delicate cheeks immediately flushed the same crimson as his collar, draining the strength from any attempt at resistance.
“So Your Majesty summoned me here to defend her honor?” Ning Xuan bit his lower lip and raised a brow, looking thoroughly aggrieved even though his tone remained light and teasing. “This subject certainly isn’t as clever as Consort Shu or nearly as good at understanding Your Majesty’s thoughts. In the future, Your Majesty should simply tell me directly what you want. I promise to obey every command—to neither answer back when struck nor retaliate when cursed.”
“You…” Feng Xuanyi released a helpless sigh. It was exceedingly rare for him to compromise or yield. “The Prince Gurun Consort holds a secure position at court, and his influence cannot be underestimated. Consort Shu Meng may be spoiled and overbearing within the palace, but she has committed no truly serious offense. The Meng clan—at least for now—cannot be touched. If you simply cannot get along with her, avoid her whenever possible. If you cannot avoid her, endure it. Do not corner a desperate dog until it jumps the wall and causes real trouble.”
His underlying meaning was that the Meng clan could not be touched at present—or perhaps that circumstances had not yet reached the point where they absolutely had to be removed. But Feng Xuanyi had already begun guarding against them. Put more plainly, he was waiting for the proper time, the proper place, and the proper justification to bring down one of the powerful ministers who had helped place him upon the throne.
Such was an emperor’s heart. Such was the road of an emperor. To seize the throne, Feng Xuanyi had been able to kill his own brothers without hesitation; even an elder brother born of the same family had been no exception. What, then, was an outsider connected to him merely through marriage?
For a moment, Ning Xuan did not know what to say. A chill crept down his spine, coldness rushing from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head and making his body stiffen and tremble. He might despise Consort Shu Meng for relying upon her family’s power and imperial favor to behave arrogantly and without restraint, treating even the empress with contempt, but that did not mean he wished to see her entire family destroyed—especially not because Feng Xuanyi himself had already begun contemplating it.
“Who else did you encounter on the way here?” Feng Xuanyi abruptly changed the subject, shifting direction so suddenly that Ning Xuan could scarcely follow.
Ning Xuan met that piercing gaze and blinked in confusion. “No one.” As for the women who had followed Consort Shu Meng merely to join the spectacle, Ning Xuan had not even figured out who all of them were, much less learned their names well enough to describe them.
“I really should never have allowed you to wander freely around the inner palace.” Feng Xuanyi caught Ning Xuan’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned his face toward him. “You attract far too much attention.”
Their eyes met. Within those usually cold and ruthless pupils, Ning Xuan unexpectedly saw unmistakable anger and displeasure. Startled for only an instant, he immediately broke into a smug, wicked grin. Completely unafraid of the sovereign’s displeasure, he leaned even closer, his phoenix eyes curving upward mischievously. “I knew something felt strange the moment I walked in.” As though afraid Feng Xuanyi might somehow fail to understand him, Ning Xuan theatrically pressed his face near the emperor’s neck and sniffed hard. “So that’s what it was. Something smells sour. Goodness, what a strong scent of vinegar.”
Feng Xuanyi narrowed his eyes dangerously, regarding the man chattering away inches from his face with an ambiguous smile. The silent pressure in that gaze would have frightened anyone else into immediate silence.
Ning Xuan, naturally, was not anyone else.
“I was wondering what kind of day this was, that even Your Majesty had somehow changed your nature and gone to all this trouble. So this was the real reason.” Taking a mile after being given an inch, Ning Xuan smiled so brilliantly that it seemed capable of dimming Heaven and Earth, although the deliberate mischief behind it made even the pleasure of looking at him difficult to enjoy properly. “Was all this really necessary? We only exchanged a few words. Did you really have to make such an enormous production out of it? Look at that face you pulled and all the imperial airs you put on—you terrified every servant in the room. Xiao Dezi from my palace was still trembling when he walked out.”
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