At the beginning, he had been willing to cast aside his dignity and pride, even trample them underfoot with his own hands. This time, he could just as easily remain still and let the matter pass with a laugh. Human lives were involved. The whole thing had left him inexplicably heartbroken, furious, and overwhelmed by a vast, desolate grief, yet Nalan Xuan could still comfort himself by saying that these were merely strangers who had nothing to do with him. Strangers, that was all. In this feudal world where imperial authority stood above everything else, a human life was worth so little. One person’s word could lift someone overnight into wealth, glory, and a position above others; one person’s passing whim could just as easily bring an entire great house crashing down.
They were only strangers. Why should he care this much? Even if they had given him countless forms of help and protection, even shown him the kindness of recognizing and valuing him, he could feel guilty, mourn for them, and grieve helplessly over what had happened—but surely not to the point of throwing everything away for them. Surely not…
Nalan Xuan repeated this to himself again and again. Call him cold-blooded. Call him cruel. Call him indifferent. He could reserve a place for them in his heart forever and remember them for the rest of his life, but he could not stake everything on one desperate gamble, much less break completely with Feng Xuanyi over them. He still had a way forward. He still had something he needed to protect.
Then call him opportunistic. Call him cornered. Call him shameless. When Marquis Dingbei stood at the height of his glory, Nalan Xuan had shamelessly attached himself to wealth and power, enjoying the lofty status of the Nalan family’s second son without restraint; now that the Nalan family had fallen and been condemned, he could secretly rejoice that he himself had escaped unscathed.
Sometimes, once a person fixed his mind firmly upon one goal, anything could be discarded. Humanity. Conscience. If they stood in the way, he could throw them aside with both hands.
He pointed at the magnificent crimson robe. “Keep that one out.”
Flowing sleeves framed a slender waist, while golden hairpins gleamed among cloudlike black hair. The robe was red as fire, accented with flashes of silver and gold. It was elegant without being ostentatious, luxurious without becoming excessive, and even lent some color to his otherwise bloodless face. A white-jade pendant hung at his waist, coral ornaments glimmered faintly in his hair, and even the eyes that had grown cold and distant over the past several days seemed brighter and more alive. He was handsome yet alluring, seductive yet remote, graceful yet almost ethereal. Even the legendary beauties said to have brought kingdoms to ruin would have seemed diminished beside Nalan Xuan at that moment.
The sight left Xiao Dezi completely dumbstruck. He stood frozen to one side, his hands stopping in midmotion, his eyes rounded so wide that the sight was almost comical. His mouth had even fallen slightly open in shock, making him look thoroughly foolish.
Nalan Xuan ignored him. Facing the bronze mirror on the dressing table, he gathered his long hair in one hand and passed it to Xiao Dezi. In an indifferent voice, he said, “Do my hair.”
Before the Hour of the Monkey had even arrived, Qionghua Pavilion was already packed with imperial consorts. Every one of them had beautifully painted brows and graceful figures, every gesture overflowing with charm, their glances languid and their smiles sweet. On the surface, everyone was perfectly amiable, calling one another brother and sister in soft, affectionate voices that were sweet without becoming cloying. But beneath all that laughter and easy conversation, only they themselves knew how many undercurrents were surging and how fiercely they were competing with one another.
Nalan Xuan had thought himself perfectly punctual. Xiao Dezi might have spent the entire afternoon fidgeting like an ant on a hot pan, urging him over and over to hurry, but Nalan Xuan knew how to tell time and had deliberately waited until the appropriate moment before setting out. He arrived neither early nor late, precisely at the Hour of the Monkey. What he had failed to understand was an unspoken rule of palace etiquette: for an imperial consort, arriving exactly on time was practically an act of presumption. Punctuality was a privilege reserved for the emperor. If His Majesty arrived on time, that proved His Majesty was wise and enlightened. If His Majesty was late, then naturally he must have lost track of time while laboring over state affairs for the good of the country and its people—which still proved His Majesty was wise and enlightened. In short, everything the emperor did was right, while anything anyone else did could always be picked apart until someone found fault with it.
Looking into the hall, where everyone had long since taken their seats and some were already eating fruit, cracking melon seeds, and gathering in little groups to chat, Nalan Xuan regretted not listening to Xiao Dezi and setting out earlier. Only now did he realize that this was not merely a banquet for the imperial harem. Court officials were present as well, along with envoys from foreign states. It was effectively a state banquet. Nalan Xuan had intended to slip quietly inside. He had no particular ambition to become so inconspicuous that no one noticed him at all, but neither did he want to make such an entrance that every eye in the place turned toward him.
“Master…” Xiao Dezi called softly after reading his expression perfectly. The look clearly meant: Are we going to grit our teeth and go in, go in, or… go in? In any case, turning around and pretending they had never arrived was not an option. An imperial decree had ordered his attendance, and neither of them had the slightest interest in finding out what punishment awaited someone who defied it.
“His Majesty the Emperor has arrived! Her Majesty the Empress has arrived!” Mo Yan’s ringing announcement suddenly sounded from behind them, making Nalan Xuan’s scalp prickle.
He turned stiffly and nearly collided head-on with Feng Xuanyi, who was walking at the front of the procession. His jade crown held his hair high, his tall figure straight and imposing. They had not seen each other for many days, yet that handsome face remained unchanged—if anything, his expressionless features seemed even more profound and unreadable than before. His strong features, the natural majesty of a sovereign who commanded obedience without anger, and the sharply carved contours of his face combined into an overwhelming presence. It was oppressive without being suffocating, dangerously compelling, like a bottomless black hole or an abyss of reincarnation that stole one’s breath and made it impossible to look away. The brilliant imperial-yellow robes symbolizing supreme authority and status only made him more dazzling, almost painful to look upon directly.
“We respectfully welcome Your Majesty! Long live His Majesty the Emperor, for ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand upon ten thousand years! May Her Majesty the Empress live a thousand years, a thousand years, a thousand upon a thousand years!”
A red carpet divided the center of the great hall, stretching from the entrance all the way to the elevated imperial throne. The imperial consorts sat on the left, while the court officials sat on the right. In an instant, whether they had just been laughing and flirting gracefully among themselves or loudly debating, flattering one another, and forming little factions on the other side, everyone sprang briskly to their feet, saluted in perfect unison, and knelt respectfully across the hall.
Nalan Xuan, belatedly realizing that he was still standing in the doorway, hurriedly moved to salute and step aside. Before he could complete the motion, however, Feng Xuanyi caught him by the arm and hauled him upright.
His formal bow was forcibly stopped halfway through, leaving him in an awkward position. Nalan Xuan looked up in confusion and saw only Feng Xuanyi’s grim profile. His expression was so dark it could almost be called livid, his brows drawn tightly enough to form a deep crease between them. Their fingers interlocked. Nalan Xuan tried to pull his hand away and failed. There was nothing remotely gentle about Feng Xuanyi’s grip; the pressure made his knuckles ache.
You’re the one who forced everyone to come to this ridiculous banquet, yet you’re the one standing here looking furious, like someone stepped on your tail. Who exactly is that sour face supposed to be for?
And meanwhile, the hand being crushed is mine!
Without explanation and allowing no argument, Feng Xuanyi simply pulled him along—or, more accurately, dragged him. Still utterly bewildered, Nalan Xuan followed half a step behind, walking almost shoulder to shoulder with him into the hall while accepting everyone’s greetings and bows. The empress made no attempt to stop them. Perhaps she considered it perfectly natural, or perhaps she had simply seen enough by now to find nothing unusual about it. She followed quietly behind without either objecting or encouraging them, her regal bearing as composed as ever.
For one fleeting instant, Nalan Xuan’s mind went blank, as though time itself had frozen. The imperial consorts and officials on either side blurred and seemed to sweep backward. Even the footsteps of the empress and the ceremonial procession behind them faded into insignificance. The only thing that remained perfectly clear was their joined hands.
To hold your hand and grow old with you.
Elio’s Notes: “To hold your hand and grow old with you” (執子之手，與子偕老) is a famous line from the ancient Classic of Poetry, also known as the Book of Odes. In later usage, it became closely associated with lifelong devotion between partners.
He knew perfectly well that it was impossible, yet he never learned. Again and again he allowed himself to hope, only to be left hurting in silence afterward…