This was what people meant when they said the sovereign’s heart was impossible to fathom. Feng Xuanyi’s methods of governing had always left people unable to determine what he was thinking. Just when someone became certain they were doomed, good fortune might suddenly fall from the sky; just when someone believed themselves completely secure and began congratulating themselves, calamity could strike without warning. It was not that Feng Xuanyi could not distinguish right from wrong or good from evil, nor that he was some foolish ruler incapable of understanding affairs. Quite the opposite: he understood the art of ruling far too well. No one could ever accurately read the emperor’s thoughts, and no one dared make presumptuous assumptions about them. No matter how high or low an official’s position, no matter how great his achievements, everyone remained cautious and respectful, kept strictly to his duties, and dared not behave arrogantly.
Censor-in-Chief Bai hurriedly thanked him again and again, repeating, “Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you, Your Majesty.” His delighted smile made even the wrinkles of age seem touched by joy. A career he had believed had fallen to rock bottom suddenly opened onto a brilliant future, and his entire face glowed with renewed vitality.
The music and dancing began again. Flowing sleeves rose lightly, conversation resumed, and wine cups crossed back and forth. Everything returned to normal as though the disturbance just now had never happened.
At the Hour of the Dog, a bedchamber attendant from the Imperial Household Department approached to ask where His Majesty intended to spend the night. Countless yearning eyes followed the attendant toward Feng Xuanyi, filled with the desperation of parched earth waiting for rain. The moment Feng Xuanyi answered “Moon-Embracing Palace” without the slightest hesitation, all that hope wilted instantly. Some reluctantly looked away with downcast expressions, while others continued staring at him stubbornly, as though waiting for His Majesty to change his mind at the very next moment and choose their palace instead. Impossible though the hope was, they still refused to let it go.
Elio’s Notes: The Hour of the Dog (戌時) traditionally spans roughly 7:00–9:00 p.m.
The banquet had supposedly been held to celebrate the joyful continuation of the imperial bloodline, yet the very people at the center of that celebration left early. Before departing, Feng Xuanyi still remembered to tell his ministers not to stand on ceremony and to eat and enjoy themselves. He then ordered Mo Yan to read another imperial decree announcing a general amnesty throughout the realm before taking Nalan Xuan by the hand and leaving the hall without a backward glance.
Back inside the hall, Left Chancellor He Liangyu watched his daughter—the dignified empress of Hua, mother of the realm—simply being left behind like that, and his heart ached for her. His own pride could barely endure the humiliation either.
“Yilan, who have you been wearing that cold face for from beginning to end? Look at you—you cannot even compare with a man! You cannot even hold your own husband’s heart. Since His Majesty entered the hall, has he looked at you even once? Has he spoken a single word to you? You are the empress. Dignity, intelligence, and gentleness are all virtues, but you are also a woman. You have to know how to please your husband. Look at Marquis Dingbei’s surviving son. His entire clan has fallen and his family is practically destroyed, yet his position remains perfectly secure and untouchable. Why can’t you learn something from him?”
“Do you understand how much distance there is between Imperial Noble Lord and empress? One step. Only one step! With the way His Majesty favors him now, if you still refuse to make an effort and that imperial son really is born, then even if you have made no mistake whatsoever, your seat as empress of the central palace could still change hands! You—” He Liangyu had been speaking earnestly for some time, yet He Yilan showed no reaction. She continued eating slowly, her gaze directed beyond the hall as though it had followed Feng Xuanyi and Nalan Xuan when they left.
“I’ve wasted all this breath talking to you—are you listening or not?! If you still don’t hurry and do something, then when you really end up thrown into the Cold Palace, it’ll be too late even to cry!”
He was about to continue lecturing endlessly when He Yilan’s utterly calm, almost icy gaze stopped him. Facing her own father and all his anxiety, she interrupted at an unhurried pace, as though the entire matter had nothing to do with her. “Lord He, this palace is the empress of this realm, while you are a subject. Is this the proper etiquette for speaking to this palace?”
Left Chancellor He Liangyu did not know when the daughter who had always been graceful, gentle, obedient, and composed had become so cold. She remained dignified and virtuous, every inch the daughter of a great household, but the distant indifference that kept others thousands of miles away could no longer be ignored.
He Liangyu froze, then bowed and knelt to apologize. “This minister spoke out of turn. Your Majesty, please forgive me.”
He Yilan did not look at her father again. Her gaze returned to the darkness beyond the hall, now long empty. A trace of bitterness touched her smile, accompanied by quiet melancholy. The flicker of emotion in her eyes was a rare display of genuine feeling, scarcely seen since she had married into Prince Rong’s residence. Beneath the table, one hand clenched tightly around something hidden in her palm. “I waited for you for so long… I listened to you. I did everything you told me to do… but have you truly forgotten me…? Brother Xuan…”
Feng Xuanyi and Nalan Xuan, sharing the same imperial sedan chair, naturally knew nothing of what happened in the hall after they left. Nalan Xuan was thoroughly uncomfortable with Feng Xuanyi gazing at him with such open tenderness. He avoided those dark, shifting eyes that seemed to hold an eternal love and tried to pull his hand free from Feng Xuanyi’s grasp. Unfortunately, from the beginning he had known perfectly well which of them was stronger.
“Do you know what day it is today?” Feng Xuanyi suddenly asked. His low, resonant voice was like intoxicating red wine beneath the moonlight, rich and sweet enough to make a person drunk. His gaze never left Nalan Xuan, entirely unconcerned with gaining a reputation for excessive favoritism and infatuation, as though he meant to make up for every moment of longing during the many days they had spent apart.
Nalan Xuan remained silent. Feng Xuanyi took no offense and simply continued speaking on his own, his smile gentle. At that moment he seemed neither the emperor standing high above everyone else nor the prince who had struggled through the world of power for years, but merely the young master of some ordinary wealthy household, sitting in a sedan chair with his partner’s hand in his own and chatting lazily about nothing in particular while occasionally looking through the curtain at the moon suspended in the night sky.
“The seventeenth day of the third month. Your birthday.” Feng Xuanyi leaned down and kissed Nalan Xuan’s lowered eyelids before gathering him into his arms. They looked as peaceful and warm as an ordinary married couple. “We told you before. We promised that We would give you what you wanted. We will give you the position of empress. We will give you honor and power. Our child will possess the most exalted status in this world. We promised you, so We will make it happen…”
As though afraid Nalan Xuan would not believe him, Feng Xuanyi murmured the words again and again inside the sedan chair, repeating them almost like an incantation meant to hypnotize. Yet Nalan Xuan remained indifferent from beginning to end, paying no attention at all. Birthdays had long since lost any meaning for him. Whether anyone remembered, however lavish the celebration might be, none of it mattered. Feng Xuanyi repeating his promises and trying so earnestly to fulfill them only struck Nalan Xuan as ironic. In the eyes of the world, he might be the person standing closest to imperial favor, but Nalan Xuan knew better than anyone that an uncrossable gulf had already opened between them.
Nalan Xuan could no longer describe exactly what he felt toward Feng Xuanyi. He no longer trusted him. He knew there could be no good ending. He had tried to still his heart and stop himself from reacting to everything Feng Xuanyi did. Yet he still could not bring himself to refuse him completely. Perhaps somewhere deep inside, in some corner even he had never noticed, an unrealistic hope still remained.
When Feng Xuanyi and Nalan Xuan entered Moon-Embracing Palace hand in hand, the palace servants, who had already received word, filled the courtyard on their knees to welcome them. Two enormous red lanterns hung high on either side of the palace gate.
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