“An imperial decree? Heh… an imperial decree?! ‘I, the Emperor’!” At those words, Nalan Xuan laughed uncontrollably as though he had heard the greatest joke in the world. He looked caught between laughter and disbelief, his laughter arrogant and contemptuous, while the gaze fixed upon Feng Xuanyi openly sized him up as though he were something Nalan Xuan had never seen or heard of before.
It was naked contempt for imperial authority, yet Feng Xuanyi did not fly into a rage. He merely frowned from time to time as Nalan Xuan moved, seemingly nervous for him, terrified that one careless step would send him falling from the wall.
The laughter stopped abruptly, and the atmosphere changed in an instant. “Feng Xuanyi, that isn’t the only imperial decree you’ve issued, is it?”
In the entire realm, there was probably no second person besides Nalan Xuan who dared call the emperor directly by name with such complete fearlessness. The guards and palace attendants observing the situation were so frightened that they barely dared breathe, yet the fury they had been waiting for never came. Feng Xuanyi seemed to indulge it, almost to permit it. He showed no displeasure whatsoever at hearing Nalan Xuan use his personal name, nor the slightest desire to stop him. He merely listened in silence, his expression as cold and rigid as before.
“An entire clan sentenced to execution… exile to the frontier… handing me over to another man for the sake of power and position!… Heh. So-called love… means that even your own child isn’t spared… even your own child…” Nalan Xuan gazed pensively toward the cold moon above, as though sinking into a river of memories. One hand covered his lips, and somehow his refined, otherworldly features took on an almost limitless allure. Seductive without seeming affected, enchanting without seeming unnatural, his tall, slender body clothed in fluttering white appeared at a glance like a banished immortal, beautiful enough to steal the soul. A faint haze of confusion lay over his eyes, making one want to protect him and possess him, yet there was fragility there too, bitterness, and a deep, desolate sorrow.
That fleeting softness was instantly sealed beneath an armor of ice. The ruthlessness in Nalan Xuan’s eyes was enough to make even Feng Xuanyi, seated at the pinnacle of power, freeze for an instant. Suddenly Nalan Xuan dropped to his knees. With only a thin layer of clothing between him and the stone, his knees struck the ground with a muffled thud. He spread both hands flat upon the ground, bent forward, and knocked his forehead heavily against the stone with another thud. “This subject thanks Your Majesty for your boundless grace!”
No grief was greater than the death of the heart. After everything that had happened, Nalan Xuan had once imagined that if he met Feng Xuanyi again, he would want nothing more than to strangle him to death, even if it meant dying together. Yet the towering fury within him had gradually turned into exhaustion, and now that Feng Xuanyi truly stood before him again, even the exhaustion was gone. Hatred and resentment remained, yet they were like a great stone lodged in his chest. Too much had accumulated, and now that it all demanded release at once, he had instead become so calm that he did not know where to begin. Or perhaps that was the true tragedy: Feng Xuanyi’s offenses had become so numerous they could no longer be recounted one by one, and the person Nalan Xuan had fallen in love with—not once, but again and again—was actually such a bastard.
What Nalan Xuan had wanted was never very much. In the beginning, he had not desperately clung to Feng Xuanyi or threatened death for the sake of remaining with him. Feng Xuanyi had been the one to provoke him first. Nalan Xuan had wanted only an ordinary, uncomplicated life. Hardship and exhaustion would not have mattered. Even if he had spent his entire life as a servant summoned and dismissed at another’s whim, he would have accepted it willingly, because at least he could have lived easily and freely.
It was Feng Xuanyi’s appearance, his relentless pursuit, his coaxing and pestering, and every ambiguous gesture that shattered that fragile balance again and again. Feng Xuanyi was the one who taught him what love was, even love between two men. Nalan Xuan had overcome his initial shock, set aside every thought of revenge, and refused to dwell on the consequences. He gambled on Feng Xuanyi’s sincerity, gambled on his kindness, and wagered all the love he possessed. He had never demanded perfect marital harmony, nor had he asked for love that would last until the end of time. He had wanted only something pure, a love that belonged to him alone. When he realized Feng Xuanyi could not give him even that, he compromised. Though hurt, though dejected, he never let Feng Xuanyi know. He only hoped that Feng Xuanyi would treat him with care and genuine feeling. Yet in the end it had all been flowers in a mirror and the moon upon water—or perhaps it had not even deserved that much. Feng Xuanyi merely had to crook a finger and countless people would willingly strip themselves bare and offer themselves up for his amusement. Nalan Xuan had simply been unlucky enough to be the one caught by him, and he himself had been nothing more than a servant without the slightest self-awareness, forever asking for things beyond his station, harboring too many improper hopes and failing to remain within the bounds of his duty. So Feng Xuanyi had grown tired of him, grown annoyed, and casually handed him over to someone else.
As Nalan Xuan spoke, the black hair that had once blended into the darkness became increasingly conspicuous beneath the moonlight, as though the moon itself were staining it. Before everyone’s eyes, strand after strand rapidly turned white at a speed visible to the naked eye, like snow and silver frost beneath the bitterest winter sky.
Whether his endurance had finally reached its limit or his heart simply could no longer bear the sight, Feng Xuanyi lost control and shouted, “What are you doing? Come back here at once!”
Nalan Xuan stared indifferently at the light that burst into Feng Xuanyi’s eyes, something that might almost have been called panic, and found the sight unbearably ironic. Who is he performing for now? Does he want everyone here to witness how loyal and deeply loving he is, or does he want the entire realm to believe even more firmly that I’m some disastrous beauty who constantly stirs up trouble and throws the inner palace into chaos?
Suddenly, a warm but slightly hoarse voice rose from the crowd. “Young Master!”
The crowd parted, revealing a man dressed in a wide rose-red brocade robe gathered at the waist, its long hem sweeping behind him as he hurried forward. His lavish clothes proclaimed his elevated status, while their careful tailoring outlined his graceful figure. Perhaps because he had come in such haste, his collar was slightly disordered. Apart from the loosened neckline exposing several red marks against pale skin, however, everything else about him remained neat and proper.
Nalan Xuan was no longer the innocent Ning Xuan who had once known nothing of the world, nor the Ning Xuan of Prince Rong’s residence who could spend half a day bickering with the servants over a single mung bean cake. How could he possibly fail to understand what those marks meant? And in this imperial palace, how many people were there who could leave such marks on Han Ruifeng?
Bitterness, self-mockery, helplessness, and finally complete resignation passed through him. There were still countless mysteries he had never solved and far too many things he had once wanted to verify, but at this moment Nalan Xuan no longer wished to speak, did not want to speak, and found himself unable to speak. There were already plenty of people willing to grieve and threaten death for Feng Xuanyi. One more Nalan Xuan made no difference, and one less would make no difference either. Feng Xuanyi would continue thriving, living as freely and comfortably as ever amid his endless beds of beauty. If one disappeared, there would always be more waiting to fill the place. A ridiculous yet perfectly reasonable thought circled through Nalan Xuan’s mind. Perhaps I interrupted His Majesty’s good time in the middle of the night. Maybe that’s why he came charging over here in such a rage.
“Please come back first. Whatever you have to say, say it after you come back. His Majesty will definitely listen to Young Master’s explanation!” Han Ruifeng hurried to the very front in only a few strides and faced Nalan Xuan, his expression filled with anxiety and helplessness. As though terrified Nalan Xuan might lose his footing and fall, he repeatedly glanced toward the abyss beneath the wall, only to look up again with even greater tension.
Nalan Xuan had still carried many doubts and questions, yet the instant he saw Han Ruifeng, some of them seemed to answer themselves. Certain things did not need to be spoken aloud to become perfectly clear: a once-trusted friend had seized his opportunity to rise, a friend who had once shared hardship and suffering with him had interfered from the shadows, and perhaps even… Nalan Xuan refused to continue the thought. He was afraid that if he did, he would not even be able to preserve the final illusion of his pride.
No longer willing to spare another glance at Han Ruifeng’s splendid clothes and heavily made-up appearance, Nalan Xuan turned his eyes away, suppressing the countless turbulent emotions beneath them until all that remained was a soft sigh. “So this is the path you chose?”