Only after deciding to leave together did Nalan Xuan realize that Feng Xuanzhe had neither acted on impulse nor been driven into desperate recklessness. Rather than saying he had been forced to begin rebuilding his power, it would be more accurate to say that he had been preparing for this for a long time. What Nalan Xuan could not understand was how, in only a few short months, Feng Xuanzhe had somehow become entangled with Yelü Zhen.
Four people left the Minister of War’s residence without saying farewell: Feng Xuanzhe, Xiao He, Yelü Zhen, and Nalan Xuan, whom they had happened to save by chance. To avoid attracting attention, all four changed into the plain clothes Xiao He had prepared in advance and left the city on foot that very night.
Feng Xuanzhe’s group had prepared everything with extraordinary care. Both the timing and location had been calculated precisely. Nalan Xuan and the others had barely reached Wulipo, five li beyond the outskirts of the city, when the sound of galloping horses came rushing toward them. In the pitch-black night, the approaching hoofbeats carried an inexplicable sense of fear and oppression, the instinctive terror of something unknown, as though an enormous army were bearing down upon them. It reminded Nalan Xuan of a moment from childhood: yellow dust flying through the air, chaotic hoofbeats surging like a flood, some people retreating while others shouted themselves hoarse.
The moment Nalan Xuan saw who had come to receive them, he completely forgot about maintaining appearances. Had darkness not hidden his expression, the sight of him staring dumbfounded with his mouth wide enough to swallow an egg would have looked thoroughly ridiculous.
“C-Crown Prince?!” Nalan Xuan could hardly believe his eyes. “You… how could you—”
Feng Xuanmo showed no concern whatsoever. His calm gaze swept briefly over Nalan Xuan before he tossed the reins in his hand toward him, then led his own horse over to Yelü Zhen. “If you don’t want to invite death upon yourself, you’ll have to hide more than your name. You should probably forget those meaningless titles too, Your Majesty the Empress.”
That was what he said, yet his mouth showed no willingness whatsoever to surrender the opportunity for a cutting retort.
Had someone told Nalan Xuan a year earlier that a day would come when the eldest imperial son Feng Xuanzhe and Feng Xuanmo joined forces, he would never have believed it, even under threat of death. Forget joining forces—if those two could simply treat one another like strangers, that would already have been remarkable. One was the Crown Prince personally appointed by imperial decree and openly favored by the emperor; the other was the legitimate eldest son with the strongest support for succession. In the struggle for the throne, they had been destined to fight until one of them fell, incapable of coexistence. Yet now not only could they remain calm in one another’s presence, they could even cooperate and provide mutual assistance. And the person who had somehow connected these two men was, astonishingly, a foreigner who by every expectation ought to have been an enemy rather than a friend.
Nalan Xuan stared suspiciously at Yelü Zhen as the latter mounted his horse. As though sensing his gaze, Yelü Zhen turned halfway around and said in a deep voice, “Mount up.”
No one spoke along the road. Nalan Xuan’s initial shock gradually turned into partial understanding. Although Feng Xuanzhe and Feng Xuanmo had ostensibly joined forces, the rivalry between them had clearly not diminished. Each did everything possible to treat the other like empty air, avoiding every unnecessary exchange. Their two tall horses advanced side by side, just as their open and secret struggles had continued year after year—one on the left, one on the right, separated by neither too much nor too little distance, neither man willing to spare the other so much as a glance.
Their journey proved unbelievably smooth. No government troops pursued them, nor was there the slightest disturbance behind them. There was not even any news from the imperial capital announcing the empress’s death. It was as though nothing at all had happened. Within the imperial palace, everything continued exactly as before: one man remained occupied with affairs of state, while the empress still ostensibly occupied the position of mother of the realm. The only difference was that this traveling party now contained one additional person—Nalan Xuan.
The nerves that had remained taut since their departure finally relaxed somewhat. After days spent exposed to wind and dew, today Nalan Xuan finally had a chance to wash away the dust of the journey. The night breeze was slightly cool. Points of lamplight glittered beyond the window, and from time to time the clear, bell-like laughter of children drifted through the air. This was the freedom he had longed for through countless days and nights, freedom now almost close enough to reach out and touch. Yet he could not bring himself to feel happy. Every laugh and every cheerful voice entered Nalan Xuan’s ears and eyes only to leave behind a blank emptiness.
“What? Disappointed that he didn’t send troops chasing after you all the way here and turn the entire city upside down looking for you?” Feng Xuanzhe pushed open the door and walked in without invitation, clearly pleased to find Nalan Xuan looking so forlorn. “You should have known what kind of man he was the moment you fell in love with him. Isn’t it a little late to start mourning now?”
Nalan Xuan stared straight through the window, his gaze wandering without a destination or focus. He refused to place his eyes upon the man who had come solely to mock him. “You entered the wrong room.”
“No, I didn’t.” Feng Xuanzhe seriously looked around the utterly ordinary inn room. “I came specifically to watch the joke, so don’t be polite on my account. Grieve as much as you like.”
“Why should I grieve? What right does he have to make me grieve?” Nalan Xuan turned with a smile that was not quite a smile. His lips curved upward, full of disdain. “I was merely wondering what it feels like to have something already within reach taken away when only one final step remains. Whether a person can really let go of it so easily afterward, become free of desire, and claim to see through everything in the world. If all that indifference is only an act, then how much rage and unwillingness must be hidden beneath it? How painful must that difference feel? If simply imagining something you believed should have belonged to you being taken away is enough to leave you tossing and turning through sleepless nights, then what does it feel like to gain something and lose it again—to have something you believed you held securely torn straight out of your hands? Is that even more painful… or does it no longer matter?”
Feng Xuanzhe’s face stiffened unnaturally, and his expression immediately dimmed. Nalan Xuan was extremely satisfied by the reaction.
“It seems I worried for nothing. We’ve barely traveled any distance and only a few days have passed, yet you’ve already thought everything through so thoroughly and become so resolute. As expected of Marquis Dingbei’s son. I failed to recognize your true worth before and treated you carelessly. After suffering such a calamity, I suppose I deserved it.” Feng Xuanzhe cupped his hands and made as though to bow, only to stop halfway through the motion. He leaned closer with an intensely amused expression. “Still, I hope Your Excellency remembers one thing. The hatred born from a father’s murder can never coexist beneath the same sky. Marquis Dingbei truly died an unjust death.”
Their journey continued westward. Bitong Pass was the only route into Xiliang, situated directly along the border between Hua and Xiliang. The pass, once plagued endlessly by conflict and war, became the final uncertainty standing before them. To ensure nothing went wrong, Yelü Zhen had already sent a message by carrier pigeon to Xiliang requesting men to receive them. Nalan Xuan knew that once he passed through the gates he had once spent countless days and nights defending with blade and blood, everything would begin anew. Heaven above, I, Nalan Xuan, swear that for as long as I live, Feng Xuanyi will never know peace!
He swung onto his horse and rode forward in a cloud of dust, only to find another familiar face waiting to receive them.
“What? Don’t recognize me anymore?” More than twenty elite Xiliang soldiers waited behind him. Nalan Zhen sat at the head of the formation, serving as the commander sent by Xiliang to receive Yelü Zhen.
“How could it be you?!” The shock was no less than seeing a dead man return to life. Nalan Xuan almost thought his eyes were deceiving him, but recovered his composure in the blink of an eye. “Then he must not have died either, right?”
“Whether you’re looking for reassurance or trying to mock me, I can only apologize. Once an imperial decree ordering execution is issued, how could there be room for mistakes? I was nothing more than a miracle, and miracles are not things one encounters twice. Do you still believe Father could be alive somewhere in this world?”
The Emperor of Xiliang was a tall, powerfully built man. Though he had clearly passed the age of thirty, his bearing had lost none of its former vigor. Yelü Zhen addressed him as Imperial Father, but Nalan Xuan felt no particular familiarity upon seeing him. Yet the instant the Empress of Xiliang appeared, Nalan Xuan felt as though a lifetime had passed. That unparalleled beauty, unmatched beneath heaven, that elegant bearing—the face that had once accompanied him and soothed the innocent, ignorant heart of his youth seemed to return before him in an instant.