“I thought and thought because I simply couldn’t understand it. Why? Why would she treat her own sons so differently? But after enough time passed, I stopped thinking about it. I understood that no matter what I said, what I did, or how I behaved, Mother Empress would never change her opinion of me. And even if Eldest Brother merely sat there and did nothing, in Mother Empress’s heart he would still surpass me a thousand or ten thousand times over. That was when I learned that some things, if they are not yours, will never become yours by themselves. But other things, even if they appear not to belong to you, can still be obtained through your own methods—as long as you want them badly enough and are willing to devote yourself to taking them.”
“So I stopped crying and causing trouble, and I told you to stop as well. I knew how magnificent the wealth and privilege of the imperial family could be, how far above everyone else it placed us, and also how fragile it all was, how easily today’s security could disappear by tomorrow. Imperial Father had too many sons. We were never short of brothers. His paternal affection could never reach all of us, while Mother Empress’s attention was even less likely to fall upon me. And looking among all our brothers, how many were truly capable of surviving to adulthood? You and I could count them ourselves. Since no one could guarantee my safety, I might as well fight for what I wanted. Whoever stood in my way gave me no reason to let him remain there. Fortunately, there was no need to hurry. I have never been an impatient person.”
Feng Xuanyi released him and laid a hand upon the white-marble pillar beside them, slowly tracing its patterns. He casually sat down upon the stone bench, the very place where he had once nagged Nalan Xuan countless times about how cold the stone was and insisted that he be careful and sit only after a cushion had been laid down.
“Whatever Mother Empress possessed, she gave to Eldest Brother. Whatever Eldest Brother wanted, there was never anything he could not obtain. Eldest Brother was Mother Empress’s only real son. As for me…” Feng Xuanyi laughed softly. There ought to have been self-mockery in the sound, perhaps sorrow, anger, or jealousy, yet as he spoke now there was not the slightest emotion in his voice. He merely stated a fact with complete calm. “Fortunately, Eldest Brother was capable enough. His tutors praised his studies endlessly, and his masters admired his riding and archery. It seemed there was nothing in this world he could not accomplish. He was always so confident, so proud, so absolute and arrogant. At first I didn’t understand. I hated him and envied him. But later I realized—what use was hatred, and what was there to envy? What was not mine would never become mine merely because I resented him, while even something that should have been mine could still fall into someone else’s hands if I refused to fight for it. He and I were both imperial princes and both legitimate sons. I was entitled to no less honor than he was. So why should the imperial throne Mother Empress believed only he could occupy be beyond me? I simply wondered what he would think—and what expression she would wear—when the son she had always dismissed seized the most precious possession of the son she treasured above all else.”
“I became curious. I had never realized that the imperial throne I once did not even dare look directly at possessed such extraordinary allure. I could not tear my gaze from it and could no longer remove it from my mind. I became obsessed. So I watched Eldest Brother. I kept watching him, watching how he intended to wrest the position of Crown Prince from the man who held it and eventually ascend the throne, watching every move he made, watching his pride and arrogance, watching him carry himself as though victory were already certain while the officials gathered around him like stars around the moon. And then I suddenly realized that although Eldest Brother truly possessed exceptional talent, he was also terribly clumsy. A tall tree catches the wind. The first bird to stick its head out is the one that gets shot. Conceal your strength and bide your time. To the legitimate eldest son whom Mother Empress had spoiled from childhood and whose path had always been smooth, such principles were things he could never understand, much less appreciate. Yet his ignorance would eventually deal him a fatal blow. Mother Empress, who had always exhausted herself helping him, probably never imagined that she herself would become an obstacle on Eldest Brother’s road to the throne.”
“And all I needed to do was become a spoiled wastrel who ‘had no interest in the throne’ and ‘could see no further than the pleasures in front of him.’ That conveniently removed me as a threat, allowing them to devote everything to dealing with the Crown Prince, while also buying me ample time to cultivate forces of my own and secretly gather men and resources. Then every now and again I would ‘help’ Eldest Brother a few times, always clumsily enough to make Mother Empress believe I sincerely depended upon him and valued brotherly harmony while simultaneously erasing whatever suspicion they might still harbor toward me. Why wouldn’t I do it?”
“Imperial Brother, stop. This younger brother knows… I know all of it…” Feng Xuanzhen’s gaze dimmed as well. Feng Xuanyi might now describe everything from those years with such calm understatement, neither humble nor resentful, but Feng Xuanzhen had lived through those hardships beside him. How could he possibly not know?
Feng Xuanzhen’s mother consort had died early. From the moment he learned that although he called the empress Mother Empress, she was not his biological mother, he had understood what it meant for there to be a difference between one’s own child and another’s. Yet Fifth Imperial Brother, who truly was the empress’s biological son, had not fared much better than he had. When they were children, Feng Xuanzhen had once innocently asked Fifth Brother who his mother consort was and whether, like Feng Xuanzhen’s own mother, she had already passed away. Feng Xuanzhen knew he would probably never forget the expression Fifth Brother had worn that day.
He had been so young, yet his eyes had looked like a pool of dead water. When Feng Xuanzhen asked the question, Feng Xuanyi had actually smiled, and that smile had been so frightening that it immediately made Feng Xuanzhen burst into tears.
Only after he grew older and began to understand the world did Feng Xuanzhen realize that the loneliness of living without one’s biological mother could never compare with the loneliness of having one’s biological mother right beside oneself while remaining no closer than strangers.
Feng Xuanzhen had watched every step his imperial brother took along the road to the throne: deciding life and death, severing affection and love, showing ruthless mercy to no one even when the person before him was his own elder brother. Perhaps everyone in the world would condemn Feng Xuanyi for being cold and heartless, or beautify the same trait by calling him a naturally born ruler. Feng Xuanzhen, however, understood something else. When a person was only a brother in name but in truth little more than a stranger, what affection was there to speak of, and what meaning did “ruthless” even hold? Probably any ordinary servant in Prince Rong’s residence had possessed a deeper relationship with Feng Xuanyi than his eldest imperial brother ever had.
“No. You don’t understand, and neither did I. We were born into the imperial family. None of us understood until we had already lost something…” Feng Xuanyi could no longer suppress the desolation and grief in his voice. He smiled bitterly at Feng Xuanzhen’s confused expression. Feng Xuanzhen had never imagined there would come a day when his Fifth Brother could look so human, even when what revealed that humanity was overwhelming sorrow and suppressed pain.
“All I ever wanted was the throne. At first, when I was still ignorant, I believed that only by ascending the throne could I protect myself. Later I gradually understood how severely taking the throne would strike Eldest Brother and Mother Empress, and eventually, within this game that had begun for the sake of revenge, I became genuinely obsessed with power and status themselves. I spent my days surrounded by pleasure, drinking and indulging in romance, but in secret I cultivated forces of my own. I did not involve the powerful officials at court. Instead, I gathered talented people from among the common folk and gradually allowed them to infiltrate wherever I needed them, laying out my arrangements piece by piece. There could hardly have been a more profitable bargain. I promised them rank, influence, and enormous wealth after I took the throne, while they gave me information that could penetrate anywhere, secretly passed messages for me, preserved the people I wanted preserved, and removed the people I wanted gone. Everyone around me was like that. Some wanted nothing more than fame and fortune, while others merely wanted to rise swiftly through the ranks and live without worrying about food or clothing. Since everyone was simply taking what they needed, why waste unnecessary emotion on any of them?”
“I thought everyone who entered my life would always be the same, because that was how things had been for so many years—until he suddenly appeared…”
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