Looking back on their first meeting at Prince Rong’s residence, every man and woman around Feng Xuanyi had always racked their brains for ways to leave a lasting impression upon him. They carefully manufactured perfect, even picturesque encounters in hopes of obtaining fame, wealth, and inexhaustible luxury. Some painstakingly arranged to appear so beautiful that they took one’s breath away; others cultivated an air of elegant refinement and lofty purity without losing their charm, hoping their talent and learning would inspire admiration. Yet none of those elaborate designs could compare with Nalan Xuan’s sudden appearance, which could hardly even be called an encounter.
Thinking back on that day now felt like remembering another lifetime. As the memory surfaced, a faint smile appeared upon Feng Xuanyi’s otherwise ashen face, gentle and indulgent, as though that person were standing right before him, close enough to touch.
Rather than saying Nalan Xuan had appeared, it would be more accurate to say he had suddenly popped out of nowhere. In broad daylight, a perfectly normal person had quietly crouched beside the lake to dry books in the sun. That alone might have been fine, but he had chosen to crouch inside a patch of reeds. No matter how sharp one’s eyesight was, who would expect someone to be hiding in a place like that?
Feng Xuanyi had been hurrying to the riding grounds when Nalan Xuan’s leg tripped him. Had Feng Xuanyi not trained relentlessly since childhood and possessed considerable martial skill, he would undoubtedly have fallen flat on his face—and right in front of a servant, no less. Where would his dignity as a prince have gone then?
Before Feng Xuanyi had even recovered from the shock and begun demanding an explanation, Nalan Xuan had already turned on him. The man was not particularly large, but his temper certainly was. He spun around and actually started berating Feng Xuanyi instead. Since childhood, even though Mother Empress had never favored him, no one had ever dared shout at him so recklessly to his face. It was difficult to describe what Feng Xuanyi had felt at that moment. For some inexplicable reason, he had simply found Nalan Xuan adorable, like a hedgehog that was obviously soft and vulnerable beneath its spines yet insistently bared them at the world, proclaiming its strength and defending rights it had no real power to protect. Most amusing of all was the ink smeared across his face. He looked exactly like a cat that had rolled through an inkstone.
And at that moment, completely without warning, Feng Xuanyi laughed from the heart for the first time since he had become old enough to understand the world. By the time he realized what had happened, he found it almost frightening. He, who had believed himself completely disillusioned with the mortal world and numb to everything within it, had actually laughed so freely at a complete stranger.
“Do you know? He was the first person who could make me laugh without the slightest guard up. He could do it easily even when he was still a complete stranger to me. And, in a way, you deserve some credit for that.” Feng Xuanyi looked at Feng Xuanzhen with a bitter smile. “That day at the riding grounds, you asked why I was so happy and whether I had acquired some new young gentleman. Yet even with urgent military affairs weighing on me, I simply couldn’t drive his image from my mind—the way he looked when he was furious, the way he behaved so brazenly.”
“No one would believe it if I told them. He rarely gave me a pleasant expression, yet I seemed possessed and kept thinking about him. Here was someone who showed me no reverence or fear, and not the slightest desire to gain anything from me. In his eyes, I was merely one of the guards protecting the residence, an ordinary bodyguard, a servant no different from him. He was relaxed and natural around me. When he was happy, he would chatter with me for a while. When he was unhappy, he would glare and scowl. Every joy and every flash of anger was so vivid and dazzling. There had never been anyone like that around me before—anyone capable of burying his intentions so deeply.”
“I never doubted that everyone around me had a purpose. Some wanted to protect themselves, some acted from fear, and some wanted fame and profit. So I assumed he was the same—just as worldly, just as difficult to read. But I never thought there was anything wrong with that. Everyone gave something and asked for something in return. We each took what we needed. What could be fairer? That was what I had always believed. For all those years, I had never once doubted it…”
Feng Xuanzhen understood perfectly well the feeling his imperial brother described. It was the sorrow of being born into an imperial family, surrounded by power yet made all the more vulnerable because of it. For ordinary people, life might be like rowing against the current: fail to advance and one would merely fall behind. In an imperial household, however, refusing to fight left only death. Yet to fight meant casting aside the seven emotions and six desires. They had no choice and had never been given one. Either they lived or they died. Once dead, they would lose everything, and everyone around them would be dragged down as well. Yet even if they survived, in another sense they still possessed nothing except the power clenched in their hands. People might pass endlessly through their lives, but not one could be allowed into their hearts—or perhaps they simply did not dare, could not allow anyone inside.
“So I thought, if I kept such a lively plaything beside me and watched him rack his brains every day to maintain his disguise without exposing himself, even merely observing him would make an otherwise dull and tedious life far more interesting. Besides, he was exceptionally pleasing to look at. No matter how I calculated it, I wasn’t losing anything. Why make things difficult for myself? One day, just like every time before, I would grow tired of him, become disgusted with him, and that would be the end of it.”
“I kept him beside me, and I have to admit that he truly was something. Every servant who had remained at my side for long was steady and experienced. Only he chattered endlessly and startled at everything. There were never any great catastrophes, but minor disasters followed one after another without end. There were times when even I wondered helplessly whether keeping such an unserious person beside me had been the right decision. He spent every day overflowing with energy, stirring up trouble without pause until merely watching him could make my head spin. Yet I never found him irritating, and I never regretted it, even when Prince Rong’s entire residence was nearly thrown into chaos because of one careless mistake after another.”
As he spoke, an indulgent smile appeared upon Feng Xuanyi’s face.
“In his eyes, everything in the residence was new, including every little thing I did. Nothing seemed ordinary to him; nothing made sense. It was as though he and I lived in two different worlds. And the things he said were always astonishing. Sometimes he was ignorant and naïve like a child, curious about everything in this world. Other times he became so quiet it was enough to make people worry. Once, he even saw straight through my thoughts with a single sentence. I had always believed I concealed myself extremely well, yet a disguise I had spent years creating was effortlessly seen through by him, while he merely looked at me innocently as though what he had said were the most obvious thing in the world.”
“I watched him for a long time—every movement, every word, everything he did. There was not the slightest anomaly. I also used every resource available to investigate his origins. Though there were countless mysteries surrounding him, I found nothing. That left only two possibilities: either he truly was an orphan, an ordinary person of no significance whatsoever, or his background was formidable enough that even I would have reason to fear it. Otherwise, no one could possibly erase every trace so completely.”
“Gradually, I began to believe he really was only an ordinary servant, someone I could give a little more to without creating any burden, pressure, or even threat to myself. So I indulged myself. There had never been any shortage of favored concubines around me, but none had ever consumed as much of my attention and thought as he did. Eventually, even I could no longer control it. Whatever I was doing, I found myself distracted, involuntarily wondering about him—whether he had caused trouble again, whether he had eaten properly…”
“I thought I merely favored him, that I was giving him the wealth, honor, and status within my power to give. But he seemed completely indifferent to all of that. The way he looked at me was difficult to describe. There was always something like sorrow and pity in his eyes, and I became unable to stop myself from wanting to erase it. It was almost as though I were fighting against someone unseen: the sadder he looked, the more gently I protected him and the more extravagantly I indulged him.”
Leave a Reply