Feng Xuanyi had never dreamed that, after so many years of lying low, enduring, plotting, matching wits, and struggling for supremacy against Feng Xuanzhe, the crucial piece in their contest would turn out to be something as inexplicable and almost laughable as the “love” of a man who had originally approached him with ulterior motives.
Yet to Feng Xuanyi, nothing was ever absolute. He left Xuan Guang beside Nalan Xuan, planting a nail directly beneath his nose so that not a single movement—not even a thought that might conceivably threaten Feng Xuanyi—could escape his grasp.
“Do you know what he said when all of you were drunk after that victory and he was barely conscious?” As though remembering the bitter winter beyond the frontier that year, Feng Xuanyi suddenly smiled. Something like nostalgia and regret filled his dark eyes.
Feng Xuanzhen shook his head. He had never seen his imperial brother like this before. Perhaps he no longer knew whether to marvel or feel helpless. Everything that should have been impossible for Feng Xuanyi—every expression, every word, every action—seemed destined to appear before him one by one today.
“He called my name in his sleep. ‘Yi Hua… Yi Hua…’ It had been nothing but a careless whim at the time, a false name I tossed out as a joke. Yet after everything we went through and after so much time had passed, he still remembered it. Not ‘Your Highness.’ Not ‘Imperial Prince.’ He called for the ordinary residence guard he had once mistaken me for. What did I feel then? Some happiness, some satisfaction, and something tight and bitter that I couldn’t explain. I didn’t have time to understand why—or perhaps I simply refused to understand. But there was one thing I knew with certainty: the less guarded and less conscious a person is, the more truthful his words and actions become. So if someone is the person you instinctively keep calling for even in your dreams, then you either hate him beyond measure or love him beyond measure. What he felt for me was the latter. That meant this game was mine to win.”
“Everything was unfolding exactly according to my plan. Even the most uncertain ‘pawn’ had become utterly devoted to serving me. Reaching the highest position and raising my arm to command everyone beneath heaven no longer depended upon whether the time was right. It depended only upon whether I wished to do it.”
“When I forced the palace and seized the throne, I watched those favored sons of heaven who had believed victory already belonged to them reveal one shocked, defeated expression after another. I could even imagine how furious Mother Empress would be when she received the news. Unfortunately for her, what was done was done. Once she had become Empress Dowager, surely she could not drag her final remaining son down from the throne—even if that son had never mattered to her, even if she disliked him however deeply. And even if she wanted to, whether she still possessed the ability to do so would have been another matter entirely.”
“But he was the one who stood in my way. For Eldest Brother’s sake, he was willing to turn against me!” Feng Xuanyi remembered the coup that day. Mounted upon his horse, he had held everyone’s lives and deaths in his hands and could have acted however he pleased, yet before countless soldiers he had remained locked in confrontation with Nalan Xuan for so long—and Nalan Xuan had pleaded with him for another man!
“Who did he think he was? What right did he have to stand before me and interfere with my decision? He was nothing but a pawn, an expendable piece I could discard whenever I wished, a pawn that had approached me with its own agenda only to become trapped in its own scheme!… Yet why did even he have to take Eldest Brother’s side? Why did everyone choose Eldest Brother? Mother Empress did, and so did he! Why?! I was the final victor! I was the one who controlled whether they lived or died! I was the only one who could give him everything he wanted and satisfy every request he made!” Even though all of this had long since become the past, fury still raged in Feng Xuanyi’s eyes. Yet now that he no longer concealed it, the truth was far easier to see: beneath the shock and anger lay far more jealousy and pain.
“But he… told me that I didn’t understand…” Feng Xuanyi smiled bitterly, grief entering his voice until, by the end, it almost trembled. “And he was right. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why he didn’t want power or status. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t simply cast aside every distraction and do whatever I pleased. I didn’t understand why, when he was nothing but a pawn—a pawn whose purpose had already been fulfilled and who had crossed my bottom line badly enough to become expendable—I still clutched him in my hand and refused to let go. What was I clinging to? What was I trying so desperately to preserve…?”
“From that point onward, I vaguely began to realize there was something different about the place he occupied in my heart. There was always one corner that belonged to him. I refused to admit it, and it became like a wound festering in darkness, growing larger and larger until it began corroding everything around it…”
“I indulged him in everything and yielded to him in everything. If he threw a temper and refused to speak to me, then I would keep talking to him. If he ignored me, I pretended not to notice. Whatever he wanted, as long as it was something I could give, I never hesitated. I didn’t know how else to make him understand, so all I could do was satisfy him, satisfy every request he made. Even when he said he wanted to become empress, I agreed immediately. The empress at the time had committed no fault; casually deposing an innocent empress could shake the foundations of the state. But none of that mattered. If he wanted the position, then I would promise it to him and give it to him. I would clear every obstacle from his path and punish every consort and young gentleman who showed him disrespect. Yet I knew none of that was what he truly wanted. Perhaps even the position of empress had been something he mentioned casually. I only wanted him to understand that if he asked something of me, I would do it. I would agree without condition.”
Again and again Feng Xuanyi repeated himself, murmuring the same thoughts as though emphasizing something, as though trying desperately to grasp something. Yet it was already too late. There was nothing left to grasp, nothing left to keep, nothing left he could give, and nothing any of it could prove. At the very moment Feng Xuanyi had believed himself trapped inside a dream, Nalan Xuan had leapt from the palace wall, and everything afterward had ceased to hold meaning.
“I don’t know why, but even though I indulged and spoiled him exactly as before and he remained beside me every day, we could never recover the feeling we had once shared in Prince Rong’s residence. He seemed burdened by countless thoughts. It was as though he cared about nothing, yet every so often he would begin fighting for something again. That feeling made me unbearably restless, as though he might slip out of my grasp at any moment. How could I possibly allow that?”
“That day, I did order Xuan Guang to disguise himself as an assassin, attack Nalan Xuan, and frame the Gulun Prince Consort’s Residence. But I never intended for him to be truly injured. Eliminating the Gulun Prince Consort was something I would have done sooner or later anyway. I merely used the opportunity to help Nalan Xuan move another step closer to becoming empress. It was nothing but a farce arranged in advance, a performance meant to pave the road toward his position as empress. So why was he willing to believe only that I could no longer tolerate his existence, yet unwilling to believe that I had my own reasons and had gone to such lengths for him…?”
Elio’s Notes: Gulun Efu was a Qing-derived title for the husband of a Gulun princess, the highest rank of imperial princess. Here, 固倫額駙府 refers to the residence of such an imperial prince consort.
Perhaps it wasn’t that he was unwilling to believe him. Perhaps he simply no longer dared to.
The thought remained caught in Feng Xuanzhen’s throat for a long time, but in the end he did not say it aloud. As the only prince who still held real authority at court after the new emperor’s accession, it was not enough for Feng Xuanzhen merely to have endured hardship alongside Feng Xuanyi in the past. More importantly, he needed to understand circumstances and know his place. No matter how carefree and rough he might appear on the surface, his heart was as clear as a mirror. He knew exactly what could be said and what could not.
And precisely because he understood, Feng Xuanzhen felt helpless. A bystander could see more clearly, yet could not speak. When it came to the emperor’s private affairs, remaining silent might earn one no benefit—but speaking up could very easily earn death.
“Do you know how happy I was when I learned he was carrying my child?” Feng Xuanyi’s eyes suddenly brightened as though he were a dying man who had glimpsed his final lifeline, only for the light to turn gray and lifeless in the very next instant. “Can you understand what it felt like when I was still lost in that joy, eagerly waiting for the little life that belonged to the two of us to be born, only to discover that the child was actually Eldest Brother’s…?”
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