But given His Majesty’s temperament, the one person beneath heaven who might have been able to persuade him had probably already left forever.
Before Feng Xuanzhen could lose his temper again, Feng Xuanyi seemed irritated that the rare silence had been disturbed and ordered impatiently, “All of you, leave.”
If this had been the past, back when his imperial brother was still only a prince, and if Feng Xuanyi had fallen in love with Nalan Xuan and willingly abandoned everything to disappear with him into the mountains, Feng Xuanzhen would have supported them without the slightest hesitation. Even if every effort he had made and all the trust he had placed in his imperial brother vanished in an instant, he would still have helped the two of them escape that world of conflict and travel far away to live the almost unattainable life of an immortal couple. They had endured hardship together, and Feng Xuanzhen knew better than most how rare and precious genuine devotion was. He also understood just how nearly impossible it was for people like them, whose hearts had long ago hardened against emotion, to be moved by love again.
But circumstances had changed. Feng Xuanyi was now the emperor, sovereign of an entire nation, a ruler standing above countless lives. Occupying such a position meant bearing its responsibilities. Once a person reached the summit, whether he came or went was no longer his decision alone. No matter how much bitterness, blood, tears, helplessness, or necessity lay behind it, he could only swallow everything himself, because his life no longer affected merely him or a small circle of a few dozen people. This was precisely what it meant to discover how bitterly cold the highest place could be. One seemed to control everything and believed oneself to possess everything. Yet the instant one tried to hold it tightly and draw it close enough to see clearly, one suddenly discovered that everything had already changed. What one believed one possessed was nothing at all. What one believed one ruled had instead begun controlling oneself. What one thought one held had already vanished before one’s eyes and slipped between one’s fingers at the very moment one tried to close a hand around it.
The more one controlled, the more one had to bear. The more one carried, the heavier one’s responsibilities became. A ruler might have the power to decide who came, but not necessarily the freedom to leave himself. When every movement affected all the people beneath heaven and a single sentence could determine the lives, deaths, honor, or disgrace of countless others, perhaps one could ignore it and remain unaware. But once a person truly began counting the cost, he might discover that he had lost far more than he had ever gained.
The imperial throne looked exalted and dazzling, seemingly granting absolute authority and the freedom to act however one wished. In truth, it was merely a nightmare pursued by countless people, a set of shackles that imprisoned whoever finally obtained it. At least for Feng Xuanyi now, the throne—the dream he had pursued for years while pretending to disdain it—had already become a burden.
“Go back. I’m fine.” Feng Xuanyi finally raised his eyes. His face was exhausted and his gaze lonely. He tugged faintly at the corners of his mouth, perhaps trying to smile, perhaps mocking himself, but the expression looked uglier than crying. The wild agitation from several days ago had disappeared, as had the disturbing loss of control Feng Xuanzhen had feared. This was once again the imperial brother Feng Xuanzhen knew, yet somehow he was no longer quite as cold as before—and still incapable of becoming warm.
“I’ll wait a little longer…”
Wait for whom? Who else could he possibly be waiting for?! Feng Xuanzhen crossed the distance in several strides, forgetting the etiquette between ruler and minister and even the affection between brothers. He seized Feng Xuanyi’s disordered collar and shouted in a lowered voice, “He isn’t coming back! He is already dead, do you understand that, Imperial Brother?! You are the sovereign of an entire nation. How can you destroy yourself over one selfish attachment until you look—” He stared at Feng Xuanyi’s gray face, tangled hair, and complete lack of his former heroic bearing, and in his fury could not even find the proper words. “Until you look neither human nor ghost! Are you still the brilliant, farsighted imperial brother who endured humiliation and carried burdens for years? Are you still the man who commanded the realm and acted with thunderous decisiveness? You are ruining your own body for a man—what crime have the people beneath heaven committed to deserve this?!”
Before the final words had even fallen, Feng Xuanyi struck him away with one palm. A body that should have been weak after several days without proper food or water still sent the furious Feng Xuanzhen staggering backward until he crashed against a pillar. Anger suddenly burned within Feng Xuanyi’s dead, gray eyes, no less intense than Feng Xuanzhen’s own. The corners of his eyes were faintly red, his chest rising and falling violently. His lips were bloodless, his long hair loose, the front of his robes hanging open. He looked like an asura from hell or a death god come to claim souls. His unblinking gaze locked upon Feng Xuanzhen as though he wanted to devour him in the next instant. And when he spoke, it was not because his authority as emperor had been challenged or his decisions questioned. It was because Feng Xuanzhen had mentioned that person.
“I told you he is not dead! He is not dead! If anyone dares say the word ‘dead’ in front of me again, I will have that person executed without mercy!”
Feng Xuanzhen stared at him speechlessly. He did not know what kind of transformation Feng Xuanyi’s heart had undergone. Even if Feng Xuanyi explained it, Feng Xuanzhen had never lived through the same experience and might never fully understand. But what he saw now still shocked him. This was no longer mere obsession. It was madness.
Mo Yan, who remained kneeling nearby, showed no reaction. By rights, the instant Feng Xuanzhen had rushed forward he should have tried everything possible to stop him, even knowing it would be futile and that he could never truly restrain the prince. Yet Mo Yan had not moved at all, almost as though he had already predicted precisely how the confrontation would end and had seen enough over the past days to find nothing surprising in it.
“Imperial Brother… do you know what you’re saying?” Had Feng Xuanzhen not still seen a trace of clarity beneath the unwavering conviction in those eyes, he might truly have believed Feng Xuanyi had gone insane.
“If he is alive, I must see the person. If he is dead, I must see the body. As long as I have not seen his corpse, then he is still alive!”
“But that palace wall was so high—” Feng Xuanzhen tried to argue, only for a single cutting glance from Feng Xuanyi to force the words back into his throat.
“He is only angry with me. He has only hidden himself temporarily. Even if I have to turn the entire world upside down, I will find him.” Feng Xuanyi’s gaze was resolute and his voice unwavering. No argument would change his mind.
Feng Xuanzhen still wanted to say more, but his sleeve was silently tugged by Mo Yan, who had moved closer without notice. Feng Xuanzhen glanced down. Mo Yan still kept his head lowered and did not look up, yet as though sensing Feng Xuanzhen’s gaze, he gave the slightest shake of his head, telling him that further words were useless.
Feng Xuanyi, who had been furious only moments earlier, turned back toward the swing with a bitter smile. It was not that he did not understand. He understood far too clearly. And precisely because he understood, he was afraid and chose to flee from it. He could not accept the truth and did not dare acknowledge what was already virtually certain. Of course he knew how high the palace wall was. He had been standing nearby when Nalan Xuan jumped. He had watched it happen with his own eyes. How could he possibly not understand the finality of that leap? But if he admitted it, if he believed it, then he would be strangling even the final heartbeat still willing to beat in hope of a miracle.
Feng Xuanzhen knew he could not persuade him and finally gave up. Before leaving, he said only, “If Imperial Brother truly believes he is safe, then all the more reason to take care of yourself. If one day he returns and Imperial Brother has already fallen gravely ill, then the two of you will truly have had fate enough to meet but none left to remain together.”
A country could not go a single day without a ruler. If the court remained leaderless for too long, turmoil would inevitably arise. Beginning the next day, Feng Xuanzhen temporarily assumed responsibility for state affairs. To steady both the officials and the people and preserve the broader situation, he joined the entire court in staging the appearance that Hua remained perfectly orderly. At the same time, he secretly increased the number of men dispatched throughout the realm to search for Nalan Xuan. Any lead was pursued, whether it involved someone merely resembling him, some vague possibility, or a chance as small as one in ten thousand. No detail was considered too insignificant, and reports were sent back every day by the fastest express riders.
Yet each day of fruitless searching only deepened the despair of the day before. The longer time passed, the smaller the possibility became. And still, as Feng Xuanyi had said, if a person lived one ought to find the man, and if he had died one ought to find the body. To disappear so completely, without leaving behind even the faintest trace, was itself strangely suspicious.
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