But for Feng Xuanyi, the only thing that mattered now was the sleeping man in his arms, the man whose brows remained tightly furrowed even in sleep. Feng Xuanyi had said that for Nalan Xuan, he could sacrifice anything, even the power and imperial authority he had once treasured above all else. Without absolute certainty, without a guaranteed outcome, he was unwilling to take Nalan Xuan into danger, and even less willing to allow him another opportunity to come into contact with his elder brother.
Something lost and recovered became all the more precious. On this journey, Feng Xuanyi would spare any price for one thing alone: absolute certainty.
No matter how fiercely Nalan Xuan resisted when he opened his eyes again, Feng Xuanyi would at least have done everything within his power and won himself one possibility, one chance. Whatever the outcome and however difficult the road ahead, he would recover the years they had lost!
“Xuan Shu.” After a long silence, Feng Xuanyi spoke in a low voice. His words were immediately swallowed by the wind roaring past both sides of the carriage, but to the seven highly skilled Shadow Guards, every syllable was still perfectly clear.
“This subordinate is here.” Xuan Shu pressed his heels against his horse, tightened the reins, and drew closer to the carriage.
“Ride ahead without stopping and return as quickly as possible. Tell Prince Yu to send men out to meet us.” As he spoke, Feng Xuanyi cast an almost imperceptible glance at Nalan Xuan, who remained asleep and completely unaware of where or when he was. “There can be no mistakes.”
“Yes.” Days of relentless travel had left no visible fatigue upon Xuan Shu. The moment he answered, his whip cracked through the air. With a low shout, he urged his horse forward without another moment’s delay, and before long his figure disappeared completely from everyone’s sight.
As the answer faded, the slightly raised carriage curtain fell once more. Along the sparsely traveled official road, only the steady clop-clop of hooves remained, accompanied by two long wheel tracks stretching behind them.
Another autumn had come. Nights along the frontier always seemed a little bleaker and colder. Feng Xuanyi tucked the blanket more securely around Nalan Xuan and adjusted the pillow that had shifted beneath him from the jolting carriage. Then he changed his own position and leaned back, eyes half-open and half-closed. It was impossible to tell whether he was watching Nalan Xuan or slowly drifting into sleep himself. The only certainty was that whatever dream awaited him would not be a pleasant one.
At some unknown point, one corner of the carefully tucked blanket worked loose. Beneath the thin covers, hidden from sight, the two men who remained poised against one another like drawn swords still had their fingers tightly intertwined, preserving a balance that seemed ready to collapse at any moment.
No one knew how much time passed. The land remained pitch-black beneath the night. The utterly ordinary carriage chosen to conceal their identities raced onward day and night without a moment’s rest, wearing out one fine horse after another. Inside the carriage, a pair of obsidian-black eyes slowly opened, bright as polished mirrors and brilliant as stars, yet cold as water.
There was not the slightest haze of sleep in them. Nalan Xuan calmly and unhurriedly swept his gaze across everything within sight. Once he understood where he was, not the slightest panic or confusion appeared upon his face. When he felt the unusual warmth against his palm, one corner of his lips suddenly curved with contempt and disdain, yet he made no immediate attempt to pull away. His gaze moved upward until it found Feng Xuanyi leaning nearby, then continued slowly to the man’s face. He stared directly at Feng Xuanyi’s closed eyes without making a sound. There was no ripple of emotion in his gaze, no warmth, no sorrow or joy, no shock or anger—nothing at all.
Before long, as though sensing the gaze upon him, Feng Xuanyi slowly opened his eyes. Like the eyes watching him, his own were clear and deep, without the slightest trace of sleepy confusion or momentary disorientation. He naturally met Nalan Xuan’s stare. The two remained equally calm and equally silent, yet beneath Feng Xuanyi’s stillness, enormous waves surged through his eyes, complicated and fiercely suppressed.
Nalan Xuan looked away. Through the occasional narrow gap created when the jolting carriage lifted the window curtain, he stared at the seamless darkness of heaven and earth outside. He had not spoken for several days, leaving his throat dry and his voice slightly hoarse, yet it remained strangely bewitching as he murmured to himself, “Hua territory… It seems I’ve lost this round again.”
Nalan Xuan had already reached his conclusion. He was completely isolated, without a single ally beside him, yet there was not the slightest panic in him. His calm bordered on cold-bloodedness. He could still quietly analyze advantages and disadvantages, weigh the pieces each side possessed and the greatest threats between them, and probe for the other man’s bottom line.
His tightly drawn brows disappeared into the darkness. Apart from their breathing and the faint moonlight that occasionally slipped through the window curtain and cast a passing shadow across Nalan Xuan’s profile, everything had been swallowed by night. Perhaps precisely because neither of them had to face the other clearly, there was still room to retreat.
A sigh broke the silence. Feng Xuanyi tightened his hold upon the cold hand in his. “Come back to the palace with me.”
He had plainly already made the decision, yet somehow he used the tone of someone asking permission to describe an established fact.
Nalan Xuan turned his head, his hair brushing against the soft pillow with a faint rustle, and looked back into the gaze Feng Xuanyi had never once moved away from him. His still-free hand remained hidden beneath the blanket and silently clenched into a fist, tighter and tighter, until nails that had not been trimmed for some days sank deep into his palm and left vivid red marks. Only the pain forced back whatever had nearly broken through the frozen depths of his heart. Just one way of referring to himself, just one sigh, had nearly made that coldness waver.
If there was one difference between Nalan Xuan and Ning Xuan, it was this: Ning Xuan had been simpler and lived more freely, while Nalan Xuan was more rational and lived by calculation. Nalan Xuan knew what should be done and what should not, and what consequences would follow every choice. Ning Xuan, however, would knowingly act against better judgment, impulsive and headstrong. Faced with the unknown, Ning Xuan was willing to stake everything on a single throw. Even if there were only the faintest possibility, he would rather deceive himself and try. Nalan Xuan chose instead to guard against danger before it could arise. If something could not be predicted, he would rather extinguish every possibility with his own hands than give any “possibility” an opening through which it might become a future threat.
“The victor becomes king and the loser is branded a bandit. Do I have any choice?” His silent sneer earned another helpless sigh. “But since we are ‘old acquaintances,’ I can offer you one reminder free of charge. Entering Xiliang without permission is one thing, but kidnapping Xiliang’s Prince Nanyang on top of that is a considerably more serious offense. Of course, the mighty Hua Dynasty could hardly fear a mere Xiliang. It would only mean a few more wars. Hua possesses countless elite soldiers and capable generals. Even without one Marquis Dingbei, I’m sure its armies can conquer wherever they march, win every battle, and pass through enemy territory as though no one were there to resist them.”
Feng Xuanyi knew Nalan Xuan was still angry with him—or rather, had never stopped resenting him for even a moment. As a man, when it came to love, Feng Xuanyi had indeed wronged Nalan Xuan and wronged himself as well. But as a sovereign, he had been nearly flawless. However others condemned him as ruthless, cruel, or ungrateful, when it came to controlling military authority and keeping it firmly within his grasp, few could compare with him.
Nalan Xuan had no intention of pulling away, and Feng Xuanyi had no intention of releasing him. Their fingers remained intertwined in stubborn persistence, like one final struggle and one final refusal to surrender. Only beneath the concealment of darkness could one continue insisting so shamelessly while the other could pretend not to notice and permit it.
For several days they raced onward without stopping. Nalan Xuan showed not the slightest intention of resisting. On the contrary, he was extraordinarily compliant, almost like a doll allowing others to arrange him however they pleased. Yet everyone knew this was merely the calm before the storm. No one believed Nalan Xuan had resigned himself to his fate or truly submitted. His very tranquility only made everyone more alert, their nerves stretched taut. An invisible pressure filled the carriage, while an unseen fuse seemed to be drawn tighter and tighter, ready to ignite at the slightest spark.
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