“Nothing much.” Liu Yin unhurriedly swirled the tea in his cup, his lowered lashes gathering tiny beads of moisture from the rising steam. “I’m only here to watch the show. If someone is willing to perform, I’m more than happy to watch. It costs me no effort, and I can even toss out a few sarcastic remarks from the sidelines. Nothing important, nothing that could change the situation. I’m merely amusing myself.”
“And are you satisfied with this particular performance, Noble Attendant Liu?” Han Ruifeng raised a brow and sneered.
“Satisfied, yes, but hardly entertained enough. With someone like you going to such extraordinary lengths to arrange and plan everything, why would I ever worry about running out of shows to watch?” Liu Yin laughed. “It’s still impossible to say who will emerge victorious in the end, but that only makes it more worth watching. I do have one small piece of advice for you, though—”
Only after Liu Yin had left Luoxiao Palace did Han Ruifeng slowly open his eyes again. Cold mockery filled them as he watched Liu Yin’s retreating figure disappear from sight. He gave a soft sneer. “Only here to watch the show? Heh. I’m afraid you’ve gotten far too immersed in it yourself.”
On the palace road, Liu Yin was accompanied by only one delicate-looking personal attendant. The boy’s face was scrunched with worry, and after apparently struggling with himself for a long time, he finally asked, “Master, why did you go out of your way to warn him? This servant thinks he understands everything perfectly well. For all we know, he may be more ruthless than anyone.”
Liu Yin leaned against the palace wall without any hurry to return. The shadow cast by the wall enveloped him completely. His head was lowered, his long fringe concealing his eyes so that only the faint curve at the corner of his lips could be seen, carrying bitterness, struggle, and a trace of ruthlessness.
Perhaps he had remained too long in a position where he never should have been, waiting far too long for something he never should have hoped to possess. So long that he had lost sight of his own identity, lost himself, and lost the road that should have taken him home. He had missed it by only the smallest distance. He would rather have forgotten everything completely and recklessly than remain suspended like this, reminded from time to time of his own absurdity and the sheer impossibility of what he desired.
He reached one hand out beyond the shadow of the palace wall and into the brilliant sunlight, only to snatch it back almost immediately as though he had been burned. Glancing at the baffled expression of his personal attendant with a smile that was not quite a smile, Liu Yin suddenly found himself ridiculous. As expected, I was never meant to see the light. I can only ever keep company with darkness. I’m not even worthy of being someone’s shadow.
People were always like this. They gave up when they ought to persist, yet became abnormally stubborn when they ought to let go, dressing it up with noble words about knowingly attempting the impossible while refusing to admit their own foolishness and desperation. Perhaps that was precisely why regrets existed—and why miracles did too. Unfortunately, neither regret nor miracle would ever belong to Liu Yin. So even knowing there would be little gratitude and no benefit in it for him, he still insisted upon stirring up trouble. Or perhaps he was simply making one final wager. Since it was a gift either way, what difference did it make who received it? Why care who benefited more and who was hurt worse?
“I’d like to see whether the person you were willing to sacrifice things for, the person you pursued and tried to possess regardless of the cost, is truly worth you throwing everything away like this.” The murmur was soft as silk, yet cold as an ancient ice cavern. There was no need to deliberately bite down upon each word; the malice within them was already enough to devour someone whole.
Outside the imperial capital, a carriage that had traveled day and night for nearly half a month finally arrived. At an abandoned wine stall that should have been deserted and desolate, two people had already calculated the timing and waited there for quite some time.
The carriage gradually slowed from its frantic pace and came to a stop. After spending half the day sitting in the wind inside the abandoned stall, the two waiting figures could finally stand and stretch their stiff limbs. Feng Xuanyi was the first to dismount. Xuan Quan hurried forward to take the reins, while Feng Xuanzhen called anxiously, “Imperial Brother.” Only after seeing Feng Xuanyi safe and unharmed did the weight suspended in his heart finally fall away.
At that moment, Nalan Xuan lifted the carriage curtain and jumped down. After nearly half a month without properly setting foot on solid ground, his legs were unused to it and felt weak beneath him. Had Xuan Heng, who had been driving the carriage, not happened to be standing beside him and reached out to steady him, Nalan Xuan might truly have fallen flat on his face.
Feng Xuanyi’s sharp eyes naturally caught Nalan Xuan’s unsteadiness. He immediately rushed forward and instinctively reached out to support him, only to stop himself abruptly at the very last instant. His hand remained awkwardly suspended halfway in the air before he slowly drew it back.
Feng Xuanzhen saw everything but said nothing. He knew that although Nalan Xuan had been brought back, the price had been ten cities along Hua’s frontier. If Nalan Xuan had returned willingly, matters would never have reached such a point. Since he had clearly been brought back against his will, old grievances and new hatred were now piled together. The fact that Nalan Xuan had not attacked anyone the moment he arrived was already a blessing amid misfortune. What Feng Xuanzhen did not know was that their confrontation had already erupted the instant Feng Xuanyi and Nalan Xuan reunited in Xiliang. Unfortunately, Nalan Xuan had lost by a single move and, before he even had the chance to refuse, Feng Xuanyi had unilaterally exchanged ten cities to bring him back.
“Imperial Sister-in-Law.”
Feng Xuanyi had never deposed the empress. Even when everyone believed Nalan Xuan had almost certainly died, Feng Xuanyi had stubbornly clung to the nearly impossible hope that he was still alive and refused to announce his death. Thus, Feng Xuanzhen’s address was hardly inappropriate. The man standing before him was, after all, still Empress Yu, personally appointed by the reigning emperor.
Unexpectedly, those three words instantly ignited Nalan Xuan’s temper. A razor-sharp glare shot toward Feng Xuanzhen. If looks could kill, Prince Yu would probably already have been pierced through by ten thousand arrows.
“Imperial Sister-in-Law?” Nalan Xuan gave a cold laugh. “This prince would hardly dare accept such an honor. Prince Yu must have mistaken me for someone else. Claiming random relatives is not a good habit, especially when becoming kin to your imperial family apparently costs an entire clan their lives. That bargain is far too poor to involve this prince. I am Prince Nanyang, personally invested by the Emperor of Xiliang, not your imperial sister-in-law.”
He then looked toward Feng Xuanyi, who had remained almost completely silent throughout the past several days. “Nor am I whichever numbered spouse of yours I’m supposed to be. If you sincerely wished to invite me here, you could have sent a proper invitation to Prince Nanyang’s residence. Whether I came and when I came would naturally depend upon my own schedule, rather than Emperor Huawu extending such ‘hospitality that simply cannot be refused.’ Methods like this have an unfortunate tendency to provoke disputes between nations. I’m afraid the frontier may not remain peaceful much longer.”
After nearly half a month cut off from the outside world, Nalan Xuan knew only that he had been abducted back to Hua while completely unable to resist. He knew nothing about how the situation beyond the carriage had changed, nor did he know that for his sake Feng Xuanyi had recklessly surrendered ten cities, turned his back upon the entire court, abandoned countless innocent subjects, and cast aside so many of the compromises and responsibilities that came with being a sovereign.
Feng Xuanyi could accept Nalan Xuan’s barbed words without changing expression or offering the slightest resistance. The Shadow Guards could burn with anger while keeping it entirely from their faces. Feng Xuanzhen, however, was different. He froze for an instant before fury exploded across his face. “What did you say?! Do you have any idea—”
He stepped forward, one hand already reaching for Nalan Xuan’s collar, but both the movement and the angry words were stopped by Feng Xuanyi’s arm suddenly extending across his path. With a mild but unquestionable, “Let’s return to the palace,” Feng Xuanyi tried to end the matter there.
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