From beginning to end, Feng Xuanyi had not uttered a single reproach or punishment. To opportunists like Xiao Jiu and He Xiang, this was astonishing. This was more than favor—it was outright indulgence. By sheer accident, the incident only carved Nalan Xuan’s importance in the emperor’s heart even more deeply into their minds, along with his unmatched position within the harem. And naturally, that meant they themselves would have endless prestige to rely upon in the future.
The midday meal had already been prepared, filling the table with lavish dishes. Yet facing Feng Xuanyi—facing someone who responded to every provocation with what could only be called tolerance—Nalan Xuan unexpectedly found his composure slipping. He kept telling himself he had nothing left to lose and nothing anyone could still covet. If Feng Xuanyi wanted to drag this out, Nalan Xuan had all the time in the world. Yet an inexplicable anger kept rising inside him, leaving him so irritated that he wanted to roar simply to release it. For once, he could no longer keep himself perfectly calm.
Perhaps the stare upon him was simply too sharp and scorching. Or perhaps, somewhere along the way, the two had developed an unconscious sensitivity to one another. The instant Nalan Xuan’s gaze settled upon Feng Xuanyi, the emperor, who had been sitting perfectly upright like a clock, slowly turned his head and met the look Nalan Xuan could no longer keep tranquil.
“All of you, leave.” Feng Xuanyi raised one hand and dismissed everyone.
“But…” Mo Yan was holding gauze covered in wound medicine in one hand and a clean cloth in the other, preparing to wipe away the blood. For a moment he did not know whether to stay or go. Worry and hesitation crossed his face. He wanted to remind Feng Xuanyi of something, but changed his words at the last instant. “Your Majesty, your wound still hasn’t been properly dressed.”
“Leave.” The word brooked no argument, and Feng Xuanyi’s tone hardened.
Mo Yan did not dare say more. Though his heart remained full of concern and his gaze traveled several times between Feng Xuanyi and Nalan Xuan, he could only compromise and withdraw.
Feng Xuanyi smiled. It was a gentleness that would once have been impossible to see from him, whether in public or private. He stood, personally arranged their chairs and wiped the bowls and chopsticks clean, then spoke softly to Nalan Xuan, who was still standing to one side. “Come eat.”
A tenderness unbecoming of a sovereign, rare enough beneath heaven to be worth more than gold, was laid entirely before him now. Once, Nalan Xuan had longed for it and could not obtain it. Now he discarded it with contempt.
When Nalan Xuan did not move, Feng Xuanyi was no longer surprised or discouraged. He simply still could not become accustomed to the helplessness of it.
His lips curved with faint bitterness, yet he deliberately maintained a calm expression. He did not calculate the price he had paid to keep this person beside him. He did not count how many complaints he had listened to since early morning because Nalan Xuan had deliberately caused trouble. He no longer cared about the still-throbbing wound left by the nearly fatal sword strike. Feng Xuanyi knew only that Nalan Xuan was at least still standing in front of him. However unwillingly, Feng Xuanyi could still reach him, see him, and feel his presence, instead of suffering the terror and emptiness of those months when there had been nothing at all.
Feng Xuanyi walked around the table, chairs, screen, and footstool, then reached out to lead Nalan Xuan to his seat. The instant his fingers touched the edge of Nalan Xuan’s clothes, Nalan Xuan swatted his hand away without mercy.
Rejected again, Feng Xuanyi merely smiled, neither angry nor impatient, his tolerance seemingly as boundless as the sea. His fingers remained suspended in the air rather than retreating. Instead, he pressed onward and touched a lock of hair beside Nalan Xuan’s temple. As expected, disgust and resistance immediately flashed through Nalan Xuan’s eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” Feng Xuanyi asked, his voice heavy with repression and restraint.
Nalan Xuan’s brows drew tighter, but he did not answer.
“It was all my fault. My fault…” Feng Xuanyi’s distress was unmistakable. “You don’t need to do this. Whatever you look like, I love you.” His words were sincere, almost pleading, as though Nalan Xuan’s pain hurt him even more deeply.
That sentence successfully ignited Nalan Xuan’s anger. He slapped Feng Xuanyi’s hand aside and sneered. “Who do you think you are? What right do you have to say those things to me?!”
Concealing his silver hair was both deception of others and deception of himself. Just as Nalan Xuan stubbornly refused to investigate why Feng Xuanyi seemed almost obsessed with his white hair, he also refused to uncover and admit that he had once loved this man so humbly and foolishly, loved him until he was covered in wounds and nearly lost his life. This was no longer a question of whether he wanted or was willing to face it. It was the brand left by humiliation and hatred. If that mark were ever forcibly given some new meaning, Nalan Xuan would rather cut his own throat—and would gladly wield it to its fullest destructive potential instead.
Faced with Nalan Xuan’s roar, Feng Xuanyi remained unshakably gentle. “I know you hate me, don’t believe me, and want revenge. You can hate me, resent me, punish me. I deserve it. As long as you’re willing to stay—stay beside me—whatever I have to pay will be worth it.”
As expected, a sincere confession earned only contempt and disdain. Feng Xuanyi was not afraid of Nalan Xuan demanding something outrageous. Even if he asked for the entire realm, as long as he could say it, Feng Xuanyi could give it. What truly wounded him was that look in Nalan Xuan’s eyes, capable of stabbing a heart offered with absolute sincerity until it bled.
“Worth it? Deserve it? Heh!” Instead of retreating, Nalan Xuan stepped closer until almost no distance remained between them. “You think this little wound and some so-called tolerance and compromise can make up for everything? Who do you think you are, and who do you think I am? Let me tell you—compensation? I neither need it nor want it. And you have absolutely no right to discuss such things with me!”
“Your Majesty, spare yourself the effort. If you have time to play this game where you chase and I run, why not find a few consorts who are happy to be manipulated by you and even enjoy it? I’m sure they’ll cooperate much better than I ever would and give Your Majesty far more satisfaction!”
Feng Xuanyi continued trying without giving up. Even though every word cut like knives and needles, his expression remained unchanged. He did everything possible to remain gentle and composed, offering almost limitless indulgence and affection. From the instant he realized it was already too late, from the instant he understood he had fallen beyond saving, Feng Xuanyi had already imagined reaching this day. If he could have escaped, replaced these feelings, or forgotten them, he would have done so long ago. Why else choose the final road from which there was no retreat? How muddy and difficult it would be, how many misunderstandings and setbacks awaited him, required no explanation. But Feng Xuanyi had no choice. Love—a word he had once considered ridiculous—had ultimately become his prophecy.
“Eat first. I had the Imperial Kitchen prepare Eight-Treasure Rice, which you like, and the pastries are your favorite jujube-paste walnut cakes.” Feng Xuanyi hurriedly changed the subject with a strained smile. He reached out and, ignoring Nalan Xuan’s resistance, caught his hand. Secretly applying strength, he practically dragged Nalan Xuan to the table and forced him into a seat.
Feng Xuanyi knew that if this continued, even the final thread of false peace between them would be completely destroyed. He struggled to keep his smile from stiffening or dimming beneath the turmoil in his heart. Even if this tranquility was only an illusion, he would exhaust everything he possessed to preserve it.
This time, Feng Xuanyi truly understood what Nalan Xuan had once wanted. He would no longer use position and power to evade or trample upon that sincerity. Unfortunately, the sincerity itself had already withered. It had built a wall of ice around itself, hard enough to withstand anything, preferring to die imprisoned within that barrier rather than ever pour itself out again.