A pair of jade-inlaid rhinoceros horn pillows rested on an eight-foot ivory bed, with a silver-embroidered felt rug laid over a five-colored dragon whisker mat. This room, fit for immortals, now seemed cold and desolate.
Feng Xiyang sat before her dressing mirror, lost in thought. For four days, she hadn’t seen Xia Jingshi once. During the day, he was either in meetings or accompanying Snow Shadow’s father in chess and martial arts. At night, no matter what time she sent someone to invite him, the answer was always the same: His Highness still had unfinished business and asked the Princess Consort to retire first.
That day, watching him walk back to his carriage with determined steps, loudly ordering the procession to continue, she felt as if a thread had stuck to him, stretching thinner and thinner as the journey progressed, yet never breaking.
She had thought that even if she couldn’t have his deep, ocean-like tenderness as One Smile did, it would be good to see his calm smile every day. But— Xiyang smiled self-mockingly. She loved him so deeply, yet he didn’t care at all.
Since childhood, she had been the pearl of Susha, only concerned with pretty dresses and suitable jewels. Then she set her heart on him, becoming the Princess Consort of the Southern King of the Brocade Dynasty, his wife. She thought this would allow them to grow old happily together, but suddenly she hit an invisible high wall—she had barged into his life with her overwhelming naivety, and if not for accidentally overhearing those conversations, she would never have known that no one here welcomed her.
She was so lonely, unable to find a single person to confide in. Was life’s toil truly like Zhuangzi’s butterfly dream? But when would the butterfly in the dream fulfill its wishes?
The air around her suddenly grew scorching. Feng Xiyang turned back in a daze. In the undulating gauze curtains of the doorway, a blood-red datura had mysteriously appeared. The wind moved the curtains, creating ripple-like waves, and datura petals floated everywhere, emitting an alluring fragrance—the datura flowers were so exquisitely beautiful…
Suddenly, the flower tree moved. No, it wasn’t a flowering tree, it was Fu Yixiao!
Amidst the flying curtains, her face was unclear, but every faint gasp and the flames of hatred emanating from her body spoke clearly: “Feng Xiyang, do you know what despair is? It’s an endless, icy, desolate feeling. It gently caresses your hand, slowly climbs up your shoulder, softly strokes your face, gradually taking away every bit of your hope, then viciously strangling every breath of yours, until you return my happiness to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
A heart-rending scream wrapped in swirling blood-red petals howled toward her, crashing into Feng Xiyang’s forehead.
Suddenly, everything went dark.
“…As for diet, focus on light, easily digestible foods. With rest and peace of mind, recovery should take only two or three days,” When Feng Xiyang awoke, the physician was reporting his diagnosis to Xia Jingshi, who stood with his back to the bed.
He had finally come. Feng Xiyang almost wanted to sit up and throw herself into his arms, wiping away all the tears of pain and grievance she had suppressed for days on his chest. But she restrained herself, carefully holding back her tears and closing her eyes again.
After leaving a few prescriptions for recovery, the physician took his leave. Feng Xiyang listened to the deliberately lightened footsteps gradually fading away, her heart growing increasingly tense—he wouldn’t leave too, would he?
After a long silence, just as she could hardly resist opening her eyes, a low sigh came from beside her. Clothes rustled, and the light on her face dimmed. The bed moved slightly as Xia Jingshi sat down beside her, gently pulling the silk quilt to cover her exposed hand.
His faint tenderness surrounded her, and Feng Xiyang could no longer hold back her tears. She opened her eyes and called out chokingly, “Husband.”
Xia Jingshi started, then gave her a gentle smile. “You fainted earlier. The physician has prescribed some nourishing medicines. I’ll have someone prepare them…”
Xiyang, not even wiping away her tears, hurriedly sat up, clutching his clothes and pleading, “The medicine can wait—can you stay with me for a while, husband?” Xia Jingshi patted her hand comfortingly, “Lie down first, I’ll stay with you for a bit longer.”
She didn’t let go of his hand and asked with some unease, “Husband, have I angered you?” Xia Jingshi’s lips twitched slightly as he reassured her, “Don’t overthink. I’ve been busier lately because I’ve been away from Brocade for too long and there’s a backlog of affairs. It’ll be better in a few days.”
Feng Xiyang’s heart settled, and color gradually returned to her face. Just as she was about to speak, she suddenly remembered the datura flowers that had rushed towards her face. She tensed up, instinctively looking towards the doorway. It was empty.
Xia Jingshi followed her gaze to the doorway and asked, puzzled, “What’s wrong?” Feng Xiyang hesitantly asked, “The red datura at the door, did you have someone remove it?”
Xia Jingshi asked in surprise, “Red datura?” Seeing her nod affirmatively, he pondered briefly, “When I arrived, the doorway was already empty. There wouldn’t be such flowers in the royal city, and who would place plants in a passageway? Could you have seen wrong?”
Feng Xiyang exhaled slowly and forced a smile, “I must have seen wrong—at that time I saw a red datura and Fu Yixiao.” As she said the last three words, her eyes fixed steadily on his.
Xia Jingshi’s pupils contracted, instantly freezing into ice blades. Before Feng Xiyang could react, his eyelashes flickered, and his eyes were filled with a faint smile as if the previous coldness had been an illusion. “That must have been a hallucination. Yixiao is thousands of miles away now, how could she appear here? The physician said you’re not accustomed to the local environment. We should prepare the medicine soon.” As he spoke, he gently but firmly pulled his clothes from Xiyang’s grasp and stood up.
Seeing him about to leave, Xiyang panicked and threw herself forward, embracing his neck and shoulders. In the violent collision of her chest, a warm tear splashed from her eye socket, landing on the side of his neck and meandering down his exposed skin. “I’m sorry, please don’t be angry…”
Xia Jingshi gently pulled her arms away and pushed her back, his voice as calm as water, “I’m not angry. Don’t overthink.”
Seeing her expression darken as she slowly withdrew her arms, Xia Jingshi felt a twinge of pity and softened his voice, “Recover quickly. After Ning Fei’s wedding, we’ll set off for the imperial capital to pay homage to the Holy Emperor. You haven’t been to the imperial capital before, have you…”
At the mention of the imperial capital, a spark lit up in Feng Xiyang’s eyes, and her features gained some vitality. “I have been there. The first time I saw you was in the imperial capital.” Xia Jingshi was quite surprised, “When was that?”
Feng Xiyang’s eyes were now curved in a smile, but she deliberately didn’t answer his question. “Don’t you remember?” Xia Jingshi pondered, “I really can’t recall. I didn’t spend much time in the imperial capital… When was it?”
“It was the day of the Holy Emperor’s ascension to the throne. I’ve forgotten the weather that day, forgotten who else was around, I only remember you,” Xiyang said softly with a smile, her eyes full of memories. “Afterward, I kept thinking, was it heaven’s destiny that I could spot you among so many people at first glance?” Seeing him listening in a daze, Xiyang lowered her head, blushing. “It was also destined that I would fall in love with you that day, but I never imagined we would become husband and wife—husband, I don’t ask for your whole heart. In your heart, besides One Smile, can you spare a corner for Xiyang?”
Feng Xiyang gazed at Xia Jingshi earnestly, while Xia Jingshi seemed somewhat dazed, his gaze losing focus. Xiyang bit her lip, suddenly leaning forward, grabbing Xia Jingshi’s collar, and kissing him.
She kissed his lips wholeheartedly, instinctively. Perhaps too shocked, Xia Jingshi didn’t push her away. His lips were thin and soft, yet tasteless, bland as water.
Sadness welled up from the depths of Feng Xiyang’s heart, enveloping her like a quiet, deep sea. The seawater was ice-cold, yet she was willing to sink into it, all the way to the bottom.
Her kiss gradually turned into a plea, into desperate taking, as if trying to provoke his cold, distant, unfeeling soul through suction.
Suddenly, Xia Jingshi’s eyes changed. He roughly pushed Feng Xiyang away and stood up, wearing an expression of extreme disgust. His gold-embroidered sleeve slowly and forcefully wiped across his slightly wet lips. “This King’s heart is too small. In this life, having given it to her, there’s no room for anyone else.”