As Fu Yixiao applied blue-green eyebrow powder and rouge to her lips in front of the mirror, she suddenly remembered the small pavilion in the Water Painting Garden. The past floated by like smoke and clouds. Who could have imagined that Fu Yixiao, once a prisoner and slave, would first become the Prince’s consort, and today be appointed as Princess Xingping of the Jinxiu Dynasty in Susha?
“In a moment, you’ll be wearing the princess’s crown and sash. A princess!” Xueying exclaimed excitedly, pacing around the room. She suddenly stopped and clenched her fist. “I’d like to see who in Susha would dare to touch you now.” Then, growing angry, she continued, “That Feng Qishan is simply mad. If it weren’t clear that Feng Suige cares for you so much, I would have forced Ning Fei to bring you back to Jinxiu…”
Yixiao smiled faintly, casually pulling down the ceremonial robe embroidered with six pairs of colorful phoenixes from the wooden rack and draping it over herself. Xueying watched as she skillfully inserted the moonstone hairpins gifted by the Holy Emperor into her hair. Suddenly, Xueying covered her face and groaned, “Have you gone mad, or have I? Please don’t just smile without speaking. It makes me feel like I’m hallucinating.”
Yixiao’s hands, which were tying her robe, paused. “Xueying, do you think I’m happy?” Caught off guard by her question, Xueying fell silent for a while before softly asking in return, “What about you? Do you feel happy?”
“I don’t know,” Yixiao’s face showed a fleeting look of confusion. “It seems there’s no choice but to keep moving forward.” She glanced back at the pensive Xueying. “But no matter what, I must continue because no one deserves to be sacrificed in vain.”
Feng Qishan gazed at the distant western mountains. The sun was slowly sinking, leaving a blood-red afterglow in the sky.
Fu Yixiao was no longer the lowly woman of yesterday with nothing to her name. From now on, her every word and action would bear the mark of the Jinxiu royal family. She represented Jinxiu, just as Xiyang represented Susha.
“Your Majesty,” a palace servant timidly approached. “The Junior Consort requests an audience.” Feng Qishan snapped out of his wandering thoughts and laughed coldly. “Indeed, she’s an uncouth thing, already eager to come and boast before me.”
Yixiao slowly entered Bi’an Palace against the fading autumn sun. Her magnificent robe shimmered with a rouge-like, delicate hue in the sunset. Envious or admiring gazes followed her, and she returned their looks from afar. These people, who had once resisted or flattered her, now bowed respectfully several dozen steps away.
Even if they were cursing behind her back, at this moment of face-to-face encounter, they had to bow and scrape before her. She was satisfied with this; all she wanted was outward submission. As long as appearances were maintained, it was enough.
Looking at the elaborately dressed Fu Yixiao, Feng Qishan couldn’t help but admire her. The former Fu Yixiao, who had nothing but pride, had long since galloped beyond his memory, now so unfamiliar and distant.
“I underestimated you,” Feng Qishan snorted coldly. “I didn’t expect you to have such skills, even deceiving the Holy Emperor of Jinxiu.” Yixiao restrained herself and calmly explained, “It’s precisely because I anticipated Your Majesty would think this way that I’ve come to the palace to meet you. This appointment was unexpected to me as well, not obtained through any schemes as Your Majesty imagines.”
She paused briefly before continuing, “Saying this now might be seen as a provocation by Your Majesty, but I must say it. Every step I’ve taken in Susha has been forced by Your Majesty. So I don’t understand why Your Majesty treats me as a thorn in your side, but I won’t question the reasons anymore.”
Seeing Feng Qishan’s silence, Yixiao continued in one breath, “Your Majesty’s concern for the Prince is natural, but Your Majesty is too accustomed to controlling everything. Such care can also be a form of harm, so…” “So you’re going to teach me how to behave?” Feng Qishan coldly interrupted. “Do you think you’re qualified? Or have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”
“Your Majesty thinks too much,” Yixiao smiled instead of getting angry. “I was going to say, since we’re destined to walk the same path to the end, why not each take a step back to seek peace and spare the Prince from being caught in the middle?” She bowed slightly. “From now on, I hope for Your Majesty’s guidance.”
“That old fool,” Xueying slammed her teacup on the table, cursing angrily. “You’ve already compromised, and he still won’t let go—one day all the evil in his belly will turn to pus and ooze out from his head and feet.” Yixiao lay lazily on the couch, barely lifting her eyelids. “If I got angry at every word he said, I’d have died of anger long ago. Save your energy. You’re about to become a mother; your temper is still so fierce. I don’t understand why you and Ning Fei don’t fight.”
“How could he bear to?” Xueying raised her chin proudly. “It’s the same for you. With your bear-like temper, only Feng Suige could tolerate you. If it were anyone else, they’d probably write a divorce letter the day after the wedding.”
Yixiao fell silent for a moment, then sat up on the couch and asked softly, “Is he doing well?” Xueying hesitated, then shrugged. “He’s fine. You know what Xia Jingshi is like. He never says anything. Even Ning Fei doesn’t know his true thoughts, so I can’t be bothered to guess.”
Yixiao nodded and walked to the dressing table. She opened the wooden box Xueying had brought, taking out a few new glass hairpins and examining them carefully. “I don’t know if it’s because too much has happened recently, but I’ve been feeling uneasy these past few days as if something is about to happen…”
“Xueying,” as if in response to her words, Ning Fei’s loud voice, filled with urgency, came from afar, growing closer. “Xueying—” Yixiao’s heart tightened. She dropped the hairpins and quickly went to open the door. “Ning Fei, what’s wrong?”
Ning Fei had already arrived at the door, speaking hurriedly, “Yixiao, please look after Xueying for me for a few days. I need to rush back to Jinxiu.” “What happened?” Xueying also came out, puzzled. “What’s so urgent?”
“It’s His Highness,” Ning Fei wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. “A fast horse from Jinxiu brought news that His Highness and Weiran have been severely injured and are in critical condition. They want me to return as quickly as possible…”
The world spun around her. Yixiao dug her fingers into the doorframe to maintain her balance, asking faintly, “How could this happen? How did they…?”
Ning Fei shook his head gravely. “The messenger didn’t explain the details. They only know that a pile of logs at the Shuxiang Temple Mausoleum construction site collapsed, striking His Highness and Weiran. Xueying is with a child, so I can’t take her on this rushed journey. Therefore, please help me take care of her. I’ll come back to get her as soon as I can!”