Chapter 103: Rising and Leaving

The ceremony concluded, and the banquet continued with lively chatter and laughter, the atmosphere vibrant and joyful.

A man dressed in white entered gracefully through the main entrance, a faint smile playing on his lips. Carrying a gift box in one hand, he raised his other hand to halt the crowd’s instinctive gesture of respect, his movement as gentle as a spring breeze yet carrying an undeniable authority.

Feng Xilou walked slowly toward the hall, stopping before Duan Siyu. He bowed slightly but did not kneel. “Long live the Emperor,” he said.

Duan Siyu shook his head with amusement, reclining more lazily in his seat. “Prime Minister Feng, no need for such formalities.” Could it be that he was also greeting him so formally?

Feng Xilou gave no reply. With a subtle smile, he turned to Yun Qixiao. His eyes briefly glanced at Yun Xueyan, but she did not meet his gaze.

After such a long time, he had finally decided to come here, only to see her. Yet, upon seeing her, his longing deepened, tightening his chest with pain.

His heart plummeted into a valley of despair, but his face retained a faint, unreadable smile—neither sorrowful nor joyful—like a thin veil of mist clouding his expression.

“General Yun, forgive the Prime Minister’s late arrival. Some matters detained me,” he said stiffly, undoing the ribbon on the gift box. Opening it, he presented it to Yun Qixiao. “As an apology, I bring this humble gift. Please do not disdain its modesty.”

Yun Qixiao leaned forward to look inside. Two swords lay within, their hilts engraved with the characters “Wu” and “Shuang.” A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by astonishment. “Prime Minister Feng, what is this...” He chuckled softly. “This is hardly a humble gift.”

“So you like it, General Yun?” Feng Xilou asked with a smile. This gift was no easy sacrifice for him.

“Prime Minister Feng, you flatter me,” Yun Qixiao said as he accepted the box, examining it carefully. “Thank you, Prime Minister Feng.”

The twin swords inside—the Yin and Yang of the Wushuang blades—could slice through iron like mud. They were peerless treasures renowned throughout the world, known to be Feng Xilou’s most prized possessions. And yet, here he was, offering them...

Yun Qixiao’s gaze flicked lightly toward Feng Xilou, only to catch him inadvertently glancing at Yun Xueyan.

It seemed everything he had heard was true: Feng Xilou and Yan’er. But if they had met earlier, what might their fate have been?

Brushing his sleeve lightly, Feng Xilou naturally took the empty seat beside Yun Xueyan. Looking around, it was the only vacant spot.

Holding a wine cup, Duan Nanyu’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, his brows knitting together as jealousy darkened his gaze.

Instinctively, he gripped Yun Xueyan’s hand, pulling her closer.

Annoyed, Yun Xueyan struggled away, standing to face Duan Siyu and Yun Qixiao. “Your Majesty, General Yun, Xueyan is feeling unwell and wishes to leave early.”

She knew this would anger Duan Nanyu and sadden Feng Xilou, but the ceremony was over. She had done all she needed to do. Staying here now served no purpose.

Caught between two men, she barely dared to breathe.

“If Consort Yan is unwell, I will not detain her,” Duan Siyu said decisively. “But Nanyu shall remain.” He glanced around the room, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Yun Xueyan nodded politely and made her way toward the courtyard gate.

“Zihun!” A cold voice tinged with anger called out. After giving the order, Duan Nanyu watched as a shadow darted out swiftly.

Not a soul had noticed his entry.

Flicking his fingers against his sleeve, Feng Xilou still smiled, though his eyes held a clear trace of pain. He nodded silently, watching as Ying Ye, who had followed him inside, also departed.

To the readers:

I recommend the forthcoming conclusion of the heartrending novel by my friend Huowu Liujin, “The Cunning Prince’s Guilty Maid.”