Chapter 65: Entering the Palace Part 2

Yan Xinfeng had been frail since childhood and had spent ten years eating sand in the Northern Border afterward. The one time he fell for someone, he had not even realized it before suffering a grievous injury and abandonment. He did not know much about matters of the heart, so his kisses were merely clumsy tangles of attachment, brimming with innocent fondness.

Wei Tingxia, on the other hand, was the more adept one.

His fingers had initially stayed proper, merely hooked over the shoulders. But as desire itched unbearably, they slowly slid downward, attempting to tug open the man’s collar.

Unfortunately, before achieving his goal, he was firmly stopped.

“No.”

Yan Xinfeng said righteously, “Not now.”

Wei Tingxia was dissatisfied and tried to kiss again. “Why?”

“We are not married yet,” Yan Xinfeng avoided his eyes. “Passion is hard to control, but we cannot go too far.”

Wei Tingxia narrowed his eyes and pushed him against the wall. “So you mean if we don’t marry, it will be impossible forever?”

“…”

Yan Xinfeng fell silent for a moment, then said, “It will not be.”

“What does that mean?”

Yan Xinfeng replied, “Once this matter is over, I will request a decree and have the Emperor grant us marriage.”

Wei Tingxia abruptly raised his eyes, as if scalded by the words. He stared blankly for a good while before squeezing out from his throat, “Have you gone mad?”

“I have not.” Yan Xinfeng met his gaze, his tone resolute. “A marriage decreed by Your Majesty would be proper and fitting—the best outcome for us both.”

“He will not agree!” Wei Tingxia’s voice rose slightly, carrying an anxiety he himself had not noticed. “We both know this is impossible!”

“He will.” Yan Xinfeng stated firmly, his eyes dark. “No one can stop me, unless…”

He paused, his voice lowering yet striking more clearly at Wei Tingxia’s heart. “Unless you truly are unwilling.”

“Are you willing?”

Wei Tingxia opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked by something.

He had never closely considered how heavily that word would land before them. They had mentioned marriage between them, but it had been more like clouds floating in the air—ethereal jokes tinged with playfulness and unreality.

He had never thought of establishing a relationship with Yan Xinfeng in this world.

Wei Tingxia paced irritably in place two circles, the shadows under the corridor seeming to sway with his movements. The earlier intimacy vanished entirely, the air suddenly growing heavy.

The lanterns outside the corridor swayed in the wind. He suddenly halted, lunged close to Yan Xinfeng again—noses almost touching—his usually breezy eyes surging with emotion.

“Are you sure?”

Wei Tingxia’s voice was very low, sharp with accusation. “Yan Xinfeng, our current state doesn’t mean those past rotten debts are wiped clean! I really defected—I abandoned you! Are you sure you can completely let it go?”

Yan Xinfeng met his gaze. In the interplay of light and shadow, his dark eyes gleamed coldly, as if pulled back two years by Wei Tingxia’s words to that unspoken past.

Wei Tingxia caught the shift in his eyes and sneered mockingly. “See? You can’t let it go. Even if we marry, the accumulation of daily trifles would likely become unbearable. Better to end it here—”

“—It does not matter.” Yan Xinfeng interrupted him, his gaze terrifyingly calm. “I do not mind.”

“You…”

Wei Tingxia was choked by his nonchalant attitude, unable to catch his breath.

Yan Xinfeng continued, his tone even somewhat gentle. “As long as you do not leave in the future, the past can all be disregarded.”

“How could it not count!” Wei Tingxia demanded loudly.

“Why must it count!”

Yan Xinfeng’s voice suddenly rose, like a taut bowstring snapping. The deliberate gentleness shattered instantly. He stepped forward, his shadow completely enveloping Wei Tingxia.

His chest heaved dramatically, as if expelling the foul qi stuck in his throat. His voice carried a rasp of being pushed to the limit and unyielding stubbornness. “As long as you stay and never think of Fu Chi and the others again, nothing needs to count! Even if we settle the accounts, what then? Will that let you leave? Don’t even dream of it!”

“You are sick!”

Wei Tingxia panicked and nearly roared it out. He felt like punching cotton—the man’s impervious, obstinate-to-the-point-of-madness attitude made his heart race with panic and inexplicable fury.

Yan Xinfeng did not deny it, not even twitching his brow. He acted as if he had not heard Wei Tingxia’s scolding at all. His gaze swept over Wei Tingxia’s chest, which rose and fell slightly with agitation, before he brought up another matter in a tone of abrupt calm.

“The prescription Huang Pei used to save me back then,” he paused, his eyes returning to Wei Tingxia’s suddenly frozen face, enunciating each word, “was quite novel.”

In that instant, Wei Tingxia’s breathing hitched.

He responded half a beat late. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if it saved you, being a bit novel is normal.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Yan Xinfeng said. He raised his hand and brushed Wei Tingxia’s eye corner, his fingertip rubbing over the broken brow. “You taught me about weird forces and spirits, so let me teach you something in return. People sometimes get carried away, and once they do, they say the wrong things—words can’t be taken back, Xiao Xia.”

He was referring to that night.

Wei Tingxia had been ill and provoked him into a flare-up, then got carried away and said the wrong thing. Yan Xinfeng had remembered it.

This flaw, left unintentionally, might become the turning point in the deadly stalemate before them.

Yan Xinfeng’s anger came quickly and faded just as fast. As he gazed into Wei Tingxia’s bright black eyes, fondness welled up in his heart. He could not help but lower his head again, gently nuzzling the corner of his beloved’s lips.

“It’s fine. I can keep waiting. No rush.”

“Someday, we’ll be able to talk it all out.”

……

……

Prince Jin had sent eight people to the Yunzhong Marquis Mansion. The next day, before dawn, the news reached Prince Chen’s ears.

He flew into a rage, feeling his brilliant idea had been stolen.

“Where did he find so many people?” Li Ji could not figure it out. “I even asked around all the street performers in the capital. There are some who can swing big hammers, but only men, no women.”

“Give it up,” the princess consort said from her seat nearby. She blew away the tea foam and took a sip, her tone flat. “Prince Jin’s Three Thousand Battalion has women too—not many, but enough to swing hammers for sure.”

Other armies only trained male soldiers, but Prince Jin was different. His army included women who fought fiercely and could cleave off heads with their blades.

The princess consort looked at her foolish husband with pity in her tone. “You can’t compete with your second brother. No matter what, he’ll always be one step ahead.”

In truth, the princess consort still had not sensed that Yan Xinfeng would like this type of man or woman. But things had reached this point—everyone was treating a dead horse like a live one. Moreover, by sending servants, Prince Jin was trying to please Yan Xinfeng on one hand and planting a few spies in the Yunzhong Marquis Mansion on the other.

They were all soldiers; even if they could not gather intel, killing a few people when the time came would be worth it.

“So what do we do?”

Li Ji was still unconvinced. “The Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet is coming up. After her birthday passes, the Emperor will make his move against us.”

“How should I know?” The princess consort’s tone was weary. “I think it’s impossible to stay in the capital any longer. Even if your second brother succeeds, it won’t be your turn to enjoy the good life. Do you really think he’ll share the world with you?”

“You!”

Prince Chen was furious but dared not retort. The princess consort had shared hardships with him. Behind closed doors, they discussed matters frankly—what was said was said, and sometimes he just had to endure the scolding.

He lowered his voice. “So we just obediently go to our fief?”

“I don’t know.” The princess consort was lost too. She changed the subject. “These days, I’ve kept dreaming of Jingyang—dreaming she was crying at me, so pitiful, crying until my heart ached.”

Prince Chen fell silent.

Jingyang was their first child, the apple of their eyes. Unfortunately, the timing of her birth was wrong. The realm was in turmoil with rebellious vassal kings. He had followed his father to war, leaving his wife and daughter in the capital. He had not even made it back when Jingyang died.

They had other children now, but Jingyang remained a pain in their hearts.

The princess consort’s tone was bewildered. “Sometimes I wonder if her tomb’s location is bad, if she’s not resting peacefully, so she keeps coming to cry at me.”

But that spot had been chosen after masters divined it multiple times—the best possible place, elegant and spacious, an absolute feng shui treasure.

If Jingyang could not rest well there, where could she?

A soft sigh echoed in the room. Prince Chen’s expression shifted repeatedly as many thoughts crossed his mind, weighing heavily on him.

The night finally settled into prolonged quiet.

A day later, the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet.

Wei Tingxia was woken halfway through his sleep. He opened his eyes to see Yan Xinfeng sitting on the edge of his bed, hair already tied up.

“…What is it?”

He asked groggily, glancing out the window to find it still pitch black outside—the sun had not yet risen.