For the sake of his brothers’ lives, Wenge took just one night to accept reality. The next morning, he went to find Feng Lezhen again.
“The others will testify for you.” He stated his purpose the moment he saw her.
Feng Lezhen lifted her gaze, immediately catching the key point. “Them?”
“I won’t.” Wenge looked like he hadn’t rested at all the previous night—either he’d slept poorly or not at all. His eyes were bloodshot, and even though his expression was calm, there was something about him that made one feel pity without reason. “I won’t testify, and I won’t seek Yingguan’s protection. Before the sun sets today, I will leave here and never return.”
“Yingguan may be remote,” Feng Lezhen said, looking into his eyes, “but it’s not so small that it can’t hold one person. While you were in the capital, I had someone buy fifty mu of land and built three tiled houses on it.”
Wenge’s fingers trembled, and pain briefly flickered across his face, but he quickly regained his composure. His eyes, however, were redder than before. “I don’t want it.”
“Then what do you want?” Feng Lezhen’s voice softened—carrying a tenderness even she herself hadn’t noticed.
Wenge stared straight into her eyes. “I want the little Bell who lost her memory, who gnawed on raw radishes to survive, who played shuttlecock and sandbag with me to pass the time. I want her to go with me to some peaceful, scenic place to live in seclusion, and from then on, no longer care about the world. Can Your Highness give me that?”
“Wenge—”
“Your Highness cannot give me that.” Wenge exhaled slowly, his face ashen as he took a step back. “Your Highness can’t give me anything. Your heart holds ambition, your mind holds grand aspirations, endless desire… but it holds nothing of me.”
“I know you’re hurting,” Feng Lezhen replied quietly, “but things have come to this—neither of us can change it now. Why not each take a step back and find some understanding?”
“Take a step back and understand?” Wenge cut to the bone. “What did Your Highness step back from? What have you understood? Fifty mu of land? Three tiled houses? You even let me walk into the capital’s death trap just to speed up convincing us. Your so-called understanding is just asking me to compromise alone, isn’t it?”
Every word was drenched in blood. Feng Lezhen didn’t argue—she only looked at him quietly.
Wenge hated that calm. It made him feel like all his pain, all his struggle and despair, were nothing more than a child’s tantrum to her. As if… in this entire deception, only he had been foolish enough to fall in love. She, all the while, stood high above it all, untouched.
Looking at him like a trapped beast, staring at her with eyes full of love and hate, Feng Lezhen’s heart finally stirred. She stepped forward. But Wenge, as if triggered, retreated two steps. This time, Feng Lezhen didn’t stop. She stepped forward again and pulled him into a firm embrace.
Wenge trembled. His thin back felt like a collapsed mountain ridge. His entire body seemed to sink. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, and the heat of his breath seeped through her clothes as if it could burn her skin.
But Feng Lezhen didn’t retreat. She simply patted his back gently.
“I hate you,” he said, his voice hoarse and ragged.
“I know,” she replied.
“Someone like you doesn’t deserve my love. Doesn’t deserve anyone’s love. You should live to a hundred wrapped in your schemes and plots, alone for a lifetime—forever unable to obtain, to love, or to hate. You should—” Should what? There were more cruel curses ready, but none of them made it out.
Feng Lezhen didn’t mind his lashing out. She simply held him quietly.
Gradually, soothed by her presence, Wenge calmed down. When he lifted his head again, his bloodshot eyes were even wearier, but his gaze was composed. “All the days and nights we spent together… was there ever even one moment—one second—when you felt something real for me?”
He no longer dared ask the foolish question of whether he was more important than the empire. After all the pain and betrayal, he just wanted one truthful answer.
“Every moment,” Feng Lezhen said, gazing into his eyes. “Not a single moment went by when I didn’t feel it.”
Wenge mouthed those words to himself three, four times, then suddenly laughed through the bitterness. “That’s enough. That’s all I needed.”
Feng Lezhen sensed something in his tone, and quickly reached out to grab his hand. “Little Bell, stay.”
Wenge stared back at her, gaze heavy enough to suffocate.
And in that suffocating silence, he still pulled his hand away. Then, under her gaze, he took one step back, then another, until there were five or six paces between them. Only then did he speak.
“I’m going to find a place of mountains and streams to live in seclusion. Will you come with me?”
A question he already knew the answer to—yet he asked again.
Feng Lezhen’s breath hitched briefly. She said slowly, “I’ve prepared land and a home for you…”
“That’s not mine.” Wenge shook his head.
Just like how, after his vegetables were ruined by the rain, she had secretly asked someone to replant them with new seedlings. They weren’t his—he hadn’t nurtured them from seed—and so they couldn’t be considered his. He had always had a stubbornness that surpassed normal people. Once he set his mind, not even eight oxen could pull him back. The Feng Lezhen of his past life knew this. The Feng Lezhen of this life knew it too.
They looked at each other for a long time in silence before Feng Lezhen finally spoke. “If you’re determined to leave, I won’t see you off.”
“…Fine.”
Wenge had said he would leave before sunset—and he kept his word. By early afternoon, he had packed his belongings and headed toward the city gates alone. The person who had said she wouldn’t see him off went back on her word. Before he arrived, she was already waiting there.
Yingguan’s summer was a sea of swirling yellow sand. Feng Lezhen stood in the scorching wind in a crimson dress, like a rose in full bloom. And though roses at their peak must wither, she looked like one that could bloom for a thousand years, enough to change the very color of the world around her.
Wenge looked at her—just looked—and suddenly understood why she would never leave with him.
Such picturesque rivers and mountains were all destined to belong to her. But she was not meant to belong to any one stream or hill.
When Feng Lezhen saw him pause, she turned to glance at Ah Ye. Ah Ye immediately brought out a bundle. The moment Wenge saw the neatly packed bundle, his heart skipped a beat—and a sliver of foolish hope, one that had no right to exist, bloomed once more.
Yet that sliver of foolish hope was short-lived—it shattered the moment Feng Lezhen handed him the bundle.
“There’s some silver inside, along with a few changes of clothes and new identification papers,” Feng Lezhen explained softly. “Even if someone questions you in the future, you won’t need to be afraid.”
Wenge stared at the bundle in his hands for a long time without saying a word.
“Wenge,” Feng Lezhen called his name.
He slowly lifted his gaze.
“No matter where you go, be careful. Take care of yourself.” Her voice was warm and gentle.
That single sentence easily broke through the defenses Wenge thought he had rebuilt. To avoid leaving in disgrace, he immediately led his horse away without another word.
The sun was setting, crimson clouds gathering on the horizon and casting a fiery glow across his shoulders. The youth had grown overnight—his sharp edges and youthful pride had vanished.
Feng Lezhen watched him walk farther and farther away. Without realizing it, she took two steps forward. The person outside the city gates must have sensed something. He suddenly dropped the bundle and horse’s reins and charged toward her.
As his figure grew larger in her vision, Feng Lezhen’s heartbeat sped up uncontrollably. Her face remained composed, but her palms had started to sweat. When he stopped before her, she found herself at a rare loss for words—unable to remember what she had meant to say.
Wenge, still catching his breath from the run, looked at her with eyes like melting snow—cold, sorrowful, and full of grief. Feng Lezhen finally found her voice, her tone careful and carrying a trace of hope she shouldn’t have: “Why did you…”
Before she could finish, Wenge suddenly pulled her into his arms—and sank his teeth into her neck.
Pain shot through her instantly. Her breath caught, but she didn’t push him away. Ah Ye, sensing something was wrong, immediately stepped forward to intervene, but Feng Lezhen raised a hand to stop her.
She stood still, allowing Wenge to vent all his intense emotions. He bit down hard, and only when the taste of blood flooded his mouth did he reluctantly let her go.
A bleeding bite mark now marred her pale neck, and Wenge’s beautifully shaped lips were stained with crimson. Even the little white teeth she had always liked were now tinged with blood.
“In the end,” Wenge said, his voice hoarse beyond recognition, “you owe me nothing. Everything you did was just retaliation against us assassins. But I still couldn’t control myself—couldn’t stop myself from hating you. Maybe it’s because I…”
Because what? He seemed unable to finish.
Feng Lezhen’s voice softened: “I understand.”
“…It’s all a muddle, impossible to untangle. If you owed me, then I forgive you. If I owed you, then please don’t hold it against me.” Wenge looked into her eyes. “In short… let’s call it even.”
“…Alright.”
“Since it’s settled, then the curse I uttered this morning doesn’t count. May you live a long life. Not a life of never attaining, never loving, never hating—but one where you get what you desire and never have to worry.”
Wenge’s figure finally disappeared into the wilderness beneath the setting sun.
Feng Lezhen lowered her eyes and climbed into the carriage headed back to the Princess’s estate. Along the way, Ah Ye was on edge. She tried several times to speak but was held back by Feng Lezhen’s too-calm demeanor.
After a long while, she asked in a quiet voice, “Your Highness… does it hurt?”
She meant the bite mark on Feng Lezhen’s neck. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound still looked disturbing.
Feng Lezhen replied, “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Let me bandage it for you.” Ah Ye offered again.
“No need.”
Ah Ye opened her mouth again but gave up insisting.
They returned in silence. Just as Ah Ye jumped off the carriage, someone approached to report. Ah Ye glanced casually—when she saw who it was, her face lit up and she lifted the curtain excitedly: “Your Highness! Look who’s back!”
“Greetings to Your Highness!”
“We pay our respects to Your Highness!”
Feng Lezhen looked up, and when she saw who was outside, her usually expressionless face finally showed a flicker of emotion. “You’ve finally returned.”
It was the group of guards who had escorted Qi Jingqing and Shen Suifeng to Yunming.
Ah Ye had been fretting over how to cheer Feng Lezhen up. Now, seeing them return, she felt even heaven was helping her. She quickly asked, “Where’s Chen Jinan? You’re all here—why isn’t he? And Old Zhou? Why didn’t he come either?”
The group’s joy at returning home faded at her question. One of them quietly wiped their eyes.
Ah Ye’s heart sank. She was just about to ask what was wrong when someone choked out an answer: “Old Zhou… he caught a fever shortly after leaving Yunming. By the time we brought him back to see Doctor Shen… it was already too late.”
“…What about Jinan?” Feng Lezhen’s voice was faint.
The man’s eyes turned even redder. “When we arrived in Yunming, we happened to encounter a riot by refugees. Jinan stayed behind to cover our retreat, and he…”
And he what? He didn’t finish the sentence. But their faces told the rest—a deep sorrow hung over all of them.
Two close friends were gone. Ah Ye felt a stabbing pain in her chest but instinctively turned to look at her mistress—and her mistress… was calm, as if nothing had happened.
“Your Highness…” Ah Ye remembered her looking exactly like this when the late emperor died. Her heart clenched. “Your Highness, if it hurts, just cry. I’ll cry with you. Please don’t bottle it up…”
“There’s nothing to bottle up. From Yingguan to Yunming, across the entire Great Qian, how many dangers could they have faced? Before I sent them, I already knew the risks. Losing only two… is already considered lucky.” Feng Lezhen looked at the returning guards. “Rest well. You’ll be rewarded once you’ve recovered.”
“Yes, Your Highness…”
The crowd dispersed. Feng Lezhen also turned to walk toward the main residence. Ah Ye was about to follow, but Feng Lezhen stopped her.
“I want to be alone,” she said.
Ah Ye looked at Feng Lezhen’s lowered lashes and held back her sobs as she gave a soft reply.
The maids in the main courtyard gradually took their leave. When only Feng Lezhen remained, the large doors slowly closed. From outside, Ah Ye’s last glimpse was of the princess’s bright red gown and her overly slender wrist.
Why is she so thin? Ah Ye thought dazedly. She’s been well taken care of—so why is she still wasting away day by day? She was lost in thought when Fan Gonggong approached. Seeing the tears welling in her eyes, he sighed heavily.
“Old Zhou’s family is in the capital,” he said. “I’ve written a letter to Steward Qin asking her to see to their arrangements. As for Jinan… he had no relatives. Even if we wanted to offer funeral money, we wouldn’t know who to give it to…” He let out another sigh.
Ah Ye let out a wail and started crying. “It was just an escort mission! Why did it have to cost them their lives? If I had known… if I had known, I’d have been nicer to them before…”
Fan Gonggong, sorrowful himself, patted her shoulder in comfort.
Their voices drifted through the crack in the door and fell clearly into Feng Lezhen’s ears. She hadn’t returned to her room but sat quietly in the pavilion. She stayed there deep into the night.
The main courtyard was silent. Still worried, Ah Ye eventually climbed up onto the wall to sneak a glance. But just as she peered over, Feng Lezhen’s cool voice rang out from below: “Seems we’ll have to raise the walls—keep little thieves from peeking.”
Ah Ye slipped and nearly fell. Steadying herself, she jumped down awkwardly and stepped forward to bow. “Greetings, Your Highness.”
Feng Lezhen pushed an empty cup toward her. “Go pour some hot tea.”
“Yes!” Ah Ye responded quickly and ran off with the cup. After a couple of steps, she stopped and turned back, hesitant. “Your Highness… are you alright?”
“What’s there to be unwell about?” Feng Lezhen’s expression was calm. “Go pour the tea.”
“…Yes, alright!” Relieved, Ah Ye left.
She returned soon with a fresh cup. Feng Lezhen drank half, then set it down. “Tomorrow morning, spread the news that this ben gong was attacked, and that the assassins were captured. Let Chen Yu and the others know not to wander, and have Jingren strengthen the guard. Once Feng Ji learns I survived and even caught his men, he’ll surely try to eliminate the problem completely.”
“When will Your Highness return to the capital?” Ah Ye asked.
“In another two months,” Feng Lezhen said.
When she’d first arrived at Yingguan, she’d thought of charging back every single day. But now that she actually could, she no longer felt the urgency.
Ah Ye frowned. “Two more months? Then why spread the news now?”
“Wenge left on his own. I have to do something to spare him from being hunted. Besides…” Feng Lezhen’s eyes were calm. “Isn’t it amusing to keep Feng Ji tossing and turning?”
Ah Ye didn’t understand her meaning, but seeing that she had a plan, she nodded at once.
Feng Lezhen then gave her a few instructions to pass to Qi Jingren, which Ah Ye memorized before heading out. But upon reaching the front courtyard, she hesitated—she wasn’t sure when she’d return from the military camp. It would be better to help the princess settle for the night first. After a moment of conflict, she turned back.
Then she saw Feng Lezhen slumped over the table, one hand covering her eyes, lost in thought. The usually straight-backed princess now hunched as though carrying a weight of ten thousand pounds.
“Your Highness…”
Feng Lezhen stirred slightly, but the hand over her eyes didn’t lower.
Ah Ye stood outside the pavilion, eyes red, and was just about to speak when Feng Lezhen’s cool voice broke the silence: “Wenge said we’re even now, and that his curse no longer counts. But why does it feel like it’s all coming true?”
“…That nonsense? Don’t believe him, Your Highness. You’re a goddess born under heaven, with a golden body to protect you. No one can curse you.” Ah Ye said softly.
Feng Lezhen let out a short, dry laugh and fell silent again. “Go. Don’t worry about me. Everything in this world, apart from what I must do, is a trivial matter. Also… find a doctor. Have my wound dressed. It’s minor and won’t affect anything, but at a time like this, even the smallest oversight isn’t acceptable.”
“Yes…”
Ah Ye left once more.
Feng Lezhen sat there alone for a long while. Eventually, she touched the bite mark still aching on her neck. When she sat up straight again, her damp eyes had regained their composure.
The fastest thing in this world is the wind—and faster than wind is rumor.
In a single day, news of the assassination attempt on the Eldest Princess spread throughout Yingguan. Public outrage exploded. By the next day, the news had traveled beyond the borders, beyond anyone’s ability to contain it.
Amid the swelling voices of discussion, a lone rider approached the city gates. From beneath the tower, his wolfish, grey-blue eyes locked onto Qi Jingren, who was patrolling above.
In that moment, Qi Jingren sensed the gaze and immediately looked over.
It was a face with the distinctive features of Tayuan. Those blue-tinged eyes were familiar—he’d seen them in a portrait somewhere.
Qi Jingren narrowed his eyes and was about to approach when the man stepped forward on his own, the corners of his lips curling into a dangerous smile. “General Qi Jingren?”
Qi Jingren had gained fame during the war in the desert. He wasn’t surprised the man knew him. “Who are you?”
The man’s smile deepened, a handsome face tinged with danger. “Kindly inform Her Highness that an old friend—Feizhan—has come to visit.”
Qi Jingren: “…”
