Jiang Xingzhou halted abruptly, his brows drawn tight as if to confirm what he had heard. “What did you say? The sound of the water is too loud—I couldn’t make it out.”
Feng Yi’s arms around his neck tightened subtly. He was trained in martial arts and possessed exceptional hearing; if she could hear his words clearly, there was no way he had failed to catch her farewell. He was merely giving her one last chance to take back what she had said.
The muscles in the arm supporting her legs tensed, his grip growing firmer. He waited for her answer.
Feng Yi took a deep breath, swallowing the sharp ache rising in her throat, and repeated calmly, “I asked when you will return to the capital. I would like to see you off.”
In an instant, the air around them seemed to be sucked away. Though it was bright, warm spring sunshine, the atmosphere suddenly plummeted to the freezing depths of midwinter. The wind died down, the distant roar of the waterfall fell silent as if frozen in place, and the hum of insects and songs of birds ceased, leaving the woods in a terrifying stillness.
“You are not coming with me?” His voice remained steady and unhurried, yet carried an overwhelming, oppressive weight.
“I think I shall stay here,” Feng Yi replied, doing her best to keep her tone even. “Life here suits me well.”
“Ha… ha ha…” A bitter, mocking laugh escaped his pressed lips. Then, without warning, he loosened his hold and set her down.
Feng Yi had already braced herself; her feet touched the ground and she managed to steady herself. The next moment, he turned and seized her chin, forcing her head upward to meet his gaze—eyes swirling with a raging storm of fury, resentment, and a faint, barely concealed hurt.
“Mianmian, last night I told myself that as long as you behaved, I could overlook everything that happened before.” A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Was I merely deluding myself all along?”
“Linyuan, let us part amicably—” She tried to calm him, hoping they could end things with dignity.
“Silence!” His voice rose sharply, his fingers tightening their grip. Seeing her wince in pain and the fine skin beneath his fingers flush red, he instinctively eased the pressure just a little.
Not far away, his guards and the birds startled by the outburst both froze, holding their breath, not daring to look their way.
“You are but a commoner with no connection to me,” he said, his tone cold and merciless. “What right do you have to address me by my courtesy name?”
Feng Yi felt as if her heart was being pricked by countless fine needles, throbbing so sharply that her eyes grew hot. Holding back tears, her voice trembled slightly. “If that is how Your Lordship sees it, then so be it.”
She pulled his hand away and stepped back, then bowed formally and respectfully. “In the past, I was young and foolish. I thank Your Lordship for your great generosity in overlooking my mistakes. From this day onward, our paths shall never cross again. I wish Your Lordship continued success, long life, and enduring peace.”
With that, she turned resolutely and began to walk down the mountain path.
But her arm was seized in an iron grip.
“Are you in such a hurry to leave me?” Jiang Xingzhou pulled her back, pinning her firmly against him. His tall frame loomed over hers, his expression dark and menacing. “Unfortunately, I fear I must disappoint you, Miss Feng.”
He clamped his hand around the back of her neck and leaned in close, his hot breath brushing her face while his words were laced with ice. “I am the most petty of men, and I always repay every slight. Since you have already stirred my heart, do not think you can walk away so easily. Whether you wish to return to the capital or not, you are coming with me—until…”
His voice dropped to a whisper only she could hear, low and sinister as a demon’s murmur. “…until I grow tired of you.”
How could she have forgotten? Those two short days of tenderness had fooled her. Jiang Xingzhou had never been a man who could be reasoned with.
The insult stung, shattering every last bit of hope she had held for him—and fanning her own anger. “And then what? Once we return to the capital, where does Your Lordship intend to place me?”
She lifted her eyes, sharp with sarcasm. “As a secret mistress hidden in some alley, despised and shunned by the world? As a lowly concubine locked away in the inner quarters, never to see the light of day? Or perhaps just as your cousin, sharing your bed night after night but with no title, no status, and no standing at all?”
His grip loosened slightly, and he stared at her in disbelief. “Is this the only reason? Was this why you once faked your own death to escape me?”
He had never imagined this was the root of it all.
Feng Yi turned her head and let out a soft, hollow laugh. Her long lashes fell, hiding the disappointment and desolation in her eyes.
There it was. He still did not understand her. She had clearly laid out her principles and boundaries to him time and again, yet he never remembered—or perhaps he simply did not care. After all, even the great scholar Qiu had once praised him for having a memory so sharp he never forgot anything he saw or heard.
“Feng Yi, look into your heart and answer me,” he said, tightening his hold once more at the back of her neck. “Aside from a formal title, what is it that I have not given you?”
“Many things,” she replied calmly.
“Such as?” He bit the words out from between clenched teeth.
“Respect. And freedom.”
“Respect? Freedom?” Jiang Xingzhou let go of her and stepped back, a mocking smile spreading across his face as if she had just told the most ridiculous joke. He looked down at her with undisguised disdain. “Mianmian, have these past three years of comfort in Ruyi Town filled your head with foolish illusions?”
“Do you truly believe that what you now have—your so-called respect and freedom—are earned solely by your own merit?”
“Wrong.” His voice turned soft and persuasive, weaving its way into her thoughts like a spell. “Everything you have is only because Wen Qing is the county magistrate here, and you enjoy his protection.”
He lifted her chin gently but firmly. “Otherwise, with a face like yours—no matter how well you disguise yourself as a man, no matter that you hold the rank of scholar—you would never have lived in such peace and safety.”
“Wen Qing is soon to be promoted and transferred elsewhere. Do you intend to follow him around the country, dragging He Yun and that little girl along wherever he goes?” His tone shifted again, becoming gentle and coaxing. “Mianmian, do not be foolish. Come back to the capital with me. Only I can keep you truly safe. For your sake, I will see that He Yun and her daughter are well provided for and never want for anything for the rest of their lives.”
For a moment, Feng Yi’s gaze grew unfocused, her mind caught in the logic of his words.
He was right. How cruel and unforgiving this world was. There was Ni’er, at risk of being sold off by her own father at any moment; Wang Lan, who would soon leave her studies to be married off; and He Yun, whose own misfortunes were proof enough.
She had only been lucky. She had met Wen Qing, whom she had once helped, and he in turn had proven himself a grateful, honorable man, granting her three years of security.
Yes—she should go back with him.
He was the Marquis of Jing’an, a man whose power reached across the court. He could offer far stronger protection, and He Yun and Yangyang would surely live better lives under his care.
“Yiyi, you are so capable—why do you doubt yourself so much?”
Just as she was about to sink fully into this line of thinking, a familiar voice from her college roommate, Li Miao, exploded loudly in her mind.
Feng Yi’s original name had been Feng Yinzhang—a name that had always sounded far more cultured than the common “Zhaodi” or “Laidi” used for girls back in her hometown. She had once taken pride in it.
Then, in her final year of high school, she learned from a television drama that “Yinzhang” carried the exact same meaning as “Zhaodi”—it was only a more elegant way of saying it.
Suddenly, all the small, uncomfortable patterns in her life made sense. The promise of beef that would turn into mutton, which her brother Feng Zhizhang supposedly preferred; her love of painting dismissed as useless, while her parents enrolled Feng Zhizhang in piano lessons in the city without a second thought…
That was why the first thing she did after turning eighteen was change her name. When her parents, afraid of losing control over her, tried to force her to attend a local university and threatened to cut off all funds if she went out of province, she applied for student loans and worked back-to-back tutoring jobs to earn her first semester’s living expenses.
In her first year of college, she began writing a novel online. Nervous and unsure, she sent the draft to her roommates and asked for their honest opinion.
Li Miao had thrown her arms around her dramatically and said, “Yiyi, you are so talented—why ever doubt yourself? You were the top arts student in the entire province, and you rank first in our major!”
An Yan had closed her eyes mysteriously and declared, “I foresee this work destined for great fame and glory!”
Xu Cheng had summed it up simply but emphatically: “A masterpiece!”
At their graduation, when asked what her new name meant, Feng Yi, already tipsy from celebration, had pointed to the sky and shouted, “Because I am just that good! I want nothing but smooth sailing, good fortune, and freedom to live as I please!”
Jiang Xingzhou watched as the confusion in her eyes deepened, and just as she seemed on the verge of nodding in agreement, her gaze suddenly cleared and sharpened.
Feng Yi slowly lifted the corners of her mouth, her eyes bright and burning like the sun itself, her dimples filled with radiant confidence. The sight dazzled him, unsettling his thoughts and making his desire to claim and possess her grow even stronger.
Her voice was not loud, but firm and unshakable. “No, Your Lordship. Everything I have today is ultimately mine alone—it comes from my own ability and my own inner strength.”
“Though it is true, as you say, that Wen Qing played a part—he gave me the opportunity. But far more important than that is the fact that I possessed the skill and determination to seize it.”
“Wen Qing? You speak of him quite familiarly,” Jiang Xingzhou said darkly, his tone turning cold.
“He is a close and trusted friend. Why should I not call him by his courtesy name?”
Feng Yi met his gaze without flinching and continued. “Do you know? When I took the county examination, I was confident enough to take first place—but I held back my score and kept it only slightly above average to avoid drawing attention. After the provincial exams in Yu Prefecture, Wen Qing gave me the test papers to try. If I had sat for that exam, I could very well have taken the highest rank.”
“The people of this town respect me. At first, it may have been because of Wen Qing’s influence—but over time, they have come to know me. I treat the elderly with respect and the young with kindness. I teach and guide them, instill virtue, and live in a way that honors heaven and earth above and my own conscience below. I am worthy of respect by my own right.”
“I am grateful to Wen Qing. Without him, these past three years would have been far more difficult. But I would still have found a way to survive and thrive.” She raised a hand to her own face. “If this face truly brings me trouble I cannot solve, then I would simply mar it. It is not impossible.”
“Your Lordship knows better than anyone else. I am Feng Yi—but I am no longer the Feng Yi who was once called Mianmian.”
Jiang Xingzhou was stunned that she had guessed he already knew the soul inhabiting this body was no longer the original one. He pulled her even tighter against him. “If I say you are Mianmian, then Mianmian you are. Only Mianmian belongs under my control.”
“Is that so?” she countered calmly. “Then why, in those first two months when Mianmian first arrived at the Marquis’s estate, did you treat her as if she did not exist? Your coldness and indifference almost frightened that timid girl right out of her life.”
Feng Yi did not hesitate to shatter his self-deception and lay bare the darkness in his heart.
“You want a flower that turns toward the sun, yet you would lock it away in a bottomless abyss and force it to grow into something it was never meant to be. Then, when it withers and changes, you blame it for no longer being what it once was and cast it aside like trash.”
“Linyuan,” she said, looking at him with the last trace of tenderness she could summon. The tears she had held back for so long finally spilled over, falling onto his open palm. “I will not become that flower. Let us end things here. Leave each other with whatever good memories remain.”
This time, when she turned and walked away, Jiang Xingzhou did not stop her. He stood frozen in place, his hand clenched into a fist, holding onto the single drop of warm yet cold tear. He watched helplessly as she walked further and further away, his chest heaving violently, the corners of his eyes flushed red with unbridled emotion.
The hem of her persimmon-colored dress finally vanished around the bend in the mountain path.
It felt as though a hollow space had opened up in his chest. He spun around and kicked a nearby tree as thick as a man’s arm. There was a sharp crack, and the trunk snapped cleanly. Two clear drops fell from his face, quickly sinking into the dust at his feet without a trace.
“Qingfeng, Qingya,” he called out, his voice rough and hoarse. “Follow her.”
Out here in the wilds, he could not leave her unprotected.
In the end, the breathtaking view of Emerald Pool, which had been so close and which they were supposed to admire together, remained unseen by both of them.