Yet, driven by an inner urge, Ye Weifeng pushed that door open. His hands trembled slightly, seemingly terrified to face what lay inside. The door was cracked open just a sliver, and one could hardly tell whether Ye Weifeng had opened it or if the wind had simply blown it open.
With his back to Ye Weifeng, Xi Yu was teaching someone how to play a tune. He was so intensely focused that he failed to notice Ye Weifeng’s arrival.
As for the person he was teaching hand over hand, Ye Weifeng suddenly clenched his teeth—that face was so similar to his own; it was his ninth younger brother, Fuying.
What Fuying was learning was the melody Xi Yu had once composed solely for him. A sudden wave of metallic, fishy warmth surged up Ye Weifeng’s throat, making him nearly unable to stand.
“Your Majesty!” the following palace attendant cried out.
Yet Ye Weifeng abruptly waved a hand, pressing a hand over his chest to forcibly force down the blood threatening to rise in his mouth. Only after stubbornly listening to the entire tune did he instruct the attendant, “Keep quiet. Return to the palace.”
Such a disheveled appearance—how could he ever let Xi Yu see it?
Xi Yu ought to be down-and-out, trampled beneath his feet, bowing and offering allegiance to him; he should forever occupy a lower status than himself.
While he himself should remain high above, dictating terms to Xi Yu with absolute authority. He could not let him see that simply because that melody no longer belonged exclusively to him, he had been reduced to such a ridiculous state.
“Your Majesty! Watch out!”
A few days prior, before Ye Weifeng had walked over to the Cold Palace and heard that melody, he had naturally assumed Xi Yu was suffering in the Cold Palace, plotting with his subordinates to find a way out or searching for an opportunity to submit and beg him for mercy.
The Cold Palace was bitterly cold and remote. If Xi Yu had been willing to plead with him, he hadn’t ruled out the possibility of setting him free.
Ye Weifeng had harbored somewhat of an impulse to go check on him, which was why, after ending court, he had unconsciously wandered over here.
Yet what Ye Weifeng never anticipated was that Xi Yu would be on such intimate terms with Fuying here. That face looked so much like his own, and Xi Yu had once declared that his favorite thing was this very face. Perhaps by now, he had already found a substitute for himself.
The mere thought of this made the blood roil even more violently within Ye Weifeng’s chest.
Supported by attendants, Ye Weifeng returned to his palace and promptly fell into a high fever. Oblivious to all of this, Xi Yu had no idea Ye Weifeng had ever visited, spending his time accompanying Fuying and exploring every corner of the Cold Palace.
Triggered by the scene in the daytime, Ye Weifeng suffered a nightmare that very night. In the dream, he seemed to have returned to his childhood.
Ye Weifeng’s birth mother was merely a palace maid, not even one serving by the emperor’s side. Rather, because the emperor had fallen out with Fuying’s mother and flown into a tremendous rage, she was simply a palace maid casually taken to the dragon bed on a whim.
She was so humble and lowly that Ye Weifeng was unwilling to even mention her. He retained hardly any memories of her, recalling only that after giving birth to him, she was constantly sickly—so frequently ill that Ye Weifeng couldn’t even remember which specific illness ultimately took her life.
Instead of love and attachment, he harbored a certain resentment toward her, especially when the emperor doted on Fuying while paying him absolute indifference.
Among all the princes, Fuying enjoyed the greatest favor from the emperor. Beyond his childhood cleverness and charming nature, it was primarily because the emperor favored Fuying’s mother above all other consorts—an exclusive favoritism in every sense.
The emperor had even felt a sense of guilt toward Fuying’s mother because, following a quarrel with her, he had slept with a palace maid, resulting in the maid conceiving the dragon seed first. After they reconciled, Fuying’s mother received an even deeper level of exclusive favor.
In the inner palace, a mother’s status rose through her son, but a son likewise relied upon the grace of his mother’s favor.
Yet Ye Weifeng possessed none of this. The only useful thing his birth mother had brought him was the Xi family.
The matriarch of General Xi’s household had experienced an unexpected and difficult labor when giving birth to Xi Yu’s eldest brother, Xi Jun, and Lady Ye—who had not yet entered the palace at the time—happened to save her life. Thus, a bond was forged right then and there.
The Xi family had always valued loyalty and deep affections. Bound by this debt of gratitude, they were bound to stand on Ye Weifeng’s side. They offered up the Xi family’s proudest youngest son—none other than Xi Yu, who had mastered a hundred poems by age three and could compose verse by age five.
They petitioned the emperor to allow Xi Yu to serve as a study companion to this utterly neglected fifth prince.
Even the emperor had been astonished at the time. With General Xi’s battle achievements, the Xi family held immense weight in the court, while Ye Weifeng was merely a completely unfavored prince. The Xi family could have chosen any prince to support; there was zero need to select Ye Weifeng.
Yet the Xi family chose him anyway. Xi Yu had set his mind on Ye Weifeng, willingly relinquishing a brighter future to serve as Ye Weifeng’s companion.
Perhaps nobody ever knew, or perhaps nobody ever cared, whether Ye Weifeng actually wanted Xi Yu as his study companion. His own thoughts were deemed so insignificant that no one had ever bothered to ask, and most people simply assumed he had struck the luck of a lifetime.
Yet Ye Weifeng was unwilling, because he detested Xi Yu.
When Xi Yu was first brought before Ye Weifeng, Ye Weifeng knew immediately that this person was so brilliant and dazzling that he made him feel deeply insecure and terrified. He didn’t like him at all, because such a Xi Yu made Ye Weifeng feel utterly substandard.
Even though he was a prince and Xi Yu was merely a general’s son.
Thus, Ye Weifeng turned away, refusing to clasp the hand Xi Yu extended toward him. Such an action nearly provoked the emperor’s wrath, and it was only because Xi Yu stepped in front of him and took the initiative to hold Ye Weifeng’s hand that he was spared a reprimand.
Yet Ye Weifeng refused to appreciate Xi Yu’s gesture. He always regarded Xi Yu as a monster—a monster capable of stealing souls and harming him.
He stubbornly opposed having Xi Yu as his companion. Although it yielded little practical effect, Ye Weifeng dared to display his resistance and aversion toward Xi Yu right on his face.
Having received the finest education since childhood in a harmonious family environment, and being three years older than Ye Weifeng, Xi Yu naturally didn’t bicker with him. However, Ye Weifeng’s hostile attitude inevitably impacted their studies, as Ye Weifeng devoted all his energy to antagonizing him.
Xi Yu began to ponder whether he ought to resign from his position as Ye Weifeng’s study companion.
He thought about this right after the Flower Festival.
The Flower Festival was a long-standing tradition in Daqing. On this day, scholars across the capital could participate in the Flower Poetry Riddle Competition. Whether one hailed from nobility or simply came from commoner scholar stock, anyone who successfully guessed the riddle’s answer won first place for the current session and received a uniquely handcrafted floral crown as a prize.
Though the prize held no great economic value, it represented supreme honor, driving the talents of the entire capital to pursue it avidly.
Xi Yu originally had no plans to participate, but Xi Jun had secretly registered him behind his back.
“The reputation of the Xi family’s scholars is renowned far and wide. I can only lead troops into battle and remain utterly clueless about brush and ink. If even you refuse to enter, people will start doubting whether our Xi family name is an empty title,” Xi Jun chuckled.
The two sons of the Xi family were both dragons among men, yet they possessed entirely contrasting personalities. The eldest son, Xi Jun, was lively and energetic, while the younger son, Xi Yu, was considerably more composed.
Xi Yu took the registration form. “Reputation is a worldly trifle; one need not care how others view it. But since you’ve already registered me, Eldest Brother, I won’t play the deserter.”
If Xi Yu hadn’t stepped up, the capital’s other scholars would have had a fair fight for the crown. But with Xi Yu entering the competition, who else in the capital could possibly rival him?
Wielding a folding fan, Xi Yu took merely half the time of half an incense stick. While everyone else was still struggling to comprehend the clues, Xi Yu had already guessed the answer.
“The answer is in my hand. It’s a fan.”
“Which young scholar is this? To guess the riddle in such a brief moment—indeed, the answer is a fan.” The master of the capital’s most prestigious academy beamed with joyful surprise, eager to meet the talented youth who was the very first to call out the solution.
At this proclamation, the entire crowd erupted in a commotion. While they had yet to even decipher the riddle, someone had already spoken the correct answer, and it was spot on.
What kind of divine prodigy was this? Everyone instinctively turned to look at Xi Yu, only to be struck dumb by his astonishing appearance first.
For a scholar of such breathtaking, peerless looks to answer the question correctly was hardly surprising. Truly, only a personage of this caliber was worthy of matching such a floral crown.
As Xi Yu stepped forward to receive the crown, a small head poked out from the crowd, a pair of deer-like eyes gazing with curiosity at the recipient of the crown.
None other than the ninth prince, Fuying, who had snuck out of the palace behind his mother’s back simply to join the excitement of the Flower Festival.
The moment he laid eyes upon that floral crown, he fell instantly in love with it. Hand-woven by the capital’s most skilled master artisan, this piece was one of a kind in the entire world.
This held immense appeal for the youthful Fuying, yet he was too young and lacked the qualifications to register for the Flower Festival. He could only watch and wonder who would claim this crown.
Whoever it turned out to be, no matter the cost, he wanted to buy it.
He stood watching as the prize winner accepted the crown, filled with envious longing. Yet when Xi Yu turned around holding the crown to face the crowd, Fuying’s eyes widened in disbelief!
The champion was none other than Xi Yu—the fifth brother’s study companion. Fuying was ecstatic.
He remembered this study companion possessed a wonderful temperament and talent, and was exceptionally kind to people. He had exchanged a few greetings with him within the palace walls.
Surely, if he asked him for that floral crown, he would agree.
Fuying readied himself. Relying on his small stature, he nimbly threaded through the crowd and quickly reached Xi Yu’s side.
Yet Xi Yu was speaking with someone else. Fuying peered closely and realized it was actually Fifth Brother.
Xi Yu raised the hand holding the crown, seemingly about to do something, but upon noticing Fuying approaching, he slightly turned aside and bowed to him.
“Ninth Highness.”
Fuying gestured for him to keep his voice down, then hastily stated his purpose.
“Brother Xi Yu, I like this crown so very much. Can you give this prize to me? Of course, I won’t take it for free; you can name any condition you wish, as long as it’s within my power.” Fuying addressed Xi Yu, staring at him unblinkingly.
Hearing this, Ye Weifeng curled his lip in displeasure beside them, staring at Xi Yu just as intently.
不过他的目光與扶楹的期盼眼神不同，是帶着審視的。
“Xi Yu,” Ye Weifeng called out to him, using that cold, dismissive tone characteristic of him—same as always, yet carrying a subtle difference.
“Xi Yu,” Ye Weifeng inexplicably called his name a second time.
Ye Weifeng and Fuying stood side by side facing Xi Yu, while Xi Yu held only a single prize.