The King of Phoenix has passed away

As I stepped into the Snow Mulberry Hall, a tempest of memories swirled around me, carried by the wind—familiar trees, well-loved tables and chairs, and the cherished swing set. Each corner of this place, unchanged over the past decade, mirrored the scenes that frequently appeared in my dreams, as if time had stood still. 

I pushed open the palace door, and Feng Jiulan followed closely behind, his gaze tracing mine as I surveyed this intimately familiar space. He passed by me and pushed open the doors on either side, positioning himself beside me.

The hall was devoid of visitors, its evening stillness enveloping us. Each dawn, someone would arrive to clean this place, but by sunrise, it became more desolate than the cold palace. Only Feng Jiulan would occasionally stroll here; others were forbidden to tread without permission.

I raised my head, caressing the familiar flora and architecture, step by step, eyes closed. These things felt both strange and familiar. Sitting on the swing, I tugged at the armrests, which remained impeccably clean. I gazed up at Feng Jiulan, while Bai Pingting lingered at the doorway.

This place had only been visited once or twice a decade ago when the princess was here with her grandfather. Since then, it had been sealed off like his heart, closed off with the princess's departure—reachable, yet inaccessible. 

"Brother, push me," I requested.

Feng Jiulan smiled, pure as a pear blossom, the golden sunlight casting a warm glow upon his face, softening his clean, inviting gaze—enough to ensnare anyone's heart.

He stepped behind me, gently pushing the swing like he used to when we were children. His white attire, dark hair, and the sweet chime of his voice resonated throughout the Snow Mulberry Hall.

Everything seemed to rewind to our childhood. Back then, I needed my brother's embrace to sit on the swing. He would always be cautious, fearing I might fall, seldom pushing me, while most times, he would hold me, allowing a young eunuch to push us gently.

"What did Father say to you?" 

Feng Jiulan ceased pushing, stabilizing the swing with his hand on my shoulder, his voice gentle.

I grasped the sides of the swing and softly responded, "He didn't say much." 

Just some words of remorse and regret, a plea for my forgiveness—something he likely wished to keep from my brother. Even without my words, he probably understood; the conversation between us had become painfully sparse.

Feng Jiulan withdrew his hand from my shoulder and sat beside me on the swing. "Are you still blaming Father? After all, he is our father."

His voice held a hint of helplessness, his pear blossom-like eyes revealing faint sorrow. "Father has treated me exceptionally well; can you not consider my feelings?"

With a gentle sigh, he added, "He truly cares for you. You must think of me."

I shook my head, "Brother, Father does feel guilt toward me and has sought my forgiveness, but I have never blamed him. No one is obligated to treat another with kindness, even if that person is my father. I appreciate everyone who has shown me kindness, especially those willing to risk everything for me. Regardless of what happens in the future, I will never abandon you, and the same goes for Lan Yixuan. Your kindness has been my guiding light."

I clasped Feng Jiulan's hand. "Father loves you dearly; it pains him to see you in such distress. The loss of our closest kin is heart-wrenching. Mother's death has been a heavy blow to him. Uncle Li mentioned that since her passing, Father's health has waned. He is a deeply sentimental man; had it not been for us, he might have followed Mother long ago. Now that we have grown, he sees you as a capable prince, entrusting the kingdom to your care, while I, too, no longer burden him. After years of carrying both mental and emotional strains, he is exhausted. Perhaps for him, leaving us behind could be a form of liberation. Do not feel sorrow; whether I remain in the Phoenix Kingdom or not, you are never alone. I will protect you." 

My voice was calm, mirroring my tranquil heart. I bore no deep emotional investment; indeed, Feng Xuanling and I were mere strangers. Perhaps during the ten months of pregnancy, he had forsaken politics to surround himself with the woman he loved, awaiting my arrival. In moments of mischief, he might have leaned excitedly against her sizable belly, tenderly caressing it. Yet all that affection was not directed toward me. I was suddenly born, perceived as the child who had brought her demise—a mixed blessing, adored yet resented. This sentiment was hardly enjoyable. Perhaps I had once yearned for something more, but long ago, I had resigned myself to my fate. Had I not descended from the heavens, perhaps had the true daughter arrived, none of this would have unfolded.

"Brother, every life must eventually end; none can escape this fate. Father is aging and will depart from us sooner or later. At this juncture, our mutual well-being will grant him the greatest peace." 

"Yue'er." 

Feng Jiulan embraced me, and I leaned against him, absorbing the warm, pear blossom-like essence of his presence. From my position as an observer, I could maintain this level of rationality and composure.

For many, death offers release; however, for those who remain, it is a different story. The loss of a loved one can carve deep wounds within the heart, but if the bond is not critical, the sorrow dissipates over time. For me, Feng Xuanling was such a presence—my heart ached, but the pain would soon pass.

What Father said to me held little significance; the essential matter was what I conveyed to him. The notion of being the Queen of Phoenix, if my brother were to discover this—though it was my desire—he would never approve.

The two of us lingered on the swing, conversing from twilight until the sky darkened. Bai Pingting remained at the doorway, leaning against it, casting envious glances at us.

"Your Highness." 

Li Dequan approached from Bai Pingting's side, making his way to Feng Jiulan and bowing, "The King wishes to see you." 

Feng Jiulan glanced at me before hastily rising to leave. Li Dequan remained, bowing respectfully before me. 

"Princess." 

I raised my gaze, signaling him to continue. The Snow Mulberry Hall was unlit, yet the moonlight outside was exquisite, casting a soft, silvery glow over the earth, tranquil and serene.

"Uncle Li, please speak freely." 

During my time in the Phoenix palace, Uncle Li had been kind to me. I did not regard him as merely a servant. As my father's personal attendant, he likely understood the history between my mother and father—the profound love my father had for her and the anguish he felt at her departure, as well as the conflict that arose from it, prompting him to care for me so attentively.

Li Dequan gazed at Xianyue, noting the striking resemblance of her face to that of the late queen, particularly the small dot of cinnabar located in the same place. He maintained a respectful posture, bowing slightly as he inquired, "Is Your Highness still harboring resentment towards the king?" 

Xianyue leaned against one side of the swing set, observing Li Dequan, and simply shook her head in silence. Words would likely fall on deaf ears; after all, the way Feng Xuanling treated his daughter was not endearing. However, her bond with her brother kept her emotions in check, and she even wished for her father to show more affection towards him. If that were the case, his protection over her brother would be amplified in her absence. Ultimately, she felt no resentment towards her current situation; she held no grievances. 

Li Dequan sighed internally, acknowledging that some blame was justified. The king had failed in his responsibilities as a father. "Your Highness, I know you are a sensible and understanding child. While the emperor has wronged you, it is essential to see things from his perspective; he has his own burdens." 

Li Dequan could not help but let out another sigh. "I have watched the emperor grow. He is inherently indifferent, showing little interest in anything until he met the late queen. I may not understand the dynamics of love, but it is clear that the emperor deeply loved her. He defied opposition to crown her as queen and refused to take concubines for her sake. Her passing struck him profoundly; there were moments when I feared he might follow her into the afterlife." 

As he spoke, tears fell from his eyes. He had witnessed Feng Xuanling endure these trials. Li Dequan had served him since he was a prince, and the emperor had treated him kindly. Now, seeing the state Feng Xuanling was in, Li Dequan felt immense sorrow. 

During that dark period, the emperor's demeanor soured, spending his days at Qian Cang Palace with a wine bottle in hand, moving like a mere shell of a man. His heart had departed alongside the late queen; he remained only for the sake of the prince and princess. He took on consorts merely to ensure a stable Feng nation for them. 

"The princess bears an uncanny resemblance to the late queen." 

He gazed at Xianyue, increasingly struck by their similarities, yet the two exuded different feelings: "Each time the emperor sees the princess, he becomes inebriated, and with his current state, it seems futile to dwell on the past." 

At last, Li Dequan broke into sobs. The emperor truly was pitiable; born into royalty, he had finally found love, only for it to vanish like a fleeting blossom. 

Xianyue nodded, feeling a bittersweet pang in her heart; it was unsettling, yet she recognized that he was her father and had been genuinely kind to her, especially compared to the parents of the Su family. 

"Uncle Li, I do not harbor any grievances against him. I have never done so." 

She looked earnestly at Li Dequan, her expression sincere and compelling. Wiping his tears, he replied with a smile, "That is good to hear." 

Xianyue nodded in agreement. "I understand everything you have said, and the emperor still requires your guidance." 

Li Dequan acknowledged her words, gesturing towards the door. "Then I shall take my leave." 

Xianyue nodded affirmatively and watched as Li Dequan turned to leave with a quickened pace. Despite his age, he moved with small, swift steps. To the elderly man who had accompanied her father, it was likely that he considered him as a younger brother, though he would never openly admit it. 

"Your Highness." 

As soon as Li Dequan departed, Bai Pingting approached her. The Snow Mulberry Palace felt eerily quiet at that moment. She had overheard the conversations between the prince and Li Dequan and had been shocked by the king's attitude towards her. Occasionally, she pondered how she would feel if her own parents treated her in such a manner. She would undoubtedly harbor resentment for life. The death of the late queen had left her bewildered, unjustly branded with guilt, yet she believed Xianyue's words. In her eyes, there was a calm sincerity; indeed, a person's eyes cannot deceive. No wonder her grandfather always spoke highly of her, willing to do so much for her. The presence of such a princess in Feng Nation was a blessing for its people. But did Xianyue truly view life and death with such indifference? If it were the prince lying on the sickbed, could she still utter such words? 

Xianyue tilted her head, gesturing towards a small stool nearby, inviting Bai Pingting to sit down. 

"Sister Pingting, over the years, have you ever expressed your feelings to my brother?" 

Her lips pursed slightly at the thought of confessing her feelings to the prince. She looked at Xianyue and shook her head. 

"If you were to become the crown princess, I would feel much more at ease." 

Bai Pingting smiled, having almost forgotten her feelings for the prince. The emotions ran too deep, seeping into her very bones, becoming a part of her existence. When did she start to have feelings for him? It felt like he had occupied her heart since their first meeting when he was just eight years old, holding the two-year-old princess in his arms. His smile was as warm as a spring breeze in March, intoxicating and delightful. 

Afterward, the princess departed, leaving him despondent. Bai Pingting remained by his side daily, dutifully following the princess's orders without ever mentioning the instructions given before the princess's departure. Instead, she quietly fulfilled her tasks, running back and forth, striving to live up to the princess's trust. 

As she recalled the times spent alongside Feng Jiulan, an inexplicable ache gripped her heart—part pain, part sweetness. Then, her previously pursed lips slowly relaxed, blooming into a radiant smile like a flower in full bloom. 

"Your Highness, I truly believe this is quite wonderful." 

And she genuinely felt that way.

After years of daily companionship, how could he not have noticed the secrets harbored in her heart? If he truly had feelings for her, why would he wait for her to speak first? Every time she returned home from the palace, her grandfather would summon her to his study. Particularly in recent years, he was all too aware of his granddaughter's little schemes. He would broach the subject, asking if she wished to become the prince's woman. If she were willing, he would not hesitate to petition the king for a marriage decree. At that moment, she had firmly declined, not giving it much thought, but instinctively rejecting the idea. She felt that becoming a consort would mean losing the intimacy she currently shared with the prince. Just being able to be together quietly was an immense happiness for her.

"Do you love my brother so deeply that you don't wish to be together with him forever?" 

If they could indeed be together, why wouldn't she? 

Bai Pingting smiled, but her expression seemed veiled in layers of mist, making it appear surreal. She nodded earnestly and replied, "Of course I do." 

How could she not want that? She had given her heart and the most beautiful moments of her life to the prince. Naturally, she wished for a lifetime of companionship with him, growing old together. Yet, many things were not merely subject to one's desires.

"Princess, the prince cares for you above all else." 

Unlike the king, who was madly in love, willing to defy the court for the queen, the prince would only stand against the court for familial ties. The only person who could incite his defiance was the princess herself.

"At mealtimes, he sets an extra pair of chopsticks at the empty place beside him. He fills that empty bowl with all your favorite dishes before he eats, and he comes to Xuesang Hall every day. I secretly follow him, but never dare to enter, only watching his retreating figure from afar. He gazes vacantly at the surroundings, sometimes sitting on the swing for half the day. Yun Qinghen knows this too; he would disregard the weather and rush to Xuesang Hall late at night, then sleep here. For him, Princess, you are not just a sister; perhaps you are the only one he truly cares about. Likewise, I believe he holds some feelings for me, but such sentiments are not enough for him to commit to just one woman for life." 

When he returned from Panshan, he mentioned the princess, while other details faded with time. Only that phrase, "a lifetime together as one," remained etched in his heart.

Bai Pingting tilted her head back, her fair neck forming a graceful arc beneath the moonlight. There was a chilling aloofness to her demeanor. Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes, soaking her face. Such profound love could only evoke such feelings.

Bai Pingting sniffed, "I've thought about it, truly, for a long time. I love him too deeply; once I become his woman, how could I endure seeing him entwined with others? I would be angry, heartbroken, and jealous—perhaps even driven to madness. I refuse to become someone he despises. If I remain as I am now, he will remember my goodness, and that tranquil time we shared together—something no other woman can provide. That way, perhaps in the future, he will still recall me fondly and consider me the best. Isn't that what's truly best?" 

She looked at Xuan Yue, softly asking, yet the world before her was already blurred in white.

"The princess is soon to marry into the Lan Kingdom. The prince must be worried about leaving her alone. I've already spoken to my grandfather; in the future, I will serve as the princess's accompanying maid. I will care for her with the same devotion I had for the prince and protect her life with mine. I will leave this place with countless memories of the prince, forever guarding the princess for him."

Xuan Yue looked at her and nodded, smiling. She felt she had not chosen the wrong person, though her heart ached, and her nose tingled. "Sister Pingting, why are you so foolish?" 

Tears threatened to spill. Compared to the affections of others like Nian Xiaoyu, Hua Chuxue, and Ning Yunyun, her love was genuinely pure and untainted. This was true love, yet she felt incapable of it—truly incapable.

Bai Pingting wiped her tears. "I am not foolish; I am doing this for myself. I am selfish, truly. If I act this way, regardless of what happens in the future, he will never forget me. Since I cannot become the most important woman in his life, I must leave a mark in his existence."

Xuan Yue nodded. "He will never forget Sister Pingting; he will always remember you." 

Bai Pingting gazed at Xuan Yue with caution, a hint of hesitation and struggle in her expression. "Princess, have you considered that one day, the prince might leave us?" 

Her voice was gentle, but they both understood the gravity of departure.

Xuan Yue stared into the dark night sky, resting her head against the swing's frame, her lips pressed tightly together. Bai Pingting's question had knotted her brow. After a long pause, just as Bai Pingting thought she would not respond, Xuan Yue suddenly spoke. "I have thought about it." 

"When the time comes, will the princess still be able to comfort herself with today's words?" 

With over a decade of emotional and physical burdens, how could the prince face such a moment with the same composure he had today?

Xuan Yue pondered for a long while, shaking her head. "Every time I think of it, my heart aches terribly." 

Just the thought alone was enough to entangle her heart, turning it icy cold. She forced herself to suppress further thoughts, fearing she would descend into madness.

As night deepened, Xuesang Hall fell into an even deeper silence. The two sat quietly, not wishing to move or speak. Feng Jiulan had been gone for too long, yet neither dared to ponder what might have happened.

In the middle of the night, the quiet palace suddenly erupted in chaos, boiling with activity. Xuan Yue sat up straight, her spine rigid. Before she could process what was happening, a eunuch rushed in, flustered, and knelt before Xuan Yue, crying out, "Princess, the king has passed away."