Chương 59: Brother, your Yue'er has returned
When Xianyue rushed back to the Haitang main courtyard, the door was surrounded by a crowd, three layers deep. They were all on tiptoe, craning their necks, not quite sure what they were watching. Xianyue glanced around but did not catch a glimpse of Feng Jiulan.
The courtyard, which had once been empty, was now filled with the withered branches casting mottled shadows on the ground, swaying in the wind like ghostly apparitions, giving off a chilling aura. The clamorous discussions rose in waves, yet Xianyue could not discern their content. Standing amidst the throng, her unease grew.
Without a second thought, she squeezed her way into the crowd, only to be momentarily frozen in place. A sharp ache gripped her heart, causing her to instinctively place a hand over her chest as it thudded violently, the pain drawing her brows together in a frown.
Feng Jiulan stood at the threshold of the door, still wearing the dark cloak from before Xianyue left. The garment was open, and his sash had come undone, revealing a bright yellow undergarment. His tall, slender figure appeared increasingly frail, as if a gust of wind could topple him.
His hair was disheveled, falling haphazardly over his face, obscuring his pale countenance. The night breeze tousled his hair, and under the clear moonlight, a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his nose.
"Where is Yue'er?"
"Where has my Yue'er gone?"
"Have you seen my Yue'er?"
In that moment, Feng Jiulan had shed his usual composure and aloofness. The youth, once as serene as a pear blossom, now wore a face of desperation, resembling a man who had lost all reason and awareness. Grabbing at anyone nearby, he implored, "Have you seen my Yue'er?"
Hope was etched across his features, yet as each person shook their head, the light in his eyes dimmed progressively. Still unwilling to relent, he pointed to the space between his brows. "There's vermilion there; her eyes shine so bright, like stars in the sky, truly beautiful."
To him, that mark was a unique emblem of his Yue'er, a sign that made Xianyue the most exquisite girl in the world.
When the person he questioned shook their head, Feng Jiulan released his grip in disappointment and began searching for another. After countless inquiries, the spark in his eyes extinguished, and he fell silent, murmuring to himself. His once-bright gaze now held nothing but a dull grey.
Meanwhile, those around him appeared indifferent, merely spectators to a drama they did not comprehend.
"Yue'er!"
"Yue'er!"
Feng Jiulan scanned the area, then dashed back into the room. An eerie silence settled, allowing the sounds of rummaging through drawers to be distinctly heard from within. Through the open door, Xianyue could see Feng Jiulan frantically scurrying about.
She paid no attention to the expressions of the others. She could only imagine their perspective: to them, this was likely a farce that would later become an amusing anecdote shared over meals and drinks with friends.
Xianyue stood still, longing to rush forward, to embrace him tightly and offer solace, yet for some inexplicable reason, her feet felt as if they were bound, her entire being immobilized.
She had never understood that sometimes, the body operates beyond the realm of reason.
This night, the moon seemed extraordinarily bright, illuminating a face from her memories that appeared increasingly pale. The eyes, as red as March pear blossoms, pierced through her, akin to an arrow driving deep into her heart, leaving her in tears.
Pear blossoms bloomed, yet as she gazed at the now-wretched Feng Jiulan, thoughts of withering blossoms fell upon her mind.
Standing there, watching the figure in dark robes flitting about within the room, cold tears streamed down her cheeks, splattering onto her hands like molten fire, threatening to consume her entirely.
In that moment, her mind went blank; she was unsure of her thoughts or what she should think. All she desired was to cry. After ten years, this impulse was not foreign to her, but never had it felt so overwhelming, a tempest that engulfed her, submerging her entirely. She gasped for breath, the taste of salt lingering on her tongue.
"Qinghen!"
"Qinghen!"
Suddenly, Feng Jiulan burst from the room, standing at the threshold, crying out frantically.
His voice reverberated through the throngs, piercing through the noise, reaching Yun Qinghen, who had just returned.
When Lan Yixuan arrived, he immediately spotted Xianyue, adorned in a delicate hue, standing at the innermost edge of the crowd. He had never seen her like this—her face streaked with tears, standing among the throngs with eyes blurred by sorrow, resembling a forest cloaked in autumn mist, obscuring everything. It seemed as if stepping into it meant never returning, desperate to cry yet unable to, her shoulders trembling, convulsing with suppressed sobs, fragile as a glass doll, evoking an instinctual desire to protect her.
Such was Xianyue, such was Xianyue—
Following her gaze, he found Feng Jiulan at the door, and he gasped in shock. Jiulan's attire was tattered, hair unkempt, and his bare feet, just like his face, glowed with an almost translucent sheen under the moonlight, devoid of color. He bore signs of injury, with vivid crimson stains marking him clearly.
Upon seeing Yun Qinghen rush toward him, a weak smile broke upon Feng Jiulan's pale face, reminiscent of the sun rising at dawn, casting only a hint of light but dazzling nonetheless, eliciting a pang of sorrow.
He ran toward Yun Qinghen, clutching his hand tightly. "Qinghen, Qinghen."
His voice was urgent, trembling uncontrollably.
Yun Qinghen's expression remained eerily calm, a calm bordering on numbness, though sadness and helplessness were evident, as if he had grown accustomed to it. He gently uttered, "Your Highness."
Feng Jiulan seemed to ignore him, his gaze sweeping through the crowd. Suddenly, he released Yun Qinghen's hand, pointing accusingly at those gathered. "Where have they taken my Yue'er? She's still so small; she cannot endure hardship. You must return her to me."
Yun Qinghen lowered his head, and no one knew what he was doing. Perhaps he was choking back tears, or perhaps he was taking deep breaths to steady himself. In a fleeting moment, he lifted his gaze, and before he could speak, Feng Jiulan interjected, "It was I who failed to care for Yue'er."
As soon as Feng Jiulan commanded Yun Qinghen to search for her, Xianyue had already maneuvered through the crowd, taking heavy steps toward him. Upon hearing those words, tears filled her clear eyes in an instant, and clutching her chest tightly, she suddenly sank to the ground, weeping uncontrollably.
Her cries were thunderous, rivaling that of Niang Xiaoyu during the martial arts tournament. Unlike her heart-wrenching lament, Xianyue's cries were laden with anguish, indignation, and bitterness. Her head buried between her knees, her shoulders shook, her whole being quaking with sorrow. She was not abandoned by the world, yet someone within it had caused her heart to ache with a longing to cry.
Her cries were utterly unrestrained, until her legs grew numb beneath her, and she simply sat down, continuing to weep aloud. In the quiet of the night, her cries transcended the darkness, carried away by the wind, resonating in every corner.
Lan Yixuan stood by, watching her—a childlike figure, huddled on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees, radiating an aura of vulnerability.
Xianyue pressed her hand against her chest, feeling a searing pain like never before, as if countless fine needles were embedding themselves in her heart, puncturing it with tiny, imperceptible wounds. Though there were no visible injuries or bloodstains, the pain surged in waves, relentless and consuming.
Brother, brother, brother—
She called out repeatedly within her heart, feeling an increasing understanding of her brother. The agony she experienced was not merely torment; it was a profound ache in her heart. If only she could pinpoint where the wound lay, it would be bearable, but now she felt like a headless fly, aware only of the pain, yet uncertain of its source.
"Brother, it is not your fault; it is my own shortcomings, and my own failure. It was I who did not heed your advice and returned to the palace too soon. You have cared for me so well, truly, so very well—"
Seated on the ground, her hands clenched into fists, her consciousness gradually awakened. She sniffed, pondering what she had missed over the past decade. Was there no remedy for regret in this world?
She longed for the ability to traverse time and return to a decade ago, or perhaps even earlier. If given the choice, she would not have indulged in childish whims, only seeking comfort in her brother's embrace. She would have urged herself to mature more swiftly in that place, preventing the likes of Li Guifei from ever stepping foot in the palace.
Ten years—had she missed only a joyful childhood? She tilted her head back and quickly closed her eyes, afraid to see the pale face that caused her heart to ache so desperately.
Images of Yun Qinghen, hesitating as if to speak, floated in her mind. How had her brother fared during these ten years? She knew he must have worried for her, troubled by the news of her departure. How had he endured? When she was starving in the Liuhua Pavilion, what had her brother been doing?
The more she thought about it, the more tears she felt welling up, and she did indeed let them flow, sitting on the ground and succumbing to her emotions, her cries echoing with the pent-up frustrations, grievances, and bitterness of ten years.
"Hurry up!" Feng Jiulan roared like a lion, bent over and coughing violently. Beneath the fury lay a despair too deep for ordinary people to comprehend.
In that moment, she finally understood why his clear, pearly eyes, so reminiscent of pear blossoms, always bore a hint of sorrow when they turned toward her.
In two lifetimes, she had never felt such hatred as she did now, not even towards Su Fu and Su Mu, who had nearly taken her life. She felt she should despise Liu Xinyou for robbing her of ten years with her brother, yet without her, perhaps her brother would have long since vanished from her life. Li Guifei, a deceased person—what was there to resent? And then, she loathed herself, resenting her own impotence.
Yun Qinghen stood beside Feng Jiulan, watching Xian Yue sob uncontrollably on the ground. In the moonlight, her hand bore scars that had yet to fade. The normally indifferent gaze of Yun Qinghen glistened with tears. Over the past decade, both the princess and the prince had endured too much suffering for each other.
"You dare to disobey me as well."
His voice lost its frenzied anger, replaced instead by a calm that belied the turmoil within. Beneath his dark hair, his red eyes, shrouded by shadows, betrayed a madness, and he released Yun Qinghen's hand, laughing suddenly as if he had shattered glass, the sound constricting one's heart.
"Yue'er must be in the Snow Mulberry Palace; I will find her."
A sudden realization lit up his pale face with a radiant smile.
Everyone knew this was Tianfu, where there were only places like the Haidang Courtyard and no Snow Mulberry Palace.
Throughout the Zhou Dynasty, it was common knowledge that the prince of Fengguo doted on the princess, kneeling in the rain for a day and a night, just to give the four-year-old princess a title. Yet, in Lan Yixuan's eyes, this was insignificant. In Fengguo, there was only one princess—a non-competitive opponent. If he were in the same position, he would have acted similarly. It was the little princess, at only four years of age, who had slain a national concubine for her brother that he found admirable.
He gazed at Xian Yue, sobbing on the ground, never having imagined that such a joyful girl could weep so bitterly. Had he not witnessed it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that she, so carefree, would possess such profound sorrow. Yet this was the truth; only Feng Jiulan could drive Feng Xian Yue to such a state of madness.
Long ago, he had known that the girl named Feng Xian Yue cared for her brother. Now, he understood that reality more deeply.
He observed Feng Jiulan, his eyes wide with shock, as if a fleeting light had passed through the darkness—fragile and ephemeral, yet undeniably real.
Even after four years of mutual dependence, the ten-year separation between siblings was profound. He suddenly believed that there existed a love in this world that would not fade with the passage of time; rather, the longer it endured, the more fragrant it became.
If one day he could care for her in such a way, would she forsake everything to weep for him?
He watched as Feng Jiulan, barefoot, ran swiftly down the narrow path, while the other person seemed drained of all strength, sitting on the ground, oblivious.
"Be careful."
Unlike the other places in Tianfu, the Haidang Courtyard was meticulously maintained; one could walk barefoot without fear of injury. Yet shards littered the ground, scattered about. Lan Yixuan surmised that before his arrival, Feng Jiulan had lost his temper in his search for Xian Yue, and upon witnessing his brother's disarray, Xian Yue had been too stunned to notice.
As Feng Jiulan was about to step on the shards, Lan Yixuan darted forward like the wind, grasping him firmly. He swept back Feng Jiulan's hair to reveal his bloodshot eyes and swiftly placed a hand on his pulse. Casting a glance at Xian Yue, the typically serene expression on his face faltered for an instant. "Xian Yue."
His voice rang out forcefully, a stark contrast to Lan Yixuan's usual composed demeanor. At that moment, the familiar call stunned Xian Yue, and she lifted her head, her face awash in tears, her pale garment appearing as if it had been soaked in water.
Xian Yue remained unaware that his voice was tinged with an unnamable fear.
"Hurry up and come here."
As he spoke, Lan Yixuan pulled a small green porcelain vial from his robe, poured out a black pill, and, regardless of Feng Jiulan's consent, placed it directly into his mouth.
"What did you give our prince?"
Yun Qinghen rushed to Lan Yixuan, snatching the vial from his hands with a wary glare.
"I am not the culprit."
His calm voice and gentle smile seemed to indicate that he was not the one who had just raised his voice.
"It's a calming remedy."
Yun Qinghen scrutinized Lan Yixuan for a moment before placing the small porcelain vial into her bosom. Lan Yixuan smiled faintly and handed Feng Jiulan into her care.
Perhaps due to sitting for too long, Xianyue's feet had grown numb. As she stood, she felt utterly weak, stumbling forward a few steps before collapsing to the ground, her tear-soaked garments now coated in dust. Without thinking, she neglected to brush off the dirt, instead hastily wiping the tears from her face and taking several deep breaths.
Her radiant smile, marred by swollen cheeks, was heart-wrenching to behold.
Approaching Lan Yixuan, she offered him a faint smile filled with gratitude.
Lan Yixuan nodded. Throughout their journey, she had instructed Lei Yun and Lei An to tend to him with care, providing fine wine and sumptuous dishes. Yet when it came to herself, she had often worn a smile that was more of a smirk, full of mockery, always on guard. Now, however, after such a small gesture, he could discern gratitude in her eyes. Surely, she reserved her appreciation solely for those who treated that person well.
Xianyue circled around Lan Yixuan and embraced Feng Jiulan from behind. She recalled a time when she was very young, still unsteady on her feet. Her brother would lull her to sleep in the Xuesang Palace before leaving. While lying in bed, she would often pretend to be asleep, swiftly throwing off the covers to cling to him and whine, refusing to let him go. At times, she would deliberately tumble down, and her brother would scoop her up with heartfelt concern, staying with her in the Xuesang Palace.
All this time, she had wished to remain a child, yearning for that warmth, desperately seeking it out.
"Brother, it's me, Yue'er."
She looked up, inhaling deeply, but the tears she had so painstakingly stifled cascaded down her cheeks in an instant.
"I'm back."
In truth, she longed to add, "Brother, I will never leave you again," but it was not yet time. Two more ingredients were needed; once she found them, she would return to Feng Country, traveling to the ends of the earth, bringing her brother along so that he would see her first when he awoke.
"Brother, your Yue'er is back."
Bai Zhanfeng arrived at the courtyard, which was relatively distant from the Haitang Garden, only to find the surroundings in disarray. He saw Xianyue tightly embracing Feng Jiulan; in the moonlight, their shadows intertwined, indistinguishable from one another. Her petite form appeared more frail than ever. He yearned to rush over, enfolding her in his arms and never letting go, but despite his usual impulsiveness, he refrained, feeling a twinge of envy toward Feng Jiulan.
Even if she were to fall in love in the future, that person would never surpass her brother's place in her heart.
The Haitang Garden returned to its usual tranquility, where he could even hear her muffled sobs, each word causing his heart to tremble: "Brother, your Yue'er is back."
That woman had never acknowledged belonging to anyone; it turned out she had long given herself to familial love.
Familial love? He sighed, gazing up at the night sky, questioning why he hadn't returned.
He glanced at Lan Yixuan, standing beside Xianyue, whose gaze remained gentle and unprecedentedly soft.
Jun Pinyu leaned against a large tree in the corner, observing everything, discerning each expression on their faces—concerned, caring. He felt he should be pleased; everything was unfolding as he had wished, just waiting for an opportunity for his grand plan to succeed. Yet now, witnessing that pale silhouette, he closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his chest, where a deep ache surged.
He looked at the moon and smiled, the sound of Xianyue's cries filling him with a profound desolation. He swiped at his eyes, and a single tear glistened on his fingertip, embodying a sorrow that could not be redeemed.
Feng Jiulan gently pried Xianyue's hands apart and slowly turned around, brushing aside the hair that fell across her forehead. Xianyue knew what he was searching for, moving to clear the stray strands, pointing to the vermilion mark between her brows. "Brother, look! It's the same vermilion as Mother's."
She took Feng Jiulan's hand, allowing his fingers to delicately trace the flower-like red mark. Then, she diligently wiped away the tear stains from her eyes, the droplets reflecting the stars of the night sky, crystal clear.
Feng Jiulan lowered his head, tenderly caressing the vermilion on her brow. Gazing into her bright eyes, he suddenly laughed, exclaiming, "Indeed, you are my Yue'er."
Xianyue bit her lip, holding back her tears, nodding. Upon seeing the bloodstains on his pale instep, she nearly broke down again, but when she looked up, his fair face bore a flower-like smile.
"Brother, there's a medicine box under my bed. I'll tend to your wounds."
At her words, a look of joy spread across Feng Jiulan's ashen face. He tousled Xianyue's hair affectionately. "You're being mischievous again."
Xianyue exchanged a glance with Yun Qinghen, taking Feng Jiulan from his hands and leading him toward the room.
In just a few hours, the once tidy and clean room lay in utter disarray. Keeping her head down, she could still hear the faint sound of drips. Supporting Feng Jiulan back to bed, Yun Qinghen quickly prepared clean, warm water.
"Leave it here and wait for me outside."
Yun Qinghen glanced between Feng Jiulan and Xianyue, set down the items, and departed as instructed.
He knew he could no longer conceal the truth.
"Brother, sit tight. I'll treat your wounds."
Xianyue rose, slipping off Feng Jiulan's dark outer robe, then crouched down to wet a towel, gently cleaning his face and body. As she knelt there, she cautiously tended to the wound on his foot, fighting against the tears that rolled down, relentless like crashing waves.
Last night everything had been fine; how could it have changed so drastically, as if they had become two different people?
"Yue'er, you're crying."
Feng Jiulan's voice was soft, almost a whisper.
Xianyue looked up at him, her tear-stained face breaking into a smile as she nodded. "Brother, seeing you like this makes my heart ache. Please don't get hurt again."
Feng Jiulan gazed at her for a long time before bursting into laughter, crouching down to wipe the tears from her face. "Yes, I won't do it again."
In her memories, she had never shed tears, and he had never wished her to.
Her obedient demeanor only deepened Xianyue's feelings of regret.
After tending to the wound on Feng Jiulan's foot, she observed his sunken eyes, sitting beside him to tuck him under the covers. "Brother, rest well."
Feng Jiulan reached out and grasped her hand tightly. "Yue'er, I will take good care of you."
Xianyue met his worried gaze, which felt so fragile, like fine sandpaper, easily torn.
She understood his meaning; he feared she might leave upon waking.
For all these years, he had been troubled by her absence, burdening himself with guilt and unable to let go, which had become a heavy knot in his heart.
"Yue'er will stay here with you, going nowhere."
After saying this, Xianyue fetched a stool, holding his hand as she settled on the bed's edge. "I'll watch you sleep."
Feng Jiulan nodded, closing his eyes but still clutching Xianyue's hand, afraid to let her go.
Perhaps he was truly exhausted; Feng Jiulan soon drifted off, yet he did not loosen his grip on her hand.
Xianyue took a deep breath, feeling his fingers gradually slackening until they slipped from her grasp. She stood, covering her mouth, and in the silent night, she could still hear the barely audible sound of her weeping. Tears poured forth like a flood, and as she opened the door, she bumped straight into Lan Yixuan, who was coming toward her.
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