Chapter 125 Leaving Him Behind

Weishao Qianyu knew Feng Jinye very well. By revealing her name, she caught him off guard, yet Feng Jinye, as if refusing to believe her blade would ever be turned against him, stood frozen and made no move to dodge.

Weishao Qianyu pointed her sword straight at Feng Jinye's heart. He remained dazed for a long while, only to watch as the blade, which should have pierced his chest, swerved to slice his wrist instead. Seeing that she truly intended to wound him, Feng Jinye felt a flash of anger. He thrust his own weapon toward her in retaliation, but for some reason, he could not bring himself to strike; instead, he flicked away her hair ribbon.

A sense of suffocation gripped Feng Jinye’s chest. As the ribbon fell, her long, dark hair cascaded down. Looking at the woman before him, that strike felt as if it had already pierced his own chest, leaving him with a rolling, agonizing pain in his heart.

Feng Jinye ignored the wound on his wrist, noticing only that Weishao Qianyu had begun to cry. Tears fell, dampening the red veil she wore, yet she stubbornly wiped them away and raised her sword to challenge him once more.

"Feng Jinye! Do not move!"

Suddenly, Weishao Qianyu cried out, her voice laced with sobs. The command made Feng Jinye freeze, and everything fell into a deathly silence. He did not understand why he had stopped, but her blade shifted its aim once again, slicing across his left wrist. She had aimed for his heart multiple times, yet each time, she could not bring herself to be ruthless.

Watching the blood surge from his wrist and knowing there was no turning back, Weishao Qianyu suddenly tore off her veil. As Feng Jinye saw her face clearly, his chest tightened further, consumed by a tearing, visceral pain.

"Feng Jinye!" she called out, her tone icy. She had heard somewhere that to deceive others, one must first deceive oneself. "Do you remember me? If I hadn't met you, I could have lived perfectly well on my own! If not for you, our family would have had no connection to the assassins of the Xiyan Kingdom! If not for you, my father would not have died! It is all because of you—why did you have to provoke me? Feng Jinye, I hate you! Feng Jinye, I hate you!"

Weishao Qianyu spoke with indifference, yet tears streamed down her cheeks the moment she began. Every word was hysterical, heart-wrenching, and piercing—each syllable felt like a sharp arrow driving through Feng Jinye’s heart. Each word also served to tear her own heart to shreds.

Feng Jinye stared blankly at her, his chest aching violently. His body was racked with pain, as if something dormant within him was struggling to break free. The phrase "Feng Jinye, I hate you" echoed in his mind. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, his face turned deathly pale, and he could no longer hold his sword, which clattered to the ground.

"Feng Jinye, this blade is for what you owe me. Let us end it here!"

Finally, her sword found its mark, piercing straight into his chest. Feng Jinye’s eyes widened in terror. Weishao Qianyu heard two silent words form on his lips: "Why..."

In the study of the Prince Yuan Mansion, Weishao Qianyu woke up in a start from Feng Jinye’s embrace. He was holding her tightly, calling her name incessantly. After waking, she offered only a faint, "It is nothing."

Weishao Qianyu was stunned by her own coldness toward him. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she realized something was wrong. From the wedding of the new Lord of Qudu to the moment she helped Feng Jinye break his curse, she found she could not recall a single specific detail. She remembered arriving in Qudu, and she knew many things had happened afterward, but she could not piece them together. Her memories were muddled; she remembered Feng Jinye staying in Qudu during his half-year campaign, but she clearly recalled breaking the curse in Modu, the former capital of the Xiyan Kingdom.

What had she forgotten?

Suddenly, the dream of the city draped in red silk resurfaced in her mind, and that familiar, suffocating grief washed over her again. Perhaps she should go see Huangfu Chen. She thought of his letter from earlier that day, offering to trade the antidote for Lu Yanran and Yun Ming.

"What are you thinking about?" Feng Jinye asked, unsettled.

She shook her head, hiding the truth. "I am just a bit sleepy. Hold me and take me back to bed..."

Ever since he opened Huangfu Chen’s letter, Feng Jinye had been anxious, and now, looking at her, he felt even more so. He knew she had entertained the thought of exchanging herself for the antidote, but he could never allow her to take such a risk. The tension in the study had been palpable until she broke it as night fell.

Soon, she fell asleep in his arms, only to wake up again in a panic, which only deepened his unease. Instead of taking her to the bedroom, he carried her to the bath, knowing she would not sleep well if she hadn't bathed. He cared for every detail of her life; she had filled his world—if she were to leave, what would become of him?

Even after the bath, she still slept restlessly. It was that dream again—the city draped in red silk, the grand wedding. In her dream, she was weeping, her grief so intense it felt like suffocation. She desperately wanted to be strong enough to look closer and identify the place, but she could not remember—not at all. The dream was like a trapped beast in a cage, battering itself bloody with no escape.

She woke up once more. This time, knowing the dream existed, she did not cry. She focused on steadying her breathing, trying to calm her heart. Feng Jinye was even more panicked than she was, and seeing her newfound composure, as if she had found a way to cope, left him inexplicably unsettled. He felt this dream was linked to him, and that it would take her away from him. These premonitions were baseless, yet persistent.

The next morning, Leng Ling and Leng Qi came to check her pulse. "The Princess is in good health," Leng Ling reported. "The nightmares are likely due to recent anxiety. If the Princess remains at ease, she will recover fully." He hesitated, then asked, "The Princess’s body was originally cold and weak, but it is now much improved. Has a skilled physician treated you recently?"

Weishao Qianyu paused. It must have been Huangfu Chen. During that month at the Twilight Pavilion, he had not only healed her right arm but also restored her health. She nodded, not hiding it.

Leng Ling’s eyes lit up. "May I ask, what methods did this physician use?"

"Acupuncture and moxibustion," she replied simply.

Before Leng Ling could ask further, the temperature in the room plummeted, despite the humid, sweltering heat of the early summer. Leng Ling suddenly remembered that he had known of an acupuncture technique to heal her shoulder, but he had never had the courage to suggest it. Seeing the expression on the War Prince's face, he realized with a jolt that the physician who had performed the acupuncture and moxibustion must have been a man.

Weishao Qianyu realized then that Feng Jinye was jealous. She mused that it had been a long time since he had been this way; back at the War Prince's mansion, even a mention of her name by Yun Ming would make him sour for half a day. Thinking of Yun Ming, she frowned, then turned to Leng Ling. "Old Leng, I haven't been sleeping well lately. Could you prepare an herbal incense to calm the spirit?"

Leng Ling agreed. Feng Jinye, knowing she usually disliked incense, frowned, but then heard her add, "I do not care for scented incense, but I can tolerate the smell of herbs. I apologize for the trouble."

Once the physicians left, Feng Jinye stared at her, his eyes burning with suppressed anger. Just as she was wondering how to coax him, he leaned in and kissed her, his lips covering hers with overwhelming force. Taken aback, she was startled when he tore open the fabric over her right shoulder and bit down on it.

She frowned, about to push him away, but felt him holding back, unwilling to truly hurt her. Her frustration vanished, and she cooed, "That hurts..."

Feng Jinye released her shoulder, but as he looked up, he saw her smiling at him. "My Jinye is angry. Qianqian must soothe him..." She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Feng Jinye paused, his expression unchanged, like a child demanding a treat, muttering, "I am still angry."

She laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. She knew well that he could not resist her like this. No one would imagine that the formidable War Prince, who once held all of Liyue in his palm, was like a growing child when he threw a tantrum—one that could only be appeased with tenderness.

As she smiled to herself, Feng Jinye pulled her closer, his body pressing against hers as he rained kisses upon her. She did not know that the torn fabric on her shoulder appeared dangerously alluring to him. And he did not know that earlier that day, she had taken a withered leaf from Leng Ling’s medicine chest and, while he was buried in her shoulder, had crushed it and scattered its dust into the red candles.

She responded to him with great passion, and soon, Feng Jinye’s consciousness began to drift into a blur.