Chapter Fifty-Three: Qianyu’s Self-Reflection

The pause in her words was yet another manifestation of consciousness controlling the mind. The so-called “speaking without thinking” meant that, deep in her consciousness, she liked Feng Jinye—liked him to her very bones.

She spoke those words without any hint of shyness at their ambiguity, but instead with utmost solemnity.

Feng Jinye knew that he had lost his memory, and given his nature, it was only a matter of time before he recovered it.

She knew that there was a past between them that could not be severed.

It was time for her to be brave.

At first, she had approached with the sole purpose of helping him regain his memory. Yet after their marriage, Feng Jinye treated her as if he had never forgotten her at all, and she found herself lost in fleeting days of happiness.

In truth, she was merely squandering the protection and indulgence he lavished upon her.

She understood well that, to an amnesiac like Feng Jinye, his actions were beyond reproach. Even if he were to fall in love with another, she would likely only show greater calm.

But Feng Jinye, as always, tolerated all the thorns in her character.

She forgot that if she was a hedgehog, anyone who embraced her would be hurt.

Her selfishness and willfulness stemmed from the certainty that she would never lose him.

Her reckless disregard for consequence seemed only justified by the favoritism she received from Feng Jinye.

Now, in this very moment, she felt that the invincible version of herself was suddenly detestable.

She gazed at Feng Jinye in a daze, wondering by what right she was deserving of his love.

She also wondered: was Feng Jinye perhaps truly lonely?

She tried to imagine: Feng Jinye, orphaned at a young age, burdened with both personal and national enmity, his only kin missing... Losing seven years of memory, facing a world he could not comprehend—did he not feel lost and helpless?

She knew all too well that Feng Jinye was the deepest anchor in her heart. But what about him? If she were not by his side, would he too be left adrift?

Most believed the Prince of War was unbreakable. Even if he roared and raged as he did today, the servants saw it only as his unpredictable temper.

Feng Jinye stared at her in disbelief, unsure if her words had been sincere or idle.

“I’m not leaving, Feng Jinye.” She looked up, her voice steady. “I want to stay by your side.”

He had no idea what chaotic thoughts had flitted through her mind in those brief moments; he only knew that his heart was overflowing with joy because of her.

“Alright.” A smile played at his lips. “It’s settled—wherever you go, I’ll go with you!”

Now, as a prince without office, what better way to spend his days than listening to the wind and watching the rain with his princess, growing old together amid falling snow?

She nodded, but then spoiled the mood, saying, “Didn’t you say you were investigating the assassins from the Twilight Pavilion? Any news about Mei Ji and Mian Yin?”

His exasperation was palpable as he pulled her into his arms. “Yun Ming said the Empress Dowager has a matron by her side, once a killer from the underworld. I’ve sent Yun Ming to bring her here.”

“The Empress Dowager…” At the mention of her, she pouted in clear displeasure. “She’s not a good person.”

It didn’t matter whether the Empress Dowager was friend or foe; just for trying to separate her from Feng Jinye, she would curse her a thousand times in her heart.

Feng Jinye was momentarily taken aback. She had always seemed indifferent to the Empress Dowager’s rule, but now she harbored such obvious dislike. He couldn’t help but recall the Dowager’s words: “You and she are impossible.”

“Yes, not a good person,” he agreed.

She burst out laughing—he was actually echoing her insults.

Just then, Yun Ming arrived with a matron of nearly fifty. From afar, he saw her laughing in Feng Jinye’s embrace. Fanning himself, he coughed loudly. “Ahem, ahem…”

Feng Jinye frowned and shot Yun Ming a glare before settling down with her.

Matron Wen bowed deeply, Yun Ming took a seat, glancing repeatedly between the two. Were they on good terms again?

Yun Ming wanted badly to ask her, “How many days will it last this time?”

Feng Jinye pressed her palm, prompting her to ask.

“Matron Wen, have you heard of the Twin Spirits of Mei Ji?” she asked directly.

Matron Wen’s eyes flickered. She had heard of the Princess of War’s reputation—apparently not a favorite at the Dowager’s court. Yet she was so astute, saying nothing of her own origins.

Matron Wen’s lips moved, her voice tinged with the wear of years as she told the tale.

The Twin Spirits of Mei Ji were well-known in the underworld. Mei Ji and Mian Yin were sisters, raised by the Twilight Pavilion and meticulously trained by its former master to be living weapons.

One specialized in long-range darts, the other in close combat with curved blades. They were seamless partners, yet few knew that Mei Ji was the true master of darts.

Mei Ji was sullied, while Mian Yin remained innocent. It was known throughout the underworld that Mei Ji shielded her sister from all harm.

She had chosen the curved blade so she could always protect her sister during assassinations.

But fate cares little for human wishes. Mei Ji could not protect Mian Yin; it was said that during one mission, Mian Yin flung herself off a cliff.

After that, Mei Ji changed completely, becoming a true demon of murder.

It was rumored that in a mission a year ago, Mei Ji slaughtered everyone involved.

She nodded in understanding. So Mei Ji was the dominant personality; since all witnesses were dead, none knew what truly happened then. Were they simply waiting for Mian Yin’s persona to reemerge?

“Matron Wen, I have another question…” She found the recent fire at Wanlai Snow suspicious. “If one offends the Twilight Pavilion, do they always resort to murder and arson?”

“Not necessarily,” Matron Wen replied. “Only if someone uncovers secrets the Pavilion keeps from outsiders.”

She paused, then added, “There’s precedent. When a killer dies, another always takes their place—if Mian Yin is dead, there will be a new Mian Yin.”

She was stunned. Could it be that Mei Ji, not wanting her sister replaced, had split her persona?

“I’m merely warning you: whether you capture Mian Yin or Mei Ji, beware—the other spirit may already be lurking in the Prince’s manor. Be on your guard!” Matron Wen, having lived through such things, knew that being replaced as a partner was never good; some would risk anything to prevent it.

At these words, she exchanged a glance with Feng Jinye and summoned Ye Shiyi. “Where is she being held?”

“In the Qinglan Courtyard,” he replied.

Feng Jinye listened closely. Assassins were more alert than ordinary people, and he caught the faint sound of hurried but unflustered footsteps fading into the distance.

There were hidden guards at Qinglan Courtyard; the Prince’s manor was no easy place to breach. Now that Matron Wen had revealed someone would come for Mei Ji, she intentionally let slip Mei Ji’s whereabouts.

The intruder, upon hearing this, would know it was their only chance—success or death—the trap obvious but inescapable.

She thought the assassin coming for Mei Ji wouldn’t be too difficult to handle; after all, they had already subdued Mei Ji.

But when she arrived at Qinglan Courtyard with the hidden blade, the guards lay sprawled on the ground.

A maid, hurling darts with unceasing speed at Feng Jinye and Ye Shiyi, stood at the center.

She was impressed. No wonder this one had the courage to storm the manor alone.

She judged this must be the new Mian Yin, and drew her sword. Feng Jinye dodged the darts, came to her side, seized her weapon, and pulled her behind him.

She pouted, but obediently stayed behind him, watching as the attacker flung darts single-handedly, the speed almost invisible.

The assassin’s gaze was cold and ruthless, taking no precautions against either Feng Jinye or Ye Shiyi, as though she could wipe out everyone before her.

She suddenly recalled Matron Wen’s words—was this the true Mei Ji, the “demon of murder”?

Had they only captured the assassin who replaced Mian Yin?

She raised her voice, “Do you want her to be Mian Yin or Mei Ji? I can make it happen!”

The assassin paused, the darts halting mid-flight, and her icy gaze swept over her.

Seeing she was moved, she continued, “She is both Mei Ji and Mian Yin now—her mind is broken, but I can help you correct it.”

“What’s your price?” The question was spat out coldly.

Chu Jiu arrived with more guards, mouth agape as he recognized the assassin as the one who had passed him a message at noon—her voice now utterly changed.

“Are you Mei Ji?” she probed.

The assassin did not deny it; her raised eyes sent a chill through her heart.

“Yes,” Mei Ji replied sharply.

Indeed, this was the true demon.

“Feng Qingxuan,” she said, stepping out from behind Feng Jinye, suddenly aware that hiding had ruined her image.

Mei Ji’s interest was piqued. “There is no Feng Qingxuan in the Twilight Pavilion. She’s yours now.”

With those words, Mei Ji vanished.

Her voice lingered in the air: “Let’s see if the Princess of War wants her to be Mian Yin or Mei Ji!”

She was left bewildered—why had she just left?

Feng Jinye stepped forward. “She fears the hidden blade.”

She froze. Mei Ji could not have seen this blade before, but perhaps she had seen the Star Abyss.

More and more clues pointed to the black-clad figures as belonging to the Twilight Pavilion. Were they hired, or was there another reason...?

Suddenly, she recalled Matron Wen’s warning: anyone who learned secrets the Pavilion wanted hidden would be silenced by fire.

Did the Weishao family discover some secret, leading to the slaughter of her parents and clan?

Would she be next? Yet she knew nothing at all—was that why Feng Jinye kept it from her?

“Feng Jinye, tell me! Why won’t you let me return to the Weishao General’s Manor?” she demanded, voice sharp.

He was anxious. His beloved’s temperament—hadn’t they just reconciled moments ago?

He struggled to explain. “I was worried that if you returned, since Weishao Qianyu is unmarried and I married Lu Qianyu, someone might take you from me...”

“Liar!” she snapped.

“No, I—” he hesitated, remembering how he had tricked her into returning to the manor last night.

She pressed on, relentless. “See, you can’t even justify yourself. You gave me the hidden blade, unafraid I’d wander the world and meet some gallant young gentleman, yet you fear I’ll be courted at home!”

His chill descended, and he flung the hidden blade at Chu Jiu.

Seeing she had struck a nerve, she quickly tried to make amends. “I was only joking—remember at your birthday banquet, you even held me…”