Chapter Sixty-One Finished Reading

He was a king, a man holding the power over life and death. Yet, though he was a king, was he not also her king?

Wildflowers bloomed in profusion among the mountains, clusters of yellow blossoms giving off a subtle, elusive fragrance. Nearby, a crystal-clear stream ran by, its waters so pure one could see straight to the bottom. Yellow petals floated gently along the current, brushing past the stones beneath.

The two of them settled on a smooth, broad stone. A small red fox darted about in the yellow flowers, its fur flecked with dew and petal traces.

“Xue’er, do you know, though the Kingdom of Ji belongs to me, this small corner is different.” His robe, the color of deep sky, spread softly over the rock, lending his handsome features a calm and unhurried air. “There is always a patch of sky that cannot be mastered. Just as with you: outwardly, you belong to me, yet your heart is forever fleeing.”

His words carried a hint of melancholy, like petals drifting away on the wind and the stream, growing ever more distant.

“Nothing is harder to control than the human heart. This, Your Majesty, you understand better than most.” She spoke gravely, as if deaf to any accusation hidden in Ji Wuqing’s tone.

The girl’s composure was as pale and remote as the clouds on the horizon—visible, yet forever out of reach.

“You really are going to be the death of me,” Ji Wuqing finally declared in exasperation, unable to help himself.

He turned away, presenting only a proud, sulking back to Xuexue, as though determined to ignore her now. His features, usually so dignified, took on a boyish petulance: lips pursed, brows gently knitted, the picture of a man in the throes of a childish tantrum.

Silence settled between them, broken only by the beauty of the surroundings, the peace, and his presence.

“Then Zi Qing it shall be,” she said at last. “When it’s just the two of us, I’ll call you that.” No longer bound by the strictures of rank, her tone grew light, the corners of her lips lifting with a lively girlishness.

She was happy now—so happy she wished for no more restraints.

Their relationship was, in truth, somewhat peculiar. He always indulged her, and she, for her part, had always meticulously kept to her place, never venturing beyond prescribed bounds. Yet, rather than caution or formality, it was a dance of advance and stasis—he always striving to draw nearer, she always standing still.

Yes, he was always reaching for her, while she remained unmoved.

Lost in thought, she was suddenly swept into a strong embrace. He held her with steady arms, his chin resting atop her soft hair, his dark eyes overflowing with a tenderness that could not be hidden.

Xuexue’s lashes quivered in surprise, but being held by him like this… was not so bad.

Yet, there was something unspoken between them, something both understood but never acknowledged.

They wandered as they pleased, and when night fell, they took a room at a superior inn, intending to rest before continuing their journey at dawn.

“Madam, our food is quite good here, isn’t it? And you’ve come on a lucky day—tonight is our Dance-and-Painting Festival! The evening will be lively indeed. Why not go out with your husband and join the festivities?” The inn’s attendant personally cleared the dishes with a diligence that spoke of genuine hospitality.

“A Dance-and-Painting Festival? That does sound interesting,” Xuexue mused, making polite conversation.

Dancing and painting? Or perhaps a dance that paints?

“Oh yes, there’s delicious food, great fun, and a feast for the eyes too! Our local lord himself will be presiding—it’s really something special.” The attendant kept boasting, his face brimming with a mix of pride and strange excitement.

“A feast for the eyes?” Xuexue’s expression was cool, a hint of puzzlement touching her features. “Are you hinting at something?”

How could a blind woman feast her eyes on anything? The attendant was clearly caught up in his own sales pitch, forgetting himself to use such a phrase in front of her.

“Please don’t misunderstand, madam! I didn’t mean it that way, truly, I spoke out of turn…” The attendant quickly realized his mistake and scrambled to explain.

“No need to be nervous. What is this ‘feast for the eyes’ you mentioned—what interesting thing am I to expect?” Her tone was mildly interested, though her face remained nonchalant.

“You’ll see for yourself, madam. If I told you now, it would spoil the fun…” The attendant whisked away the dishes, his departing figure sly and furtive.

So secretive—there was surely more to it.

She felt little curiosity about his cryptic hints. In truth, she was merely tired, and the prospect of a good night’s sleep sounded far more appealing.

With that thought, she leaned lazily against the bed, her water-blue robe blending with the silk quilts, one sleeve draping over the edge like a waterfall frozen in time.

Ji Wuqing, having just finished bathing, emerged from the inner chamber. Seeing her so at ease, a smile played on his handsome face.

He had changed into a raven-black robe, worn loose and languid after his bath. The elegant lines of his collarbones were revealed, and his chest, pale as jade, was barely concealed.

Like a flower glimpsed through mist—its allure undimmed by any barrier.

But Xuexue was oblivious to Ji Wuqing’s appearance as he entered. Her sightless eyes stared into the distance, one slender hand propping up her head, empty gaze fixed on something unseen, lost in thought.

Ji Wuqing made no attempt to hide his approach. He sat lazily by her side. “Would you like to go to the festival?”

“And how am I to feast my eyes?” Xuexue teased, recognizing the familiar, pleasant voice.

“I’ll see for you.”

The night air was cool, but the streets below teemed with life.

They took an unusual path, a flash of shadow darting across the rooftops—no, two shadows, but so close together they merged into one.

The man in the raven-black robe moved nimbly, holding his companion close as he strode across the eaves and tiles, finally stopping at a vantage point of his choosing.

Night had deepened, yet the streets blazed with lantern light. Crowds surged along, people dressed in bizarre costumes, their faces painted with exaggerated brows and eyes, as if all were playing a part.

The festival was a riot of noise and color, but oddly, men far outnumbered women in the throngs.

A festival of dance and painting—shouldn’t it be beloved of women? An ideal day for scholars and beauties to meet?

“So this is the Dance-and-Painting Festival? It’s not nearly as extraordinary as its name suggests.” Ji Wuqing surveyed the chaotic scene with unconcealed disdain—and a touch of disappointment.

“There’s something strange about this festival,” Xuexue said softly, unsettled by a formless oddity. This was nothing like the poetic, lantern-lit celebration she had imagined.

“If it displeases you, let’s go. No need to waste time.” He slipped an arm around her waist, ready to leave, clearly uninterested.

Just then, a commotion erupted nearby.

“Lord Yu has arrived!”

“I wonder what masterpiece Lord Yu will show us this time—a real feast for the eyes!”

“Hush, not so loud—don’t disturb Lord Yu’s creative process…”

Gradually, the noise subsided; people lined the street respectfully, awaiting someone’s arrival.

Looking down, they saw a heavy palanquin borne by six men, with another six guards clearing the way—a striking spectacle.

The night wind brought a chill.

Ji Wuqing sat down on the rooftop, holding Xuexue in his lap. She listened carefully to the sounds below, sensing that the newcomer was no ordinary figure—likely the very lord the attendant had spoken of.

“Xue’er, it seems the real show is about to begin,” Ji Wuqing remarked with genuine interest—but his attention was not on the palanquin, but on the woman nestled in his arms.

She sat quietly, a model of docility. Her long black hair was gathered in a simple knot, adorned with a silver hairpin that lent her an air of understated grace.

Her clothes were not particularly thick, but she wore a black fur-lined cloak over them, matching his own raven-black robe so well that, seated together, they seemed to melt into one.

Sensing the king’s unguarded gaze, she said coolly, “You’re the one who suggested we watch the festival—yet you seem quite distracted. Could it be, Zi Qing, that your interest lies elsewhere?”

“It’s just that the beauty in my arms is a feast for the eyes herself—I can’t help but look. Besides, I plan to keep looking for the rest of my life…” Ji Wuqing replied with a hint of mischief, then turned his gaze to the scene below. “The main event seems to have begun. That palanquin over there is drawing a crowd…”

He began to describe the unfolding spectacle in a gentle, elegant voice, detailing everything for her benefit.

Within the heavy palanquin, layers of white gauze fluttered in the night breeze, delicate as feathers drifting to earth.

Through the shifting veils, the scene within could be faintly glimpsed: soft silken bedding, and upon it, a figure barely concealed. Skin white as freshly made tofu, smooth and flawless. The body was partly covered by a black brocade quilt, but the curve of a white back was plainly visible to all…

“Xue’er, are you sure you want me to go on?” Ji Wuqing teased, noticing the faint change in her expression.

“Then close your eyes while you speak,” she retorted, raising her hand to shield his eyes, a gesture at once wilful and free.

“Very well, your husband… will narrate with eyes closed.” The king’s lips curved in a triumphant smile. “Besides, I’ve already seen everything worth seeing.”