Hey. Young Master, why are you here?” Can Yang was the first to notice Murong Qiufeng enter and immediately looked puzzled. Shouldn’t he be with the master right now?
Murong Qiufeng gave them a slight nod, then turned his gaze toward the only room illuminated by candlelight. In a low voice, he asked, “Is Princess Zhao Qi inside?”
“Oh~ Yoyo told you, huh? Yeah, she’s in there. You want to question her? Go ahead, but her mental state isn’t great right now. I doubt you’ll get much out of her,” Can Yang shrugged. That little girl just cried and whimpered non-stop. It was exhausting. No matter what approach they tried, she was unyielding.
Maybe Murong Qiufeng would have better luck. Hopefully, he could get something useful out of her. Otherwise, when she fell into the master’s hands and he found out she harbored feelings for Murong Qiufeng, who knew if he’d kill her in a fit of rage? If that happened, they’d lose their best lead.
Murong Qiufeng’s brows remained tightly knit. After a long pause, he sighed, stepped forward, opened the door, and entered. His eyes immediately landed on Zhao Xiru, curled up asleep in the cold corner of the room. Under the dim candlelight, her pale face still bore traces of tears. Her eyes were red, her brows tightly furrowed, and she hugged herself as her body trembled from time to time.
Despite her exhaustion, Zhao Xiru’s senses were still sharp. At the faint sound of the door, she woke but didn’t open her eyes, choosing instead to remain silent and ignore whoever had entered.
She waited, but after a while, realized the other person hadn’t moved. The presence was palpable, and she could feel their gaze fixed on her.
Curiosity got the better of her. She cautiously opened her sore, tear-streaked eyes. Her vision blurred momentarily, but she caught sight of the white robe standing not far away—that familiar, comforting white.
Her heart gave a jolt. She bolted upright, eyes widening as her vision cleared. “Brother Feng! You’re okay!”
Murong Qiufeng’s face darkened at her words, as though fuel had been thrown onto a smoldering fire. “I am unworthy of the title ‘Brother Feng,’ Your Highness. I am perfectly fine. Are you disappointed?” If he had a choice, he’d have preferred to suffer in her place.
The joy on Zhao Xiru’s face vanished, replaced by shock and pale helplessness. Her lips trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head repeatedly. “No, Brother Feng, I never wanted to hurt you. Never! How could I possibly harm you?”
“Never?” Murong Qiufeng’s expression remained cold. His voice, soft yet laced with ice, was filled with disappointment. “My parents were nearly killed several times. My eldest brother died because of it. If not for… well, I’d be lying dead in a shallow grave tonight. If you claim you never meant harm, I shudder to think what would have happened if you had. The Murong family would have long since been annihilated.”
“No! It wasn’t me! It was him. He acted on his own. I swear! I never wanted this. And as for the Prime Minister and his wife… I… I had no choice,” Zhao Xiru’s voice grew weaker with each word.
Murong Qiufeng turned away, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. His voice, when it came, was filled with exhaustion. “I have a younger sister about your age. Sadly, she lives far away. I don’t know when we’ll meet again. Perhaps because of that, I always treated you like a sister.
“But I was wrong—so very wrong. I ignored your deceit, your schemes, and your betrayals because I told myself we were simply standing on different sides. I convinced myself not to hate you or wish you harm. I hoped that by showing kindness, things might change. But I was just deluding myself. Not everything can be resolved with goodwill.”
His words, delivered in a soft, almost gentle tone, cut deeper than any blade. Zhao Xiru sat there, trembling, as the word “sister” stabbed through her heart. He regretted meeting her. He regretted showing her warmth. He had given up on her.
Her lips trembled. She bit down hard, drawing blood, her clenched fists trembling. In her tear-filled eyes, sorrow warred with a flicker of something darker and more desperate. She didn’t even notice his mention of a sister living “far away.”
“My weakness, my compassion, my indecision—they led to disaster,” Murong Qiufeng continued. “My family paid the price. People I cared about were hurt because I couldn’t do what needed to be done. I regret that. I regret not ending it when I had the chance.”
Zhao Xiru’s face twisted with guilt. She knew exactly what he meant. He’d had opportunities to kill her: when she’d been exposed at the Prime Minister’s residence, and later when she hypnotized the Prime Minister’s wife. If he had inserted just a trace of malice into his music, she’d have suffered a fatal backlash.
Tonight’s death of Murong Hao and the injury to Shangguan Ye had pushed Murong Qiufeng past his limits. If he’d been more ruthless earlier, his brother would still be alive, his father unharmed, and his closest friend unscathed.
He’d always been unsure of himself. Now he wondered: if kindness only brought suffering to those he loved, what was the point?
“No! It’s not like that!” Zhao Xiru cried. “I’m the princess of Zhao. I had no choice. I had to follow my father’s orders. I never wanted to hurt you, Brother Feng. Never! You’re the only one who’s ever truly cared for me. I even thought about sabotaging the mission, about finding a way to protect you and my kingdom. But…”
“Enough.” His voice cut through her frantic explanation like ice. “You ask me to believe you? What difference does it make? If you truly cared, why remain silent until now? I won’t force you to confess. But from this moment on, whatever we shared is over. No more illusions. No more mercy.”
His words were quiet but final. He turned toward the door and walked away without looking back.
Zhao Xiru sat frozen in disbelief. His final words echoed in her mind: “From this moment on, whatever we shared is over. No more illusions. No more mercy.”
“No!” she screamed. “Brother Feng, please! Don’t abandon me! I’ll cooperate! I’ll tell you everything! Just don’t turn your back on me! You’re all I have left!”
She scrambled to the door and pounded on it until her hands bled, her sobs piercing the cold night air.
Outside, Murong Qiufeng walked away without hesitation, each step crunching through the snow.
Can Yang and Qian Baihuan exchanged uneasy glances. The chill in the air had nothing to do with the weather.
“Murong Qiufeng can be ruthless when he wants to be,” Can Yang muttered. “Good thing the prince got to him first and won his loyalty. Otherwise…”
Qian Baihuan nodded. “He knew exactly what would hurt her most. And he didn’t hesitate. We always thought the prince was degrading himself by chasing after him. But tonight, I realized something: Murong Qiufeng only opens his heart to those he truly cares about.”
They both shivered. He was right. Even the gentlest lamb, if pushed to its limits, would reveal sharp fangs.
“Yeah,” Can Yang agreed softly. “The prince is his bottom line. Cross that line… and all hell breaks loose.”
