Searching in the Dead of Night

Duan Siyi had a separate residence assigned exclusively to Yun Xueyan, so she moved out of the General's Mansion, and Feng Yihan followed her there.

Under the hazy moonlight, standing in the courtyard, Yun Xueyan looked at her new manor. Was this... to be her final destination? Yet, she felt no joy; she could not even force a strained smile.

Turning to return to her room, her footsteps suddenly froze in place. The person standing before her was scrutinizing her with a gaze that seemed capable of seeing right through her, leaving her nowhere to hide.

She smiled, her expression behind the veil as brilliant as a blooming flower. "Does the Prince of Xiao enjoy sneaking into other people's estates by night?"

There was not a shred of hatred in her eyes as she looked at him. Indeed... she had let go of the hate. How could she possibly look at him with any strange emotion anymore?

"Who are you?" he asked, uttering a question that seemed meaningless yet had weighed heavily in his heart for a long time.

"I am the strategist appointed by the Emperor today, Jueyan. Is there something troubling Your Highness?" She met his scrutinizing gaze squarely, neither dodging nor flinching.

Yet, deep inside, her heart twisted into a knot.

"If Your Highness has nothing else to say, Jueyan must rest." Her pace was steady, her expression composed, showing not the slightest flaw.

And yet, her heart... was still affected. Even though she had forgotten, even though she could face him, she still could not pretend as if the past had never happened.

She could not!

"You're lying! Yun Xueyan, you can fool others, but you cannot fool me! Every single look in your eyes is deeply etched into my heart—the hatred, the indifference, I remember every single one!" he roared, on the verge of a breakdown!

How could she simply not look at him and walk away? She hadn't even questioned him. She didn't ask him why he had cast her off the cliff that day, she... he dared not think any further.

Yun Xueyan's figure shuddered slightly, but her paused steps resumed forward as a faint voice drifted back. "Prince of Xiao, you have mistaken me for someone else. Jueyan may truly resemble your consort—Prime Minister Feng also made the same mistake—but Jueyan is genuinely not her. Please return, Your Highness."

Her deliberate alienation drove a vicious knife straight into his heart, sending a sharp, twisting pain through his chest. His hands moved against his will, trapping her in his embrace as he pulled her against him. "Yun Xueyan, even if you were turned to ashes, this Prince would recognize you without a moment's hesitation! What Feng Xilou dared not confirm, this Prince dares!"

He tore away Yun Xueyan's veil, revealing a familiar face to his eyes—and that scar, both deeply branded in his heart. It truly was her! He let out a sorrowful, weeping laugh, the laughter growing louder and increasingly desolate.

He had not expected that he was merely making a wager with himself, yet he had won. But it was a tragic victory, simply because she was alive, yet refused to acknowledge him!

Yun Xueyan showed no panic, no anxiety; she merely gazed at him calmly with her watery eyes. "Are you happy now? Is that it? Does this make you happy, Duan Nanyu? Is this what you wanted!" Her calm voice gradually rose in pitch.

The desolate scar deep within her heart was ripped open violently, bleeding with agonizing pain. Her fingernails dug deep into her flesh as she looked straight at him, pressing him relentlessly!

"Can you not simply leave me to my own life? Have you not forced me and hurt me enough!" she screamed with all her might, the dry corners of her eyes stinging bitterly in the wind.

She lacked the strength to break free from his grip; his hold caused pain all over her body!

"Yaner, I didn't... I never truly meant to hurt you." Was she still blaming him? Was she still harboring resentment? A sudden surge of joy washed over him—at the very least, she still held him in her heart! "Yaner, you still love me, don't you?" He clung to this final shred of hope.