Chapter Forty-Eight: Each Finds Their Own Relief

Evening Snowfall Pavilion stood quietly in the dusk. Outside, Feng Jinye remained motionless for a long while. Night Eleven couldn't shake off the sense of looming danger, a peril that seemed to threaten him alone—an imperial shadow guard. Feng Jinye reasoned that Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper must still be inside Evening Snowfall, hesitating whether to go in search of her. But recalling how she wished not to see him, how she’d gone so far as to drug Night Eleven into unconsciousness just to avoid him, Feng Jinye’s heart twisted painfully. His voice turned cold. “Return.”

Night Eleven maintained his composure and followed at Feng Jinye’s heels, when suddenly Xue Chun called out, “The one in black, you can’t leave!”

“You’re skilled, you’re the only one who can best that Mianmian Yin. My lady’s already been hurt. If more assassins come, we won’t be able to defend ourselves—what are we to do?” Xue Chun’s words crashed through Feng Jinye’s thoughts like spring thunder.

Suddenly, Night Eleven realized why he’d sensed danger earlier: it was this woman, the very source of the threat.

He had intentionally omitted mention of Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper’s injury in his earlier report. What injury was it, after all? Just a surge of blood and energy. Night Nine and Night Ten always carried medicinal pills for such things; Night Nine must have already given one to the princess. She should be fine by now.

But when Feng Jinye heard that Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper was wounded, his expression darkened. He cast a severe glance at Night Eleven and strode swiftly toward Evening Snowfall.

At that moment, Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper had indeed recovered. She stood in the woodshed, watching Mei Ji struggle with her emotions, muttering “Impossible” over and over.

Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper was convinced there was something wrong with Mei Ji. The topic that had just been raised had clearly touched a nerve. There would be no answers from her tonight.

She pondered what Mianmian Yin had said outside Evening Snowfall: Feng Qingxuan had used this hairpin to hire her for Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper’s assassination. This meant that either Mei Ji or Mianmian Yin had seen Feng Qingxuan and knew her whereabouts.

Hiring an assassin was likely Feng Qingxuan’s way of seeking rescue. After all, the moment Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper saw this hairpin, she would know it belonged to Feng Qingxuan. It was a means to send word to the outside world.

But the person Feng Qingxuan chose—a patient with dissociative personality disorder? How complicated. She must have sought out the Mianmian Yin personality, but how could one make it surface? Would she have to treat the assassin’s mental illness to get answers?

With a sigh, Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper instructed Night Ten, “Don’t be too harsh with her. Let her calm down first. If she becomes Mianmian Yin again, inform me at once.”

Feng Jinye rushed up to the pavilion in Evening Snowfall, but saw no sign of Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper. He scoured the second floor, but she was nowhere to be found.

Emerging from the woodshed, Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper learned that Feng Jinye was searching for her in Evening Snowfall. She led Dong Nuan out and crossed to the spot opposite the wonton stall.

“Miss, should we give them some silver?” Dong Nuan asked.

Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper shook her head. “No need. Associating with me brings them no benefit. From now on, just have the staff from Evening Snowfall come here often to buy wontons.”

Unable to find her, Feng Jinye stopped Qing Xia and demanded, “Where is she?”

“My lady has gone out, Your Highness,” Qing Xia replied with a sidelong look, unconcerned.

Feng Jinye understood from this that her injuries must not be serious. “How badly is she hurt?” he pressed.

“Hurt?” Qing Xia was momentarily taken aback, then shook her head. “Your Highness worries too much. My lady is unharmed.”

Still uneasy, Feng Jinye remembered Xue Chun’s claim and Night Eleven’s silence on the matter. Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper must have been hurt. Was it so serious she was hiding to heal without letting him know?

He recalled the day she detoxified herself at New Year. Anxiety coiled in his chest. He pounded the table twice. “Find her!”

Night Eleven hesitated, then reported, “Your Highness, the princess is outside.”

Feng Jinye immediately rose and strode out. As soon as he left Evening Snowfall, he saw Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper at the street corner, tightening her cloak and muttering to Dong Nuan, “Why hasn’t Feng Jinye left yet? I’m starting to get cold...”

The resolve to approach her faded from Feng Jinye in an instant. Though he knew she wished to avoid him, hearing her say it in person pained him deeply. He looked her over, ensuring she was unharmed.

When Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper glanced toward Evening Snowfall, Feng Jinye slipped back inside, coldly ordering, “Return to the manor!”

Night Eleven respectfully followed, but Feng Jinye snapped, “You stay.”

Night Eleven stepped back, watching Feng Jinye’s retreating form, feeling a trace of desolation.

He was bewildered. Only moments ago, Feng Jinye had been adamant about finding the princess; now, upon seeing her, he turned back and dismissed the team to return home? Tonight’s events felt more like a routine patrol of the northern city than a personal search.

Feng Jinye was always solitary, or else accompanied only by Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper. If others came along, he would walk alone and let the team follow separately. But tonight, Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper had seen him emerge from Evening Snowfall with a contingent of black-clad guards.

She looked at him only once, then turned away. She knew he must have recognized her. Was he giving up the search?

Just moments ago, she had hoped fervently for Feng Jinye to leave. Now that he had stopped looking for her, her heart was filled with disappointment.

Returning to Listening Wind Pavilion, Feng Jinye pressed his fist to his brow. “Chuju, bring Doctor Leng here.”

The tension in Listening Wind Pavilion returned, as it always did when the princess was absent. Chuju bowed and hurried off, not daring to mention that it was nearly midnight and Doctor Leng would be sleeping, with duties at the Imperial Medical Bureau come morning.

Once again, Doctor Leng was roused from sleep and summoned to the Prince of War’s manor. Though he sometimes complained, he never shirked his duty, for Feng Jinye had once saved his entire family.

This time, Doctor Leng was surprised to be formally invited; usually, he was dragged out of bed, medical kit in hand. Entering Listening Wind Pavilion, he saw only the Prince of War and understood—it was not the princess needing treatment.

Feng Jinye spoke plainly, “Amnesia. Can you treat it?”

Doctor Leng was momentarily stunned. “Your Highness, I would need to take your pulse to know for certain.”

Feng Jinye extended his hand. Doctor Leng’s mouth fell open in shock—had the Prince of War lost his memory?

Trembling, he placed his fingers on Feng Jinye’s wrist, cold sweat breaking out on his brow. He took the pulse for a long while but could not diagnose any illness. At last, he shook his head helplessly. “Your Highness, I have no inkling. Such amnesia is unheard of. In my experience, memory loss is usually the result of a heavy blow to the head, severe illness, or conditions like dementia, hysteria, or madness. Judging by the facts, the most likely cause would be a head injury, but I find no sign of trauma.”

Seeing that Feng Jinye remained impassive, Doctor Leng felt uneasy. The Prince of War was not one for words; if the princess were here, he could explain in detail. Bracing himself, he asked, “Does Your Highness have any discomfort? Any unusual symptoms?”

“Occasionally, fragments come to mind. Recently, I remembered receiving letters at the border.” That was the longest sentence Feng Jinye had spoken all night, but he quickly added, “Tomorrow, attend to the princess at Evening Snowfall. Report to me when you’re done. You may go.”

Doctor Leng instantly understood—he was being asked to carry a message, not to diagnose.

He withdrew, leaving Feng Jinye to rub his brow in frustration. What was he supposed to do now? If she knew he was regaining memories, would she come back? Would she be willing to see him?

The next day, after his duties, Doctor Leng went to Evening Snowfall. Seeing him arrive, Qing Xia hurried to meet him. “Doctor Leng, have you devised any medicinal recipes suitable for my lady?”

“Miss Qing Xia, I’ve brought some prescriptions today,” Doctor Leng replied, opening his kit and handing her the slips. “But today, I’ve come to examine the princess. Please, lead the way.”

Qing Xia, thinking it might be beneficial for her lady’s health, guided Doctor Leng to the upper floor.

Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper regarded Doctor Leng warily. “Doctor Leng, you’ve come?”

“Your Highness, this is a follow-up to your last consultation,” Doctor Leng replied, preparing a cushion and handkerchief, signaling her to extend her wrist.

Resigned, she reminded herself that physicians were like parents to their patients and offered her arm.

“Your Highness, I’m actually here to discuss the Prince of War’s illness…” Doctor Leng’s words startled her, but she kept her composure. “Feng Jinye is ill?”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. He’s not one for words—examining him was no easy task…” Doctor Leng’s implication was clear: she ought to return to the Prince of War’s manor.

“What illness?” she pressed, missing his hidden meaning.

“Does Your Highness not know? The prince has lost his memory,” Doctor Leng said in puzzlement.

Tail Spoon Shallow Whisper’s heart gave a jolt—Feng Jinye knew of his amnesia. But relief came swiftly; so long as it wasn’t a grave illness…

She asked, “Did the prince say he remembered anything?”

“He said he recalled receiving letters at the border. I suppose from time to time, fragments must flash through his mind,” Doctor Leng relayed Feng Jinye’s words from the previous night.

“Alright.” She nodded and signaled Qing Xia to see Doctor Leng out.

She stood woodenly by the window, feeling as though fate delighted in playing tricks on her—of all things, Feng Jinye should recall those ten letters. She almost laughed bitterly.

She wanted to cry, to pour out her heart in a fit of despair, but what good would tears do? What right did she have to weep?

When she first wrote those ten letters, she never expected Feng Jinye to see them. Before his campaign, he had told her that if she wrote, she should send the letters through the Prince of War’s shadow guards; if they were unrelated to military affairs, he might not have time to read them.

She believed Lin Yichu’s purpose in forcing her to write was to distract Feng Jinye from his campaign. Harboring a faint hope, she wrote those ten letters.

Yet, fatefully, Feng Jinye read them. In his urgency, he returned to Yuet Capital alone.

But when he returned, he neither confronted her with the letters nor explained the rumors that he would take a new bride.

Back then, she had been relieved—his solitary return was proof enough. What need was there for explanation?

She had been moved by his unwavering trust as well—never once had he questioned her about Lin Yichu.

She remembered clearly that winter morning, when Feng Jinye opened the gate of Listening Wind Pavilion and, beneath the maple tree festooned with red envelopes, she had run to him and crashed straight into his arms.