Xiao Xun was already kneeling at the front of the princes' line, dressed in plain white mourning clothes. His posture was still as upright as a pine tree, but the lines of his profile looked particularly cold and taut in the flickering candlelight.
He didn't turn around, as if he hadn't noticed Xin Jiuwei's arrival.
A eunuch led Xin Jiuwei directly to a spot slightly behind Xiao Xun and made her kneel down.
This position clearly revealed her status as the "soon-to-be Sixth Prince's Consort," but it also instantly exposed her to countless gazes, both overt and covert. She could feel the complex glance from the Empress, Xiao Zhuo's seemingly sorrowful yet unfathomable eyes, Princess Yongjia's resentful gaze across the crowd, and the gloating whispers of Liu Yiyi and the others.
Xin Jiuwei bowed her head and knelt in obeisance, her heart cold and numb. She knew that from the moment she stepped into the Fengxian Hall, she had become a conspicuous target in this grand funeral. Yongjia and her group's wicked schemes could strike at any moment in unexpected ways. She had to be extremely vigilant.
The long and oppressive mourning and kneeling ceremony lasted for several hours. Night deepened, and a chill seeped into the bones. The hall was filled with the heavy scent of incense and the atmosphere of sorrow. Some older members of the royal family and concubines, exhausted, were helped away to rest. It was the turn of the princes and princesses to keep vigil for the rest of the night.
The eunuch stepped forward and whispered, "Sixth Prince, Miss Xin, please come with me to the side hall to rest for a while. We will change shifts at 3:00 AM." The vigil was not a continuous vigil; there were short breaks in between.
Xin Jiuwei followed Xiao Xun, led by two eunuchs, through the solemn and desolate mourning hall, and headed towards a side hall in the rear hall where the mourners could rest briefly.
The side hall was small and sparsely furnished. There was only a narrow, hard couch, a square table, two chairs, and a charcoal brazier in the corner, its embers flickering and emitting a faint warmth. Most importantly, there was only this one couch in the entire hall!
Two eunuchs placed down two dim lanterns and two bowls of congee and side dishes, then bowed and withdrew, gently closing the palace door behind them.
In an instant, only Xin Jiuwei and Xiao Xun remained in the hall. The air seemed to freeze, with only the occasional soft crackling of the charcoal fire and their almost inaudible breathing.
Awkwardness, tension, and an indescribable sense of oppression permeated the small space.
Xiao Xun walked to the square table, turned his back to Xin Jiuwei, picked up a bowl of porridge, and ate it in silence. His tall figure cast a long shadow in the dim light, almost enveloping Xin Jiuwei.
Xin Jiuwei stood there, at a loss. That narrow, hard couch was like an invisible chasm, separating the two of them. She couldn't sit on it, much less lie down on it.
She walked to the corner furthest from the bed, leaned against the cold wall, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor, curling up in an attempt to draw in a tiny bit of warmth. The chill seeped into her body through the floor tiles, making her shiver slightly.
Xiao Xun finished his porridge and put down his bowl. He turned around, his gaze sweeping over Xin Jiuwei, who was huddled in the corner, pale-faced and trembling slightly, before looking at the empty hard bed. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing. He walked to the charcoal brazier, picked up the fire tongs, poked at the weak embers, and added a few more pieces of fresh charcoal. The flames brightened slightly, dispelling some of the chill.
Then, he walked straight to the hard couch and lay down fully clothed. His tall frame occupied most of the couch. He turned to face inward, his back to Xin Jiuwei, and closed his eyes. His posture was cold and distant, silently drawing a line—the couch was his, and the corner was hers.
Xin Jiuwei watched his retreating figure, her heart filled with mixed emotions. There was humiliation, self-mockery, and a hint of… the expected coldness. A contractual marriage, nothing more. She buried her head in her knees, trying to ignore the biting chill and her physical exhaustion, forcing herself to stay alert. In such a dangerous environment, she had to be constantly vigilant.
She didn't know how much time had passed, but exhaustion and cold still made Xin Jiuwei's consciousness somewhat blurred. In a half-dream, half-awake state, she seemed to have returned to that desperate night in her previous life.
The cold woodshed reeked of blood and mildew. Qi Huaiyu's face, which had once captivated her but now resembled a monstrous demon, was contorted in the dim light of the oil lamp.
He held a blood-stained leather whip in his hand, his voice like the hiss of a venomous snake: "Xin Jiuwei, what do you think you are? A stupid, worthless woman! The Xin family is finished! Your brother is dying too! What value do you have left? Hmm?"
The whip lashed down fiercely, accompanied by a whistling sound!
"Ah—!" The intense pain made her scream and wake up with a start!
Xin Jiuwei suddenly opened her eyes, staring at the somewhat unfamiliar surroundings, and vaguely recalled the dream she had just had.
She realized that her nightmares from her past life were starting to go haywire.
Her nightmares may not be events that actually happened in her past life, but they are her real pain.
Even though she had taken revenge on Qi Huaiyu in this lifetime, the pain still remained hidden deep in her heart.
Qi Huaiyu...
Xin Jiuwei gripped the fabric tightly in her hands.
She must find him!
"What's wrong?" A deep, urgent voice rang out almost simultaneously.
Xin Jiuwei suddenly looked up and saw Xiao Xun, who had somehow sat up and was standing by the bed, looking down at her. The dim candlelight illuminated his sharply defined profile, and his deep eyes shone brightly in the darkness, clearly reflecting her terrified, pale face.
He was very close to her. Close enough that Xin Jiuwei could smell the cool, pine-ink scent mixed with a faint candle fragrance emanating from him; close enough that she could feel the warmth emanating from his body; close enough that… she could even see the fleeting, barely concealed concern and… a hint of nervousness in his eyes?
Xiao Xun clearly realized his lapse in composure. The concern in his eyes receded quickly like a tide, returning to its usual unfathomable depths. His brows furrowed slightly, and his voice regained its usual cold and steady tone: "Just a nightmare. The place of vigil, be silent."
After saying that, he stopped looking at her and turned to go back to the bed.
The instant he turned away, Xin Jiuwei felt an inexplicable impulse—perhaps the vulnerability of surviving a near-death experience, or perhaps the concern she gleaned in that fleeting glance, a concern different from the contract, that touched her taut nerves. She spoke instinctively, almost blurting it out, her voice trembling with the lingering effects of a nightmare and a hint of dependence she herself was unaware of:
"I...I dreamt about...Qi Huaiyu..."
Xiao Xun's steps suddenly stopped.
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