17 .Faded Affections, Estranged Hearts

Winter nights in the North were merciless—cold enough to pierce the bones. Snow fell soundlessly, veiling the earth in a blanket of white, rendering the world bleak and colorless. Within the towering walls of the Northern palace, flickering lanterns offered little warmth to the chill that settled deep within one's soul.

On the palace ramparts stood Tuo Ba Feiyan, draped in a cloak of white fox fur. Her eyes, sharp and proud, gazed southward toward the distant Central Plains, shimmering in memory and longing. Her features, though exquisitely refined, bore a trace of defiance and sorrowful resolve.

It had been a summer long past when she rode at the head of the Northern diplomatic envoy, her steed cutting across the vast plains with proud strides. The journey to Dayan, under the guise of alliance-building, was in truth a veiled reconnaissance. As a scion of the Northern royal family, Feiyan had always regarded the refined manners of Central Plain nobles with a mix of disdain and superiority.

But fate, ever capricious, shifted the moment she laid eyes on him.

Xiao Zhongyan—the Third Prince of Dayan. Dashing, charismatic, and unrestrained, his smile carried a glimmer of amusement that danced dangerously close to mockery.

"So this is the famed War Princess of the North?" he said with a raised brow, his eyes gliding over her with undisguised curiosity. "Would the princess grant me the honor of a demonstration? I've long admired the North's mastery of archery and horsemanship."

She couldn't tell if he was jesting or sincere.

With a scoff, she mounted her horse and brandished her whip. A single arrow soared through the sky, splitting the air before burying itself in the bullseye a hundred paces away.

"If you doubt it, Your Highness," she replied coolly, "you're welcome to try."

Xiao Zhongyan's eyes gleamed. He took up a bow with casual elegance, mounted his steed, and loosed an arrow that sliced through the air—striking her own from the target's center.

"Does that count as riding side by side?" he said with a half-smile.

Feiyan's heart gave an involuntary jolt, though her expression remained proud and unmoved. From that day onward, the two were locked in an unspoken contest.

In chess, she mistook his leisurely moves for carelessness—until she realized too late that every step was a trap.

On horseback, she pushed herself to match his speed, only for him to rein in at the finish line with a wry grin.

"Perhaps I should have let you win," he mused.

In sparring, she struck with speed and precision, yet he deflected with teasing ease, his smoldering gaze unsettling her in ways she dared not admit.

She had meant to conquer him. Yet in their relentless games of wit and will, she found herself slowly drawn into the dance.

One moonlit night, after a palace banquet, he placed a jade pendant in her palm with a smile that lingered in her thoughts long after.

"This is of great value," he murmured. "May it help you remember me."

The pendant was smooth and cool to the touch, carved with the symbol of a tiger talisman on one side, and the character "Yan" in his own hand on the other.

She clutched it tightly, her heartbeat faltering. No one had ever made her feel this way. She was a blazing sun—wild and unyielding—yet this nameless emotion tugged her toward surrender.

Since that night, everything changed.

Behind palace walls, under dim lamps and perfumed breezes, Feiyan and Xiao Zhongyan often sat side by side, the silence between them tender and full of meaning.

"How are the northern nights?" he asked one evening, rolling a fallen blossom between his fingers.

"Colder. Quieter," she replied, lips curving faintly. "But they lack such lavish lights."

He chuckled softly. "Then stay. Let these lights shine for you alone."

She turned to look at him, caught in the depth of his gaze.

They raced together through the misty countryside, laughter echoing behind galloping hooves. One evening, he sneaked her into the royal gardens, where starlight danced upon a still lake.

"In the North," she whispered, eyes fixed on the jade pendant in her hand, "a man gives a woman such a gift only if he intends it as a token of love."

Xiao Zhongyan gently enclosed her fingers in his. "Then I should have given it to you much sooner."

She stared at him, heart pounding. Under the moon's glow, his warmth wrapped around her, and she could no longer resist. Her eyes fluttered shut as she surrendered to the tide.

That night, with wind whispering through the trees and stars glowing overhead, the world seemed to pause—only his presence anchoring her to the moment.

She had lost, perhaps. But she welcomed the fall.

Feiyan believed, naively, that she had carved a place in his heart. His tenderness, his presence—it all felt so real. When she heard the Emperor would soon bestow a marriage upon Xiao Zhongyan, her heart quickened. She thought, foolishly, that the bride would be her.

But one night, hidden in the shadows of a banquet hall, she overheard palace maids whispering.

"His Highness has been frequenting Prime Minister Wei's manor… they say he's close to the chancellor's daughter."

"And didn't he gift a poem to the famed courtesan Su Wan just days ago? The two were seen sharing a boat under the willows..."

Feiyan froze. Pain twisted in her chest. Her hands trembled.

She wanted to dismiss it, but the signs were there—he had missed their meetings more often, always with a smile and a vague excuse. She thought it was the burdens of court. But now she wondered—had other women filled the hours she waited?

Clutching the pendant in her palm, anxiety bloomed like frost.

"If his heart were truly mine, why would he need others?"

She stood beneath the moonlit colonnade, waiting. She needed to know.

She needed the truth.

Never had she imagined she would be reduced to this—waiting, doubting, unraveling.

When he arrived, she no longer held back. The jade pendant crashed to the marble floor, its shattering echoing her fury.

"Xiao Zhongyan, what a fine game you've played!" she hissed, her voice sharp as ice. "Whispers of love to me, flirtations with others behind my back—what am I to you?"

His expression tightened. "Feiyan, calm down. You're mistaken—"

"Mistaken?" Her laugh was bitter. "So the letters from the chancellor's daughter, the verses to Su Wan—are they lies too?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came. He had never intended this—never thought she would confront him in front of so many.

But she did.

At a grand palace feast, she exposed him before nobles and envoys alike, her voice unwavering, her accusations cutting. She named him faithless. Disloyal.

The court was stunned. The scandal spread like wildfire.

The Emperor, incensed, confined Xiao Zhongyan to his quarters. To save face, the King of the North recalled his daughter at once, citing a loss of royal dignity.

Feiyan had no choice but to leave.

Before she departed, she stood beneath the palace gates, casting a final glance at the man she had once longed for.

"From this day forth," she said coldly, "we owe each other nothing."

With that, she turned and left, her figure dissolving into the drifting snow.

He watched her go, an unfamiliar ache stirring in his chest. A silence fell between them, deeper than any words could fill.

Thus ended their love—torn apart by betrayal and pride.

Back in the North, she shed the name of princess and donned a new mantle: Liu Quanzhen—the silent, shadowed avenger.