Chapter 40 “He’s Testing Me”

Chapter 40: "He Is Testing Me"

Xie Yan has always been a man of few words. When I was younger and more naive, I once amused myself by counting his daily utterances, only to be shocked that they never exceeded ten.

His usual expression was much like the icicles clinging to winter eaves—clean and translucent, reflecting the brilliant sunlight, yet chilling to the bone upon touch, exuding a piercing coldness.

But now, as he looked at me, his slightly upturned phoenix eyes were clear and bright, their shifting gaze holding a warmth like melting winter snow, or a gently flowing river on a summer night.

He wore a simple white robe, its collar slightly open, revealing pale skin at his neck threaded with faint blue veins—frail and slender. The wide cuffs were embroidered with proud white cranes. Simply standing there, he seemed ethereal, as if poised for immortal ascension, and the faint smile in his gray eyes was like a celestial crane bestowing favor upon a mortal.

I didn't want to be swayed by his captivating beauty, yet I couldn't suppress the frantic beating of my heart. I could only sigh inwardly, realizing why so many foolish emperors throughout history had been led astray by beauty; now I, too, understood their plight.

To me, Xie Yan was not only a poppy laced with deadly poison but also a figure like Daji—the legendary temptress—who brought chaos to the court, cold as ice. Yet today, with just a slight softening of his expression, he shone as brilliantly as a blooming, aloof daffodil, fragrant, proud, and haughty.

When our gazes met, I felt as though scorched by his eyes and immediately looked away, turning slightly aside. I could only silently repeat my father’s name to myself—I must not be bewitched by Xie Yan’s beauty again. I still had my father’s vengeance to fulfill; how could I be so foolish?

Moreover, I had thought my unrestrained behavior that night would have scared Xie Yan away, but now it seemed otherwise. His attitude toward me today was as puzzling as a thick fog.

What exactly were his feelings toward me now? The despondent look he wore before remained vivid in my mind. He had clearly told me he mistook me for someone else, so why was he still protecting me like this?

The way he looked at me didn’t seem directed at me at all—it was more like he was gazing through me at someone else’s shadow. Could it be that he still saw me as Feng Jiuyue, burdened by guilt and trying to make amends, even going so far as to offend powerful officials out of that guilt?

Even now, despite possessing Chou Yunqing’s unparalleled intelligence, I remained utterly clueless about matters of love, understanding only half of it. I couldn't decipher Xie Yan’s thoughts, nor did I understand his intentions behind these seemingly meaningless actions today. If it were merely to maintain an upright image before others, it would contradict his inherently reputation-averse nature.

"The remaining candidates will play against me one by one," Xie Yan’s voice drifted from behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Only the victors will stay."

The earlier commotion ended abruptly with Xie Yan’s words. While pondering earlier, I had wondered if he might show favoritism by appointing me as his attendant, but now I felt my face grow hot, realizing how self-delusional I had been.

After the previous rounds of selection, many had been eliminated, leaving only a few dozen in the room. Now everyone crowded around the central chess table, silently watching Xie Yan play against each young master.

Back when I served as an attendant in the Crown Prince’s residence, I made it my business to gather every rumor about Xie Yan, including his skill at chess.

When I asked my chess instructor about it, he stroked his graying beard, sighed deeply, and said emotionally, "The Crown Prince’s chess skills remain unmatched. He is considered the finest in Jiang State, and he has known the loneliness of being peerless at the top."

At the time, I didn’t take his words seriously, thinking my elderly instructor prone to exaggeration. When Xie Yan played against me, he wasn’t particularly impressive—just slightly better than I was.

But now, standing here watching the games, I realized my instructor hadn’t lied.

A one-on-one game of chess should typically last a long time, but with Xie Yan, clearly not. Those noble youths were defeated in under fifteen minutes, their faces ashen and trembling, utterly overwhelmed by Xie Yan’s ruthless precision.

Xie Yan was always intensely focused when playing chess. His long lashes lowered, concealing his cool, light-colored eyes. His slender, pale fingers—straight as bamboo and distinctly jointed—held white jade pieces, his skin even paler than the cold stone. With a casual move, he unleashed crushing force.

I remember during our time together, he loved to urge me to play chess, refining my skills daily. But his skill far surpassed mine, so I would often lose within just a few moves.

After repeated losses, I found it boring and would complain, "I don’t want to play anymore," "This isn’t fun," "I lose after just a few moves," grumbling as I went to prepare ink for him, eager to escape the piercing gaze he fixed on me.

Back then, I even resolved never to play chess with him again. It was utterly discouraging; I’m not a fool, but playing against Xie Yan made me feel intellectually inadequate.

Yet the next day, after finishing his duties, Xie Yan would set up the board and wait for me. When I stubbornly refused, he would intimidate me with his cold stare but promise, "I won’t bully you this time."

Hmph, so he finally admitted he’d deliberately bullied me before. I’m not stupid—every time he crushed me instantly, reducing me to tears.

He would just watch me calmly, the corners of his eyes slightly lifted, even a faint curve at his lips. I knew then he was teasing me on purpose. Now that he admitted it, I graciously forgave him and played again.

The reason I thought Xie Yan’s skill wasn’t as legendary as my instructor claimed was that in our later games, he didn’t swiftly defeat me. Instead, he played with me like a cat toying with a mouse, prolonging the match. From my perspective, his skill was only slightly better than mine, which was why our games lasted so long.

There were even times I won—though not always fairly—but a win was still a win.

Later, after we became intimately involved, our bond grew closer, and my cheekiness increased. I resorted to all sorts of underhanded tricks during our games, frequently trying to take back moves.

I didn’t really want to be so shameless, but every time I made a move, Xie Yan would immediately make me feel it was wrong, so I’d exclaim, "This doesn’t count, I made a mistake. I want to move here instead." I even boldly moved his pieces and repositioned my own.

At such moments, Xie Yan would raise an eyebrow and look at me meaningfully. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I’m sure. I won’t take it back again."

I spoke with conviction, but the moment Xie Yan placed his piece, I’d start whining again, reaching out to retrieve the black piece, shouting, "Oops, I messed up. Last time, really, this is the last time."

But usually, Xie Yan wouldn’t let me cheat. His cool fingertips would catch my hand mid-move, his deep gaze falling on my slightly parted lips. Leaning forward, his breath would brush against my eyelashes, making my heart flutter.

His voice would grow hoarse as he murmured slowly, "What will you give me in exchange for taking back a move?"

In the end, I’d always end up kissed until breathless, my eyes tinged red, tiny tears welling at the corners.

Looking back now, his insistence on keeping me playing chess back then had ulterior motives, though I didn’t understand it at the time.

The young masters were all terrified of Xie Yan’s prowess at the board, their faces a mix of awe and misery. Xie Yan looked up at me, his thin lips parting slightly. "Your turn."

I snapped out of my memories and turned to the chessboard—only to freeze in shock.

I’ve seen this formation before, more than once. I’m so familiar with it I could recite the solution from memory. This is the Exquisite Chess Puzzle, created by Xie Yan himself. It spread widely through Jiang State’s chess manuals early on, yet no one could solve it.

Yet I knew how to break it—no, to be precise, the former Feng Jiuyue knew it inside out.

Xie Yan used to have a strange quirk, treating me like a pet for his amusement, unable to bear being apart from me for even a moment. When working, he insisted I write beside him; when idle, he forced me to play chess with him.

In his leisure time after handling official duties, he loved studying chess strategies. The sight of these things made me yawn, and I had no interest in playing, but he never let me leave, always keeping me in his embrace.

His cool body pressed against my back. I’d be so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open, tears forming at the corners, yet I had to force myself awake to listen as he explained the intricacies of various formations.

This Exquisite Chess Puzzle was the result of half a month of his research. He explained the solution to me in detail, punctuated occasionally by kisses on the top of my head.

But why did Xie Yan choose this particular puzzle?

There are countless chess puzzles in the world—dozens just from the games he played earlier today, none repeating past ones. So why did he pick this one for me? As I thought this, I couldn’t help but glance at his expression.

He lazily lifted his eyelids, looking at me idly. The usually stern line of his lips curved slightly upward, the corners of his narrow eyes lifting, and his light-colored pupils gleamed like two brilliant glass beads, exuding a fox-like cunning.

Xie Yan—he is testing me.