Chapter 133: Transformation

Following that sound, Feng Yan turned his head and saw that familiar face.

"You…"

"What do you want to say?" Yang Xin looked at Feng Yan flirtatiously, then called the maids, picked up the food from the maid's basket, and slowly brought it to his mouth.

The sound of chewing the food was deliberately made very loud; nevertheless, Yang Xin still tried to maintain the so‑called elegance, then stared at Feng Yan, waiting for his anger to flare.

But Feng Yan did not act as he expected; he simply sat cross‑legged on the ground, grabbed a handful of cherry‑like snacks, and chewed them greedily.

In front of the crowd, he actually exposed his true side?

This surprised Yang Xin, who stared at Feng Yan with astonishment, eyes full of doubt—was this still the Feng Yan of the past?

Yet the startling thing was not over; Feng Yan beckoned a short soldier before him, handed over some food, and casually said, "Come, come, together, don't be polite!"

The soldier at first could not believe what he saw was real, but after seeing Feng Yan's repeated invitations, he still took the food Feng Yan offered.

Then Feng Yan clapped his hands, summoned a maid holding a silver wine flask, sprang to his feet, and seized the flask from her.

"I don't know you, yet your face always feels familiar," Feng Yan said, holding the flask in his right hand, tilting his head back and raising his right hand over his head, pouring the wine into his mouth; as the wine surged into his brain, he hiccupped and continued, "But I'm certain that if I claim to have known you before, you must have betrayed someone else!"

Yang Xin remained silent, his clenched fist making the untrimmed nails prick his palm.

"What? No words left? Or are you just a silent follower? How laughable, coming before me only to be humiliated?" Feng Yan retorted, smiling as he watched Yang Xin's twisted face; he knew the person before him could no longer hold back.

"I only want—"

"Want what?" Feng Yan asked, looking at Yang Xin's hesitant expression, and finally pressed further.

"I only want to obtain the happiness that belongs to me," Yang Xin choked suddenly, his voice hoarse and trembling with sobs, then slowly walked away.

Feng Yan watched Yang Xin recede, took out the damaged Adventurers' Book, its crumpled pages faintly bearing a portrait of a woman.

"She looks very beautiful, like a fairy from a dream," Feng Yan said, gazing at the woman in the portrait, entranced.

Little did he know, the woman in the painting was the one he had once saved—did she love him? Or had he loved her?

While Feng Yan was lost in the woman's visage, he failed to notice that the King had already arrived before him.

"Sir..."

Only when the King spoke did Feng Yan abruptly close the Adventurers' Book, keeping guard against the King.

The King observed Feng Yan's distrustful expression; though his heart was puzzled and full of anger, he could not show it.

The King still maintained a courteous demeanor before Feng Yan, humbly asking, "May I ask when you intend to begin restoring our treasure, Adventurer? This item is very important to us."

Feng Yan understood the King's meaning; he glanced back at the soldiers, then nodded and said, "Since the treasure belongs to your nation, I will do my utmost and will not disappoint Your Majesty, the King. But why are the people I despise in the palace? Or does Your Majesty doubt my abilities?"

Having said that, Feng Yan took out the treasure the King had given him, returned it to the King's hand, and solemnly said, "If you do not trust me, then do not give it to me in the first place."

The King was stunned by Feng Yan's action; he never expected such behavior, and Yang Xin had also been brought by the King.

The purpose was simple: to have the two cooperate.

However, the King was unaware of the grudges between them; the idea was noble but could not be realized.

The King did not know what had transpired between them, but seeing Feng Yan's attitude toward Yang Xin, he realized it had struck Feng Yan's sore spot.

The King watched Feng Yan, stepped toward him, performed a bow, and respectfully said, "Sir, that person is also an Adventurer; I think their cooperation might expedite the restoration of our nation's supreme treasure."

Feng Yan nodded, looked at the King, then called to the soldiers behind him, "All right, keep eating, keep eating!"

Then the sound of Feng Yan urging people to eat and drink reached the King's ears, completely ignoring him; the King, though unwilling, could only lower his head and wait respectfully until Feng Yan finished tasting the food before he could discuss again.

"King?"

Suddenly Feng Yan shouted, "King!" The King felt a jolt, thought there was hope, snapped his head up, and hurriedly replied, "I'm here!"

But the next second fell silent again; the King felt a thick barrier between himself and Feng Yan.

Although the King did not know the reason, since the day he first saw Feng Yan, equality between them seemed impossible.

One side submitting to the other is the only way they can ultimately get along.

Therefore, the King tacitly approved the Prince's actions.

It was precisely that incident that made Wanggong feel that submission was the best way to get along.

"Your Majesty, don't you think your posture is too low?" Feng Yan turned, rose slowly, and walked gradually toward the King.

The King dared not lift his head; sweat beaded on his back, yet he could not even breathe out.

He kept his head down, hearing Feng Yan's footsteps draw nearer, and also hearing the sarcasm from Feng Yan's mouth.

"As the ruler of a nation, do you have no honor befitting a superior? Always bowing your head, flattering others—You, King, live no better than a servant."

Facing Feng Yan's words, the King lowered his head, but in his heart he already had an answer.

Before Feng Yan, abandoning his kingly bearing and becoming a servant who obeys everything is also the King's strategy.

But the King did not anticipate that Feng Yan, for this reason, made the noble guest before him feel disgusted.

"A king should look like a king! Even if the nation has only one person left!" Feng Yan roared, the words exploding in the King's ears and reverberating in his heart.

He couldn't help but ask himself: Is this still me? That King? The dignified King?

Still without an answer, he looked at the person before him, and seemed to find one.

But that answer was not the one Feng Yan needed.

On a warm winter afternoon, several people stood there; Feng Yan saw Yang Xin, but he could not recognize the person, let alone call out the name.

Wang Tingwan watched Feng Yan's gaze upon herself and Yang Xin, and her heart ached.

She wondered whether she had done something wrong—was it her fault?

At this moment she was inside the palace residence the King had arranged for the two, the window facing the best view of the entire Wanggong.

Wang Tingwan felt extremely restless, wondering if it was because she had not received a definite answer, or because she had never obtained a true answer on her own.

She lifted her head, looked through the window frame at the scenery outside.

Afternoon sunlight gently streamed into the tiny garden, myriad flowers vying to display their most graceful postures, while the grass on the ground, thinking no one watched, drooped its heads and bent its stems.

The view before them was beautiful, but the people before them were melancholy, tormented by the lingering inability to obtain answers, tormented by being unable to return to reality, and tormented by watching the people before them no longer being able to utter the words once spoken—a sorrow that was ultimately a dream that could easily shatter.

That dream was shattered by Wang Tingwan; she easily broke Feng Yan's years of waiting, easily fractured the friendship between two people, and the truth they once tried to hide became a laughing‑stock mirror.

Perhaps I was unintentionally like that, but this pain, however, let a person experience compiling, false friendship, and also because she herself broke, she again began to feel fortunate, thinking she had helped others see a person's true face.

Or perhaps, helping others twisted a person's face.

This is Wang Tingwan's thought: she twisted Yang Xin's face, hurt Feng Yan's heart, she felt she could not forgive herself, and immediately thought of a way to make amends.

"Is anyone there?" Wang Tingwan shouted towards the outside.

"Yes, what are your orders?" A pair of maidservants came in response, slightly bowed, fulfilled the due etiquette, and then silently waited for the person before them to give orders.

"Here, is there any nice clothing?" Wang Tingwan asked the palace maids before her.

The palace maids nodded, leading Wang Tingwan to the place inside the palace specially for storing clothing ordered by the ordinary concubines; because of the king's order, everything prioritized the Adventurers' needs.

Thus, the palace maids also became much more relaxed.

Naturally, they also enjoyed the treatment they normally didn't receive, and they also enjoyed it at this time.

Those concubines looked forward to the end of such days, while also hoping that the king would come to their chambers at night, granting them an opportunity to serve in bed, to experience nocturnal pleasure, so as not to spend day and night in loneliness.

"Which piece of clothing do you think looks nice?" Wang Tingwan held up the clothes to the mirror, looking at herself in the mirror, feeling that she had become somewhat unfamiliar, no longer her former self; she asked the palace maids the question, and also asked her own heart.

In her heart, how should she treat the two, or rather, herself, also began to change.