Dawn broke, sunlight leaping brightly into the hall. The attendant knelt by the bed: “My lady, it’s time to rise. Allow this servant to help you up.”

A’Luo lay motionless, eyes closed, refusing to answer.

The attendant grew anxious, asking again carefully: “It’s nearly the Hour of the Snake, my lady.”

A’Luo grabbed the porcelain pillow beside her and hurled it.

The attendant startled and retreated, kneeling.

Let time slowly kill me, A’Luo thought. She didn’t want to move, couldn’t be bothered to move—what difference would getting up make anyway? Pacing back and forth was still confined to this thirty- or forty-square-meter hall. So be it.

At the sixth quarter of the Hour of Noon—

“My lady, it’s time for your meal,” the attendant said, setting down the food and coming to ask again.

“Not eating. Go away.”

At the first quarter of the Hour of the Rooster—

The attendant steeled herself and came again: “My lady, you haven’t eaten all day. Won’t you have a little something?”

A’Luo, thoroughly annoyed: “If you dare ask me again, I’ll beat you flat.”

Night fell again. A’Luo didn’t feel hungry. She kept replaying every event since her arrival here, over and over. A full day had passed, and she’d only made it as far as that beautiful spring peach blossom banquet in her memories. She thought happily—soon she’d be remembering Liu Jue. Eyes closed, she replayed each scene, unwilling to let a single gesture, a single spoken word slip by unremembered.

She really had been spoiled and unreasonable. Six years in the chancellor’s residence, and she’d nearly forgotten she was in another time entirely—the first time she’d ever left the residence, she’d never dealt with anyone outside it before. He’d kindly saved her from falling into the water, and all she’d done in response to that one silly, lingering glance at her legs was shove him straight into the water. Had she done it on purpose, to test how well she remembered her karate? Or was it simply her modern personality showing through?

His aerial flip had been quite something to watch—if she hadn’t been afraid of retaliation, she might have applauded him.

He was rather foolish too, really—with skills that impressive, and still knocked out cold by her. Heh, she’d used a feint, then followed with her anti-wolf strike right to his vital point, plus a chop for good measure. A’Luo, remembering this, couldn’t help the corner of her mouth curling into a small smile.

Before drifting off to sleep, she was still quietly laughing to herself about how she’d cleaned Liu Jue out of his money that day. So this was how one struck it rich the first time! Too bad—she still hadn’t paid him back that silver…

A hunger strike, was it? Zili gripped the vermillion writing brush tightly as the attendant knelt to report that A’Luo had lain in bed the entire day.

“Leave her be. Let her eat or not, as she pleases!” Zili said flatly. He thought to himself—you love food so much, let’s see how long you can hold out. “Pass the word: starting tomorrow, change the meal every hour. The moment it cools, take it away.”

The next day, the attendant didn’t dare wake A’Luo. She was roused instead by the drifting aroma of food. The instant she opened her eyes, the attendant hurried forward: “My lady, will you eat?”

A’Luo shot her a cold glance and closed her eyes again. Where had she left off in her memories last night? Ah, right—knocking Liu Jue out cold at the peach blossom banquet. Heh, with skills that good, and she’d still managed to knock him out. Unbelievable. She opened her eyes and glanced out the window—was the weather like this back then too? Too bad she’d never get to go back to the peach grove, never know if the blossoms were still there. April already.

A’Luo sat up. She was still wearing the gauze dress Zili had torn that night. She got out of bed slowly: “Bring me some clothes.”

Seeing her rise, the attendant happily fetched a robe and carefully helped her dress: “My lady, perhaps you’ll eat something after you’ve washed up.”

A’Luo said nothing, changed her clothes, washed her face, and without letting the attendant style her hair, braided it herself into a single plait. She picked up a book and curled back into bed.

Every hour, the dishes on the table were replaced with fresh ones. A’Luo didn’t so much as glance at them, reading until she tired, then lying back down to continue reminiscing.

That night, the attendant reported again to Zili.

Still not eating? Zili’s heart clenched, and he asked through gritted teeth: “Not even water?”

“Not a drop!”

Zili swept his hand across the table, knocking the teacup to the floor. He watched the tea trickle down and drip off the table’s edge, his hand trembling violently. He stared blankly at the falling drops of tea—A’Luo, refusing food and water, would her life drain away drop by drop just like this? She would rather die! This thought stirred an endless wave of grief, crashing against his heart again and again until the pain went numb.

Tell her the truth? Let her go to Liu Jue? Let all the pain be his alone to swallow. But the moment he thought of A’Luo marrying Liu Jue, of losing her forever, he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. Those three years at the border, the daily ache of longing, still vivid in his memory—he didn’t want to relive that longing again. He couldn’t bear to release her only to spend the rest of his life tasting that same bitterness. If he let her go, jealousy and longing would become the world’s most venomous heart-devouring worm, burrowing into his body, gnawing bite by bite at his heart, his very being, until it hollowed him into an empty shell, until his very last breath.

Zili slumped back into his chair, despondent. Why was this so hard? Holding on hurt; letting go would hurt too. A’Luo, do you know what an impossible question you’ve set before me?

A’Luo remembered that a person who drank only water could survive a few more days, but without food or water at all, with no glucose or IV fluids here, after five or six days there would be no saving her.

She lay in bed, murmuring: “Liu Jue, let me think of you for three more days. Three days should be enough to remember everything.”

On the third day, she didn’t even get out of bed. Didn’t move at all.

Zili stood and overturned the table laden with delicacies before him. The attendants around him dropped to their knees in fright. He paced quickly across the room twice, then finally rushed toward Yuhua Palace. The moment he stepped outside, his heart lurched with urgency—not knowing her condition, a wave of bitter anguish weakened his limbs, robbing him of the strength to use his lightness skill.

Entering the hall, his eyes caught sight of A’Luo on the bed, already visibly gaunt, and the pain struck like ten thousand arrows through his heart. Zili crossed the room in two great strides, scooping up her body, seeing her lips already cracked and dry, and couldn’t help but roar: “Useless wretches! Couldn’t even get water into her?”

He shook her gently: “Wake up, A’Luo!”

A’Luo opened her eyes, gazing at him vacant and unfocused. Seeing her eyes open, Zili said: “Bring water!”

“No… drinking!” A’Luo’s voice was firm.

“You!” Zili looked at her in anguish. A’Luo, what will it take for you to stop tormenting me? Zili staggered backward, then spun and rushed out of Yuhua Palace like a whirlwind. A’Luo, I’m telling you—if you refuse to eat, once Liu Jue arrives, you’ll eat then, won’t you? The ache spread through his chest again. Zili looked up at the night sky. Fengcheng’s nights always held so many stars, twinkling one by one—each one a shattered fragment of his heart, flown up into the sky. Zili struggled on, powerless.

Early on the fourth day, Zili summoned an attendant: “Summon Prince Pingnan to the palace!”

Liu Jue already knew of A’Luo’s hunger strike, pacing anxiously in his mansion. He wanted to go to the palace, yet feared that seeing her would make him unable to resist taking her away. Sending her into the mausoleum with Zili had been for nothing if she refused to become his consort—there would be only death left for her. Yet unable to see her, Liu Jue couldn’t eat either, his heart unsettled, unsure what to do.

He heard the attendant deliver the summons and followed him into the palace at once.

Zili stood by the writing desk, his back to the door, looking desolate. Just as Liu Jue was about to bow in greeting, Zili spoke first: “No need for formalities. Yunzhi.” He turned around, forcing a faint smile onto his face, his voice hollow and empty: “She—this is the third day. Go see her.”

Liu Jue didn’t know what to say, answering quietly: “Yes, Your Majesty. I…”

“No need to say more. I understand. Perhaps,” a self-mocking smile tugged at the corner of Zili’s mouth, “perhaps she’ll listen to you. Go.”

Liu Jue’s heart sighed inwardly—even Zili’s eyes were bloodshot now; these past two days must have been agony for him. Liu Jue quietly withdrew from the study and headed straight for Yuhua Palace.

He pushed open the palace doors. The attendants knelt in greeting: “Greetings, Prince Pingnan!”

“Rise!”

Hearing Liu Jue’s voice, A’Luo opened her eyes. The person she longed for in her dreams was truly right before her. She broke into a radiant smile and reached out her hand to him.

Liu Jue, in a daze, thought she looked like a flower about to be blown away by the wind, fleeting and fragile. He couldn’t stop himself from wanting to rush over and gather her into his arms—his leg had just begun to move when he pulled it back. He couldn’t. He mustn’t!

“A’Luo, why won’t you eat? Who exactly are you punishing?” Liu Jue asked, his voice hoarse.

A’Luo waited a long moment—he still stood two zhang away. Did he truly not care about her anymore? A hot rush surged into her eyes, and her voice trembled: “Have you come to persuade me to eat, so I’ll obediently marry Zili?”

Liu Jue struggled to control himself, saying softly: “A’Luo, Zili truly treats you well. You… I can’t watch you die. Even if it means you become his consort, I—I would accept that too!”

“But I would rather die! Rather than spend my whole life trapped in that palace!” A’Luo said, her words firm and resolute.

Liu Jue lowered his head, staring at his clenched fists, then suddenly barked: “Bring me a bowl of soup!”

The attendant hurried over with the broth already prepared.

Liu Jue took it and stepped closer to A’Luo: “You will eat today, whether you want to or not!”

A’Luo looked at him with sorrow, her crystalline eyes shimmering with a depth of feeling that broke his heart. She turned her head away: “You all want me to live, but like this, I’m not happy—do you understand? Why is it you who’s forcing me?”

Liu Jue’s hand trembled, nearly dropping the bowl. He gritted his teeth, closed the distance in one step, and pressed a finger to a pressure point on A’Luo’s body. He called the attendants to hold her up, then pried open her mouth and fed her a spoonful of broth, pressing a finger to her throat and forcing it down with internal energy. His face was grim, refusing to meet her eyes, spoon after spoon until the bowl was empty before he finally stopped.

A’Luo stared at him in disbelief, unable to accept that he would force her like this, tears sliding down her cheeks one after another. A moment later, Liu Jue released the pressure point, looking at her in silence. She glared at him through her tears, and neither spoke.

“Has she eaten?” Zili asked quietly, stepping into the hall.

“This subject… used internal force…” Liu Jue said, helpless. Forcing A’Luo this way—how could he bear it? But what else could be done? He hardened his heart and said to Zili: “If she still refuses to eat, Your Majesty, this is what must be done.”

A’Luo stared in shock, eyes wide with fury. She pushed herself up, looked around wildly, grabbed a vase from the side table and hurled it—it shattered with a crash. She wept, scrambling to gather the fragments: “You’re all forcing me. I—I’ll go die right now.”

Liu Jue startled and rushed to stop her, wrapping his arms around her, his nose stinging—she had grown so thin, her bones pressing painfully against him. Zili’s face changed, and he barked: “Clear this room of everything sharp—everything! All of it! You four, watch her every hour of every day!”

Attendants rushed in urgently, gathering the shattered fragments, clearing the room of everything.

Trapped in Liu Jue’s embrace, A’Luo watched helplessly as they stripped away every last hope she had, and the world went black before her eyes as she fainted. Liu Jue gently laid her on the couch. He bowed to Zili: “She… is entrusted to Your Majesty now.” With that, he withdrew from Yuhua Palace.

Zili watched silently as Liu Jue’s retreating figure slowly disappeared. He opened his mouth as if to call him back, but his eyes fell again on A’Luo’s face, the one he couldn’t bear to part with, and he punched the wall instead. The attendants dropped to their knees in alarm, pleading: “Your Majesty!”

“Get out!”

Zili walked to the couch, gently gathering A’Luo up, letting her rest against him. She was so thin, curled against him like a small wounded animal. He murmured: “A’Luo, I truly don’t know what to do. I hate myself for not being able to let go, for not being able to release you. Head resting against her soft hair, “…A’Luo, I love you so much I don’t recognize myself anymore… Forcing you like this, tearing you two apart—had this been any other time, I would never have done such a thing. But now I have, when there’s still one other path I could take, and yet I can’t bring myself to speak it… A’Luo, the moment I say it, you’ll leave me, you’ll marry him… watching you two live happily together side by side, A’Luo, do you know how cruel that would be to me… A’Luo, if only you would stay this obediently in my arms forever and never leave, how wonderful that would be!”

The next day, Liu Jue received word that A’Luo had resumed eating, and the anxious weight in his heart finally settled. He gazed toward the palace, thinking of many things—A’Luo’s sharp, thin chin, her gaunt frame, the sorrow in her eyes…