A crimson sun leaped from the river surface, with radiant light stretching across the horizon. Golden rays shimmered brilliantly upon everything, making it all seem sacred—this shouldn’t be the mortal world, but celestial palaces above.

Xie Queshan had the illusion that this wasn’t him accidentally glimpsing natural beauty, but divine beings specifically staging a grand performance of piercing darkness for him.

As the rising sun climbed higher, the light softened instead, evenly spreading over mountains and rivers. This swelling illusion finally settled down lightly and steadily.

The girl bathed in sunlight, squinting her crescent moon eyes, looking at him with slight smugness. In a trance, she seemed to see something crystalline in his eyes, and her smile gradually froze with disbelief.

“Xie Queshan, you’re crying.”

Xie Queshan felt as if he was about to be scattered by this sun, dissolved by it. He snapped back to his senses and instinctively denied it.

“No.”

He stubbornly turned to go back to the room.

“Ah ah ah—”

Nanyi suddenly lost her balance, her whole body tilting backward, hands flailing wildly as if about to fall into the river.

“Nanyi!”

In his panic, Xie Queshan quickly turned back and tried to reach out to grab her, but only heard the chains clang. His hand couldn’t reach her—he only grasped at air.

His mind went blank for an instant.

But Nanyi calmly jumped down from the ship’s rail herself, taking the opportunity to grasp Xie Queshan’s hand, a sly smile appearing on her face: “I fooled you.”

The boiling blood that had rushed to his head fell back through his body. Xie Queshan paused in bewilderment—in that moment just now, he really thought he couldn’t catch her.

And just when he was completely off guard, she had already moved close to him, seriously studying his eyes: “You were crying.”

He immediately denied it: “The sunlight was too glaring.”

How could he possibly cry in front of her? Xie Queshan walked sullenly toward the room.

“You’re lying.”

Nanyi followed cheerfully behind, bending down and poking her head out to look at him while he turned his head to avoid her gaze.

“—You didn’t really think I was going to fall, did you?”

“—I was just joking with you, are you angry?”

“—Why won’t you talk to me?”

“—Hey, if you cried, you cried. What’s wrong with admitting it?”

“I told you I didn’t!” He was somewhat exasperated, showing a rare loss of emotional control.

“Then I’m going to cry.”

Xie Queshan: ?

Xie Queshan turned back to see her stubbornly standing in place, huffily glaring at him. She really could cry on command—big tears welled up in her eyes, falling one by one like white pearls.

How did she turn the tables on him?

“Hey… you, don’t act.”

Nanyi had been putting on a bit of a show, but when he said this, she suddenly became genuinely emotional, all her grievances pouring out at once.

Where was she acting? She was clearly worried sick about him, yet he accused her of acting!

Now it was worse—this comment made Nanyi cry even harder. She simply sat down on the ground and began wailing.

Her tear-stained face was all wrinkled and huffing angrily, as if putting on a show for him, sobbing forcefully and dramatically, yet upon closer look, she seemed truly heartbroken.

Xie Queshan didn’t know how to face a crying Nanyi. He was even clear this might be one of her little tricks, but since this trick was for him, he still felt very distressed. Previously in his life, the girl who would cry at the drop of a hat was his sister Xie Xiaoliu, but that seemed different—as children they would always have clear disagreements before Xie Xiaoliu would wail, but now what was Nanyi crying about? He felt somewhat at a loss—he had no experience coaxing girls.

He walked around to face her, crouched beside her, and carefully touched her.

“Don’t cry anymore, okay?”

But Nanyi wasn’t buying it at all and immediately swatted his hand away.

“Not okay.”

“Why?”

“You don’t even talk to me…” Her mouth turned down, and thinking about how Xie Queshan had ignored her these past two days while she kept offering warm face to cold shoulder, she suddenly felt extremely wronged. After just a few words, she started wailing again. “You heartless thing, and I even brought you to see the sunrise… and you were mean to me…”

“I wasn’t.” Xie Queshan felt completely wronged.

“You were!”

At this time, no matter what she said, he absolutely couldn’t argue with her. Xie Queshan didn’t act stubborn either and immediately admitted his mistake with excellent attitude.

“I’m sorry, being mean to you was wrong of me.”

“Then you have to talk to me in the future!”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you every day.”

Mission accomplished!

Getting such a promise, Nanyi felt a bit happy inside. This happiness quickly overcame her grievance, even rising to her lips as an irrepressible curve, but knowing she couldn’t get too carried away or it would seem too deliberate, she quickly suppressed it.

But this small change was still captured by Xie Queshan, who helplessly rubbed her cheeks.

Though Nanyi’s anger had subsided, she knew she couldn’t lose momentum—how could she make up so easily? She immediately pulled Xie Queshan’s hands away.

Somehow, Xie Queshan suddenly developed a bit of childish competitiveness and wouldn’t let go, cupping Nanyi’s face and rubbing vigorously. These cheeks were white, tender, and felt wonderful to touch, like kneading dough. Unable to win by fighting, Nanyi joined in, retaliating by reaching out to pinch Xie Queshan’s face.

Looking at each other’s faces deformed and somewhat comical from the other’s grabbing, they both burst out laughing at the same time.

Their gazes gradually softened, containing some tender undercurrents, like the breathing of survivors after catastrophe.

Xie Queshan suddenly lowered his hands again. The intimate atmosphere vanished instantly, quickly returning to normal.

Nanyi suddenly looked at Xie Queshan very seriously, confusion showing in her eyes.

“Why don’t you ever… ever…”

The first few words were still confident, but her voice grew smaller and smaller, her cheeks inexplicably reddening.

Xie Queshan didn’t know what other judgment awaited him and listened apprehensively.

“…want to be intimate with me.”

The last few words were as quiet as mosquitoes, but Xie Queshan heard clearly.

His face immediately reddened too—he hadn’t expected the topic to land on such an embarrassing subject.

He looked up at her in panic. Her face was streaked with tears, with a blush spreading underneath. Besides shyness, there was genuine confusion.

Between them, there had never been a single word of eternal vows, but she believed in love’s instincts. Thoughts, words, and expressions could all be faked, but instincts couldn’t be feigned. Through every intimacy, she could feel that he loved her too.

But she didn’t understand how he could be so cold now—was it an act, or real?

She had been too shy to speak out, but in her emotional breakdown, her thoughts and confusion became even stronger. She simply craved her lover’s embrace and kisses. People are animals—one must first honestly face one’s own body.

Didn’t he ever have such cravings?

Did he have no attachment to this world at all, including to her? Then what were they? Dewdrops and mandarin ducks?

She understood his difficulties, but she was still a bit sad.

Xie Queshan opened his mouth to defend himself, but the chaotic thoughts ultimately stuck in his throat.

He had thought only he was painfully restraining himself, desperately fighting against himself and the outside world. Only now did he belatedly realize how much courage her noisy fearlessness these days required, and that she too was suppressing enormous grievances.

Actually, she was braver than him.

He leaned over and kissed her with near reverence.

This was a kiss of standing by the abyss and envying the fish.

Nanyi silently shed tears. He said nothing, but she somewhat understood.

…

After that, Xie Queshan recovered from his dejected silence. Perhaps Nanyi’s day-after-day persistence had infected him, or perhaps because there was still no news from Jinling, indicating things were developing in a good direction—in any case, this slight softening in attitude made Nanyi feel hopeful.

She was someone who would climb up given the slightest pole. Since Xie Queshan was starting to cooperate, she had to quickly find ways to escape this place together with him while he was wavering.

The urgent matter was still finding a way to open the shackles on Xie Queshan’s hands.

She had observed a few days ago—these were black iron chains that couldn’t be smashed. She could only work on the lock mechanism.

She did have some embarrassing lock-picking skills and could handle ordinary small locks, but this was a lock that Zhang Yuehui had put on. If he wanted to confine someone, he absolutely wouldn’t let them escape easily.

The lock’s structure was extremely complex. Nanyi fiddled with wire for ages without success.

She even began desperately thinking of forcing Zhang Yuehui to release the person—if not, she’d put on an act of bloodshed, dying before his eyes. But she also knew Zhang Yuehui’s position wasn’t easy either. What help he could give, he had already given her.

Could two living adults really be trapped by one small lock!

Nanyi became more determined with each setback, spending all day grabbing Xie Queshan’s hand to study the lock mechanism, which made it impossible for Xie Queshan to move around.

Now the tables had turned—he wanted to talk with her, but as soon as he opened his mouth, she would frown and tell him to be quiet. She needed to listen carefully to the sound of the lock’s internal mechanisms engaging.

Xie Queshan patiently let her fiddle around, sitting obediently still, not even daring to breathe heavily, only able to take up a book to read.

After a while, she made no sound at all, continuously holding his hand in a listening pose. Xie Queshan was somewhat puzzled and carefully turned his head to look, discovering she had fallen asleep sprawled on his leg.

She still held an iron wire in her hand, her willow brows slightly furrowed, her sleeping expression still serious.

Xie Queshan couldn’t help but smile, gently raising his hand to smooth her brow.

He studied her face carefully. The sallow, thin face from when they first met had gradually become full and fair, like a tree coming into bloom, with flowers eagerly competing to emerge from its branches. Before he knew it, the whole tree was fragrant with blossoms. Perhaps he had given her sunshine and rain, but she grew freely in her own way.

Vigorous vitality—how wonderful.

He wanted to live in this spring forever.

Gradually, though, his expression became desolate again.

At this moment, Nanyi suddenly woke with a start, looking around in confusion—it was already night. Seeing Xie Queshan with his head tilted watching her, she felt somewhat embarrassed and guiltily wiped the corner of her mouth—thankfully she hadn’t drooled.

“I wasn’t sleeping just now, I was thinking with my eyes closed.”

Xie Queshan nodded agreeably without exposing her.

She fanned herself busily: “Ah, this weather is getting more and more stuffy. My brain can’t turn. I, I’ll open a window.”

Nanyi ran to the window and pushed it open, letting the river wind pour in, instantly clearing her head considerably.

The anxiety in her heart surged up again. No matter what, she couldn’t get this lock open.

This wasn’t a game or joke—this concerned Xie Queshan’s life. She put enormous pressure on herself.

She suddenly grew quiet, puzzling Xie Queshan.

Xie Queshan looked up to see her leaning on the windowsill, wearing only a loose spring shirt. The dim lantern light made the garment semi-transparent, her graceful body forming casual curves. Wind tugged at the robe, clinging to her skin, half-hidden, half-visible, hazy and indistinct.

Food and sex are human nature.

Xie Queshan sighed. He didn’t even know what kind of saint he was trying to be.

He walked to the window and embraced her from behind.

Warm arms enveloped her. Nanyi turned her face in surprise to look at him with wide eyes, feeling he was acting somewhat strange, but then thinking she was overthinking it, she smiled happily.

She wanted to turn around, but he stubbornly held her tight like this, placing his chin in the hollow of her shoulder, his cheek against her black hair.

“Don’t move.”

After a while, Nanyi was still curious and asked: “What are you looking at?”

“The scenery.”

In the dead of night, everything outside was pitch-black.

“What scenery is there?”

“It’s all here.” He replied nonsensically.

The river wind and her.

Xie Queshan stared off in a daze, enjoying this peaceful moment together with her.

They witnessed heaven and earth, sun and moon, rivers and mountains, yet they were only mayflies. To have a moment of peace belonging to each other made life seem worthwhile.

——

Jinling.

In a room sealed airtight, Wanyan Puruо unfolded a piece of paper.

“Confirmed: Agent codenamed Goose is Xie Queshan.”

The corners of Wanyan Puruо’s mouth curved into a smile of certain victory.

In the rapid changes of games within games, who could know whose game this really was?