Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes.

In an instant, two words rolled through her heart, carrying the sharp gleam of five years’ time, sweeping over the blood-red rouge dyed across a lifetime, over and over, like a chant, endlessly.

Those were the sixteen-year-old girl’s answer from that year before the Nanhai sea waves, reverberating in her heart countless times, ultimately never spoken aloud.

Coming to today, to put it into words again had already become irony.

Her slightly lowered face was concealed by scattered long hair. At an angle no one could see, something crystalline faintly flashed.

Ning Yi sat silently in the cold moon on withered tree branches, his garments flowing like water in the wind.

After a very long time, Feng Zhiwei raised her head, her expression normal. She even smiled at Ning Yi, saying: “It’s late. Your Highness should rest early.”

Ning Yi gazed at her. In his eyes was neither disappointment nor resentment, only deep sorrow.

This journey to the present, with painstaking effort—with painstaking effort ultimately unable to turn back fate’s raging torrents on the verge of collapse.

He tried hard to push her forward, yet she insisted on standing in place, guarding that snowy morning from that year.

All was fate, all was fate.

“My heart forever remains where it should be. Perhaps one day, overturning rivers and seas could make it topple and overturn.”

Since some vows and determinations could not be erased by human effort, then better to follow the trajectory she wanted and accompany her all the way down.

He smiled faintly, extending his hand: “Zhiwei, let me accompany you one last night.”

Feng Zhiwei remained silent. He continued: “We’ve known each other five years, never once spending New Year’s together.”

Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes, drawing up her quilt, slowly lying down, facing the wall.

Behind her came light footsteps. Someone closed the window. The faint scent belonging to him filled the room. In a trance, that year, before the winter frozen lake, white plum blossoms swept across moon-white garments.

The bed dipped slightly. His slender shadow reflected on the wall, pressing on her shoulder. Feng Zhiwei didn’t turn back, only said softly: “Why not kill me?”

Behind her, Ning Yi didn’t speak for a while, as if also contemplating this question. After a long moment, he gave a short laugh: “Zhiwei, I would kill all the people in the world, but ultimately would not kill you.”

“But from this day forth,” Feng Zhiwei still closed her eyes, “I only hope you consider me your enemy.”

Behind her was no movement. After a long while, his fingers delicately stroked across her cheek, fingertips ice-cold.

The ice-cold fingertips slowly wandered across her cheek. Beneath them was a moist water trace, even colder than the fingertips, in this New Year’s Eve night’s low-moaning wind, slowly cooling.

Neither possessed warmth’s temperature anymore to warm that bone-penetrating cold.

Moonlight slowly passed the long window. The shadow on the wall stretched obliquely, like the fetters of this journey—pulled however far, ultimately there was an end.

After a very, very long time, the shadow on the wall slightly raised its head and covered its eyes with its hand.

His voice was slightly hoarse as he answered:

“Alright.”

That night, the wind was desolate, rolling up layers of falling snow, covering one whole body.

That night, moonlight turned restlessly, illuminating the railing with no one leaning together. Below the windowsill, a white plum tree quietly withered. All over the ground, who knew if it was snow blossoms or plum blossoms.

Extremely exhausted, Feng Zhiwei ultimately fell asleep maintaining that posture. In her last hazy drowsiness, she hoped she would never wake.

Upon entering sleep, her dreams remained hazy. In the dream was filled with magnificently cool scent. In the dream, someone held a paper umbrella crossing a ruined bridge. Facing her was a crystal wall. Suddenly the crystal shattered silently. She saw the ancient temple and ruined shrine under cold moon and empty wind. Before the ruined shrine, someone’s smile was sweet as they handed over a reed flower. In the sea tide, reed flowers swayed, pervaded with wisteria fragrance. She smiled and bit down, but what she crushed was Jiyang Mountain’s slightly astringent pine nuts. In a blink, mountain cliffs plunged down. On the precipice, who embraced whom standing together facing the vast mountains and seas. While on all sides, the radiance of stars and moon slowly rotated. In the treasure cabinet, a pot of wine’s subtle dark fragrance. Suddenly someone swept their sleeve, smashing the wine pot at the Imperial Capital’s Wangdu Bridge. In the streaming water traces all over the ground, she wailed loudly.

Was it real or not, this night’s confused and chaotic dreams.

She walked step by step through such retrospective spiraling. Hazily, someone always leaned beside her, placing their hand on her cheek, stroking over and over with such treasuring care. Hazily, whose breath approached, yet ultimately had to sigh and leave. When dawn was near, someone slowly bent down, imprinting a slightly cool kiss on her forehead. In that instant of being closest to each other, she clearly felt between her brows a patch of moist vapor spreading. Yet she didn’t know if it was her own, or… his.

Sunlight rose faintly. That familiar scent in the room dispersed strand by strand, like frost flowers on glass, bit by bit melting into flowing water, without trace.

She slowly sat up, hearing reporting voices from the outer courtyard. The imperial edict summoning her back to the capital had arrived.

She gripped the brocade quilt tightly, smoothing out the slightly damp corners from that night.

This year’s New Year’s Eve thus passed. The eighteenth year of Changxi, quietly yet boldly, knocked on the gates of heaven and earth.

On the fifteenth of the first month, she set out to return to the capital. Before departing, on her desk lay the last official matter requiring her adjudication—the Qiu woman requested divorce from her husband.

Qiu Yuluo’s lengthy ten-thousand-word self-defense statement was submitted to her desk together with official documents. Therein she wrote extensively about her husband’s impotence, his eccentric personality, and the various sufferings this caused—truly myriad grievances and a thousand difficulties.

She had already broken with the Li family. Now she lived alone, having moved to a temple. As the first woman who dared to speak of marital bedroom privacy matters in open court in a divorce case, she was ridiculed as corrupting public morals, a loose woman, condemned by everyone, spurned by the masses. The Li family further declared that whoever judged her divorce would face deadly enmity. The Jianghuai prefectural office dared not take the case, dragging it until after the new year, finally presenting it to her desk.

Feng Zhiwei faced those thick legal documents in silence for a long time, thinking of her cousin’s spoiled and noble temperament. For her to reach this point while bearing the world’s mockery, the persistent love in her heart must have long burned like fire.

That year at Consort Chang’s birthday banquet, she had already seen Qiu Yuluo’s feelings for Ning Yi. Originally she thought marriage would cause her to restrain herself. Unexpectedly, a ruined husband ultimately made her dead ashes reignite.

And Young Master Li was ruined at her own hands.

Heavenly fate ordained, unfailing cycles.

Years ago in Orchid Fragrance Courtyard, stirred by righteous indignation, one strike made an egg fly. Years later, that splattered fresh blood finally landed at her own feet.

Feng Zhiwei smiled shallowly, almost desolately.

Then she picked up her brush. On the end of those thick case files, stroke by stroke, she wrote one character.

“Approved.”

In the second month of the eighteenth year of Changxi, Feng Zhiwei returned to the capital. In the third month, for great merit in the Jingtang canal river works during her term as Jianghuai Provincial Administration Commissioner, she entered the Inner Cabinet as Grand Secretary of Yongshou Hall.

The so-called great merit was merely a pretext. Everyone knew the position of Cabinet Grand Secretary had long been prepared for Wei Zhi—only a matter of timing.

This was history’s youngest twenty-one-year-old Grand Secretary, without exception.

Currently, Tiansheng’s highest decision-making body had five Grand Secretaries and eleven Secretariat Academicians. The latter merely handled document copying, organizing, and transmission duties. Only the former were this nation’s brain, the true national leadership. As the Tiansheng Emperor aged, the Cabinet’s control over court affairs grew stronger. With former Chief Minister Yao Ying retiring, the original Vice Minister Hu Shengshan ascended to Chief Minister. He was the most senior among the Grand Secretaries, with universal support. Yet Wei Zhi, this newly entered name, was ranked second on the Cabinet Grand Secretary roster—even before Xin Ziyan, who had entered the Cabinet earlier.

In other words, upon entering the Cabinet, Feng Zhiwei was immediately Vice Minister.

The moment she stepped into Haoyun Pavilion, even Feng Zhiwei felt somewhat dazed—dazed as if it were still that year when she was merely a Secretariat Academician under Yao Ying responsible for writing memorial summaries, just attending court affairs again.

The Grand Secretaries had all arrived and were in discussion. At the head seat, Ning Yi lowered his head drinking tea. When she entered, he didn’t raise his head.

When Feng Zhiwei finished her courtesies to Ning Yi and sat in the first position on the right below the head seat where Ning Yi sat, she had already regained her composure.

Hu Shengshan nodded at her with a smile, then returned to his interrupted topic: “…Your Highness, His Majesty was furious yesterday and has already returned the memorial. What do you think…”

Ning Yi’s expression showed neither joy nor anger. He nodded slightly, set down his tea cup, and his gaze turned, suddenly calling Feng Zhiwei’s name.

“Grand Secretary Wei, how do you view this matter?”

Feng Zhiwei was startled. What was this abrupt question about? Pondering the earlier words, probably discussing the southern warfare—Changning had already captured seven counties in northern Longbei, approaching the Heng River that cut through central Tiansheng. His Majesty’s fury was normal. After thinking, she said cautiously: “Though Changning’s military might is fierce, in my view, they may not have ambitions to swallow the world. His Majesty need not worry over temporary territorial losses. Given time…”

Before she finished, several Grand Secretaries laughed.

Hu Shengshan stroked his beard, turning to Xin Ziyan: “Look at this—no wonder this person advanced quickly. Truly, a mind full of national affairs.”

Feng Zhiwei was completely bewildered, staring wide-eyed: “Is something wrong?”

She rarely showed such a foolish expression. Everyone enjoyed watching, wanting to continue teasing, but glancing at Ning Yi above who wasn’t smiling, they quickly suppressed their laughter.

Ning Yi’s gaze fell lightly on her: “Grand Secretary Wei, you were distracted. What Grand Secretary Hu just discussed was this prince’s marriage.”

Feng Zhiwei was stunned, her face flushing red, then white, before recovering composure. She smiled: “Your Highness, forgive me. This subordinate truly didn’t expect that the first major matter upon entering the Cabinet would actually be Your Highness’s consort selection.”

“His Highness’s affairs are state affairs.” Hu Shengshan said. “Only… the lady His Highness wishes to take has some impropriety in status. His Majesty currently doesn’t agree. Grand Secretary Wei is always incomparably resourceful—do you have any good methods?”

Another Grand Secretary, Han Songzhong, smiled: “Others cannot manage this matter, but Grand Secretary Wei absolutely must. Speaking of it, the young lady His Highness wishes to take was granted divorce by Grand Secretary Wei.”

Feng Zhiwei picked up the tea beside her, slowly took a sip, and smiled: “I’ve only judged one divorce case—could it be that young lady from the former Five Military Commandery Bureau household? Speaking of it, the Qiu family are my elders’ old friends. This small favor should be helped.” She turned to Ning Yi: “Miss Qiu’s life has been pitiable. Later she met an unsuitable person. Now being chosen by Your Highness is her good fortune. As long as Your Highness speaks, this subordinate will certainly exert my meager strength.”

“In that case.” Ning Yi immediately said. “His Majesty is currently angry. He’s always valued you highly. When you have time, enter the palace and slowly persuade him. This prince’s trivial matters—I’ll trouble Grand Secretary Wei.”

He looked directly at Feng Zhiwei. Feng Zhiwei, in the tea’s curling mist, smiled somewhat hazily, slowly bowing slightly.

“Your Highness’s favor—how dare I not follow orders.”

Several days later, the Tiansheng Emperor summoned Feng Zhiwei into the palace. He didn’t receive her in the imperial study, but set a banquet in the imperial garden. When Feng Zhiwei arrived, she surprisingly saw Shaoning and Consort Qing.

This surprised even her. She was an external minister—how could she drink together with palace family and princesses? Yet the Tiansheng Emperor was completely at ease, smiling as he took her hand: “Wei Zhi, you needn’t be constrained. After all, I’ve watched you grow up—you’ve always been like my own nephew. Today, everyone needn’t be constrained. Be casual.” As he spoke, he glanced at Shaoning.

Feng Zhiwei understood his meaning. The old Emperor on one hand was drawing her close, on the other also hinting they were already one family. She quickly performed courtesies to Shaoning and Consort Qing, then personally held the pot to pour wine for the Tiansheng Emperor.

The Tiansheng Emperor was in good spirits, draining each cup, only his cup-holding hand occasionally trembled. Feng Zhiwei watched coldly, saying nothing, only smiling and frequently toasting. By the fifth cup, a pair of soft hands gently pressed the Tiansheng Emperor’s hand.

Everyone raised their heads to see Consort Qing displaying a face full of gentle smiles to the Tiansheng Emperor, softly saying: “Your Majesty, the imperial physician said you can drink at most two taels. Please don’t drink more.” As she spoke, she took away the wine pot. While taking it, she imperceptibly used her sleeve to wipe clean a bit of drool that had unconsciously flowed from the Tiansheng Emperor’s lips.

The Tiansheng Emperor laughed: “Good, good, you’re just managing too much. I’ll follow you, follow you.” He casually said to Feng Zhiwei: “Women are just troublesome. You drink well yourself—let Shaoning accompany you.”

“This subject dares not. Your Majesty, please prioritize your dragon body.” Feng Zhiwei smiled, her eyes glancing at Consort Qing who was smiling at her. This woman had completely shed her former seductive demeanor, appearing gentle and virtuous. She truly didn’t know if this was her true face or yet another mask donned as needed. But regardless, this woman’s influence on the Tiansheng Emperor made her wary. A palace consort who became pregnant but lost the child—the more likely outcome was losing favor from then on. Yet she remained in undiminished favor. This didn’t fit the old Emperor’s cold nature.

The Tiansheng Emperor ate a few bites of food, as if suddenly remembering the consistently silent Shaoning. He set down his chopsticks, his old eyes dimly gazing at her for a while, then sighed deeply: “Zhao’er, you’ve grown increasingly thin recently. Do you have some worry? Speak it out—Imperial Father will decide for you.”

Feng Zhiwei’s heart jumped. Consort Qing had already laughed behind her hand: “When daughters grow up, what worries could they have? Your Majesty truly asks knowingly.”

Feng Zhiwei glanced at her—this woman was extremely clever, always knowing what should and shouldn’t be done. For her to say this now, she was clearly opposing herself.

“Your daughter is quite well.” Yet Shaoning didn’t take up Consort Qing’s words. She smiled: “I just suddenly recalled I once made a great vow to personally copy the Avatamsaka Sutra for Imperial Father’s birthday. I’m still short one volume, so I was distracted.”

“Zhao’er has truly taken Buddhist teachings to heart?” The Tiansheng Emperor turned his head, gazing at Shaoning for a while, nodding: “For daughters to study some Buddhist teachings, cultivating mind and character, is good. Just don’t become too immersed.”

Shaoning smiled in agreement. Feng Zhiwei inwardly smiled bitterly. Telling someone practicing Buddhism not to become too immersed in Buddhist teachings—wasn’t that just for returning to secular life? The old fellow was increasingly blunt. Even if Consort Qing wasn’t pushing things along, he had never given up trying to pair herself with Shaoning.

“You all won’t let me have peace of mind.” Yet the Tiansheng Emperor seemed to have gotten into a talkative mood. He pointed at Shaoning, saying to Consort Qing: “Zhao’er… is like this. Sixth is even better. At this age, still without properly establishing a consort. Previously it was said his body wasn’t well and couldn’t delay a young lady. Now the imperial physician says his body is greatly recovered, completely fine. Yet he proposes such a woman! Saying she showed him kindness, saying he’s long admired her and will take no one but her. Truly makes me… truly makes me…” As he spoke, contrary qi surged up. He coughed frequently. Feng Zhiwei quickly went over to pat his back. Unexpectedly, Consort Qing also extended her hand. When both hands touched the Tiansheng Emperor’s back, they quickly withdrew. In that startled glimpse, Feng Zhiwei saw beneath her wide-sleeved robe, her hands washed clean of all adornment—not only without any rouge or cosmetics, even the crystalline nails previously deliberately grown long as weapons were trimmed. The nail edges were rounded, cleanly cut, dressed plainly and restrained like an ordinary housewife.

Feng Zhiwei’s gaze swept across her, discovering not only had her nails changed—the fabric on her body was soft, her powder and rouge light. Previously her makeup was heavy and gaudy. Today it was merely plain and lightly made up. Earlier, before the Tiansheng Emperor, she hadn’t dared examine her closely. Now behind the old Emperor, she finally saw these changes clearly. Once this glance touched, she withdrew it. Then she gently patted the Tiansheng Emperor’s back, rambling: “Your Majesty must not be angry. That Miss Qiu—you’ve also seen her. Her birth is not low. I hear she possesses virtue, appearance, speech, and skill—also counted among the Imperial Capital’s notable young ladies…”

“That was before!” The Tiansheng Emperor said angrily. “Why don’t you mention her twice-married, cast-off status!”

“Your Majesty!” Feng Zhiwei took the opportunity to kneel before him. “Though the words are so, as the one presiding over Jianghuai, I know the true circumstances. That marriage contract between the Li and Qiu families, ultimately was merely an empty shell. Miss Qiu in the end divorced—she wasn’t cast off. Our dynasty’s laws—after a woman divorces, she’s viewed as unmarried with free status. Moreover, Young Master Li’s… chronic ailment—Miss Qiu truly counts as… an unmarried woman.”

“What benefits did Ning Yi give you to advocate for him like this?” The Tiansheng Emperor gazed at her coldly, his eyes sharp.

Feng Zhiwei was utterly unafraid. She knelt closer before him, sighing: “Your Majesty, His Highness has promised this subject no benefits for this matter. This subject only speaks out in remonstration for two reasons.”

“Speak them.” The Tiansheng Emperor didn’t call her to rise. He turned to take up tea, slowly drinking, saying lightly: “If your reasons are suitable, I’ll follow you.”

“First,” Feng Zhiwei said earnestly, “this subject is moved by the scene, stirring feelings. Thinking back to the former Five Military Commandery, the Qiu household—how illustrious and wealthy. Now fallen overnight. Young Master Qiu only holds an idle minor position in the Six Ministries. Miss Qiu has no one to rely on. Seeing such a great household of bells, cauldrons, and noble feasting decline to this point, this subject’s heart cannot bear it. If this subject has advocating, matchmaking intentions, it’s for Miss Qiu—not for Prince Chu.”

The Tiansheng Emperor’s tea-drinking hand paused, as if thinking. Only then did he say: “Continue.”

Feng Zhiwei inwardly sighed. The Emperor was truly old. If it were back then, without her reminding him, the Tiansheng Emperor himself would have thought—Ning Yi clearly would inevitably be named Crown Prince. The Crown Prince already held great power. Add a powerful wife’s clan—which emperor wouldn’t fear waking to find someone else on the dragon throne? Even if the throne was passed tomorrow, this matter today absolutely wouldn’t be allowed.

The Qiu household had already declined, descendants few. Such worries would absolutely no longer exist.

“The second reason.” Feng Zhiwei was silent for a while before saying low, like a sigh: “This subject pities all people throughout the world who have feelings for each other, yet due to worldly obstacles, cannot be together.”

She prostrated before the Tiansheng Emperor’s feet, bowing deeply down. Her cheek contacted the ice-cold ground. Instantly, a trace of damp coolness slightly moistened the grass tips beneath her.

The Tiansheng Emperor looked at the kneeling youth’s thin shoulders, slightly moved. He naturally heard Feng Zhiwei’s words were spoken with feeling, with self-pity. He couldn’t help turning to look at Shaoning. Shaoning’s eyes had already slightly reddened as she turned her head away. The Tiansheng Emperor thought he understood this phrase’s double meaning. Thinking of the rough road between Wei Zhi and the Princess, he remained silent for a long time before sighing: “Indeed, when people grow old, hearts soften… Very well… Rise.”

Feng Zhiwei kowtowed and silently stood, standing to the side. The Tiansheng Emperor held his tea, thinking for a while: “Ultimately it harms imperial dignity. Simply welcoming her in inevitably invites criticism throughout the world. How about this—have that Miss Qiu also enter the imperial temple. Have her practice alongside the Princess for a while, then with the Princess’s personal female official status, I’ll bestow her to Sixth as a side consort… she can only be a side consort. If in future there’s a son or daughter, we’ll speak of it then.”

“This subject on His Highness’s behalf… thanks Your Majesty’s grand favor.” Feng Zhiwei bowed down. The Tiansheng Emperor looked at her, suddenly smiled broadly, taking her hand: “Today you’ve matchmade for Sixth. You needn’t thank me. Rather, Sixth should properly thank you.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled, slowly saying: “Yes, this subject greatly… looks forward to it.”

Opposite them, Consort Qing seemed unconcerned with the conversation here, only smiling as she served food to Shaoning. Shaoning seemed to be declining. The two women’s arms raised.

Feng Zhiwei’s gaze flashed.

She saw a wax pill bounce from Shaoning’s sleeve into Consort Qing’s sleeve.

Those two women’s faces remained unchanged—one serving food, one drinking wine. Feng Zhiwei turned her gaze away, watching the apricot blossoms ahead swaying and releasing fragrance.

The Tiansheng Emperor’s health this year was obviously inferior to before. After speaking a few sentences, he showed fatigue and wanted to rest. Feng Zhiwei stepped forward first, presenting a wooden box from her hand: “Your Majesty, this is the first three volumes of the completed draft of the ‘Tiansheng Chronicle’ presented by the Compilation Office, entrusting this subject to conveniently present it upon entering the palace.”

“The ‘Tiansheng Chronicle’ edited under Young Xin’s direction?” The Tiansheng Emperor chuckled. “Five years in the making, finally completed. Should properly examine it. Your position at the Compilation Office should also be relinquished?”

Feng Zhiwei smiled: “Has Your Majesty forgotten? Since this subject assumed the position of Jianghuai Provincial Administration Commissioner, the Compilation Office position was long relinquished.”

“Growing old, memory fails.” The Tiansheng Emperor patted his forehead, took the book, and walked toward the inner palace supported by Consort Qing. That woman’s graceful bearing, slender waist—accompanying the Emperor’s faltering steps, made one think of a newly green willow in the late twilight sunset.

As if sensing Feng Zhiwei’s gaze, Consort Qing, walking a few steps away, suddenly looked back, smiling at her.

That smile was seductive and gorgeous. In a trance, she was still that year’s beauty dancing with windblown hair and misty temples on the lotus. Could topple hearts, could topple the world.

Feng Zhiwei was startled. Consort Qing had already gracefully departed. Fragrance faintly surrounded. Shaoning still sat drinking alone.

“Princess…” Feng Zhiwei had just tentatively called out when Shaoning tossed aside the wine pot and stood: “Let’s leave the palace.”

The two followed palace attendants all the way out. Near Haoyun Pavilion, they encountered Ning Yi. Behind him followed a large group carrying military reports. Apparently heading to Haoyun Pavilion to discuss affairs. Seeing Feng Zhiwei, Ning Yi signaled the others to go to Haoyun Pavilion first while he alone walked over.

As soon as Shaoning saw him, she quickened her pace, brushing past him without even a greeting. Ning Yi merely smiled, too lazy to spare her even a corner of his eye.

This pair of imperial siblings, except before the Tiansheng Emperor where they barely maintained peaceful coexistence, everywhere else they were too lazy to pretend.

Feng Zhiwei watched her back, thinking of that wax pill she’d thrown, thinking of the strange atmosphere between her and Consort Qing. Just as she was lost in thought, she suddenly felt her body tilt as her vision darkened—she’d already been pushed by Ning Yi behind a corridor. Ahead was an openwork screen wall hung with vines. Behind was an artificial mountain by a pond.

Ning Yi’s arm braced above her. Without a word, he lowered his face, gazing at her eyes. Feng Zhiwei didn’t dodge, raising her face to look at him, saying quietly: “Your Highness, this is within the palace.”

“So what if it’s the palace?” Ning Yi gave a short laugh. “With me here, no one dares approach.”

Feng Zhiwei remained silent. Ning Yi also didn’t move. Suddenly he said: “May I ask Grand Secretary Wei—how goes this prince’s marriage?”

Feng Zhiwei raised her eyes, revealing to him a smile misty with moisture: “Fortunately, mission accomplished.”

Ning Yi’s fingers stopped motionless beside her temple. Only after a long while did he smile somewhat stiffly: “Good—good—good.”

He said “good” three times—each shorter than the last, each more urgent, yet the tone didn’t rise higher. Rather, the more he spoke, the lower it became. By the end, it transformed into a breath sound in his throat and chest that seemed about to break midway.

“This is the last thing I can do for Your Highness.” The corners of Feng Zhiwei’s lips slowly bloomed with a trace of smile. “What you need, I give.”

“I need—” Ning Yi gazed at her. In his jet-black pupils seemed to surge black waves, towering to the sky, rushing forward turbulently. Yet finally, before the massive dike of heavenly will, they helplessly halted. The overturning waves, in an instant, backlashed, toppling their own vast sea.

After a long while, he smiled almost desolately, nodding: “Yes, I need it.”

The two silently looked at each other, both gazes calm and dark. Everyone knew it wasn’t from resentment or spite. Truly just that phrase “I need it.” Yet such need was never true need.

You and I are both too rational, too rational.

You and I both hate being so rational, too rational.

After a long while, Ning Yi said low, almost like a dream murmur: “…Zhiwei, you seem to have cried?”

Somewhat dazed, he gently lowered his fingers, wanting to wipe her eyes. Those hazy eyes forever held faint moisture, making one unable to distinguish when tears had flowed.

Feng Zhiwei trembled. That single tear from half an hour ago—how could he possibly discover it?

She widened her eyes, not daring to let herself close them and release faint moisture. In the clear brightness, she slightly tilted her head, avoiding those fingers. Beside that person leaning extremely close, she whispered low a name.

Ning Yi’s fingers abruptly froze.

“Remember that night’s words, Your Highness.” Feng Zhiwei smiled desolately. “Also remember what you yourself said—those in superior positions cannot be softhearted. If Your Highness is softhearted, you lose ten million lives. Think clearly.”

Ning Yi’s fingers slowly left her temple. He stepped back one step, then another, examining her carefully once over. After a long while, he raised his sleeve, pointing at her.

“Rest assured.”

He turned and departed resolutely.

“Since you won’t be softhearted… I naturally dare not be softhearted.”