For a moment, jealousy and lust intertwined darkly. Her hair was wound around five slender, pale fingers, tightening bit by bit. He saw her pained, wronged expression, and every pore in his heart seemed to expand. Yet somewhere on his body, along with his heart, suddenly ached and swelled. Finally, he slowly leaned down.

Just as he was about to cover her lips, a blade flashed before his eyes. His reflexes were extremely agile—he leaned back and avoided it. On the bed, she somehow held a dagger in her hand, its cold light sharp and menacing.

She half-opened her eyes and sat up holding the blade. Though her gaze remained turbid, her consciousness was surprisingly clear and stubborn.

Li Zhaoting’s brow furrowed tightly, and that violent fury came like a burst dam, overwhelming everything.

“So this is how deeply you think of Lian Yu.”

He spoke with icy coldness.

She painfully tore at her clothes, the blade flashing before him again. Then a string of blood drops splattered from her arm. His heart jumped in terror—she carried a defensive dagger with her. At this moment, she would rather stab herself to resist the drive of lust.

“Feng Suzhen!” He shouted sternly and reached to seize her dagger.

Her mind was out of control, and her strength was surprisingly great. Li Zhaoting couldn’t immediately take the dagger from her hands. Afraid she would hurt herself again, without thinking, he grasped the blade itself. The sharp edge dragged across his palm, blood dripping onto the bed, but he felt no pain at all. Finally, he used force to snatch the dagger away, threw it far away with all his might, then immediately pressed her acupuncture points.

Suzhen fell back onto the bed.

Li Zhaoting rushed out of the palace in several steps, pushing the door open and roaring: “Liang Song, what happens if there’s no… union?”

“Your Majesty, your hand…” Si Lanfeng was greatly alarmed.

“It doesn’t matter!”

The old eunuch had originally been resting in the corridor outside the hall. Hearing this, he jumped up in shock: “Your Majesty, what’s wrong? How could there be no—”

“Less nonsense! Is there another way to resolve it?” Li Zhaoting’s voice was bone-chillingly cold.

Liang Song knew something must have gone wrong with Suzhen. Crying out in distress again, he fearfully searched his memory: “To resolve this incense, it seems one needs ice cellar water mixed with several medicinal ingredients for soaking, but in this cold spring weather…”

“Immediately summon the imperial physician and prepare medicines and water.”

Before he could finish speaking, Li Zhaoting had already interrupted with a cold face. Si Lanfeng, seeing the situation was bad, immediately sent people to handle it.

Soon, the Imperial Medical Academy delivered the medicines, and palace servants brought water from the ice cellar into the hall.

Liang Song led the female officials inside, but Li Zhaoting stopped them: “You all wait outside for orders.”

“Yes.”

Seeing his terrible expression, no one dared say more. Liang Song’s heart was in his throat, Si Lanfeng had already hidden far away, and no one even dared mention bandaging the wound on his hand.

When Li Zhaoting lifted Suzhen, her face was already flushed red, twisted in pain, yet her acupuncture points were sealed so she couldn’t move. But her consciousness stubbornly maintained a half-conscious, half-lucid state.

“Li Zhaoting, I misjudged you. I misjudged you again.” She laughed and cursed, tears streaming down.

They weren’t particularly harsh words, but the continuously surging grief nearly drowned Li Zhaoting.

He didn’t defend himself or speak, just carried her into the tub.

The large wooden tub could accommodate two people without feeling cramped. He didn’t leave her alone—the bone-piercing ice water quickly swallowed them both.

Suzhen was alternately hot and cold, screaming from the cold, her teeth chattering violently. Li Zhaoting held her tight, constantly comforting her by her ear: “Bear with it, it will pass soon. I’m with you, I’ll always be with you.”

In her daze, Suzhen only felt caught between ice and fire, the pain nearly tearing her apart. She was tightly locked in a warm yet cold, solid chest that protected her, but her whole body was severely cold. A voice, from clear to hoarse, continuously fell on the top of her head and by her ear. An arm like copper and iron tightly encircled her, not letting her fall.

She was somewhat aware of what was happening, but her head was dizzy and heavy, unable to speak. She could only lean against him, gasping and resting in pain. After an unknown amount of time, the fire in her body completely subsided, leaving only bone-penetrating cold and indescribable agony. She heard that already hoarse voice call loudly: “Send several female officials in.”

A group of people pushed through the door, some carrying new braziers, others holding towels. In her daze, Li Zhaoting carried her to the bed, turned his back to direct two people to change her clothes. People moved around everywhere, carrying tubs and tending fires, bustling about.

Her body was wrapped tightly in brocade quilts, but she still shivered from cold. However, the chill finally slowly receded. Her head was dizzy and swollen. In the dim haze, she saw that he had somehow turned back around and was quietly watching her by the bedside.

Soaked all over, his hair had long since come undone, scattered behind his back with a strand hanging over his forehead. Disheveled, silent, his eyes revealed indescribable affection and desolation.

In her memory, he had always been like a noble gentleman, with jade ornaments at his ears, a cap bright as stars. When had he ever been so embarrassed and wretched?

“Why do you torment yourself like this?” she said.

In this moment, with these words, there was no longer any romantic feeling, yet it wasn’t like the previous hatred either. Even if only for an instant.

His eyes were dark, moist, and gleaming. His throat suddenly let out a trace of dry, hoarse laughter as he slowly approached.

But she was startled, suddenly struggling up and retreating backward, her eyes fixed on him.

Even in their current situation, with such disparity in their strength, her eyes showed no pleading, only resistance.

Li Zhaoting couldn’t help but smile, finally understanding why it wasn’t A Luo and the others, not about missing the most beautiful, not that what you can’t get is best. It was because during those years, though she was always humble, always the one giving, in truth, she had never stopped trying to put herself on equal footing with him to love him. Little by little, she had finally squeezed herself into his heart.

“You needn’t fear me. In this world, if there could only be one person, it would be you. You shouldn’t fear me. I forbid you to fear me.”

His tone was calm, and for the first time in his life, he smiled with tears streaming down his face.

Of course, she couldn’t distinguish whether what was on his face was water or something else, still watching him warily.

He suddenly turned around. A sword hung beside the bed curtains. His personal sword.

He took the sword, drew it, and swung it!

The series of actions was so fast that Suzhen couldn’t react until half a severed finger rolled from his hand to the floor, and only then did she understand what had happened.

“You…” she cried out involuntarily.

“If I ever treat you as I did just now without your consent, let me be like this finger. A gentleman’s word.”

He slowly spoke.

What he had severed was the same position where she had once lost her finger. Thinking of this, Suzhen fainted.

When she awoke, the surroundings were filled with the smell of medicinal soup.

Wherever her gaze fell, Li Zhaoting’s eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze was surprisingly deep and clear. He held a medicine bowl in his hands, which were roughly bandaged and still seeping blood. He hadn’t even changed his clothes, clearly having stayed here without leaving.

She tried to sit up but was weak all over, as if crushed by a mill wheel, everything aching. She knew this ordeal had probably taken a toll and didn’t dare delay, only wanting to quickly drink the medicine.

Seeing this, Li Zhaoting placed the medicine on the side couch, lifted and supported her to lean against the bed rail, then picked up the bowl again.

“Go take a bath and change your clothes,” she finally spoke as she watched him raise the spoon.

Li Zhaoting stared at her.

“You still care about me?” His gaze grew even deeper and more intense.

Suzhen remained silent. She did hate him, had even once been able to kill him, but didn’t want to see him in this state.

One matter was one matter, one issue was one issue.

But she said nothing more, only quietly finished the medicine.

Li Zhaoting set down the bowl and reached toward her forehead—

“May I,” she avoided him, “ask you for something?”

Li Zhaoting’s hand stopped mid-air, the light in his eyes dimming, becoming cold and stern: “I won’t let you go, but what I promised I will certainly fulfill, as long as Lian Yu defeats me.”

“It’s not that.” Suzhen shook her head.

“Other matters, as long as I can do them, I will certainly do them.” He looked at her, expectant and solemn.

“I want to pay respects to some old friends.”

“Old friends?” Li Zhaoting’s eyes showed alarm.

“Xuanwu, Ming Yanchu, and the others.”

“They were rebellious traitors,” Li Zhaoting said coldly.

“Besides, you want to use this as an opportunity to escape,” he sneered.

“I won’t use this to escape. I just want to fulfill my duty as a friend. I just had a dream that I died.”

“What nonsense are you talking?” He shouted angrily, looking at her furiously.

“The old ginseng you used to extend my life—I heard it has a time limit. People in the martial world don’t know, but that’s a long-lost secret. Little Zhou told me—”

“You’re talking nonsense!” Li Zhaoting suddenly stood up, his eyes filled with rage like a shattered inkstone, spreading out. His sleeves fluttered, and the medicine bowl was knocked over, crashing to the ground in pieces.