Klie’s breathing sounds were indeed very strange—like bellows being pulled, creaking and hollow, making one worry the bellows might fall apart at any moment.

Or perhaps… they were just about to fall apart.

The maids came and went, averting their eyes, not daring to look at the person on the bed. They’d never seen anyone injured this badly—a hole bitten in the throat yet still alive. A chunk of flesh had been bitten from the face as well, though one could still see the original handsome beauty. The more beautiful something was, the more heart-stopping it became once shattered.

“How terrible…” two maids whispered together. “Such fine looks, what a waste…”

“He ended up like this trying to save someone? A true hero…”

“That person seems very anxious, always wanting to say something, but can’t move. So pitiful…”

She opened her eyes, listening, and smiled.

“Would Miss like to go see?” A middle-aged woman approached, her features kind. She appeared to be a senior nanny. “Your friend—who knows how much longer he can live.”

She softly acknowledged with a “mm.” The nanny had people bring over a rattan bed and ordered them to carry her to the outer room, placing her beside Klie.

She turned her head to carefully observe the man a foot away, with a stranger’s grateful gaze.

Her eyes lingered particularly on the torn throat. Her gaze narrowed, and for an instant something seemed to flash swiftly past, though no one could see it.

When looking at her again, her face still showed only shock and pity.

The nanny had been attending to her the whole time when she suddenly said, “Oh my, earlier the medicine prescribed for Miss required borneol, but what came from the storehouse wasn’t very good. The Prince wants me to fetch some from his chambers. I nearly forgot. Wanchun, Baoxia, come with me.”

The maids responded and followed the nanny out. The maids in the inner room were busy replacing bedding and burning incense, not coming out. For a time, no one was near her—only a third-rank maid who couldn’t enter the inner chambers stood outside the door.

The strange breathing sounds grew louder. Klie’s eyelids fluttered slightly, showing signs of waking.

If this person woke, what would he do?

She turned her head on the pillow, observing Klie very carefully. Those cloud-veiled, mist-shrouded eyes were deeply intent, like an abyss that never saw daylight.

After a long while, she extended her hand.

Reaching toward Klie’s throat…

She carefully tucked the quilt corners around him.

When the nanny returned, she saw her sleeping quietly beside Klie, breathing evenly. Klie’s quilt corners had been meticulously tucked in. He slumbered very peacefully in his unconscious state.

The nanny stood at the doorway, then stepped aside. Behind her appeared Jin Siyu’s contemplative face.

He looked at her sleeping peacefully beside Klie, his expression showing either relief or deeper worry—unclear which. He walked over gently and sat beside her, removing the disheveled hair stuck to her forehead by sweat.

After a long moment, he said in a deep voice, “Add more people. Find that doctor immediately, no matter what!”

Three Tripod Mountain west of Pucheng was the highest mountain in Pucheng’s outskirts. The mountain’s atmosphere was cold, and supposedly toxic mists often rose, yet hunters who hunted there rarely fell ill.

This was thanks to the doctor Ruan Zheng who lived in the mountains. Supposedly this doctor’s ancestors had also been imperial physicians in the palace. Later they resigned and returned home, possessing priceless life-saving remedies. However, this doctor had an eccentric temperament. He never left the mountain, dwelling alone in a thatched hut on a solitary cliff peak.

On this October night in the northern lands, the mountain mists were cold and forbidding, drifting like crystal curtains.

Several black shadows shot up the cliff like lightning, quickly reaching the summit.

The visitors knocked gently on the door. The master shuffled to answer. Opening the door to emptiness on all sides, still wondering if he’d been dreaming, he heard knocking sounds again—from behind him. Turning around, he realized the visitors had knocked on the window.

Below the window was no path, only a sheer cliff.

Doctor Ruan shuddered. For an instant, words like “mountain spirits” and “demons” flashed through his mind. But the visitors had already entered uninvited.

Three figures surrounded him. One showed his teeth in a smile—teeth blindingly white—and asked, “Would you prefer we freely toss you out this back window, or tie you up and send you out the front door?”

Doctor Ruan’s choice naturally needed no further asking.

The doctor and his medicine apprentice from the adjacent room were bound and carried down the mountain in the night, sent to a place no one could find. The remaining three changed clothes, altered their appearances, and squatted there beginning to argue.

“There’s only one medicine apprentice, so naturally I should go.” The one with very white teeth waved his fist. “My martial arts are good, my reactions fast, I can talk well…”

“Bang.”

A muffled sound, then silence.

The one who’d thrown the punch withdrew his fist and said flatly, “My fists talk better.”

The person sitting in a chair drinking tea frowned. “Nanyi, I think Helian would be better. You…”

The yellow-robed youth turned around. His flat human-skin mask suited his flat tone perfectly. “If I ruin things, I’ll kill myself.”

Zongchen said nothing more, smiling bitterly, knowing the person before him—because he was different from others—possessed an extraordinary, surpassing perseverance.

He had once buried himself in sand for five days and nights practicing martial arts, nearly suffocating to death, simply because someone had casually told him five days and nights was most effective, but forgot to tell him he could die from it.

He never thought much about consequences, only did what he set out to do.

Without worldly schemes and concerns, he also had no hesitation or retreat.

Someone like him, having sworn to protect Feng Zhiwei for life, would never voluntarily leave her.

Without waiting for Zongchen’s answer, Gu Nanyi bound and gagged Helian Zheng with Doctor Ruan’s unwashed stinking socks, stuffing him under the bed.

Then the two lay down on top of that fellow and slept comfortably—Pucheng was loose on the outside but tight within, with extensive inspections. Outside were great armies, inside were the Prince’s personal guards. It was truly the most dangerous place currently. To avoid making too big a commotion, many subordinates originally brought into Pucheng had been sent outside the city to wait. Only the most elite few remained in the city. Even so, they didn’t dare attempt having them enter the Prince’s residence, fearing they wouldn’t be enough to contend with the deeply scheming Jin Siyu and would instead alert the enemy. The most critical matters had to be handled personally to feel at ease. Both were somewhat tired, and knowing they would continue to be tired, this night would be the last peaceful sleep in Pucheng. Come tomorrow, there would be no more sleep.

Knowing this, someone still suffered insomnia, tossing and turning, scorching the bed boards. Finally Zongchen sighed. “Nanyi, she’ll be fine. You must believe in her. Everyone in the world could die, but not her easily.”

The person scorching the bed boards stopped, but didn’t speak. Near dawn, the drowsy Zongchen heard him murmur:

“You always leave me behind.”

Near dawn, a group of mountain folk came crying up the mountain carrying someone.

“Doctor Ruan!” An elder in front saw the doctor emerging with a medicine basket and rushed over. “My nephew from Ningcheng came to visit me. The very first day he was bitten by something. Please save him, you must save him…”

The young man they’d carried up had a layer of black qi on his face, his leg swollen like a winter melon.

Doctor Ruan glanced at him casually and said with displeasure, “Such a minor injury—why such urgency?” He didn’t write a prescription, just randomly pointed at some medicinal herbs around them, ordering the apprentice to gather and brew them. Before long, the swelling visibly subsided and the person awoke.

The elder expressed profuse gratitude and carried away his nephew. The doctor and apprentice were about to continue gathering herbs when a squad of guards emerged from nowhere.

“Our mistress fell suddenly ill last night. Please come with us to Pucheng, sir. You’ll be richly rewarded.”

“I won’t go!” The eccentric Doctor Ruan lived up to his reputation, rolling his eyes and completely ignoring them, turning to leave.

The guard captain waved his hand.

A group of men rushed forward, seizing and dragging him away.

“Hey, what are you doing! Let me go!” Doctor Ruan struggled desperately, cursing loudly. “You bandits! Scoundrels! Swine!”

The medicine apprentice dropped his basket with a clatter and chased after them, raising his fists in completely unpracticed wild swings. “Bandits! Scoundrels! Swine!”

Doctor Ruan cursed, “Let go! Or your whole family dies!”

The apprentice jumped up to bite. “Whole family dies!”

Doctor Ruan cursed, “Ignorant filthy cesspool maggot!”

The apprentice leaped onto someone’s back to strangle him. “Maggot!”

The guards could bear no more. While the doctor couldn’t be offended, the apprentice could be dealt with. They surrounded him for a thorough beating.

The apprentice covered his head, rolling on the ground, only able to curse, “Maggot! Maggot!”

“Beating up my apprentice—I’ll fight you to the death!” Doctor Ruan tried to rush over in a rage. Only then did the guards stop, viciously stuffing the apprentice’s mouth with rags, shouldering him, and descending the mountain. They shoved them into a carriage, heading straight for Puyuan.

After everyone had left cleanly and the cliff stood empty, someone suddenly stumbled out from the house.

Ripping out the stinking sock from his mouth, he retched toward the ground a few times. The green-robed man with copious eye discharge roared furiously at the sky.

“Just wait! This old man will definitely arrive!”

Since the great army had garrisoned in Pucheng, the city’s days had gradually grown more troubled. The Yue army had returned in great defeat, their spirits dejected and irritable. When entering the city on errands or to make purchases, they often clashed with the populace. Such incidents had never ceased since the army’s arrival. Even though their commander Jin Siyu had repeatedly issued strict orders and even executed several troublemaking soldiers, and strictly controlled the quota of soldiers stationed outside the city who could enter, such incidents still couldn’t be stopped. Jin Siyu didn’t dare press too hard—after a great victory immediately followed by crushing defeat, the huge gap had affected the soldiers’ emotions. His Majesty wouldn’t permit the army’s withdrawal, and there would be major battles again next spring. If the soldiers lost control and caused a mutiny or something, matters would truly escalate.

However, today’s incident was even more violent—several soldiers in Pucheng’s West Market tried to buy things with counterfeit silver and were discovered. The matter wasn’t originally serious—apologizing and compensating with money would have been fine. But those soldiers were arrogant and overbearing. Not only did they refuse compensation, they beat someone to death. The West Market populace and merchants surrounded them together. Other soldiers in the city immediately rushed over to support their comrades, and a huge brawl erupted. By the time the Pucheng magistrate and Jin Siyu’s guards from Puyuan arrived to handle it, the situation was out of control. Not only had many civilians and soldiers been killed or injured, even several bailiffs were hurt.

Afterward, during the tally, it was discovered that many servants from Puyuan had been making purchases at the morning market. Several had been trampled to death on the spot, and several more were missing. Ever since hosting His Majesty, Puyuan had felt short-staffed. Now it was even more critical. The original owner of Puyuan asked through intermediaries whether Prince An would allow them to hire replacement servants.

Jin Siyu was busy handling this major disturbance that had alarmed the court. Without asking much, he agreed. As he left, however, he told his own guard captain who’d come to report, “Follow the old rules.”

The guard captain acknowledged and personally took people to accompany the Puyuan steward in screening servants. These would serve His Majesty’s residence at Puyuan. Even if they couldn’t enter the inner courtyards and only served in the outer yards, they had to be selected with utmost care—examining family backgrounds, identity documents, guarantor recommendations—layer upon layer of complicated procedures.

When the guard captain arrived, a batch of household servants had already been initially selected. Each looked quite sharp, standing with lowered hands listening to instructions.

The Puyuan steward approached all smiles, rubbing his hands somewhat excitedly. “This batch of household servants are all quite good. Please examine them carefully.”

The guard captain nodded. Glancing over them, he also felt these people at least all had good spirit, and sat down in the seat of honor.

“You’ll be serving no ordinary person, but the current Great Marshal, Prince An favored by the Emperor. Even if you only serve outside the second gate, it’s a position that brings glory to your ancestors. You absolutely must be alert and careful. Learn the rules inside well before entering. Otherwise if there’s any mistake, no one can save your life…” The guard captain sat above, speaking severely. After speaking for some time, he felt thirsty and reached for tea. Immediately a tall new servant very perceptively stepped forward to present the tea.

The guard captain took it, examining this sharp servant. He felt that apart from a pair of squinting eyes that were somewhat inelegant, he was tall and dignified in appearance. Especially that particularly upright bearing looked very pleasing. He nodded with satisfaction, said a few more sentences, then stated, “Since you’ve become servants at His Highness’s side, you must follow our Prince An residence’s rules.” He waved his hand. Immediately someone brought over an iron tray with burning-red coals and a branding iron carved with characters.

“As subordinates and servants, loyalty is paramount. Once you become people of Prince An’s residence, you’re Prince An’s slaves for life—are you willing?”

“Yes!” Everyone answered in unison. That tall fellow answered especially loudly, even adding on his own, “For His Highness, through fire and water, unto death without regret!”

“Yo, even has some learning!” The guard captain smiled. “Through fire and water won’t be necessary—just a little pain of skin and flesh.”

The new servants all raised their heads, looking at the already burning-red branding iron. On it, very clearly, was the character “An.”

“This is our Prince An residence’s mark. From now on you’ll bear it on your bodies, never to be removed for life. This is your glory. However, if anyone is afraid, they can take back their contract.”

Everyone’s expressions changed. Branded like cattle and horses? Supposedly Great Yue nobility had this rule in early years, but it had been abolished as too barbaric. They hadn’t expected Prince An’s residence still retained this rule.

The guard captain silently drank tea—actually Prince An’s residence didn’t have this rule before either. This was the Prince’s newest requirement after coming to Pucheng. As for why this was required, the Prince’s thoughts weren’t for servants like them to fathom.

Silence filled the room. Everyone looked troubled. Becoming a servant made one beneath others, but at least one was human. This was treatment for cattle and horses. If they returned home and left service in the future, they could never face people for the rest of their lives.

The adjacent room’s door opened, revealing several narrow beds inside, waiting for people to enter and be branded, or voluntarily leave.

That squint-eyed tall fellow stared at the burning-red branding iron as if trying to stare flowers into it. Another silent, ordinary-featured man stared thoughtfully at that small door.

Several others hung their heads, looking at nothing, appearing resigned to whatever came.

Still, the tall fellow spoke first, suddenly laughing heartily to break the silence. “If I dare face fire and water, why fear a brand? I’ll go first!”

He very readily lifted his leg to walk through the door. The guard captain smiled with satisfaction.

That quiet man also smiled and without a word followed him.

Those who’d been looking at nothing suddenly raised their heads, opening their mouths as if to say something, but immediately gritted their teeth and followed.

With these people leading, the rest followed sparsely. Some ultimately withdrew. Watching the backs of those departing, the guard captain jerked his head. Immediately someone quietly followed them.

The dozen or so people who’d entered the small door looked at each other. The tall fellow in the lead laughed heartily. “Brand the top or bottom? You’re not going to brand my little brother, are you?”

The guard couldn’t help smiling, mocking him. “Looking at you, even wanting to be a eunuch you wouldn’t qualify. Come, drop your pants.” He pointed at his buttocks.

The tall fellow laughed heartily. “Why not brand my chest? In the future when I marry a wife, I can show my woman, and maybe she’ll feel sorry for me and kiss that spot… Tsk tsk, how wonderful. The buttocks can’t get this treatment.”

That quiet man glanced at him and suddenly smiled. “I fear that even if you brand your chest, no one would kiss it. Wouldn’t that be a waste of the brand?”

“What do you know?” The tall fellow glanced at him sideways. “My wife will be very obedient and will definitely kiss it.” As he spoke, he stripped off his pants in a few moves, exposing marble-round buttocks, honey-toned skin with lustrous sheen. With a “yo-ho,” he jumped onto the bed and slapped his own buttocks—amid the slapping sounds he said, “Come! What a waste of good flesh!”

Then he turned to mock that quiet man. “You’re not a woman—why so slow stripping!”

A man standing at the very edge who’d been staring this way suddenly looked up as if to say something upon hearing this. But seeing that quiet man, he pursed his lips and turned to pick at the wall instead.

That quiet man ignored the provocation, pressing his lips together, methodically undressing. His appearance wasn’t outstanding, but his movements were steady. His bearing held a particular charm. At first glance, nothing special, but the more one looked, the harder to look away. One felt that whatever he did looked good.

Even undressing to be branded—he did it with elegance and composure, unhurried, not like someone about to have their body humiliated but like going to parade as the top scholar.

Clothes stripped slowly would eventually be stripped completely. The tall fellow lay propped on his elbow on the adjacent bed, glancing at his body, smiling. “Thought there’d be a body of creepy-white delicate skin, but you’re quite worth looking at too.”

That man lay prone and motionless, his arm pillowing his head. His skin was fine as silk, not boring pale nor the tall fellow’s richly masculine honey tone, but close to a textured milk-white that gleamed faintly in the dim room. His body’s lines were refined and flowing, muscles full of elasticity and strength. Lying beside the tall fellow, both evoked the unique beauty of the male form.

The guard captain walked in. His eyes swept over them and brightened. He hesitated, then suddenly said, “Actually after the Battle of White Cliff, our guard corps also lost quite a few men…”

The Puyuan steward beside him immediately smiled perceptively. “Sir might as well select a few good ones.”

“Fine, though they’ll only supplement the outer guard corps.” The guard captain nodded, striding over to walk a circuit. He patted the tall fellow’s buttocks, laughing. “Get up! Come with me.”

“What?” The tall fellow covered his buttocks, shouting. “I’m willing to be branded! I want to go to Puyuan! My grandmother at home still has no money for medicine…”

“Fool, does your butt itch if not branded?” The guard captain laughed and cursed, giving him a light kick. “I’ve taken a liking to you—you’re good material. You’ll join the guard corps, no need to be a lowly servant anymore!”

“Thank the sir!” The Puyuan steward beamed.

The tall fellow was stunned for a while, then pulled on his pants and climbed up. After another dazed moment, he crawled down to kowtow to the guard captain. “Many thanks for Captain’s promotion! This humble one will definitely serve you well!”

The guard captain smiled and helped him up, then looked at that quiet man, his expression somewhat hesitant. After a long moment he said, “I think you’re not bad either. Can you do martial arts?”

That man shook his head.

“Sir has probably noticed this lad’s refined manner is different, yes?” The Puyuan steward smiled. “He comes from a scholarly family—generations of private tutors. They lived at Gao Mountain in the southern border. But his father died young, and when an academy opened at Gao Mountain, they lost their livelihood, so he came here to sell himself into service. Seeing he’s literate, I thought His Highness’s study lacks a useful servant. I wanted to bring him to show His Highness. If you want him, sir…”

“No, no.” The guard captain waved his hands repeatedly. “What use is someone who can’t do martial arts?”

With that, he took the tall fellow and left. A servant brought in the branding iron. The burning-red iron sizzled on its tray. As the tall fellow passed by, his face showed a complex expression mixing relief and regret.

The man lying on the bed turned to glance at the branding iron, then calmly turned his head away.

The iron pressed against skin with a long sizzling sound. In the rising smoke, a scorched smell instantly filled the entire room, making anyone who smelled it unable to help trembling.

Screams and howls rang out in the room. The tall fellow pricked up his ears to listen, feeling he hadn’t heard that quiet man’s groans.

Glancing around, he saw the guard captain also seemed to be listening intently to the screams. His eyes rolled, and he smiled. “Sir, which guard corps should I join? His Highness’s personal guards?”

“In your dreams!” Interrupted from continuing to listen, the guard captain rolled his eyes. “A newcomer with no achievements like you—being allowed to guard outside the second courtyard is already good!”

“Oh.” The tall fellow followed behind him somewhat disappointed, stroking his chin, a contemplative expression in his sleazy squinting eyes.

He was thinking… should I go back and get branded again…

Cuixue Studio was currently the busiest place in Puyuan—doctors coming and going in endless streams, the dumped medicine dregs nearly forming a path. And because Prince An frequently came over, sometimes resting here, security was also the most stringent.

Early in the morning, she woke amid the overwhelming medicinal fragrance, wearily opening her eyes to hear maids and matrons calling out joyfully, “Miss is awake!”

She pulled at the corners of her mouth—it counted as a smile.

These past days she slept more and more, conscious less and less, so that each time she woke, it rather grandly alarmed Jin Siyu.

The matron saw her wake and hurried off to report to Jin Siyu. She squinted her eyes and suddenly said to a maid, “Help me up. Fix my appearance.”

The maid was stunned, thinking—when did you start caring so much about looks? Before, you’d lean on His Highness’s shoulder even when filthy as a monkey. Now near death you suddenly care?

She pressed her lips without speaking. But the maid didn’t dare disobey—she always felt this woman’s silence held a certain power that couldn’t be taken lightly. Besides, this person was quite wild—she would flip tables.

Helping her up, her body slid limply downward. She struggled to support herself, her face flushing from the effort. The maid quickly added three or four large soft pillows to finally prop her up. Then she fetched cosmetics, asking, “What kind of makeup would Miss like?”

She selected some brightly colored rouge and lipstick, assuming she’d finally gotten wise and wanted to seduce His Highness before dying. But unexpectedly she pointed to several pale colors. “These.”

Those rouge and lipsticks were very soft pink. Once the makeup was applied, much of her pallid complexion was gone. Her cheeks showed a rosy glow, her lips a delicate pink. She actually no longer looked near death but rather youthful and tender, bright and flowing.

Only then did the maid understand why she hadn’t chosen bright colors. She was so weakened and pale from illness that using vivid colors would make her look false and garish. These gentle colors looked far more natural. She praised sincerely, “Miss is truly beautiful.”

She gazed at herself in the bronze mirror. The woman in the mirror was exquisitely beautiful, except for a red mark between her brows like a birthmark or blood bruise that seemed somewhat strange. Yet within that strangeness arose a kind of bewitching beauty, captivating the soul.

She slowly stroked that mark with a strange expression, then murmured as if dreaming, “Is it real? Or not?”

The maid couldn’t hear what she was saying. Turning around, she saw her smile was shallow, mingling regret, loneliness, helplessness, and determination—such complex emotions mixed together, wavering and hazy in the morning sunlight, reminding one of flowers in mist, seemingly near yet actually far in their beauty. You couldn’t reach them.

The maid held her breath. But she had already tossed aside the mirror, looking at herself, and said, “Change my clothes. I want long sleeves.”

The maid looked at her in astonishment—weren’t her clothes already long-sleeved? Didn’t those sleeves cover straight to the backs of her hands?

She lowered her eyes to look at her still-bandaged injured hands. “The wrappings make me uncomfortable. Remove them, then change to clothes with especially long sleeves. Don’t let His Highness see.”

Having said so much, she gasped for breath. The maid didn’t dare let her exhaust herself further—otherwise when His Highness discovered it, there’d be another scolding—so she could only do as she wished, first removing the injury wrappings.

Her somewhat deformed hands were revealed. She raised them before her eyes to examine carefully, without the pity a typical woman would show, only self-mockery. “Face ruined, hands destroyed, heaven and earth changed. I’m afraid even when I die, no one will recognize me.”

“How could that be?” The maid pulled down layers of sleeves to hide her hands, smiling. “Once you remember, everything will be fine.”

Her lips curved upward. She leaned against the soft pillows, trying hard to sit more properly.

Hurried footsteps approached—more than one person.

“Shaoyao.” Jin Siyu’s voice came—she insisted on being called Shaoyao, so even Jin Siyu had to address her thus. “I’ve found a good doctor for you.”

The door curtain lifted. Jin Siyu entered. Behind him followed two people.

Doctor Ruan and his medicine apprentice.

As soon as those two entered and saw her smiling at them from the bed, the apprentice immediately wavered. Doctor Ruan unobtrusively steadied him.

Jin Siyu walking in front hadn’t seen what happened behind him. He examined the renewed her with some surprise, saying with a touch of pleasure, “Your complexion is good today!”

Then said, “How did you sit up?”

She only smiled, facing Jin Siyu, not glancing at the two behind him.

Doctor Ruan stood quietly with lowered eyes, carefully sniffing the powder and perfume scents in the air. The apprentice stood stiffly, staring at her deadly for a few moments, then wrenched his gaze away with all his might.

He stood at the doorway, his hand seeming to want to grab the doorframe. Doctor Ruan glanced at him, so he immediately withdrew his hand, his fingers retreating into his own sleeves.

Gu Nanyi’s fingers dug tightly into his own palm…

At this moment his mind was complete chaos, only two words screaming madly—it’s her it’s her it’s her it’s her…

The person on the bed had her long hair loosely gathered, so thin it was pitiful, nestled in the bedding like a cloud, making one worry she might float away at any moment. Because of her thinness, her eyes seemed extraordinarily large. When those misty eyes turned slightly, he felt submerged by fog-laden tides.

He’d never seen the real her—she’d always worn two layers of masks. Removing one still left another. She protected her true face as carefully as her life. He was accustomed to Wei Zhi or the sallow-faced Feng Zhiwei. Yet at this moment, that seemingly small person on the bed—just one glance and he knew it was her.

So this was her. But which face didn’t seem to matter. Some people’s recognition and meeting were always so wondrous—wearing a thousand masks, one only saw the soul.

He didn’t dare look at her, afraid he truly couldn’t control himself and would go over as he had so many times before, lift her up and enfold her in his arms, let her hide in his eternal protection. Then just as Helian Zheng had warned, he would harm her.

He could only let his nails dig cruelly into his palm, staring fixedly at the ground. The white stone floor was very clean, vaguely reflecting her shadow—so weak, so thin, thinner than any time he’d seen her, making one worry a single beam of light would crush her.

In his daze, something came crashing like waves battering the shore, raising a thousand piles of snow, striking some solid fortress, shattering heart and flesh into fragments, all scattered and reassembled. In such heart-burning pain he nearly trembled, yet didn’t dare tremble. Again and again he thought of how she used to call him “Yu Diao’er” with a smile. At this moment he truly wished he were Yu Diao, only Yu Diao.

In an instant he understood the world’s suffering—the alarm, anxiety, worry, and fear of separation, the shock, pain, tenderness, and bitter sorrow of finally finding her yet being unable to acknowledge each other.

Just as she’d said, more painful than anything.

He bit down in silence, his palm becoming bloody pulp in the stillness.

Her gaze finally passed beyond Jin Siyu, lazily sweeping over the two of them with a glance, curling her lip in an expression of annoyed disgust. “Which doctor is this now?”

That gaze swept past, pausing slightly on the apprentice’s somewhat battered appearance, then drifting on. She lowered her eyes.

“Don’t look down on people—perhaps the Bodhisattva who’ll save your life.” Seeing her in good spirits today, Jin Siyu’s mood immediately brightened. He personally tucked her quilt corners, his movements intimate and gentle.

The apprentice looked up. She suddenly began coughing, shifting her body backward. The apprentice immediately dropped his head with a swish.

“This is my beloved concubine.” Jin Siyu turned to address Doctor Ruan. “Please do your utmost to treat her well.”

Doctor Ruan looked like someone experiencing such magnificent wealth and grandeur for the first time, thoroughly intimidated. His earlier arrogance and displeasure from the road had completely vanished. He bowed obsequiously, approaching to take her pulse.

“My little concubine went out some days ago and unfortunately fell from a frightened horse, injuring her head. Since then her memory has been somewhat confused.” Jin Siyu pointed to the scar on her forehead. “Doctor, please also look at this and see if there’s any way to restore her to normal.”

Both doctor and apprentice looked up, earnestly examining her scar.

She smiled, appearing somewhat embarrassed.

The doctor lowered his eyes, taking her pulse. His gaze suddenly focused, then he shifted his body, saying to the apprentice, “The herbs we brought can be taken out to dry. We’ll probably need them shortly.”

The apprentice pressed his lips together, his gaze drifting over the doctor’s shoulder, yet able to see nothing—blocked completely. He nodded randomly and without a word retreated outside.

Jin Siyu smiled. “Your apprentice is quite honest, Doctor.”

“He’s also a pitiful soul.” Doctor Ruan said. “As a child gathering herbs in the mountains, he also injured his brain. Some things confuse him. If he offends Your Highness, please show forbearance.”

“No matter, no matter.” Jin Siyu was in very good spirits.

The doctor lowered his eyes. His gaze flashed across her hands. The sleeves were indeed long, hiding much. But no matter what, they couldn’t deceive a doctor who held her wrist to take her pulse.

Jin Siyu’s perception was extremely keen. As soon as the doctor’s gaze fell, his eyes followed in pursuit. The doctor didn’t panic, smiling easily as he pointed to her bruised, deformed hands. “Were Madam’s hands also injured in the fall? May I examine them together?”

“If you’re capable, naturally that would be best.”

Suddenly a muffled thud came from behind. All looked over to see the apprentice holding a medicine box, standing dumbly by Klie’s bedside, bending down to rub his leg. The thud had been him colliding with Klie’s bed corner.

Seeing everyone looking over, he raised his head, pointing at Klie, saying flatly, “So scary—”

“Did it frighten you?” Jin Siyu’s expression showed relief as he smiled. “This person is indeed gravely injured. Doctor, after you’ve finished examining my wife, please also look at him.”

“As a physician, saving lives is my unshirkable duty.” Doctor Ruan immediately agreed.

“This person is a righteous man.” Jin Siyu said sincerely. “To save my concubine, mountain wolves bit through his throat. I don’t know if he’ll wake. My concubine is grateful for his kindness and had him brought here to see. Since you’ve come, Doctor, I’ll entrust his care to you as well. Your medical skills are renowned far and wide. Surely such external injuries are nothing to you.”

“Naturally I’ll do my utmost.” Doctor Ruan smiled, gently lowering her sleeve and turning to write a prescription. Over there, the apprentice Xiao Dai stood with lowered head looking at Klie. Doctor Ruan said, “Xiao Dai, the more you look the more frightened you get—why keep looking? Hurry and dry the medicine.”

The obedient apprentice Xiao Dai went out with lowered head. She reclined against pillows watching, her gaze passing beyond Jin Siyu to rest on that departing back, the corners of her lips showing a trace of cool smile.

Light knocking sounded outside the door. The Puyuan steward respectfully said from outside, “Your Highness, this batch of newly selected household servants are all kneeling outside the second gate awaiting you. Would you like to go give them instructions?”

She, who had closed her eyes in feigned sleep, suddenly opened them.

Doctor Ruan writing the prescription had his hand tremble slightly.

Jin Siyu, his back to them, thought for a moment. “No need. Have them kneel for two hours. Assign them as you see fit. Are there any particularly sharp ones?”

“This batch are all quite sharp.” The steward smiled ingratiatingly. “Captain Liu even took a liking to one and brought him away on the spot to join the guard corps outside the second gate.”

Jin Siyu made an acknowledging sound, then said, “All handled according to the rules?”

“Yes.”

Jin Siyu smiled, the smile carrying some particular meaning. She raised her eyes, gazing at that smile, her eyes glancing toward the courtyard outside.

“This batch of household servants are all quite sharp.” Jin Siyu suddenly turned to ask her, “I was thinking, when you’re a bit better, I’ll assign you a flower and bird servant to specifically raise some rare birds to cheer you up. Would you like that?”

“No.” She immediately refused. “Too noisy…”

“Then you arrange it.” Jin Siyu turned with satisfaction. “The current one in the study is too stupid. Find someone literate. Is there anyone suitable?”

“There already is one.”

“Then arrange him in the study. He can also run errands and such.” Jin Siyu stood, making as if to leave. She smiled, seeing him off.

Jin Siyu suddenly bent down, saying softly near her ear, “Be good. When you’re well I’ll take you to the capital…”

He leaned extremely close, his bent body blocking the slight form of her. From Doctor Ruan’s angle and the apprentice’s view from the window, it looked as if he were intimately kissing her forehead.

Their black hair cascaded down, ambiguously intertwining on the brocade bedding.

She didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t avoid, her eyes half-closed as if this period of consultation had already exhausted her strength, completely unaware of his intimacy.

Doctor Ruan concentrated on writing the prescription.

The apprentice lowered his head, drying the herbs.

Jin Siyu smiled as he walked out, his brocade robe’s hem brushing past the apprentice’s face.

The apprentice didn’t move. After a long while he raised his head, turning direction to take the herbs to dry on the other side of the building—that side, separated only by a wall, was where her bed stood.

He slowly spread out the herbs, then squatted in the corner. After a long time, he slowly pressed his palm against the wall.

Separated by the wall was where her back rested. Separated by the wall was her beating heart…

If he could, he wanted to smash through this wall.

If he could, he wanted to vault the wall and carry her away.

If he could, he wanted to take her from this step-by-step encircled wealthy iron prison, to continue accompanying each other freely from then on.

But he knew he couldn’t.

All sides had already been modified with countless mechanisms, countless soldiers. She was bait trapped behind layers of iron walls, waiting for the expected person to rashly rush to their death.

He wasn’t afraid of death, but couldn’t cause her death. That body couldn’t withstand any torment.

He could only squat beneath this wall corner, facing a wall, missing her.

The more he missed, the more he yearned.

Those once-taken-for-granted days and nights together—only now at this moment, so close yet unable to acknowledge each other, did he discover their incomparable preciousness.

The wind blew cold and biting.

He closed his eyes, lifting his face to the northern land’s winter wind.

Separated by a thick wall.

With his palm.

Listening.

To her.