Classmates for three years, acquainted for five—Zhang Run had never known Han Zhi was this kind of person. Selfish and cold-blooded, yet brazenly convinced of his own righteousness. He never believed he’d done anything wrong, and even when he had, he always felt he deserved forgiveness—or rather, that he would receive it.

His casual “I’m sorry,” his airy talk of “the future”—with these alone he thought he could destroy the entire Zhang family and then go on to ruin the life of another girl, one from a family well-matched to the Han clan.

He spoke so lightly of it, his mouth opening and closing as he decided someone else’s entire life. As if only his own feelings mattered, as if others weren’t even entitled to complain. Just as he’d treated Zhang Han—he hadn’t liked her when the engagement was arranged, felt no particular burden about it, and when the engagement was broken and Zhang Han hanged herself, he felt neither sorrow nor guilt.

This was the man Zhang Run had devoted himself to for four or five years, gambling away the entire Zhang family, his parents, and his younger sister.

He looked at Han Zhi with complicated emotions, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It took all his strength to force his smile not to look too strained. “You make it sound so simple. I won’t even mention your mother’s temperament and methods—when she discovered our affair, she turned around without hesitation and discussed with your father going to propose a match with my family, settling on my sister. Your father is even more immovable. Even if your future wife is tolerant and magnanimous, if one day she can’t bear it anymore and says a word or two to them, I’ll probably end up with nowhere to be buried.”

His tone now placed all the emphasis on whether his future wife would tolerate him. Han Zhi finally felt completely at ease. He’d long been certain Zhang Run would compromise—after all, they had five years of affection between them. Now the Zhang family was in this state, Zhang Run’s identity was fabricated, and where else could he go? Besides Han Zhi, who else could he rely on?

The vague notion in his heart became clearer and more resolute. He laughed lightly and picked up the rose tea beside him, taking a sip. “Ah Run, you know I never do anything I’m not confident about. Marrying is truly unavoidable—you know I’m the heir to the Marquis of Jinxiang’s estate. If I don’t marry and produce heirs, heaven and earth won’t tolerate me. But my feelings for you have never changed. Taking a wife is merely to protect you from gossip and to continue the family line.”

He’d rehearsed these words countless times in his heart, so now they flowed effortlessly in one breath. “You needn’t worry that I’ll transfer my affections elsewhere. Women are nothing more than breeding tools and ornamental facades to me. I have ways to control her completely, keep her firmly in my grasp so she can’t escape my palm. Let her stand in front of you for life.”

“You’ve always been good with words.” Zhang Run smiled, though his eyes held little emotion. “Just like when you said you’d eventually persuade your parents to find a way to break the engagement that wouldn’t hurt anyone, that wouldn’t delay my sister. But in the end you couldn’t do it. My sister wasn’t just delayed—she didn’t even get a coffin. Wrapped in a torn mat and thrown into some mass grave, who knows where.”

Han Zhi knew Zhang Run had always valued his only sister deeply. Seeing him so disheartened and dejected, he immediately panicked, grabbing his hand and protesting, “No, no—what happened to Ah Han truly was my parents’ and my fault. But every promise I’ve made to you is genuine! Otherwise why would I go to such lengths to save you and arrange for you to stay in the capital?”

Zhang Run laughed once and dropped the subject, staring into his eyes. “Then let me hear it—which family’s daughter likes you so much that she’s willing to be completely controlled by you, and still tolerate you keeping someone like me on the side?”

But Han Zhi refused to say more, vaguely deflecting. “In any case, I absolutely won’t deceive you again. Give me a few months, just a few months. When everything settles, I’ll naturally tell you myself.”

Zhang Run knew he couldn’t get anything more from him. In truth, despite everything Han Zhi had said, it was all empty air. He’d said a basketful of nice words, but not half a sentence of what should actually be said.

He always did things so carefully and cautiously, even toward the person he claimed to love most.

When Wei Yanxi came that evening, Zhang Run sat alone in the empty courtyard, his hair loose, turning back to ask him, “How did Yan Jun die?”

“He died while escorting someone to Hebei for the heir. The other party knew our route and our forces very clearly. They acted cleanly and efficiently, leaving no trace.” Wei Yanxi crouched across from Zhang Run, taking the pot to pour him a cup of wine. “Half a month ago we finally found some leads, but the other party is cunning. Our clues broke off again.”

Zhang Run frowned slightly. “But I don’t think he’s the type to mobilize such forces just for Wei Yan Jun. Is there some other hidden circumstance involved?”

If Han Zhi truly valued relationships so much, what happened to the Zhang family wouldn’t have occurred. That he spent over two years investigating Wei Yan Jun’s death with such effort seemed unbelievable.

He stared at Wei Yanxi, who looked even more desolate in the moonlight, his tone utterly sincere. “Yanxi, if even you won’t help me, there’s truly no hope for me to live.”

“It’s because of the person Yan Jun was escorting—the Eighth Miss of the Earl of Changning’s estate. She possesses something extraordinary. Both the heir and His Highness are determined to have her and value her greatly.” Wei Yanxi lowered his voice to say this, then followed with a laugh. “Such an important figure dying—you know the heir’s temperament. He won’t let it rest.”

Yes, anyone who blocked his path, he would never let go.

“Who does he suspect now?” Zhang Run looked up at Wei Yanxi, his gaze burning. “You’re at his side now—you must know something, right?”

He was weak and alone, without even a proper identity. If he showed himself, it would mean death. But he couldn’t die yet—at least not before avenging the Zhang family. Since he couldn’t act himself, he could only find the Han family’s enemies and see if he could borrow their hands to exact this blood vengeance for the Zhang family.

Han Zhi assumed everyone should be as cold-hearted as himself, and also pushed others to think they should set aside the Zhang family’s blood debt for the sake of the future and so-called affection.

Such a cold-blooded person didn’t deserve anyone’s true heart.

Wei Yanxi had been close to Han Zhi since childhood and naturally could guess his thoughts. Hearing this, he hesitated for a moment, but ultimately lowered his voice even further, almost soundlessly exhaling a single name.

Zhang Run’s gaze rested on the chess board, but his thoughts had already drifted far away. He had to find a way to meet this unfortunate young lady.