A black shadow stood silently on the rooftop in the night, as crowds of people passed beneath his feet. The elderly post station supervisor, young servants, loud-voiced maids, and weary travelers with heavy footsteps.

All kinds of sounds drifted up—laughter, greetings, playful curses, and noisy chatter. All the people and sounds were far from him, except for the long sword he held in his arms. With its black scabbard and snow-white blade, it emanated a cold gleam no matter the time or place.

Two figures gradually approached the post station. A young woman in red gauze held the sleeve of a young man, chattering endlessly as if immune to fatigue, while the young man smiled and listened attentively.

They reached the station gate, exchanged greetings with the elderly supervisor guarding the door, and entered the courtyard.

The young woman’s laughter became clearer—her voice bright and crisp, the kind that was hard to find annoying.

“Brother Xiao,” she called repeatedly, as if afraid he wasn’t listening, “Brother Xiao, I didn’t knock over a single medicine pot today, and Aunt Liu praised me!”

The young man in bamboo-green clothes smiled at her: “Really? Cangcang, that’s impressive.”

The young woman made a face: “I know you’re laughing at me. I’ll do even better tomorrow, just watch!”

They continued talking and laughing as they crossed the small courtyard.

As they approached the main hall, the young man’s steps faltered slightly, and he raised his head in a seemingly casual manner.

Their gazes didn’t meet—the night in the main hall of the Lu Prefecture post station was a murky pure black.

The young man lowered his head, continuing to joke with the young woman: “Mm, I’ll be watching carefully.”

“What? What do you mean? You think I definitely can’t do it?” the young woman shouted angrily. “I absolutely will do well! Ah, this is infuriating!”

They passed through the main hall, their figures disappearing into the dim lamplight of the guest rooms.

On the roof of the main hall, the black shadow moved slightly. Like countless times before executing a mission, he slowly sat down on the broad roof, then gripped his sword tightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the blade.

The half-moon gradually rose to its zenith, and the noise in the courtyard began to die down. Sounds started to disappear—first the servants’ complaints, then the travelers’ chatter from the guest rooms, followed by the creaking of locks and closing doors, until finally, except for occasional distant dog barks and autumn insects’ chirping, only the faint whimper of the night wind remained.

The irregular rhythm of his fingertips gradually became ordered, matching a subtle cadence—it was the mournful low hum of a bloodthirsty famous sword. Only in the dead of night, when all was silent and the consumed souls began to stir and howl, would it break through its icy restraints and flow along the sword’s cold qi-like water, drifting into the wielder’s body.

When the sword qi reached its peak, the finger that had been tapping out its song-like rhythm stopped.

The moon’s gentle silver light seemed to be suddenly obscured as overwhelming cold light poured down, stirring up countless dark shadowy figures, as if innumerable violent, crying wronged spirits were surging down together. The world was filled with only blood-thick killing intent.

The dark and cruel light instantly converged into a snow-white sword light—after the ultimate cruelty and ultimate bloodthirst came to an ultimate coldness clearer than moonlight.

Three feet without splendor, three lifetimes of blood washing, not to emerge for ten thousand gold, only to return for killing.

With a “ding,” the snow-white light that could almost pierce through the netherworld met a gentle, moderate cyan light.

As their weapons crossed, two young faces were illuminated.

A dense series of tiny clinks rang out, like a distant breeze carelessly stirring lonely wind chimes under the eaves, scattered and melodious.

Along with this almost tender sound, sword qi that could shred brocade and split skin spread out in waves, as the swords crossed again and again, killing intent crisscrossing through the air.

A window in the courtyard suddenly opened.

“Brother Xiao,” a girl called with slight urgency, “where are you?”

Flipping once in the air, the black shadow retreated, sheathing his long sword.

The cyan short sword, its light so mild it was almost ordinary, flashed once before being withdrawn into a sleeve.

“Who are you?” The girl, who had jumped directly from the window into the courtyard wearing only her middle garments, unabashedly looked the person standing in the shadows up and down.

The handsome young man in black clothes gave a soft laugh, but didn’t look at her, instead facing the young man standing to the side: “Though I dislike crossing swords with an exhausted opponent, assassins always prefer to find their target when they’re nearly burned out.”

He pulled up a lazy smile at the corner of his mouth: “Next time we meet, I might be executing a mission.”

After saying this, his figure rose and disappeared into the night.

“How bizarre.” Cangcang stuck out her tongue at his retreating figure. She smiled as she looked at the young man standing beside her, only then noticing something wrong with his posture. She froze suddenly, her gaze falling on his right hand pressing against his left arm.

Streams of red blood were flowing from between his pale fingers, dripping onto the ground. Half the sleeve of his cyan clothes was covered in mottled bloodstains.

“It’s nothing, just a flesh wound.” Noticing her gaze, Xiao Huan smiled and coughed twice. “Why aren’t you asleep so late?”

“I was scared awake by a nightmare and wanted to find you in your room, but you weren’t there,” Cangcang answered in a daze, vaguely remembering that nightmare: she had been running through white mist, running until she was breathless, but could never see that figure.

“It’s cold at night, remember to wear an outer garment next time you come out.” After this reminder, Xiao Huan coughed twice more. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, coughing so hard he bent over while pressing his injured arm.

Strangely, she had no thought of mocking him for losing the fight or being weak. Perhaps remembering the phrase “burned out,” Cangcang’s nose suddenly stung. She reached out with her not-very-long arms and embraced him, including his arm, dragging him toward the room: “You’re sick, I’ll find a doctor.”

Still forced to cough continuously by the cold surging in his chest, Xiao Huan felt somewhat disheveled being dragged like this, and smiled: “Cangcang… there’s no need…”

“Stop talking!” Cangcang wouldn’t let go of him, half-dragging, half-pulling him toward the room.

Xiao Huan had no choice but to let her pull him into the room, where she pressed him to lie down on the bed. He was still coughing continuously as Cangcang hurriedly lit a lamp, poured a cup of tea from the table, and brought it to his lips to help him drink.

As soon as the tea entered his mouth, it was coughed back out, water splashing onto his clothes and blurring the bloodstains into patches.

Cangcang didn’t understand how a perfectly fine person could suddenly be coughing so hard he couldn’t even drink water. After a moment’s bewilderment, her eyes reddened, and she stood up to leave: “I’ll go find a doctor…”

Without time to explain that cold water would only worsen his condition, Xiao Huan could only grab her sleeve: “I… am a doctor…”

Cangcang stopped, seeming to remember something, and hurriedly turned back to press her hand against the wound on his arm: “Don’t move, you’re bleeding.”

He had experienced many attacks more severe than this one, but Xiao Huan had never felt so flustered before. He could only smile somewhat helplessly: “Don’t be afraid… it’ll be better soon…”

Though she nodded quickly, Cangcang felt her palm gradually becoming warm and wet with blood seeping from the wound. She suddenly startled, remembering she always carried medicine with her and jumped up: “I’ll go get medicine to bandage your wound!”

She ran quickly back to her room to fetch the medicine and then began examining the wound on Xiao Huan’s arm. It wasn’t serious, just rather deep, which was why it had bled so much. After applying the medicine, the bleeding gradually stopped.

Taking care as she treated his wound, Cangcang thought about the methods she’d learned recently and managed to bandage it quite properly.

Xiao Huan had kept his eyes closed, regulating his breathing, and his coughing had improved considerably. When she finished, he opened his eyes and smiled: “Cangcang… thank you.”

Cangcang let out a breath, beginning to find her earlier panic somewhat amusing. She nodded while looking at him and placed her hand on his forehead.

It didn’t feel hot to the touch, but rather cold and clammy—he was covered in cold sweat, with drops that had already slid down his forehead onto the soft pillow he was leaning against.

“Beautiful things do get sick easily.” After making this serious conclusion, she nodded seriously again. “You’re the doctor, so tell me what to do?”

Xiao Huan hadn’t expected her to still bring up this point, and after coughing out another bout of cold air, he closed his eyes briefly, finally catching his breath: “No hurry, once this spell passes… I’ll be fine.”

Cangcang made an “oh” sound. She fiddled with his clothes and blanket for a while, then climbed onto the bed.

“Cangcang?” Xiao Huan asked with some surprise between coughs.

Cangcang naturally pulled up the covers over both of them: “Oh my, I’m freezing to death.” She hugged Xiao Huan’s body. “When I was sick, you held me while I slept. Now that you’re sick, it’s my turn to hold you.” As she spoke, she patted Xiao Huan’s shoulder in an imitation of his manner. “Sleep well.”

After saying this, she curled her legs and pressed her body close to Xiao Huan’s. Perhaps because she was cold, her body was trembling slightly.

Xiao Huan paused, then finally smiled and nodded. He was truly tired and closed his eyes without speaking further.

His thin lips, still occasionally releasing coughs, suddenly felt something soft and warm. Xiao Huan’s eyes flew open to see a pair of large eyes very close to his. In the dim candlelight, those eyes held a faint sheen of moisture.

“Cang—” He had barely uttered one syllable when Cangcang’s head lowered again.

This kiss was deeper. His lips were very cool, with a taste like mint leaves when touched. Cangcang didn’t know if she was still breathing, only knowing to slowly and carefully deepen the kiss, drawing in and memorizing his taste.

Turning her head away, Cangcang caught her breath, hearing his rapid breathing too, interspersed with light coughs.

This wasn’t right, was it? Kissing him when he was sick? But hadn’t he responded too? In that moment when they’d floated to the clouds.

Unable to help herself, Cangcang laughed and buried her head in the crook of his shoulder.

Neither spoke for a while, then Cangcang mumbled: “Brother Xiao, your clothes, shall I help you take them off?”

The light coughing paused, and Xiao Huan froze: “Cangcang… what did you say?”

“Your outer clothes, you haven’t taken them off yet, right?” Cangcang was somewhat more clear-headed now as she raised her head. “Isn’t it uncomfortable to sleep in them? Would you like me to help you take them off?” Her face suddenly grew hot—she hadn’t said anything strange, had she?

Xiao Huan paused for a moment: “Alright.”

This time it was Cangcang’s turn to freeze: “Brother Xiao, you agreed?”

“Didn’t you say… it’s uncomfortable to sleep in outer clothes?” He answered between light coughs, amusement in his voice. “What else would it be?”

“Oh.” Her face completely red now, Cangcang didn’t dare say more, just nodded repeatedly in embarrassment.

Dawn broke, and the white daylight from outside gradually spilled onto the cyan brick floor of the room. Propping up her head, Cangcang’s gaze swept across the somewhat unfamiliar furnishings, the cyan clothes hanging at the head of the bed, the scattered bloodstains on the bedding beside her, and she finally became a bit more clear-headed.

Last night she’d had a nightmare, ran out in the middle of the night to find Xiao Huan, then found him fighting with a rather good-looking assassin in the courtyard. Then the assassin ran away, and Xiao Huan’s arm was injured, after which she got him into the room, and finally climbed into his bed and slept holding him… Though, vaguely, it seemed… something else had happened too…

She turned her gaze to the pillow beside her, looking at the person so close to her.

His eyes were closed, long eyelashes casting fan-shaped shadows beneath his eyelids. His complexion was somewhat pale, more like white jade than usual. On that face, two drops of blood had accidentally splashed there—very small, the color not jarring, as if they could just stay there without being wiped away. His hair, which she had helped him untie last night, was like flowing river water, some spread across the brocade pillow, some scattered over his pure white undergarments.

The word Cangcang often used to describe him slowly bubbled up in her mind: pretty. Now she considered changing that word to: beautiful.

A beautiful man—just hearing it sounded sinful.

But if this man was hers, then it would be alright, wouldn’t it?

Yes, if he belonged to her, then no matter how beautiful he was, it wouldn’t matter. After all, no one else could steal him away…

Those beautifully shaped eyelashes fluttered, then revealed a pair of very black eyes, absolutely pure black, like the purest black jewels without a single flaw, like perfect… like the kind of perfection that shouldn’t exist in this world.

These perfect eyes flickered, then something bright welled up from that pure blackness, and Cangcang instinctively wanted to close her eyes.

Too bright—this kind of light was so bright that if you looked at it too long, you would surely cry.

“Cangcang?” His voice sounded, very gentle and deep, like a whisper in her ear, making even her ears tingle.

“Cangcang?” He called again, his black eyes containing not just bright laughter but something else too. He raised his hand to her forehead. “Do you have a fever? Why is your face so red?”

The cool temperature of his hand awakened her nerves, and Cangcang suddenly jumped up.

The not-very-sturdy bed in the poststation couldn’t withstand her jumping force, making a series of loud creaking sounds.

Holding her head where it had hit the bed beam, Cangcang stared blankly at Xiao Huan, who had half-raised himself and was looking at her in surprise.

As suddenly as she had jumped up, she abruptly flipped over and pressed down on Xiao Huan’s shoulders: “Brother Xiao, let’s get married!” She blurted out as if making a vow. “Didn’t we already do that thing last night? Even though you didn’t say I need to take responsibility, since we’ve already done that thing, we should still get married. We have a marriage agreement anyway, we’ll have to marry sooner or later. I’m telling you in advance, I won’t look for other men, so you’re not allowed to have three wives and four concubines either, even if you are the emperor. If you dare find someone else, I won’t let you off!”

Confused for a moment, Xiao Huan burst out laughing: “Cangcang, we didn’t… do that…”

“Eh?” Cangcang blinked her still not-quite-awake large eyes. “What exactly is ‘that thing’ anyway?”

Cangcang hadn’t expected Xiao Huan to start “recuperating.” She’d thought he would get up the next day and probably immediately go back to busying himself with all those matters that had seemed so important just moments ago that he wouldn’t let them go even if they killed him.

Who knew that though he got up in the morning looking quite spirited, he would instead instruct Cangcang to go to the medical hall to explain that he wasn’t feeling well, then very contentedly begin “recuperating” lazily at the post station.

Since he wasn’t going, Cangcang couldn’t be bothered to help at the medical hall either.

Xiao Huan sat in the room leisurely arranging chess pieces while looking at a go manual, while she crouched beside the table, munching on roasted chestnuts and drinking from the steaming pot of tribute chrysanthemum tea.

When Cangcang had stuffed herself with a large bag of roasted chestnuts and most of the pot of tea, nearly to the point of hiccuping, Xiao Huan suddenly spoke: “Cangcang, go back to the capital.”

“Hm?” Cangcang turned her head, her gaze wandering, not yet understanding.

Xiao Huan smiled. His gaze was very gentle: “Go back to the capital, Cangcang, go back and wait for me there.”

Cangcang finally heard clearly and looked at him with confused eyes: “Why do you want me to go back? Aren’t you going back?”

“I’ll return soon too. I hope you can go back first and wait for me.” He continued smiling, his lips curved gently. “I promise you those things.”

“Promise me what?” Cangcang seemed to suddenly understand. “Ah! You want to send me away so you can stay here and play by yourself. You’re too crafty!”

Xiao Huan smiled, put down the go manual in his hand, stood up, and walked to her, gently stroking her hair: “Be good, Cangcang.”

Cangcang still didn’t understand why he would say this, but she vaguely sensed that he wanted her to return to the capital alone.

“You’re being ridiculous!” She threw down these angry words, brushed away Xiao Huan’s hand, and stomped out of the room.

After a moment of silence, a figure nimbly climbed in through the open window. That person walked in unhurriedly, sat down at the table, poured himself a cup of tea, and smiled: “Since parting, I recall our meeting, how many times in dreams have I been with you.”

Taking a breath, Xiao Huan also sat at the table: “Dreams enter the misty waterways of Jiangnan, traversing all of Jiangnan, yet never meeting the one I left behind.” He smiled, “Have you been well since we last met?”

That person laughed heartily but asked: “What were those things you were going to promise that young lady just now?”

The string of words from this morning that he couldn’t even get a word in edgewise flashed briefly through his mind, and Xiao Huan took another breath: “Some things that should be promised.” He looked up with a polite smile. “Brother Xu’s sudden visit—may I ask what brings you here?”

The young man in white across the table looked at him too, gradually narrowing his sharp phoenix eyes. After a long while, he finally laughed: “I’ve never known whether you truly considered me a friend. Our brotherhood sworn over wine seems as thin as that cup of wine itself. If our friendship is only as thin as a cup of wine, I don’t know why I would still walk into this room and sit here today!”

After that cup of wine, ties were severed, and the next meeting would be as enemies facing each other in battle.

Xiao Huan’s gaze gradually grew serious, and that trace of a polite but distant smile at the corner of his mouth gradually disappeared, leaving only solemnity on his face.

He suddenly smiled again, putting his arm on the table, palm open: “Through wind and rain together.”

A hearty laugh rang out as a strong hand gripped his: “Through wind and rain together!”

With equally spirited smiling faces reflecting each other, Xu Lai slapped Xiao Huan’s arm hanging at his side: “Shall we go drinking again tonight?”

Smiling wryly, Xiao Huan pointed to his arm: “There’s a sword wound here.”

Xu Lai froze, then laughed heartily again: “There’s a swordsman in this world who could wound you? I must bow in worship to him!”

“It is rather embarrassing.” Sighing helplessly, Xiao Huan joined in his laughter.