Ning Yin opened his eyes. The thin, warm light from outside the window fell on the screen, causing a slight pain.

He never thought he would have the chance to wake up again.

The last image in his memory was of him setting fire to the Regent Prince’s manor, then taking a lethal dose of Hundred Flower Poison before entering a secret chamber, and embracing Yü Lingxi’s corpse as he fell into eternal sleep…

If this were the eighteenth level of hell, there shouldn’t be such peaceful, dazzling morning light.

Reincarnation?

No. He raised his hand with distinct knuckles, examining it back and forth against the light, quickly dismissing the thought.

These were the hands of an adult, no different from the body he had before death. While the furnishings and layout of this bedchamber were slightly different, the overall structure was nearly identical to the prince’s manor.

Rustling sounds from outside interrupted Ning Yin’s thoughts. His dark eyes flashed coldly as he instinctively reached for the walking cane beside his bed, but his hand found nothing.

“Shh, keep your voice down.”

Through the hazy gauze curtains came a deliberately hushed, gentle female voice, “It’s rare for him to sleep in, don’t wake him.”

Hearing this long-absent familiar voice, the coldness in Ning Yin’s eyes instantly vanished.

He lifted the quilt and got out of bed, his bare feet touching the floor tiles. Habituated to a limp in his left leg, he put his weight unevenly, but unexpectedly almost stumbled.

He realized something was wrong—these legs were completely uninjured.

Having not experienced walking normally for a long time, Ning Yin took his next step with caution and hesitation.

Then, intrigue flickered in his eyes as his stride gradually became steady, like a long-wandering lonely soul following the light.

She had dismissed the maids and turned slightly, using a jade comb to gently brush her smooth waist-length hair. The pale golden morning light spread from the window, coating her figure in a hazy warm glow, making her as beautiful as a fragile dream.

The bronze mirror reflected his face—still the most familiar one, with dark eyes and thin lips, handsome and distinguished, yet lacking the ghostly, sickly pallor.

Yü Lingxi saw Ning Yin standing grimly behind her in the bronze mirror. Startled, she jumped slightly, turning back to exhale: “When did you wake up? You scared me.”

Her eyes were clear and bright, her soft voice sounding less like a complaint and more like affectionate teasing.

Ning Yin had never seen her so relaxed and unguarded before, so coquettish, so vibrantly lovable.

He was not naturally a timid person. Even if Lingxi hated and resent him, even if this was just a dream destined to shatter, he would grasp her without hesitation, confining her beside him until his soul turned to dust.

“This is wonderful.”

Ning Yin’s voice was deep as he reached out to touch her eyebrows and eyes.

Warm.

His knuckles paused, then followed along her cheek and the corners of her mouth downward, stopping at the side of her neck.

Beneath his fingertips, her warmth and the clear beat of her pulse were nothing like the pale, cold figure on the ice bed.

The sense of touch couldn’t lie—everything felt so real.

As if understanding something, Ning Yin laughed nervously, guessing that he must have been reborn, returning to the time when Lingxi was still alive.

“This prince has found you.”

He embraced her from behind, tightening his arms with pathological satisfaction.

…This prince?

Yü Lingxi was puzzled: Ning Yin usually referred to himself as “I” when with her, and besides, he was no longer a prince.

The tingling pain in her neck brought Yü Lingxi back to her senses. A buried memory flashed through her mind, disappearing before she could grasp it.

She finally realized that something seemed off about the person behind her.

Last night was their “first meeting anniversary” that she had arranged. Ning Yin had poured wine over her body, savoring from her hollowed collarbone to the small of her back all night long.

Could it be that he had drunk too much and was still intoxicated?

Enduring the tightness around her waist that made it hard to breathe, she reached back to touch Ning Yin’s slightly cold cheek and asked with concern: “What’s wrong, Ning Yin?”

Hearing her call his name directly, Ning Yin paused imperceptibly, slowly opening his pitch-black eyes.

In his memory, Lingxi had always cautiously called him “Prince.”

…

The place was faintly recognizable as the bedchamber of the former Prince Jing’s manor, but someone had arbitrarily remodeled it, making it extravagant and vulgar.

Wei Qi was quite disdainful of this person’s taste.

He immediately sensed something was wrong, his gaze falling back on the beauty kneeling beside him.

Freshly brewed clear tea was set on the table. Yü Lingxi knelt with her legs folded neatly beneath her skirt, her cloud-like hair tied up to reveal a slender, beautiful neck, but her head was nodding slightly, clearly exhausted.

Wei Qi remembered that when he carried her back from Xiuyun Pavilion to bathe in the hot springs last night, she was fragrant with wine, her cheeks red as rouge, already so tired she had melted into spring water. How did she have the energy to rise early and brew tea?

Moreover, her makeup and demeanor were slightly different from usual.

Wei Qi narrowed his eyes, somehow feeling that everything since waking had an inexplicable strangeness.

He stood up and casually grabbed an outer robe by the bed, intending to drape it over Yü Lingxi’s thin shoulders.

But as soon as he touched her, Yü Lingxi suddenly awoke, instinctively shrinking away.

Ning Yin’s hand froze in mid-air as he raised his eyes to look at her.

Yü Lingxi quickly realized her impropriety and relaxed her body, pressing her cheek against his fingers like a cat trying to please its master.

“The clear tea is ready, would my lord like to partake?”

She raised her coquettish eyes, still maintaining a kneeling position, her voice gentle but lacking the usual light cheerfulness.

Wei Qi watched her lowered eyelashes, the corner of his eye twitching.

What kind of game was this?

Admittedly, this cautious demeanor was indeed charming—what man could resist her obedience—but…

But Suisui should be the most radiant. How could she lower herself like this?

“If you want to play master and servant, I can occasionally revert to being Wei Qi.”

Wei Qi smiled as he got off the bed to help Yü Lingxi up. “Stand up.”

As soon as his left foot touched the ground, he felt an indescribable stabbing pain penetrate to the bone. Losing balance, he promptly supported himself against the edge of the bed.

Yü Lingxi instinctively moved to help him but was instead pulled down by his heavy body, toppling toward a nearby low cabinet.

Wei Qi’s eyes flashed as he quickly caught her by the waist. In doing so, something resting by the bed was knocked over, rolling across the floor.

Wei Qi lowered his gaze and saw a jade-handled, gold-inlaid walking cane.

His smile faded as he frowned slightly.

There it was again, that sense of familiarity.

Yü Lingxi trembled with each breath, having made too many mistakes this morning. She hurriedly picked up the cane for him, presenting it with both hands as if to atone.

Wei Qi took the cane, planting it on the ground to support his weight.

He bent down to lift the left leg of his trousers, his gaze falling on the hideous scars. In that instant, fragments of memory flashed like lightning.

He remembered now.

If Suisui had never appeared in the Realm of Desire, his leg would have ended up just like this.

Wei Qi was a clever man; with just a brief consideration, he understood the situation.

He glanced sideways at the bronze mirror, seeing his familiar yet grim self, the familiar yet strange prince’s manor, and the familiar yet strange Suisui… Everything reminded him that he had arrived in a world where catastrophe had not been averted.

“Suisui, come here.”

Wei Qi sat back on the bed, his fingertips lightly tapping the jade handle of the cane as he said in a low voice, “Tell me about my experiences over these years.”

Yü Lingxi was startled.

“Suisui” was her childhood name. Since her relatives passed away and the Yü family fell, no one had known this name for many years.

How did the Regent Prince know it, and why did he say it so… intimately and naturally?

…

Ning Yin was a guarded person who would not easily reveal weaknesses.

After two hours of observation and from fragmented conversations between Yü Lingxi and the palace maids, he had roughly understood that time had changed at some point, creating a different life.

For instance, in this world, his legs were healthy, his revenge had been successful, and he had smoothly ascended to the throne.

More importantly, in this world, Ning Yin had Lingxi in his embrace, had seen her in a fiery wedding dress, had shared intimacy with her on their wedding night, and had her whole-hearted love and trust.

The gourd-shaped rabbit sachet hanging at his waist, with its neat stitching and exquisite embroidery, constantly reminded Ning Yin of what he had once lost.

Ning Yin was jealous, insanely jealous.

Because the Ning Yin of this world possessed all the beautiful things he once could not reach.

But what did it matter? Now everything belonged to him.

Even if it meant stealing or robbing, he would never let go.

The autumn sun filtered through the leaves, scattering patches of light on the ground.

Ning Yin pulled up a chair and sat down, watching Yü Lingxi groom and dress with great interest, as if admiring a treasured possession that had been lost and found.

Even the way she tied her clothes was pleasing to the eye, her movements as graceful as a painting. Ning Yin felt mischievous and flicked a paper-knife between his fingers, cutting the sash. Her newly donned outer garment slipped down her arms, pooling like clouds.

The palace maids nearby all blushed, unsure whether to continue serving the Empress as she dressed or to close the doors and withdraw.

Yü Lingxi slapped his hand away, glaring with her beautiful eyes: “How dangerous, put that little knife away!”

The slap was soft and didn’t hurt, but Ning Yin felt as if he had been bitten by a rabbit—vivid and amusing.

“Your courage has grown.”

He smiled elegantly, his dark eyes never willing to leave her for a moment.

The more captivated he became, the more he resented the “Ning Yin” of this world. “He” had stolen his good fortune.

If possible, Ning Yin would have strangled “him” without hesitation.

Yü Lingxi didn’t notice the darkness churning in his eyes. She simply removed the outer robe with its broken sash and handed it to the palace maid, choosing instead a new apricot-red wide-sleeved garment to put on.

The gorgeous clothing wrapped around her like sunset clouds, bathed in autumn sunlight, even her hair strands shimmering brilliantly.

Ning Yin experienced a moment of bewilderment. As if trying to catch the light between his fingers, he raised his hand and called out: “Lingxi, come here.”

Yü Lingxi paused in arranging her sleeves.

She turned around and silently looked at Ning Yin for a long time, then suddenly smiled: “Yesterday was the eighth day of the eighth month, even though it was the anniversary of our first meeting, you shouldn’t have drunk so much. You’ve been acting strange since waking up this morning. Are you still drunk?”

The eighth day of the eighth month?

Ning Yin remembered this date—it was the day Yü Lingxi was sent to the prince’s manor by the Zhao family.

Having been in this world for too short a time to verify information, he could only follow along: “If this scene before me could last forever, what would it matter if I remained drunk for a thousand autumns, never to wake?”

He smiled elegantly and warmly, but his black eyes were like two unfathomable deep pools, hiding too many emotions.

Seeing he didn’t deny it, Yü Lingxi’s red lips parted slightly.

About to speak but hesitating, she finally sighed: “Shall we go for a walk, Ning Yin?”

Ning Yin instinctively reached for his cane, then remembered that this body was healthy and no longer needed such an encumbrance.

He stood up with deep satisfaction, his steps light and steady, walking toward Yü Lingxi.

His Lingxi.

…

The hidden pain in his left leg persisted, like a curse that couldn’t be shaken off.

From Yü Lingxi’s detailed and calm narration, Wei Qi learned everything that had happened in this world.

As he had guessed, during his exile in his youth, no fairy-like beautiful girl had appeared to drive away the thugs Ning Changrei had sent to torture him.

When the Realm of Desire was destroyed, no girl appeared on that snowy night to pick up his half-dead body from the snow and care for him.

There had been no days and nights spent together at the General’s Mansion, no sky lanterns on the Double Seventh Festival night at the tower, no one who had crossed thorny hardships to pull him back from hell to the human realm…

In this world, Ning Yin had lived his first eighteen years as wretchedly as a wild dog, and the next four years as hatefully as an evil ghost.

Wei Qi had no sympathy for this world’s version of himself. He was utterly terrible, bringing misfortune upon himself.

“Now tell me about you.”

Wei Qi’s eyes showed undisguised contempt, only softening slightly when he looked at Yü Lingxi. “How did the me of this place meet Suisui?”

Hearing the name “Suisui” again, Yü Lingxi grew increasingly alarmed.

According to the Regent Prince’s usual temperament, the more gentle and peaceful his expression, the more likely it concealed terrifying murderous intent…

But it didn’t quite seem like he wanted to kill anyone; it was more like he was searching for something.

Could it be that due to the assassination attempt on him last night, he had lost his memory?

Yü Lingxi suppressed her private thoughts and cautiously said: “On the eighth day of the eighth month last year, my uncle sent me to the prince’s manor. Thanks to my lord’s acceptance, I have been able to remain here to serve.”

The eighth day of the eighth month…

“Today is the anniversary of our first meeting.”

“That’s right, it’s today.”

Yü Lingxi’s gentle, confident words from last night in front of Prince Jing’s manor still echoed in his ears, brushing away the dust of memory.

Wei Qi’s voice deepened: “On the night Suisui first met me, were you wearing a crimson dress with peach blossom makeup?”

Hmm, so he hadn’t lost his memory?

Yü Lingxi nodded: “Yes.”

She paused: “Last night was the first anniversary of my lord and I meeting.”

A thought surfaced in Wei Qi’s mind, causing his pupils to contract slightly.

Was it a coincidence?

Why would Suisui know what had happened in this world and remember the time of meeting in this world?

Unless she had experienced all of this.

The Suisui who saved him in the Realm of Desire had been reborn from fire; while this cautious beauty before him was what Suisui had once been.

The former was a cripple with a broken leg, a despicable person.

“Have I not treated you well?” Wei Qi asked.

Yü Lingxi paused in mixing perfume, quickly averting her gaze and putting on her habitual smile: “My lord provides me with food and shelter, and my clothes and jewelry are of the highest quality. You have treated me extremely well.”

“You’re lying.”

Looking at her visibly tense posture, Wei Qi seemed to suddenly realize, saying softly, “You fear me.”

Unraveling thread by thread, all the deliberately overlooked details now had explanations.

“I had a dream.”

So it wasn’t a dream after all.

“I dreamed that I died because of this, leaving you all alone in the world.”

So he hadn’t protected Suisui.

Wei Qi now understood why Suisui had shown such fear in her eyes when she saw him in the Realm of Desire; why she had been so resistant and distant when he pretended to be harmless and pitiful to infiltrate the General’s Mansion…

Because she had lived through a life of bitter pain. She feared him.

Yet even so, when Suisui first encountered him in his fallen state, she only wanted to stay far away from him, never taking the opportunity to harm or seek revenge…

He had once pushed Suisui into purgatory, but Suisui had pulled him back to the human realm.

What a fool.

Wei Qi raised his pale fingers, treasuring the touch as he caressed Yü Lingxi’s bewildered eyes, then chuckled softly: “Such a fool.”

So foolish that he almost wanted to personally kill that hateful “him.”