Their brief kiss, like tracing something fragile and precious, carried an added sense of cherishing.

Yu Lingxi didn’t move.

That deep “precious” made her breath catch in her chest, filling it painfully.

In her previous life, she had no family, and no one had ever spoken sweet words to her—she lived alone and died alone.

In this life, her family was intact, friends and relatives were all well. Someone risked their life to protect her, yet she still felt this pain.

Throughout the day, Yu Lingxi had wanted to ask Ning Yin several times: “Have you ever considered that life could be less difficult?”

She didn’t ask because she knew Ning Yin had never considered it, truly never had.

He placed his own life at the very end, never letting go of what he believed in even if it meant death…

Even though he knew that if the Yu family complied with the Emperor’s marriage decree—if he just stayed far away from Yu Lingxi—he could avoid so many troubles.

Noticing her distraction, Ning Yin lifted his hand from the water and slightly opened his arms: “Come here.”

Rather than words, he always relied more on actions.

Yu Lingxi obediently sat on the bed, took a clean cloth, pulled down Ning Yin’s arm, and bandaged his cut palm.

The flame danced quietly behind the gauze lampshade, while they tacitly avoided mentioning what had just happened.

“The night is late, yet this bed hasn’t been warmed,” Ning Yin suggested leisurely after a long while.

She suppressed the sourness in her nose and said softly: “When you bathe, remember not to get the wound wet.”

Ning Yin’s hand, wrapped in plain white cloth, rested on his knee as he leaned closer: “My memory isn’t very good unless my precious pet maid personally serves and supervises.”

Yu Lingxi gave him a small glare with moist eyes, but finally kicked off her embroidered shoes and climbed onto the bed wearing only plain white silk stockings, lying down with her back to Ning Yin on the innermost side of the bed.

She feared Ning Yin would see the emotions about to overflow in her eyes.

The August night still retained its summer heat, and the jade mat for cooling hadn’t been removed yet—where was the need for someone to warm the bed?

It was just an excuse to coax her to sleep.

Yu Lingxi deliberately indulged him, not exposing Ning Yin’s little scheme, and obediently, slowly closed her eyelashes.

Ning Yin watched over her sleeping face, sitting on the edge of the bed for a long time.

His precious Suisui was timid; she shouldn’t have her eyes sullied by dirty blood.

Ning Yin casually tapped his index finger, lowering his eyes with affection.

Only when her breathing gradually became deep and even did Ning Yin lean forward and gently press behind a hanging painting at the head of the bed.

With the faint sound of a mechanism turning, the wall rotated open, revealing a tiny secret chamber prepared in advance.

The bed gently receded into the secret chamber, then the wall closed again, perfectly restored.

Ning Yin pulled up a chair to sit down, his cold black eyes gazing out at the night-shrouded window as if waiting for something, leisurely brewing himself a pot of tea.

……

The speeding carriage stopped at an abandoned temple in the suburbs, where people were already waiting.

Zhe Ji lifted the carriage curtain; inside were two men with bare upper bodies, their fists cupped in salute, bandages wrapped around their chests to stop bleeding.

Zhe Ji threw two bundles to them, saying in a low voice: “Inside are your new identities and waist tokens, along with travel permits. Be careful.”

The two men acknowledged with a “yes,” quickly changed into the military uniforms of the capital garrison, and descended from the carriage one after another, blending into the waiting crowd.

Zhe Ji watched them leave before untying the horse’s reins, taking out a prepared jar of wine from the carriage, and pouring the alcohol over the carriage before lighting a fire.

As flames shot up, Zhe Ji pushed the burning carriage into the deep ravine at the foot of Yanwang Mountain, erasing all traces.

He stood in the midnight’s blue-black mist holding the horse, his gaze directed toward the capital city, tall and silent.

The long night was ending, but the bloody storm would not cease—everything was just beginning.

……

Yu Lingxi was sleeping very lightly due to her extreme concern for Ning Yin’s situation.

Thus, as soon as Ning Yin activated the mechanism to hide her in the secret chamber, she awoke.

She pretended well, not letting Ning Yin notice. Only when the secret chamber wall closed once more and all around was quiet did she dare to open her eyes in the dim light.

For a long period of silence, she overcame her fear of the secret chamber, forcing herself not to fall asleep.

Then a very faint buzzing sound broke the stillness as if something had been nailed to the wall connecting the secret chamber and the main room.

Yu Lingxi pricked up her ears and soon heard the sounds of fighting.

She quietly sat up and looked toward the wall, where the extremely soft pattering sounds made her heart pound with fear.

What was Ning Yin doing?

What was he facing alone?

After the initial panic, Yu Lingxi quickly understood what was happening.

If someone wanted to clip Ning Yin’s wings and remove his claws and fangs, forcing him to kill two confidants wasn’t enough. Those people would certainly return to test whether Ning Yin truly had no advisors or faction members protecting him.

And the best way to test this was an unexpected assassination attempt.

Ning Yin could only endure, keep enduring, until the other side completely dispelled their suspicions…

Helplessness and heartache in the darkness surged like a tide; Yu Lingxi’s fingertips grew cold as she bit her lip, not daring to make even the slightest sound.

After an unknown amount of time, the vague sounds outside stopped, but the secret chamber wall did not open again.

Outside was an eerie silence that made one shudder.

Yu Lingxi sat for a while longer, but her worry became too intense. She finally got down from the bed barefoot and carefully walked to the wall, finding two small ventilation holes behind the bookshelf at the edge.

She pressed her face against the wall and looked through the small holes, only to see the room in complete disarray, with several feathered arrows stuck haphazardly in the floor.

A large patch of crimson spread across Ning Yin’s back, and from the center of the expanding bloodstain protruded the cold tip of a blade.

A dagger thin as autumn water had pierced through his left shoulder from front to back, just one inch away from his heart and lungs.

Yu Lingxi’s heart felt as if it had been stabbed too, blood flowing profusely.

She finally understood why the Ning Yin of her previous life had so many faint old scars on his body, any one of which could have taken half the life of an ordinary person.

Outside, Ning Yin gripped the dagger with one hand, and Yu Lingxi watched helplessly as the blade tip disappeared from his body, withdrawn, bringing forth a gush of fresh blood that splashed on the ground like a blazing spray of blood plum blossoms.

Ning Yin didn’t even grunt, numbly and expertly biting the bandage with his teeth to dress the wound.

He kicked the soiled clothes into a corner to hide them, then walked behind the screen with his bare, cold-white, powerful form to change into new clothes.

When he turned around, Yu Lingxi saw his face—cold, pale, without a trace of color.

Her throat choked, but she quickly bit her lip and swallowed back her trembling breath.

Yu Lingxi couldn’t even go out to embrace Ning Yin, to apply medicine and bandage him.

She didn’t know what other dangers were watching Ning Yin, eyeing him covetously. All she could do was hide in this tiny space, not adding to his troubles.

Ning Yin’s path was too dangerous, too difficult; one more burden by his side meant one more danger. If it were discovered that he had pledged himself to General Yu’s youngest daughter…

Yu Lingxi dared not think of it.

Warm light shone through the bean-sized hole, falling on her wet, reddened eyes.

She raised her hand in a daze, feeling the wetness on her fingers.

Outside, Ning Yin had probably freshened up briefly, entering with a body full of dampness.

His hair tips dripped with cold water, making his handsome, cold features appear ghostly pale, unlike an ordinary person.

He opened the window and threw a piece of incense into the beast-shaped censer, and a milky white strand of fragrant smoke spiraled up, covering the room’s bloody smell.

Then he pulled open a drawer of the low cabinet beside the bed, took out items like wool felt and wax, sat by the incense burner, and diligently polished some objects.

The visible range through the peephole was too small; Yu Lingxi couldn’t see clearly what object he held, only guessing it must be something extremely important and precious.

Because Ning Yin’s movements were so gentle and detailed, his pale profile was almost reverent.

Until the incense in the beast censer gradually dissipated and the bloody smell on his body had mostly faded, he finally satisfactorily put away the finely carved, shiny object in his hand and rose to walk toward the secret chamber.

Yu Lingxi hurriedly wiped her wet, reddened eyes and returned to lie down on the bed.

Almost simultaneously, the secret chamber door was twisted open, light poured in, and a tall shadow gently enveloped the beauty lying on her side on the bed.

The door closed again, and Ning Yin lay down, carefully encircling Yu Lingxi’s waist.

The same forceful posture as in her previous life, holding her entirely in his embrace.

Yu Lingxi’s thinly clothed back touched Ning Yin’s chest, and she instantly trembled, tears seeping from her tightly closed eyelashes into her hair at the temples.

Ning Yin’s body was too cold, too cold, almost without the warmth of a living person.

Yu Lingxi recalled his trembling in her previous life when his leg condition relapsed, his teeth chattering, freezing her heart painfully.

Ning Yin was truly severely injured and extremely tired, as he didn’t even notice Yu Lingxi’s momentarily rigid body.

“I seem to understand a bit of what the young lady meant by ‘staying together even in death,'” he said, his slightly cool breath brushing her ear, very low and hoarse, referring to the argument on the night of his brother’s wedding. “Look at us lying here, isn’t it like being buried together after death?”

Then he immediately denied it himself, chuckling lightly: “The young lady won’t die.”

After another moment.

He closed his eyes, his nose tip nuzzling Yu Lingxi’s soft hair, his voice lowering: “Rest well, Suisui.”

Yu Lingxi couldn’t sleep and opened her eyes.

She waited until the breathing by her ear deepened, then very gently, bit by bit, turned around—

This movement, which she had done too many times in her previous life when accompanying Ning Yin to bed during his leg pain attacks, was familiar enough to make it both light and steady. Only then, did she feel fear, while now, there was only aching pain.

“I don’t want to die with you; I want to live with you,” Yu Lingxi said softly in her heart. “Live gloriously.”

In the darkness, she could only see Ning Yin’s outline unclearly. Yu Lingxi nestled closer, using her body heat to warm him.

She didn’t know how many more times Ning Yin would be suppressed, how many more times he would be injured before that day came.

If she hadn’t awakened from her light sleep tonight, Ning Yin would probably never have let her know about these life-threatening dangers.

Even in death, he wouldn’t let her know.

All along, Yu Lingxi had been thinking about what Ning Yin could do for the Yu family but rarely thought about what she could do for Ning Yin.

She had harbored wishful thinking, hoping for a perfect solution, unwilling to part with Ning Yin while also unable to let go of her family.

But she knew clearly that this was no different from drinking poisonous wine to quench thirst.

The temporary relief gained from avoiding the bestowed marriage was merely distributing the pressure and danger to her father, brothers, and Ning Yin.

Court matters were treacherous at every step; in his previous life, Ning Yin had been unencumbered, which allowed him to act so recklessly.

Outside, the faint sound of a rooster crowing indicated dawn had arrived.

Yu Lingxi very carefully lifted Ning Yin’s arm, tucked his slightly cool, strong hand into the thin blanket to warm it, and meticulously tucked in the corners of the blanket for him.

Then she slowly sat up and stepped onto the cold floor tiles to get off the bed.

She felt around the wall for a while, found the inconspicuous small square, and pressed it gently. The secret chamber door opened again.

She looked back; the pale blue-white early morning light fell on Ning Yin’s sleeping face, quiet and vulnerable.

The half-open wardrobe was filled with beautiful, exquisite dresses; this day was a sweetness she had stolen.

Yu Lingxi suddenly felt somewhat sad; she thought she should leave a letter for Ning Yin, but couldn’t find paper or ink.

Most of the furniture in the room had been destroyed, except for the bronze mirror still neatly placed on the dressing table. She wondered if there would be another opportunity to pin up Ning Yin’s hair with a hairpin.

Just as she was thinking this, a pale, handsome face appeared in the mirror.

Yu Lingxi’s fingertips trembled as she turned back in surprise.

She saw that Ning Yin had awakened at some unknown time and was leaning against the secret chamber doorway in his robe, looking at her with deep, ink-black eyes.

His face was so white that it made his pupils and hair color appear even more intensely black.

“Suisui is up so early; where are you planning to go?” Ning Yin asked with a smile.