As Li Shuang returned to the general’s mansion, Jin’an had already been settled in. The Grand General had arranged for him to stay in a small courtyard farthest from Li Shuang’s quarters. That evening, when Li Shuang dined with her family, the Grand General didn’t invite Jin’an to join them.
On the first night back home, the host not entertaining a guest… The Grand General’s intentions couldn’t have been clearer.
Li Shuang understood and didn’t cause trouble for her father. She quietly finished her meal and retired to her room without asking a single question about Jin’an.
The Grand General had indulged her willfulness before, but now it was time for her to regain her sense of reason. Yet, as night fell and she was alone, Li Shuang couldn’t help but worry about Jin’an at the other end of the mansion. How was his health? Would the Jade Silkworm Gu become agitated again now that he was far from her?
After washing up, her long hair still damp, Li Shuang opened the window. She rested her head on her arms, gazing silently at the moon in the night sky. The moon hung low in the direction of Jin’an’s courtyard, making it unclear whether she was looking at the celestial body or the shadows of bamboo in the small yard below.
Recalling her conversation with Sima Yang earlier that day, Li Shuang let out a soft sigh. Her warm breath mingled with the cool spring night air, disappearing into the darkness. The courtyard was quiet save for the gentle chirping of spring insects. Li Shuang didn’t notice anything unusual, unaware that Jin’an was sitting silently on the roof tiles above her, taking in every sound of her sigh.
The moonlight was beautiful, but Li Shuang remained silent. After sitting there for who knows how long, perhaps until her hair had finally dried, she got up to close the window and went to sleep. Jin’an, however, remained motionless on the roof.
Only when the sound of steady breathing came from inside did Jin’an flip down from the roof? Just as he had done many nights in the Northern frontier, he entered Li Shuang’s room with light steps, disturbing no one, not even Li Shuang herself.
Approaching her bedside, he gazed at the peacefully sleeping figure. Unlike the usual fascination and intoxication in his dark eyes, there was now a hint of scrutiny. He drew closer, looking at her as if she were both an enemy and prey. His black pupils gleamed in the night like a Northern hawk’s.
His fingers twitched, but ultimately, he did nothing. He simply drew nearer, as if drawn to her, unable to stay away. It wasn’t that he couldn’t leave; he didn’t want to…
As he leaned in too close, their breaths intermingling, Li Shuang’s eyelashes fluttered. Jin’an snapped back to his senses! In a flash, by the time Li Shuang opened her eyes, he had vanished, leaving only the wide-open window as evidence of his hasty retreat.
Li Shuang merely glanced at the window before turning her back, pretending nothing had happened, and closed her eyes once more.
The next day, at the imperial villa on the outskirts of the capital, the Emperor held a banquet to entertain the Western Rong envoys, celebrating the newfound peace between the two countries. At the table, cups clinked and everyone wore smiles, though how much calculation lay behind those smiles remained unknown.
Li Shuang had never enjoyed such gatherings. After a round of drinks, she excused herself, claiming she couldn’t handle more alcohol. The imperial villa was vast, with even a wild lake in the back garden. As Li Shuang strolled by the lakeside, Qin Lan, concerned for her safety, followed. Li Shuang turned to look at him, smiling, “What are you worried about? Don’t you know my ways by now?”
It had been a long time since Qin Lan had heard Li Shuang speak to him like this. He couldn’t help but smile faintly, “The General found an excuse of drunkenness to leave early, so shouldn’t I find a reason to leave early as well?”
Li Shuang chuckled lightly. After the chaos of war in the frontier and her journey to South Changshan, this was the first moment of peace they’d had in a while. She replied, “Let’s walk for a bit. When the Emperor retires, we’ll head back to the mansion.”
“Alright.”
They fell into a comfortable silence. Having known each other since childhood, this quiet moment wasn’t awkward. The night breeze and the gentle lapping of lake water against the shore provided a rare moment of tranquility for the two busy individuals.
Suddenly, Li Shuang halted her steps.
Qin Lan, following close behind, nearly bumped into her. He quickly stopped and glanced at Li Shuang. Though he couldn’t see her eyes, he sensed her staring intently at the bushes across the lake. As he followed her gaze, he was slightly taken aback. Li Shuang abruptly coughed a few times, breaking the lake’s serenity.
“The night is still a bit chilly,” she said, her voice hoarse as if truly affected by the cold.
Qin Lan quietly observed Li Shuang until she pushed him lightly, turning him around to walk back. Only then did he respond, “My cloak, General. You should wear it for now.”
“No need. Let’s walk back quickly to warm up. I’ll be fine then.”
He followed Li Shuang’s steps without looking back.
After they left, the low grass blades by the lake, glistening with water, suddenly trembled. A hunched old man emerged from the bushes, squinting at Li Shuang’s retreating figure. “Shall this servant eliminate the threat, Your Highness?” he asked.
“No,” came Jin’an’s voice from deep within the thicket. In the shadows beyond the moonlight’s reach, Jin’an’s eyes followed Li Shuang’s silhouette.
The old man chuckled dryly. “Although General Li of Great Jin is captivating, Prince Aodeng, you are now the Crown Prince. The King awaits your return for the coronation ceremony. We can’t risk any mishaps here. If the Emperor of Great Jin discovers your presence, he won’t let you leave.”
The old man’s gnarled thumb twitched, revealing two silver needles at the head of his cane. He smiled, “One for each of them. No one would be able to determine the cause of death.”
As he finished speaking, a silver light flashed from the cane like a shooting star. However, before it could cross the shore, a dark shadow flitted by, catching the two silver needles with fingertips and tossing them into the lake. Soon after, about a dozen small fish floated to the surface, belly-up, pushed to the shore by gentle waves.
Jin’an glanced at the dead fish at his feet, then fixed his gaze on the old man. “I told you, do not harm her.”
The old man curled his lip. “Very well, this old servant won’t act. It’s unexpected, Prince Aodeng, to see you protecting someone like this. But don’t forget, if others learn of our meeting, I won’t be able to take you away. Let’s hope this General Li shows you some loyalty in return.”
Jin’an remained silent.
“It’s about time. This old servant will return to the banquet now.”
As small fish continued to float to the shore, Jin’an watched them, suddenly reminded of last night by Li Shuang’s bedside. Looking at her defenseless form, he had actually… considered killing her.
He had regained all his memories, knew who he was, and hadn’t forgotten the events of the past few months.
He remembered how he grew up, what kind of person he was, the life he led. He recalled how he fell into the hands of the old witch from the Five Spirits Sect while hunting in the wild, and how he endured those days worse than death. Yet, none of these memories were as vivid as those that came after.
He remembered how much he loved Li Shuang, or perhaps… it wasn’t love, but a deep obsession with her. He depended on her, needed her, couldn’t leave her, addicted to her control over all his emotions.
But that wasn’t him. It was just a version of himself controlled by the Gu worm.
When he heard the news of the Western Rong Emperor’s death and his father’s ascension to the throne, his father’s name became the key to unlocking his memories, awakening him.
The past two days had been a haze of confusion, but now, on the journey back to the Great Jin capital from South Changshan, he had fully regained his senses.
He was the Crown Prince of Western Rong. Now that his father had ascended the throne, he was the Crown Prince. He was Rong royalty, high above others, looking down on the world. Yet, over the past few months, he had aided Great Jin, forced back his own people’s army, slain his country’s generals, and followed that woman like a puppet on a string.
Yesterday, he had wanted to kill Li Shuang.
If her death caused the Gu worm in his body to lose its master, perhaps he could regain his freedom.
However, when he approached Li Shuang’s side and saw her sleeping so vulnerably, Jin’an was certain he could have snapped her neck in an instant. The power within his body even told him he could tear her apart with his bare hands.
But…
The closer he got to her, inhaling her scent, the more his heart felt like it had grown countless thorns. The mere thought of killing her made those thorns threaten to pierce him first, leaving him riddled with wounds, causing unbearable pain.
He couldn’t kill Li Shuang.
He couldn’t even tolerate the thought of someone else harming her.
These emotions were so intense that he couldn’t distinguish whether they were his own will or the Gu worm’s influence.
Now, watching Li Shuang’s figure disappear into the distance, he suddenly recalled that day when he was on the brink of regaining his memories but hadn’t fully become himself. Qin Lan had wanted to kill him, but Li Shuang stood in front of him, saying, “Kill me first, then kill him.”
The sunset’s glow had been so dazzling that day, almost blinding him, and stirring his heart.
This woman was protecting him. On the way back to the capital, during their brief rests, she continued to protect him with concerned glances and slightly exasperated expressions. She wanted to approach him, to talk to him, and whenever he avoided her, a flicker of sadness would pass through her eyes.
It made her look somewhat pitiful, softening his heart, and making him want to… embrace her.
Although Jin’an wasn’t sure if this desire came from the Gu worm or himself.
He shouldn’t love Li Shuang, even though he clearly remembered all the crazy things he had done for her during this time. He recalled the soft warmth of her lips when he kissed her, the angry flush on her cheeks each time he took her by surprise – unlike other women’s coyness, even her anger was valiant. He remembered how his heart would skip a beat at her blushing, how his heart seemed to be filled with her, the maddening desire to completely devote himself to her…
But…
That wasn’t him.
Jin’an sighed, clutching his chest in confusion. Jin’an wasn’t him, and his past self no longer seemed to be his complete self either. Who was he…
What did he truly… feel for Li Shuang…