When Li Shuang returned to the General’s Manor, Jin An had already been settled in. The Grand General had arranged for him to stay in a small courtyard furthest from Li Shuang’s quarters. That evening, when Li Shuang dined with her family, the Grand General didn’t summon Jin An to join them.
On the first night of return, the host not entertaining guests…
The Grand General’s intentions couldn’t have been clearer.
Li Shuang understood and didn’t cause her father any displeasure. She quietly finished her meal and returned to her room, not asking a single question about Jin An.
The Grand General had indulged her willfulness before, and now she needed to reclaim her rationality.
Yet at night, when alone, Li Shuang couldn’t help but worry about Jin An at the other end of the General’s Manor. How was his health? Would the Jade Silkworm Gu become agitated again when he was far from her?
After washing up, her long hair still wet, she pushed open the window and rested her head on her arm, quietly gazing at the moon in the night sky. The moon happened to be in the direction of Jin An’s small courtyard.
The moon hung low, so it was unclear whether Li Shuang was watching the celestial body or the bamboo shadows dancing over the small courtyard below.
Thinking of today’s conversation with Sima Yang, Li Shuang couldn’t help but sigh softly, her warm breath dissolving into the slightly chilly spring night wind, dispersing into the darkness. The courtyard was completely quiet save for the gentle chirping of spring insects, so Li Shuang didn’t notice anything unusual, unaware that Jin An sat silently on the roof tiles above her head.
Taking in every sigh she made, storing them in his heart.
The moonlight was beautiful, but Li Shuang made no more sound. Who knows how long she sat there—perhaps until her hair had finally dried. She got up to close the window and went to sleep. But Jin An remained motionless on the roof.
Only when steady breathing sounds came from the room did Jin An flip down from the roof.
Just like many nights in the Northern Frontier, he entered Li Shuang’s room with utmost stealth, disturbing no one, not even Li Shuang herself.
Standing beside her bed, he quietly watched the person sleeping soundly under the covers.
Jin An’s black pupils didn’t show their usual infatuation and intoxication but rather held a hint of scrutiny. He approached step by step as if watching an enemy, or perhaps prey. His dark eyes gleamed in the night like a frontier eagle’s.
His fingers twitched, but ultimately, he did nothing, only drawing closer, as if continuously pulled toward her by some unseen force.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t stay away, but that he didn’t want to leave…
He drew too close, their breaths intermingling, and Li Shuang’s eyelashes trembled. Jin An suddenly came to his senses!
His form flickered, and by the time Li Shuang opened her eyes, he had vanished—though in his haste, he’d left the window wide open.
Li Shuang only glanced at the window once before turning her back, acting as if nothing had happened, and closed her eyes again.
The next day at the suburban palace, the emperor hosted a banquet to welcome the Western Rong envoy and celebrate the newfound peace between the two countries. At the banquet tables, wine cups clinked amidst smiling faces, though how much calculation lay behind those smiles remained unknown.
Li Shuang had never enjoyed such banquets. After one round of drinks, she excused herself, claiming inability to drink more.
The suburban palace was vast, with even a wild lake in the back garden. Li Shuang walked by the lakeside, and Qin Lan, concerned for her, 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 long since Qin Lan had heard Li Shuang speak to him this way, and he couldn’t help but smile faintly: “The General found an excuse of drunkenness to leave, shouldn’t this subject also find a reason to leave early?”
Li Shuang also smiled lightly. After the chaos of war in the frontier and her thousand-li journey to South Long Mountain, this was finally a moment that felt peaceful. She responded: “Let’s walk for a while. When His Majesty retires, we’ll head back to the manor.”
“Mm.”
Then they fell silent. Li Shuang and Qin Lan had known each other since childhood, so this silence wasn’t awkward. With the night breeze and the gentle lapping of lake water against the shore, these two busy people rarely found such contentment.
At such a moment, speaking would have spoiled it, but suddenly Li Shuang’s steps faltered.
Qin Lan, following behind her, nearly bumped into her, hastily stopping. He glanced at her, unable to see her expression but sensing her staring fixedly at the thicket across the wild lake. Following her gaze, he started slightly. Li Shuang suddenly coughed several times, breaking the lake’s tranquility.
“The night is still a bit cold,” she said, her voice hoarse, as if truly chilled.
Qin Lan quietly watched Li Shuang until she pushed him, making him turn around and start walking back. Only then did he respond: “Take my cloak, General.”
“No need. Walking quickly back will warm me up.”
He followed Li Shuang’s steps away, not looking back.
After they left, across the lake, the dew-covered low grass leaves glistened, suddenly trembling as the hunched old man emerged from the thicket. Squinting at Li Shuang’s retreating figure, he asked: “Shall this servant eliminate the threat?”
“No.” Jin An’s voice came from deep within the thicket. In the darkness beyond the moon’s reach, his eyes followed Li Shuang’s departing figure.
The old man laughed dryly: “Though Great Jin’s General Li is captivating, Your Highness Ao Deng, you are now the Crown Prince. The King awaits your return for the investiture ceremony. We cannot risk complications here. If Great Jin’s emperor discovers your presence, he won’t let you leave.”
The old man’s withered thumb moved, and two silver needles appeared from his walking stick’s head. He smiled: “One for each—no one would discover the cause of death.”
As he spoke, the silver light flashed like shooting stars, but before they could cross the shore, a black shadow flickered past, catching the needles with fingertips and throwing them into the lake. Soon, over ten small fish floated up belly-up, pushed to shore by the gentle waves.
Jin An glanced at the dead fish at his feet, staring at the old man: “I said, do not harm her.”
The old man’s lips curled: “Very well, this old one won’t act. However, who would have thought, Your Highness Ao Deng, that you would ever protect someone like this? But don’t forget, if others discover 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 one must return to the banquet.”
As the lake water rippled, more dead fish kept floating to shore. Looking at them, Jin An suddenly remembered last night by Li Shuang’s bed, watching her completely defenseless, he had actually… thought about killing her.
He had recovered all his memories, and knew who he was, while also remembering everything that had happened during this time.
He remembered how he grew up, what kind of person he was, what kind of life he led. He recalled hunting in the wilderness, how he fell into the hands of that old witch from the Five Spirits Sect and remembered how he endured those days worse than death. Yet none of these memories were as clear as those that came after.
He remembered how much he loved Li Shuang, or perhaps… it wasn’t love, just a deep obsession with this one person, depending on her, needing her, unable to leave, addicted to having all his emotions controlled by her.
But that wasn’t him—that was just his Gu-controlled self.
When he heard the news of the Western Rong emperor’s death and his father’s ascension, his father’s name became the key that unlocked his memories, awakening him.
The past two days had been a blur of confusion, but now, on the journey from South Long Mountain back to Great Jin’s capital, he had completely awakened.
He was Western Rong’s Crown Prince, and now that his father had ascended the throne as Western Rong’s emperor, he was the Crown Prince. He was Western Rong royalty, high above others, looking down on all beings, yet in the past few months, he had helped Great Jin, forced back his own people’s army, killed his own country’s generals, and followed that woman as if under her control.
Yesterday, he had wanted to kill Li Shuang.
To make the Gu in his body lose its master—perhaps then he could gain freedom.
However, when he approached Li Shuang’s side, seeing her sleeping so defenseless, Jin An was certain he could snap her head off with one move. The power in his body even told him he could tear her apart with his bare hands.
But…
The closer he got to her, breathing in her scent, his heart grew countless thorns as if beyond salvation. Just thinking about killing her made those thorns seem ready to kill him first, piercing him with countless wounds, and causing unbearable pain.
He couldn’t kill Li Shuang.
He couldn’t even tolerate the thought of others killing her.
These emotions were so intense that he couldn’t distinguish whether this was his own will or the Gu’s influence making him choose this way.
He just watched Li Shuang’s increasingly distant figure now, suddenly remembering that day when he was about to recover his memories but hadn’t fully become himself, when Qin Lan wanted to kill him, and Li Shuang stood before him, saying “Kill me first, then kill him.”
The sunset’s light had been so brilliant then, almost dazzling him, moving his heart.
This woman was protecting him, and on the journey back to the capital, during breaks from riding, she was also protecting him, with concerned gazes and slightly helpless expressions. She wanted to approach him and talk to him, and whenever he avoided her, traces of sadness would flash through her eyes.
She looked somewhat pitiful, softening his heart, making him…
Want to hold her?
Though Jin An didn’t know if this was the Gu’s desire or his own.
He probably didn’t love Li Shuang, though he remembered so clearly all the crazy things he’d done for her during this time, remembered the soft warmth of her lips when he kissed her, remembered her angry blush after each of his sudden advances—unlike other women’s coyness, even her anger was heroic. He remembered how his heart would skip a beat at her blushes, the feeling of his heart being filled with her, the obsession of wanting to sacrifice himself entirely to her…
But…
That wasn’t him.
Jin An sighed, clutching his chest in confusion. Jin An wasn’t him, and his past self seemed no longer his complete self either. Who exactly was he…
What exactly… did he feel… for Li Shuang…