It was drizzling on the day of Li Shuang’s secret burial.
By the coffin stood her former personal guards and many soldiers she had once commanded. Few from the General’s household attended; even the Grand General was absent. Only Li Xing followed the coffin, stumbling with each step, while Qin Lan had to catch him multiple times to prevent him from falling.
Li Xing’s voice had gone hoarse from crying these past days. At the prepared grave, as the bearers lowered the coffin into the simple tomb, Li Xing called out raspily: “Sister!” His voice fell with the rain onto the coffin, only to be covered by a shovel of yellow earth.
Though Li Shuang was the Grand General’s adopted daughter, she had died as a prisoner, making it impossible for the General’s household to openly mourn her.
Everything was therefore simple—an ordinary coffin, an ordinary grave, no mention of her lifetime achievements. She received less honor than any common soldier who had died fighting for the country.
Li Xing knelt on the ground, his white mourning clothes stained by the muddy earth, while Qin Lan supported his arm in silence.
Luo Teng had finally rushed back from the northern frontier, his armor still cold beneath his mourning clothes. His eyes were wide as brass bells, unblinking as he watched the guards covering Li Shuang’s coffin with earth.
“This subordinate came too late! I deserve death!”
As he spoke, he struck himself hard across the face. Luo Teng’s strength was considerable, and he didn’t hold back. His rough skin immediately swelled, yet he didn’t stop, one slap following another.
The sharp sound seemed to tear through the rainy day, like a whip striking everyone’s hearts. Besides Li Xing’s hoarse, nearly exhausted crying, a deathly silence fell over the gathering.
Suddenly, amidst the fine rain, there was a movement in the wind. As the soldiers present grew alert, a black shadow dove straight into the burial pit, then struck the heavy coffin lid with such force that it went flying, despite having been nailed shut.
The heavy lid flew with such power that it knocked down a guard who was still holding a shovel, pinning him to the ground. But no one paid him any attention—all eyes were fixed on the person who had jumped into the coffin.
Inside the heavy outer coffin lay a wooden inner coffin, just slightly longer than a person.
The figure became motionless inside the outer coffin.
Though he had struck away the heavy outer lid with one palm, upon seeing the inner coffin, it was as if all strength had been drained from his body, and he stood there frozen beside it. His breathing was heavy, like a trapped beast.
“It’s…” Li Xing recognized him through tear-filled eyes, but before he could finish speaking, numerous figures suddenly emerged from the dense forest around what was meant to be a secret burial.
The newcomers wore Azure Dragon swords at their waists—they were the emperor’s Azure Dragon Guards!
They drew their bows, arrows aimed directly at Jin’an.
But Jin’an seemed oblivious, his black eyes fixed unwaveringly on the sealed inner coffin.
He could smell it—the scent of the Gu Master inside.
The Jade Silkworm within his body told him: yes, this was Li Shuang.
Jin’an’s gaze remained fixed, unable to look elsewhere. The shouts of the archers, Luo Teng’s roaring—all these sounds and sights seemed less real to Jin’an than the wind in his ears and the rain before his eyes.
The coffin lay silently before him, Li Shuang lying silently within.
She no longer had warmth or fragrance, but to Jin’an, it was as if his very soul was being drawn in. His limbs felt swollen and powerless. He wanted to crouch down, to open the inner coffin, to confirm if Li Shuang was truly inside.
But what if…
She was?
The Five Spirits Sect had gone to great lengths to get him to Lu City, which was only half a day’s journey from Western Rong. Wu Yin had helped disguise him—leaving Lu City wouldn’t be too difficult. Yet when passing through the city gate that Li Shuang had once guarded, he saw Luo Teng on duty.
A young soldier was reporting to him in panic: “General Luo! General Luo! News from the capital—General Li has… has died suddenly in prison…”
“You can’t even speak clearly, you little brat! Which General Li!”
“General… General Li Shuang…”
Like a water drop falling into a lake, the ripples spread endlessly.
Luo Teng’s face drained of color as he turned and left with the soldier. Jin’an stopped in his tracks among the bustling crowd passing through the city gate. People pushed past him, cursed him for blocking the way, and soon soldiers came to question him. But he did not react.
Wu Yin, observing from behind and sensing trouble, found an excuse to lead him away.
He remained dazed for a long time before finally asking Wu Yin: “Li Shuang is dead. Will I die too?”
Wu Yin hadn’t noticed Luo Teng and hadn’t heard the news, so she found the question strange: “Why ask this suddenly?”
Jin’an just stared straight ahead: “If she’s dead, what will happen to me?”
“Technically, when a Gu Master dies, the Gu person won’t die,” Wu Yin explained. “But Gu people are usually so loyal to their Masters that most choose to end their own lives. Then we can recover the Jade Silkworm Gu. Though with your Jade Silkworm Gu, I’m not certain—after all, you can already stay this far from your Gu Master and even suggested leaving yourself. It seems like you’ve overcome the Gu’s consciousness.”
She was dead, and he had his consciousness. Western Rong lay just beyond the city gate. He could take this overwhelming power back to Western Rong—surely this should be the best outcome for him.
Nothing in this world could threaten him anymore. Wasn’t Li Shuang’s death perfect? Heaven had accomplished what he had wanted but failed to do himself.
She knew his identity, knew he was the Western Rong prince who had killed two Western Rong generals. If he were to return to Western Rong, he couldn’t afford such a stain.
But.
When Wu Yin said he wouldn’t die, Jin’an felt… empty and disappointed.
His first thought was actually—
“Why not?”
Why not simply let him follow her?
The pain in his chest, sharper than being torn apart, spread throughout his body like a bone-eating parasite once he fully processed the news of “Li Shuang’s death.” Every joint, every gap between his bones seemed filled with sharp-toothed insects gnawing desperately, as if they would drain his marrow.
Li Shuang was dead—why should he still live?
This thought became overwhelming as he stood before her coffin.
He had turned back from Lu City’s gate, resolutely taking the road back to the capital, traveling day and night. Wu Yin had asked him: “What if it’s a trap?”
What if it was a trap? If someone had used Li Shuang’s death to lure him back, to capture him. If that were true… how perfect that would be.
Let the insects gnawing at his heart stop, let the sharp needles in his marrow cease their pounding, let the dull saw cutting through his brain come to rest. Let the Jade Silkworm Gu stop controlling his senses at will within his body as if he had truly loved Li Shuang to the depths of his soul.
But was it the Jade Silkworm Gu’s doing?
With a sharp “thud,” an arrow flew through the air and struck his shoulder. The force of the arrow made Jin’an stumble forward, his knee landing on Li Shuang’s inner coffin.
The hollow sound suggested emptiness—no movement, no breathing, no eyes looking back at him.
The blood from his wound seemed to wash away the memories of the past: His first sight of Li Shuang riding toward him on horseback, her feeding her fingertip’s blood to him when he was gravely injured and small, her reckless rescue of him from the trap filled with blades in the northern bandits’ lair, her secretly giving him candy in the military camp. During Lu City’s Snow Festival, her face reddening at his sudden kiss beneath the final firework. In South Chang Mountain’s dungeon, her arrival after a dusty journey, the marks on her neck from his mad strangling, yet still smiling gently to comfort him.
He had always thought these were the Jade Silkworm Gu’s memories, the Gu’s emotions, but they weren’t.
They were his memories, his feelings.
An arrow grazed his hair crown, letting his hair fall loose. The rain dampened his black hair, making him look disheveled. Suddenly, another arrow flew at an angle, piercing through the thin wood of the inner coffin.
Jin’an’s entire body trembled as if this arrow had wounded his very soul.
He clenched his teeth, grief turning to rage in his chest. The flame markings seemed to ignite again as he turned his gaze fiercely toward the Azure Dragon Guards surrounding the grave, his pupils shifting between black and red.
Everyone watched as a red pattern crawled up from beneath his collar, stopping at the corner of his eye, and then burning his pupils red.
He removed his outer robe, wrapped it around Li Shuang’s coffin, and bound it to his back. Carrying her inner coffin, he stood alone in the grave, staring at the surrounding Azure Dragon Guards like a wild beast.
The blood rage seemed to drive him mad, the flame markings not contained within his body but spreading across his hand and the other half of his face. The patterns kept shifting beneath his skin, growing darker until he appeared almost demonic.
As if immune to pain, he yanked out the arrows from his body. His savage movements startled not only the Azure Dragon Guards but even the battle-hardened Luo Teng, who exclaimed in shock: “This person is…”
Jin’an climbed out of the grave carrying Li Shuang’s coffin, like a demon returning from hell with his wife, filled with despair, ready to slaughter all gods and buddhas in this world.
His blood-red eyes fixed ahead as the Azure Dragon Guards aimed their bows at him. Their commander spoke: “By imperial order, we’re here to invite Prince Aodeng to the palace, not to—” Before he could finish, Jin’an raised his hand from afar, using his inner force to drag the commander over by his neck:
“The palace? Good. Then take me to kill your emperor.”
Everyone present was shocked by his seemingly possessed state. With their commander in his grip, the Azure Dragon Guards drew their swords but couldn’t act. Jin’an ignored them completely, heading straight for the imperial palace.
His intent to assassinate the emperor was no small matter. The Azure Dragon Guards couldn’t let him leave. At their commander’s signal, they charged en masse.
Jin’an, carrying the coffin, fought like a madman through the storm of blades, not protecting himself at all, only the coffin on his back. Though formidable, the coffin’s bulk and the number of opponents meant he couldn’t guard everything. Yet he would rather take hits to his body than let the coffin suffer the slightest damage.
Fighting while advancing, in mere moments, blood—whether his or the guards’—had stained the coffin red.
Bodies lay everywhere as he determinedly walked toward the palace. More Azure Dragon Guards kept appearing.
But even against thousands, he would reach his destination.
“This man has gone mad,” Luo Teng muttered, tears in his eyes. “He’s gone mad for the General.”
Qin Lan had watched Jin’an silently throughout. Now he finally clenched his fist, drew his sword, and joined the Azure Dragon Guards in attacking Jin’an. However, his target wasn’t Jin’an but the coffin on his back, striking at it with every blow.
“Qin Lan!” Luo Teng shouted, “Have you gone mad too? The General is in there!”
Jin’an wouldn’t let anyone harm the coffin. As he dodged sideways, a guard struck from behind. Feeling no pain, he thrust his sword backward, forcing that attacker back, then spun, using the coffin to sweep away nearby guards. Qin Lan stuck close, appearing to drive his blade into Jin’an’s abdomen but only tearing his clothes at the waist: “She’s alive.”
Jin’an’s whole body trembled.
“Look carefully.”
Qin Lan stepped back. Jin’an stood there covered in blood, dazed. As he caught his breath, his gaze swept over those present. The Azure Dragon Guards were in no better shape than him. Behind Qin Lan, among the personal guards, stood one soldier shorter than the others, wearing common soldier’s clothes, watching him quietly through the crowd.
Her eyes were filled with tears, moving in their beauty, all emotions seemingly suppressed beneath tightly pressed lips.
Li Shuang…
Li Shuang…
You’re alive.
A breath escaped from his chest.
With no strength left to support his body, he collapsed like a mountain. The robe binding the coffin, already cut to shreds, finally broke completely. The coffin slid from Jin’an’s back, crashing heavily to the ground.
Jin’an knelt there, lacking even the strength to raise his head. He knelt in silence, appearing unconscious: “Heh…”
He laughed, lifting his face to the sky as the patterns completely faded from his face.
How wonderful.
It was all a scheme.
She hadn’t died.
With a thud, he fell unconscious, still smiling.
The surrounding Azure Dragon Guards approached cautiously to take him away, but suddenly thousands of black insects appeared from nowhere, swarming toward them. As everyone panicked trying to drive them off, masked figures seemed to descend from the sky, landing beside Jin’an. They lifted him and vanished using light kung fu.
The farce seemed to end there.
Unnoticed by all, the small soldier pulled their cap low to hide half their face, lowering their head to conceal their presence.
Ten days later, South Chang Mountain.
Li Shuang went to Jin’an’s small courtyard after her morning routine, just about to wipe his face with a towel when she unexpectedly met a pair of pitch-black eyes.
Their gazes met. Li Shuang froze for a moment, then adjusted the towel, folded it, and sat beside his bed to gently wipe his face.
“You’re awake.”
Jin’an just watched her without speaking.
“Your injuries were so severe that even with the Jade Silkworm Gu, you were unconscious for ten days. Wu Yin and the others had quite a task bringing you here from the capital. We owe the Five Spirits Sect a great debt now.”
“Li Shuang.”
He spoke only those two words.
Li Shuang softly acknowledged, and the room fell silent until she finished wiping his face. Then Jin’an said: “When I first regained my memories at the General’s mansion, I wanted to kill you.”
Li Shuang paused, then nodded: “Understandable.”
“But I couldn’t kill you,” he said. “Nor could I bear your death.”
Li Shuang nodded again: “I know, the Jade Silkworm Gu.”
“It has nothing to do with the Gu.”
At these words, Li Shuang froze.
“I still don’t understand what love is—romantic feelings are so intangible,” he said. “I only know that in my heart, there is no love, only you.”
When he’d awakened, Li Shuang’s towel was steady in her hand, but at these words, it fell to the floor with a soft “pat.”
“Heh.” A light laugh came from the doorway. “I’d heard Western Rong people were direct, but I didn’t expect this level of directness.”
Li Shuang turned to look, then coughed lightly: “Has he returned to his former self?”
Wu Yin pondered, stroking her chin: “Not necessarily. Did the former Jin’an often speak to you this way?”
“Yes, often.”
“Well, the Jade Silkworm Gu changes his body but can’t completely change the person. It normally preserves their memories, so while all Jade Silkworm Gu people are loyal to their masters, their personalities differ. He, it seems, has always been this kind of person.”
As she finished speaking, the person on the bed struggled to sit up: “You should leave.”
Wu Yin twisted her mouth: “Alright, alright, I’m leaving.” She extended her hand, giving Li Shuang a letter. “Someone sent a secret message, I’m just delivering it. Didn’t mean to interrupt your confession.”
Li Shuang took the letter, her expression becoming slightly more reserved upon seeing the envelope. After reading the brief contents and noting the signature, her gaze shifted slightly as she set it down.
Jin’an watched her. Li Shuang smiled: “Si Ma Yang.”
At these three words, Jin’an’s expression tightened, his gaze instantly turning cold.
Li Shuang explained: “It’s nothing bad. He’s just wishing me well as an old friend, now that mountains and rivers separate us forever.”
In truth, Li Shuang’s fake death hadn’t been complicated.
That day, she immediately recognized the guard bringing food wasn’t genuine. She pretended to be poisoned, luring him into the cell before capturing and questioning him. It turned out the Prime Minister had tried to kill her to drive a wedge between the emperor and the General’s household.
He had been too hasty. Si Ma Yang needed an obedient counterweight, not someone who could secretly send assassins into the cabinet prison to kill the General’s daughter.
Li Shuang fed the guard her blood, claiming it contained South Chang Mountain’s Gu poison, making him obedient. She ordered him to send a message to Qin Lan, leading to the performance staged by the Grand General and emperor.
While Li Shuang feigned death and apparent discord grew between the Grand General and emperor, Qin Lan exposed the guard and the poisoning plot when the Prime Minister’s guard was down. Li Shuang’s “death” was used to punish the Prime Minister and clear the court of his influence.
All this had been swiftly concluded during Jin’an’s ten days of unconsciousness. Si Ma Yang’s letter informed Li Shuang of these matters. It was also his farewell.
From now on, there would be only the long power struggle between him and the Grand General in court.
Li Shuang would no longer be part of it.
She still remembered the day she left the capital.
Si Ma Yang came in disguise. He didn’t explain why he had still stationed Azure Dragon Guards in ambush, hoping to capture Jin’an if he returned upon hearing the news.
Li Shuang didn’t question it. They were no longer in a relationship where either owed the other loyalty.
Li Shuang sat on horseback, not dismounting, just as when Si Ma Yang had come to see her off during her hurried “escape from marriage” to the northern frontier. But now when they looked at each other, the words of the past were gone.
This parting, compared to the previous one, held even less possibility of meeting again.
Si Ma Yang held her horse’s reins, walking with her for a long stretch. Given his current position, he absolutely shouldn’t have done this. Li Shuang tried to refuse, but Si Ma Yang insisted on leading her horse for a long way. Then he released the reins and patted her horse.
The horse’s hooves clattered, growing distant.
“Shuang’er.” From far away, Si Ma Yang called out. Li Shuang looked back to see him waving: “Take care.”
They both knew that from now on, Li Shuang of the General’s household no longer existed. That wild child who had punched the emperor when they first met, that spirited young girl in his memories—they were all dead.
Perhaps this was how it was with everyone around them, “dying” one by one. Old acquaintances departed as new people arrived.
The emperor had let her go. So Li Shuang came to South Chang Mountain.
She put away the letter: “The matter of you killing two Western Rong generals… has leaked out. If you return to Western Rong now, their subjects might not forgive you.”
Li Shuang found this somewhat tragicomic.
Originally, only she had known the connection between Jin’an and the black-masked warrior. But after Jin’an’s emotional outburst that day, many of the personal guards had recognized him. Someone had leaked the information, and word reached Western Rong.
The emperor tried to suppress the news, but Western Rong’s court was already in upheaval. Under pressure, the emperor had no choice but to painfully decree that Aodeng would no longer be summoned back to Western Rong.
So now Jin’an had lost his crown prince status and held no more value to Si Ma Yang.
Jin’an showed no concern at this news.
Li Shuang looked at him: “Now that I’m dead and you’re deposed, what are your plans?”
“I’m deposed?”
“You’ve been deposed.”
Jin’an raised his hand, grasping Li Shuang’s chin: “No one can depose me.” He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her lips, sudden and possessive as always.
“Except you.”
Except for you, nothing else matters to him.