Jiang Yuanchao seemed to hear the most amusing joke and burst into laughter.

Shao Mingyuan didn’t rush him, quietly waiting for him to finish laughing.

Now, victory and defeat were already decided—Jiang Yuanchao could not escape even with wings.

Composure always belonged to the victor.

Only a few people were still fighting, and under the blazing sun, because every bit of carnage could be seen clearly, the chill instead grew heavier.

Jiang Yuanchao finished laughing and began retreating step by step.

Shao Mingyuan drew Qiao Zhao’s hand closer and followed.

“Commander Jiang, if you retreat further, there’s a cliff behind you,” Shao Mingyuan calmly reminded.

Jiang Yuanchao’s steps halted as he turned to look.

At this moment, he was only a few feet from the cliff edge. Below was a dizzying, bottomless abyss—if he fell, he would surely be crushed to pieces.

Jiang Yuanchao turned back around, his face showing no excess emotion, his lips still carrying a smile.

That smile seemed to be the same one he’d had when Qiao Zhao first met him.

Jiang Yuanchao smiled and retreated another half step.

Seeing him like this, Qiao Zhao’s heart inexplicably tightened.

Toward this person, she had always wanted to stay far away, but truly watching someone with whom she’d had so many interactions die before her eyes, she was still unwilling.

However, at this point, Jiang Yuanchao’s fate could no longer be changed by anyone’s willingness or unwillingness.

Treason and military defeat—the outcome was self-evident.

“Hehe.” A light laugh rang out, yet without a trace of warmth, coolly reaching straight into people’s hearts.

Jiang Yuanchao stared fixedly at Qiao Zhao and asked: “So you do care about me?”

Qiao Zhao was struck speechless by the question.

Shao Mingyuan gripped Qiao Zhao’s hand tightly and smiled faintly: “Commander Jiang, saying such things at this moment—don’t you find it meaningless?”

Jiang Yuanchao’s gaze returned to Shao Mingyuan’s face. After a long moment, he sighed lightly: “Shao Mingyuan, I truly envy your good fortune.”

“Good fortune?”

Jiang Yuanchao’s lips carried a mocking smile: “Isn’t it good fortune? You and I both have secrets about our origins, yet you are the son of Marquis Zhenyuan, descendant of the loyal and virtuous. The great scholar Qiao Zhuo even actively betrothed his granddaughter to you for this reason, and many others extended aid to protect you. And what about me?”

Jiang Yuanchao’s smile unconsciously faded: “But I am Prince Su’s son—Prince Su’s remnant in the world’s eyes! After learning my identity, forget about clearing my name—even in dreams, I would wake in cold sweats. If possible, I’d rather have remained forever that beggar adopted by Jinlin Guard Commander Jiang Tang, instead of what those people call their ‘Young Master.'”

“I remember you were an orphan—how did you suddenly transform into Prince Su’s son?” After a moment of silence, Shao Mingyuan asked.

Jiang Yuanchao laughed: “An orphan? Even orphans are born of fathers and mothers—they don’t just appear from stone cracks, do they?”

Speaking to this point, his gaze swept over Qiao Zhao’s face as he said calmly: “Since you’re curious, I have nothing to hide. I’ll resolve this puzzle for you. I always thought I was a hunter’s son. After my parents died, I fell to the streets and became a beggar, then later met my adoptive father, who was on official business. He brought me back to the capital…”

“Until that trip to Lingnan. I was originally entrusted by my adoptive father to investigate Prince Su’s remnants starting to emerge again, but unexpectedly, I accidentally discovered my own identity.”

Speaking to this point, Jiang Yuanchao sneered twice: “Actually, that’s not quite right. Rather than saying I discovered it, it’s more accurate to say those people actively sought me out. Only then did I learn that I wasn’t some hunter’s son at all, but the son born to Prince Su’s concubine. Because I wasn’t recorded in the imperial genealogy after birth, Prince Su had people secretly send me away before preparing his rebellion, as a precaution to preserve a drop of his bloodline.”

Jiang Yuanchao’s originally calm eyes gradually became sorrowful as he smiled self-mockingly: “Unfortunately, for all Prince Su’s calculations, he never calculated that this son he left behind would still be unmarried and childless at over twenty—his bloodline cannot continue.”

“Commander Jiang—”

Jiang Yuanchao interrupted Shao Mingyuan: “Does the Marquis pity me? That’s unnecessary. Winners and losers—there’s nothing to be said. Do you know what I would have done if I had won?”

Shao Mingyuan didn’t answer.

Jiang Yuanchao sneered: “I would have left you without even a burial place, then taken back the woman I love!”

A cold light flashed in Shao Mingyuan’s eyes.

Facing a dying man, he ultimately had enough tolerance not to retort sharply.

Wind blew at the cliff edge, flowing between the three people—two stood on one side, one stood alone on the other.

“Well then, now that your curiosity is satisfied, may I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

Jiang Yuanchao smiled: “This question isn’t for you, but for her.”

Shao Mingyuan glanced at Qiao Zhao and met Jiang Yuanchao’s gaze: “Then you don’t need to ask me—just ask my wife.”

The words “my wife” seemed to pierce Jiang Yuanchao’s heart, causing pain to flash in his eyes.

He stood at the cliff edge, silent for a good while, before looking directly into Qiao Zhao’s eyes and asking: “Have you ever… felt even the slightest attraction to me?”

Qiao Zhao remained silent. The wind at the cliff edge lifted her skirt hem—no longer the unchanging plain colors of the past, but a bright and beautiful sight.

“A very, very long time ago? When you hadn’t yet married this man.” Jiang Yuanchao’s eyes held hopeful light, yet even he didn’t dare believe he would receive a positive answer. That light was weaker than a firefly’s.

Though weak, it still shone, determined to wait for her response.

Shao Mingyuan inexplicably felt Jiang Yuanchao’s question was somewhat strange, as if, like him, he knew some secret.

This thought made his mood somewhat complex, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on Qiao Zhao’s hand.

Qiao Zhao lowered her eyes: “No…”

She looked up at the man across from her. Though she felt it was somewhat cruel to say this under such circumstances, she ultimately didn’t want to deceive him and said seriously: “Not even a very, very long time ago.”

Jiang Yuanchao retreated another half step.

Qiao Zhao’s lips moved slightly, wanting to call out “be careful,” but ultimately didn’t voice it.

“Why?” Jiang Yuanchao murmured these words, gazing into Qiao Zhao’s eyes.

Qiao Zhao couldn’t help but glance at Shao Mingyuan before saying, “Because a very, very long time ago, I already knew that when I grew up, I would marry a man named Shao Mingyuan. Perhaps it started as curiosity, paying attention to so many things about him, but gradually I forgot to open my heart and let other men in.”

Shao Mingyuan’s expression shifted slightly, wanting to speak but stopping himself.

Jiang Yuanchao had finally received an answer that let him accept his fate. He smiled slightly at Qiao Zhao: “Qiao Zhao, then let’s meet in the next life.”

As his words fell, he drew the long blade from his waist and fiercely slashed it across his throat.

The instant blood splattered out, Jiang Yuanchao smiled.

He had wanted this realm, and he had wanted the beauty too, but in the end, he had nothing—just like his original identity as a beggar with nothing.

At least he finally understood one thing: he and she hadn’t met early enough.

What he thought was a very, very long time ago wasn’t her very, very long time ago.

Then, in the next life, let them meet even earlier.