Officials from the Court of Judicial Review came to inquire about the situation, recorded their statements, and then questioned the monks who helped with the fire and the neighboring yamen guards who assisted in maintaining order. It looked to be another round of busy work.

Li Shubai bid farewell to Cui Chunzhan and led Huang Zixia out of the temple. After all the chaos, Prince Kui’s carriage remained dutifully waiting at the temple gate. The driver Yuan Bo had already covered the carriage roof with oilcloth to prevent rain from seeping through.

The rain was falling heavily. On Chang’an’s streets, some people ran with their heads covered, some walked leisurely with umbrellas, while others stood anxiously watching the sky from beneath trees and beside wells.

The carriage moved forward steadily. When they reached Pingkang Ward, they should have turned toward the north street, but unexpectedly, Yuan Bo suddenly pulled the reins, bringing the carriage to an abrupt halt.

With this sudden stop, Huang Zixia, sitting on the small stool inside, was caught off guard and lurched forward, heading straight for the carriage wall. Fortunately, Li Shubai reacted quickly, raising his hand to grasp her shoulder, stopping her just before her forehead could hit the wall.

Huang Zixia touched her forehead with lingering fear and thanked Li Shubai while poking her head out in the rain to ask the driver, “Uncle Yuan, why did we suddenly stop?”

The driver hurriedly replied, “People are blocking the road ahead.”

Huang Zixia could also hear the faint sounds of commotion, so she took an umbrella from the carriage and said to Li Shubai, “I’ll go check.” She opened the umbrella and stepped down.

The scene ahead was at the intersection of the Eastern Market and Pingkang Ward. A few people stood scattered along the roadside watching, while in the middle of the road lay an unconscious child, appearing no more than four or five years old, lying motionless in the rain, with no way to tell if they were dead or alive.

There were many onlookers, but seeing the child’s disheveled clothes and filthy appearance, seemingly a young beggar lying in the mud, they merely pointed and discussed, with no one stepping forward to help.

Huang Zixia hesitated for a moment, just about to go forward to check on the young beggar when she noticed the crowd’s attention shift as they craned their necks to look ahead.

A young man who had just emerged from Shengye Temple caught sight of the small beggar on the ground. He quickly walked forward, shifting his umbrella to his shoulder to free both hands and lifted the unconscious child.

The man wore a white gauze robe embroidered with faint silver periwinkle patterns. His blue oil-paper umbrella complemented his tall, white figure, pure as the rising moon. Though the little beggar was covered in muddy rainwater, he paid no mind, gently cradling the unconscious child in his arms.

The surrounding crowd was astonished to see such a noble figure showing such tenderness toward a lowly, dirty beggar, and they exchanged bewildered glances.

When he raised his head and the crowd caught sight of his face, they couldn’t help but draw in sharp breaths.

The rain fell steadily over all of Chang’an. The man’s features appeared crystalline in the rain-light, as if the falling droplets only enhanced his clarity. His features were exceptionally handsome, his eyes and brows flawless, caught between youth and maturity with a soul-stirring transparency, as clean and soft as new grass, as clear as clouds after rain, as delightful as the first touch of blue in dawn’s sky.

Among Chang’an’s million inhabitants, only one possessed such a transcendent form; in the Great Tang’s three hundred years, only one soul had such a pure, unfettered spirit.

The onlookers were so captivated by his appearance and bearing that they forgot to step forward to help.

The heavy rain continued to pour, with people taking shelter under eaves. The rain blurred the surroundings, leaving only vague outlines of buildings submerged behind streets full of locust trees, creating layers of depth. This murky world became a hazy mist as if the entire heaven and earth existed solely to highlight his presence.

Huang Zixia stood holding her umbrella, gazing at him through the urgent curtain of rain.

She gazed at his rain-dampened temples, at his eyes veiled by lowered lashes, at his ink-painting-perfect profile. She forgot to breathe, forgot the rain spattering her clothes, forgot to move her feet. She stood there motionless as if she had forgotten the world existed.

And—it felt like a knife twisting in her heart—painful, sorrowful, suffocating.

She never imagined their reunion would be like this, in such a scene, in such heavy rain.

Her hand holding the umbrella trembled violently, her whole body standing in the rain as cold droplets invaded her being. Yet her body felt colder than the rain outside.

The man holding the beggar child walked toward her. He tried his best to shield the child in his arms with the umbrella on his shoulder, while water dripped from his hair down his fair, slender neck into his collar. Yet he didn’t appear bedraggled at all, maintaining that pure, transparent, glass-like quality that startled the heart.

He approached her with the child and began to ask, “Excuse me, which medical clinic is nearby…”

The rain poured down, making the whole world clamorous. His gaze stopped on her face, and the latter half of his sentence cut off abruptly.

He stood stunned before her.

The rain was so heavy, its roar nearly drowning her. Yet through the rain, she heard her own heart’s silent wail, overwhelming even this downpour.

A bewilderment as if separated by lifetimes.

He no longer looked at her. He lowered his head, protecting the child in his arms, walking past her step by step. Rain fell on his face, but he paid it no mind, passing coldly by her side.

As they passed shoulder to shoulder, Huang Zixia heard him say in a voice cold as a blade’s edge: “You’d better be gone before I return from the medical clinic.”

Huang Zixia’s throat constricted, her entire body frozen. She desperately urged herself to regain consciousness, but it was useless—because facing her was him, the one who had seized her soul years ago.

His gaze turned coldly to fall on her face: “Otherwise, I will surely take your ashes to comfort your parents’ spirits in heaven.”

Huang Zixia bit her lower lip hard, her heart racing, opening her mouth several times to speak but failing to produce words. Because she knew deeply that if she spoke, she would completely break down, never able to stand in this world again.

The umbrella in her hand could hardly shield against the torrential rain, soaking Huang Zixia’s clothes. She shook uncontrollably, barely able to hold the oil-paper umbrella. Her whole being swayed, the pain spreading from her heart nearly tearing her in two.

At that moment, a hand gently rested on her shoulder, protecting her.

This hand was so strong, immediately giving her the strength to stand steady. That strength spread from her shoulder throughout her body, like salvation, finally allowing her to break free from the invisible hands clutching her throat and heart, releasing her first breath in what felt like ages.

The owner of that hand, Li Shubai, stood behind her, his gaze calmly fixed on the young man opposite them, saying unhurriedly: “No need to return, you can go report to the authorities now, and let them request the person from Prince Kui.”

The man’s gaze slowly moved to him, seeming to connect him with the capital’s rumors, and that exceptionally beautiful face showed a hint of paleness.

Li Shubai subtly shifted his position, moving to stand in front of Huang Zixia.

Finally coming to her senses, Huang Zixia gritted her teeth and forced out a few words: “I am Yang Chonggu, a eunuch of Prince Kui’s household. May I know who you are?”

He didn’t speak, only stared at her steadily through Chang’an’s misty rain.

Years ago, those clear eyes held tenderness for her, indulgence, a starlike brightness when gazing at her, and autumn-water clarity in moments of helplessness. But now, they held only an abyss-like coldness, making her entire heart seem to sink into that dark place, falling, falling, falling.

Fortunately, Li Shubai’s composed and gentle voice sounded in her ear: “Chonggu, let’s go.”

That pure and clear young man, seeing Li Shubai’s natural protective stance and Huang Zixia’s matter-of-fact acceptance of his protection, finally showed a moment of dimness in his gaze.

But it was only for a moment. Holding the small beggar, he bowed and said in an unruffled voice: “My apologies, I mistook Your Highness’s eunuch for a heinous enemy. Since Your Highness has spoken, I must have been mistaken.”

Having said this, he didn’t look at Huang Zixia again, but carried the small beggar and turned into an alley, never looking back.

Huang Zixia stood motionless in the rain, gripping the umbrella handle, feeling waves of cold wash over her body.

Li Shubai spoke coldly beside her: “The person has left, how much longer do you plan to stand here?”

His voice had lost its earlier calm gentleness, becoming cold and harsh. Through her daze, she suddenly noticed that several spots on his upper body had been soaked by the rain.

Why had he left the carriage to find her in the rain, and why had he unhesitatingly protected and supported her?

She bit her lip and raised her umbrella higher to cover his body.

They stood under the same umbrella, close enough to hear each other’s breath. Li Shubai quietly looked down at her, his gaze emerging from beneath his thick long lashes, cold as ice.

Countless raindrops crashed from the sky, beating against the umbrella with a rustling sound. The rain grew heavier, blurring the surrounding streets and alleys into indistinct grayish shadows, the whole world becoming hazy.

In this hazy confusion, Huang Zixia heard Li Shubai’s voice, seeming both distant and near: “Yu Xuan?”

Huang Zixia remained silent, mechanically holding the umbrella half a step in front of him, neither speaking nor moving. Though the umbrella was not small, she kept holding it for him, leaving the back half of her body soaked by the rain.

Her body trembled slightly, gripping the umbrella so tightly her knuckles turned white, yet still stubbornly refusing to loosen her grip.

Li Shubai reached up to grasp the umbrella in her hand. She looked up at him bewildered, and he took the umbrella from her hand, took her hand, and said softly, “Let’s go.”

Huang Zixia seemed still unable to understand what had happened, letting him lead her forward involuntarily, only dazedly turning to look at Li Shubai.

He held the umbrella for her, slowly walking through the rain-drenched street, leading her toward the carriage waiting at the intersection.

The heavy rain was blocked out, the seventy-two wards stood quietly in the downpour, the whole world distant and clamorous.

Her hand lay cold and soft in his grasp, not moving even slightly.