Yan Sanhe looked at Tang Jianxi in disbelief.

Tang Jianxi met her gaze. “I don’t know what other fathers are like, but though I’ve achieved nothing, I will protect my children with everything I have.”

Shocked to the extreme, something sharp suddenly rose in Yan Sanhe’s heart.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

Do you know what my identity is?

Do you know what this identity means?

“I’m not afraid.”

“You’re not afraid, but that doesn’t mean Tao Qiao’er won’t be afraid, doesn’t mean Tang Mingyue won’t be afraid, doesn’t mean Dan Eryi won’t be afraid.”

Yan Sanhe said coldly, “The little grandson is very adorable. You should think more of him.”

“Since you don’t agree, I won’t force you.”

Tang Jianxi spoke in a consultative tone. “Then how about changing the incense lighter to Dong Chengfeng?”

There were originally few people in this world who knew who Dong Chengfeng was.

His relationship with the former Crown Prince was as kindred spirits, which led to the story of him lying dormant beside the Prince of Han.

Having him light the incense to resolve all the crows’ heart demons was more than reasonable and could better deflect attention.

This was also what Yan Sanhe wanted to say to Tang Jianxi.

“Good.”

Seeing her agree, Tang Jianxi quietly breathed a sigh of relief. “Child, these years, how have you…”

“Don’t ask.”

Yan Sanhe turned to leave.

The night wind carried her final words.

“It’s late. Rest early—I’ll descend the mountain tomorrow. You needn’t see me off. Also, thank you.”

Footsteps faded away.

A black shadow emerged from the darkness—it was Xie Zhifei.

He seemed not at all surprised by Yan Sanhe’s attitude, even smiling at Tang Jianxi:

“This temper is exactly the same as when I first met her—never wanting to cause others trouble.”

…

Yan Sanhe woke from her dream to find someone lying beside her bed.

She cried out in alarm and sat up.

The person also woke and raised their head.

Their eyes met.

“Xie Zhifei, how are you here?”

Xie Zhifei looked at her, hummed in acknowledgment, rubbed his eyes. “Came to apologize. Li Buyan was injured.”

“Where is she injured? Is she alright? How is she now?”

How could she still think to question him about barging into her room?

“Move in a bit.”

Xie Zhifei, with a gaunt and haggard face, said, “Haven’t slept for two days and nights—rushed here at risk of my life.”

Having said this, without waiting for Yan Sanhe to move, he lay down on the bed himself.

Yan Sanhe’s tongue scraped her cheek as she ground her back teeth, then shifted inward on the bed.

She’d endure it.

Xie Zhifei’s dark gaze circled Yan Sanhe’s face several times before he slowly recounted that day’s events.

Yan Sanhe sat against the bed’s inner side, hugging her legs and listening.

She didn’t know why, but aside from Li Buyan’s injury which tugged at her heart, everything Xie Zhifei said about the old Emperor’s death and the strange sounds from the coffin all made her feel impatient.

Better if the coffin did crack!

She wasn’t magnanimous. Some words were said out of necessity to resolve the crow’s heart demon.

Especially having entered the dream and tasted the warmth of close family, she suddenly realized that having only that one instant between people wasn’t enough.

How she longed to attend them at their knees, to have long-lasting companionship, to properly call them Father and Mother.

These past days she hadn’t descended the mountain, stubbornly staying in this courtyard, waiting and hoping they might soften and come see her once more.

Unfortunately, no!

“That’s roughly how things are.”

Xie Zhifei reached out and grasped her hand, then threaded his fingers through one by one, interlocking them.

“As for the part where I missed you, I’ll tell you after I wake up.”

He slowly closed his eyes, his voice ethereal.

“Actually, you don’t need me to say it—just look at my lips and you’ll know. Yan Sanhe, I must have owed you in my previous life…”

His words fell off as a series of soft snores emerged, matching his stubbled face—he was truly exhausted to the extreme.

Yan Sanhe was silent for a moment, wanting to withdraw her hand but finding she couldn’t pull it free.

Gripped tight as death.

She looked at the sky’s color. Her lips moved, even her foot was prepared to kick, but ultimately she couldn’t bear it. She reached out with her other hand and gently covered him with the quilt.

…

Yan Sanhe’s original plan to descend the mountain the next day was shelved because of Xie Zhifei.

His reason was very sufficient—if you keep traveling like this, just prepare to be a widow.

Yan Sanhe was amused by his shameless attitude.

What?

Was she unwanted by anyone?

Must she marry him?

Add to that Tao Qiao’er and Tang Mingyue also urging her to stay, and looking at the string of blisters on Xie Zhifei’s lips, Yan Sanhe compromised.

Once she compromised, the man surnamed Xie began pushing his luck.

In the morning, he dragged her up the mountain to pick mulberries.

After picking them, he didn’t eat them but mashed them into juice and tricked Dan Eryi into thinking it was plum juice.

Dan Eryi drank it in one gulp—his lips and tongue changed color. When he kissed his precious son, the child was so frightened he wailed.

In the afternoon, he dragged her to the stream to fish and catch shrimp.

Getting mud all over his hands, he smeared it on her face. Before she could get angry, he both flattered and begged for mercy, infuriating Yan Sanhe so much she rolled up her sleeves, scooped up mud from the stream, and smeared it on his face.

After smearing, the two looked at each other and laughed together.

After the meal, they set up a square table in the courtyard and called Tang Mingyue and her husband to play leaf cards.

His card skills were excellent—one person defeating all.

The Tang Mingyue couple lost so badly they wanted to cry, the sound of grinding back teeth audible from three li away.

Yet he couldn’t hear it.

While mocking them for being stupid with terrible card skills, he stuffed the silver into Yan Sanhe’s hands. “Keep it safe for me—it’s my future bride price.”

Dan Eryi, wanting to win back face, deliberately provoked: “Marry who?”

He snorted cold air from his nostrils, his eyes glancing toward Yan Sanhe.

“None of your business. Just prepare the wedding gift money. Less than three thousand taels, and you’d better find a piece of cloth to cover your head.”

Dan Eryi cried out in outrage. “How is this not outright robbery?”

“What’s robbery?”

He smiled wickedly. “Come, next round we raise the stakes—ten taels of silver per game.”

This scared Dan Eryi so much he threw down his leaf cards and ran, pulling Tang Mingyue along, shouting as he ran:

“Bandits, bandits up the mountain!”

Yan Sanhe laughed until her eyes narrowed into crescents.

“Can’t stand his smug attitude.”

Xie Zhifei crossed his legs in a lazy-bones posture. “Big deal—he had a son. Let’s see him give birth to a daughter.”

As he spoke, he glanced at Yan Sanhe and steadily passed her hot tea.

“When we return, I’ll confess to Old Ancestor and have her arrange our wedding. Then I’ll ask Uncle Pei for a secret formula for having dragon-phoenix twins—one pregnancy, two children. Let’s see if I don’t anger him to death.”

“Pfft!”

Yan Sanhe sprayed out a mouthful of hot tea, her eyes wide, thinking: He won’t be angered to death by you, but I’ll be frightened to death by you first.

“Yan Sanhe, what kind of attitude is that?”

Xie Zhifei’s voice was soft, even carrying a nasal tone. “You already let me sleep in your bed—you have to take responsibility for me for life.”

When he said this, the lantern swayed, and the tenderness in his dark eyes swayed with it.

As if something struck Yan Sanhe’s heart.

Just then, a bright moon emerged from the clouds, illuminating this not-too-good, not-too-bad mortal world, and also illuminating the pair of lovers in the courtyard.

At this moment, Yan Sanhe belatedly realized something.

Since Xie Zhifei came up the mountain, she had unknowingly laughed many times.