The reason behind Prince Ling’s pursuit of Cheng Mingying was, in truth, simple enough to explain.

Years ago, after Fang Yuanshan was executed, Prince Ling learned that the Fifth Prince, Cheng Xu, who had been scattered among the common people, had fled to the northern frontier. He then allied with the Second Prince of the Daman tribe, offering a defense map in exchange for having him find Cheng Xu, hidden somewhere on the grasslands, and kill him amid the chaos of war.

Unexpectedly, though Daman succeeded in abducting Cheng Xu, after the northern frontier battle, Cheng Xu unexpectedly survived, and afterward vanished without a trace somewhere on the grasslands.

More than two years ago, in early spring, on a day sometime after the New Year, Prince Ling, Prince Yun, and Cheng Chang — the three brothers — were drinking together. After several rounds of wine, someone came to report a matter to Prince Ling, who guessed it might be news of Cheng Xu, and excused himself from the table.

At the time, Cheng Chang was still the genuine young prince of old — he had drunk too much and wandered aimlessly through the gardens, and without meaning to, wandered near Prince Ling’s private quarters.

As it happened, Prince Ling’s quarters were normally guarded, but that day, being within their own household gardens, the guard on duty assumed nothing could go wrong, and as evening fell, dozed off — failing to notice the young prince at all.

And so Cheng Chang leaned against the window outside and overheard the shocking secret: that Prince Ling had colluded with the enemy to hunt down and kill Cheng Xu.

Though Cheng Mingying was reckless, he had been born and raised in the imperial family, and he understood well enough what a grave crime it was to collude with the enemy and harm an imperial prince. So when Prince Ling, sensing someone outside, asked whether he had heard anything, he feigned drunkenness and bluffed his way through.

Unfortunately, the young prince of the past was not a man of courage and cunning who could face danger calmly. From that day on, his attitude toward Prince Ling changed.

Once Prince Ling learned that Cheng Chang had discovered his secret, murderous intent rose in him. Fortunately, around that time Cheng Chang had been confined to his residence by Prince Cong for extravagantly spending a fortune building Wangshan Residence, and so he escaped that particular disaster.

But he could not escape it forever.

In early February, as Emperor Zhaoyuan was about to return from his southern inspection tour, Prince Cong left Jinling to receive the imperial procession. Seizing this perfect opportunity, with both Emperor Zhaoyuan and Prince Cong away from Jinling, Prince Ling made his move against Cheng Chang on the day of the Flower Blooming Festival.

“Actually, at first I couldn’t understand why, if you meant to kill Cheng Mingying to silence him, you would tuck two gold bricks into his sleeve. If you wanted to make it look like drowning, wouldn’t ordinary things like stones have served better? But later I understood,” Cheng Chang said. “Because you wanted to pin Cheng Mingying’s death on Prince Yun.”

Gold bricks were the sort of thing only the powerful and wealthy possessed, and Prince Yun, dissolute and arrogant as he was, was exactly the type who might stoop to using gold bricks to harm someone. Moreover, in the northern frontier battle years ago, Prince Yun bore some responsibility for the death in battle of the Marquis of Loyal Valor. Prince Ling had thus planned to use Prince Cong’s investigation into the young prince’s death as a means of exposing to him the secret of Prince Yun’s misappropriation of the northern frontier’s military rations — thereby, through a clever substitution, leading Prince Cong to believe that Mingying had been silenced because he had learned Prince Yun’s secret.

Prince Ling said, “Mingying was of the imperial direct line, and doted upon by the Grand Empress Dowager. Setting aside any question of succession, his standing within the palace even surpassed mine. Since I had to kill such a person anyway, naturally I wanted to make the most of it.”

Cheng Chang said, “Actually, even if he had known your secret, he might never have told anyone else — otherwise he wouldn’t have kept it buried in silence to his very last day. No one ever learned the true cause of his death, not even after he died.”

“Just as when you decided to kill Tian Wang’an — in truth, Tian Wang’an likely never harbored ambitions for the throne. He and Tian Sisi fled far to the northern frontier probably just to avoid the conflict entirely, yet you forced him into it regardless.”

“Everything you’ve done over these years has amounted to nothing but wasted effort.”

“How is it wasted effort?” Prince Ling said. “If I hadn’t killed Cheng Xu, was I supposed to stand by and watch Yun Shuguang bring him back to Jinling from the frontier, to become the next Crown Prince after Cheng Yang, to become Emperor — while I spent my whole life eking out a wretched existence in this palace?”

“If I hadn’t killed Mingying, was I supposed to live in perpetual vigilance, day and night on guard, terrified that some careless word of his might one day turn everything I’d worked so hard for to ash?”

“Besides, if it weren’t for Cheng Xu, my mother wouldn’t have died, and I wouldn’t have become an abandoned, unwanted prince that no one cared about.”

“Back then I studied diligently, working every spare moment, and finally managed to handle my first major case successfully. What did it earn me? Half a year of my father not even acknowledging my existence. Among all his sons, I was clearly the one who most respected my elder brothers, most cared for my younger ones — and yet that old man had to go and dote on a fifth son he’d never even laid eyes on. Why should that be?”

“Was Tian Wang’an innocent? His very birth was a mistake. But why should I be the one made to bear the consequences of his mistake for him? What right did I have not to kill him?”

Having said this, Prince Ling smiled faintly. “As for you — having lived and died in his place so many times since, you must have felt the injustice of it too. But you had no choice but to accept it, because once you were dragged into this, it became your fate.”

Cheng Chang, however, said, “Do you really hate Cheng Xu? Everything you’ve done — was it truly only ever about taking his life, and afterward ascending to the throne, becoming that supreme sovereign who holds the power of life and death over all?”

“What do you mean by that?”

Cheng Chang looked at Prince Ling. “Back then, when Fang Fulan suffered her disgrace — where were you?”

Hearing this, Prince Ling froze, and did not answer.

Cheng Chang continued, “That happened too long ago — I spent a long time inquiring before I learned that when disaster struck the Fang household, and Fang Yuanshan was taken into the palace, you went to see him in the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon, trying to save him.”

The order to arrest Fang Yuanshan had come directly from Emperor Zhaoyuan himself; overnight, everyone avoided the Fang household like the plague. Yet Prince Ling, at such a time, was willing to risk defying his sovereign to try to save Fang Yuanshan’s life — which meant he was not a man who calculated his own advantage above all else. So when disaster struck Fang Fulan, why wasn’t he there?

Prince Ling said, “Why do you ask about all this?”

The morning wind blew past. He turned away, gazing toward the misty edge of the cliff, and after a moment said, “I was in the palace. I simply… couldn’t help her.”

The events of the past truly had happened too long ago; those who knew the truth of it had either died or scattered, and so the old hands within the palace avoided the topic entirely — over time, no one even spoke of it anymore.

Prince Ling remembered that when disaster struck the Fang household back then, it had come without warning. Just the day before, he had still been planning to travel to Lin’an, to western Hunan, taking Fulan with him to wander among mountains and rivers, far from this deep palace.

At the time, he had just successfully handled the Chai family case — by rights, a considerable achievement. Yet Emperor Zhaoyuan had only grown more disdainful of him.

Prince Ling had originally been dispirited by this, but Fang Fulan had said, “Your Highness need not trouble yourself. If Your Highness doesn’t care for Jinling, in time Fulan will accompany you away from this deep palace. Wherever Your Highness goes, Fulan will go with you.”

Hearing this, Prince Ling had laughed, all his pent-up gloom sweeping away in an instant. He’d nodded and said, “Good. Then I’ll petition Father for permission, find some place of scenic beauty, take on some idle official post — no need to be any prince at all. How free that would be — I’ll show you every mountain and river, every stretch of splendid scenery across this land, I swear it.”

The night disaster struck Fang Yuanshan, there had been not the slightest warning sign.

By the time Prince Ling heard the news within the palace, Fang Yuanshan had already been taken into the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon.

Prince Ling had inquired desperately, and learned only that Emperor Zhaoyuan had suddenly issued the decree right after emerging from the former Empress’s chambers — by then the former Empress had already been gravely ill, and it seemed, sensing her own approaching death, she had said something to Emperor Zhaoyuan in her final moments.

Fang Yuanshan had always been determined to marry Fang Fulan into a prestigious family, and Prince Ling, being the least favored prince in the palace, had always been looked down upon by him.

But Prince Ling thought that if something truly happened to Fang Yuanshan, Fulan would surely be devastated. He didn’t want to see her grieve — after all these solitary years in the deep palace, this gentle woman, soft as the waters of Jiangnan, was the only person in his heart.

And so, at the risk of defying the throne, he went to the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon to see Fang Yuanshan.

Fortunately, Fang Yuanshan had been brought to the dungeon by men of the Front Hall Command, who then went to report back; the Three Judicial Offices had no idea what had actually happened, and when the Third Prince demanded to see the Vice Minister of Rites, they dared not stop him and let Prince Ling into the dungeon.

Fang Yuanshan’s two sons had always been of poor character; among all his children, Fang Fulan was the only one he truly cherished.

And now, with his crime exposed and his life hanging by a thread, what worried him most was Fang Fulan’s safety.

Seeing that Prince Ling was willing to visit him at a time like this, Fang Yuanshan understood that his feelings for Fulan were genuine.

In truth, the reason he had never been willing to marry Fang Fulan to Prince Ling was not because he looked down on this unfavored prince, but because of a long-standing grudge between himself and Prince Ling’s birth mother, Consort Lu.

Otherwise, given Prince Ling’s talent — far surpassing that of ordinary men — with a senior minister like himself to support him, there was no telling what he might have accomplished in the future.

But now, matters had reached this point, and he had no choice left. The crime he had committed was one that implicated nine generations of his family — no ordinary person could protect Fulan.

Fang Yuanshan also understood that, having something to ask of Prince Ling, he could not afford to deceive him.

Otherwise, even if Fulan were saved for the moment, the truth would eventually come out — and if Prince Ling ever learned the whole truth, he might transfer his hatred for Fang Yuanshan onto Fulan herself, and then she would be beyond redemption.

And Prince Ling himself would never be able to rise again within this deep palace.

And so, taking the opportunity of Prince Ling’s visit, Fang Yuanshan told him the entire truth of what had happened years ago.

He said that it was he who had revealed to the former Empress that the Fifth Prince and Consort Wan were still alive back then. Later, Consort Lu, incited by the former Empress, had sent men to hunt down and kill Consort Wan and her son — and this was what had led to the bloody massacre at Mingyin Temple.

After the massacre, Emperor Zhaoyuan had flown into a fury and ordered Consort Lu’s execution, striking her name from the imperial registers thereafter.

Fang Yuanshan said, “The reason His Majesty holds some resentment toward Your Highness is that the Mingyin Temple massacre has always remained an unresolved knot in his heart. If one day that knot could be undone, then with Your Highness’s remarkable talents, there’s no telling what heights you might reach. Ever since the Fifth Prince escaped the Mingyin Temple massacre, this subject has had spies tracking him all these years. I will tell Your Highness the identities of these spies now — after that, once Your Highness finds him, finds the Fifth Prince, what you do with that knowledge is entirely up to you. All Your Highness needs to know is this: the reason His Majesty still thinks of the Fifth Prince all these years is because he knows the boy is alive, and still holds onto some sliver of hope that father and son might one day be reunited. But once someone dies, the light goes out, and hope scatters with the wind. Even if His Majesty cannot let go of it for a time, he will grow old eventually — and once he grows old, his longing will fade, gradually extinguish, and he will set aside his fixation and start considering who should truly inherit the throne. The Crown Prince is sickly, the Fourth Prince is dull-witted and ignorant, the Sixth Prince still too young — only Your Highness, the Third Prince, is the unrivaled choice to one day rule this realm.”

“This subject knows that by telling Your Highness all this, Your Highness will surely come to hate me. But I have an improper request — with such a glorious future ahead of you, might Your Highness set aside that hatred, just for now, and help me protect Fulan? She is but a weak woman; with the Fang household about to fall, she cannot bear this coming storm.”

Yet hearing Fang Yuanshan’s words, Prince Ling was struck utterly speechless.

No wonder all his years of devoted, painstaking effort had come to nothing. He had never carried himself with the arrogance befitting a prince, had always handled matters diligently and without carelessness — and yet time and again, his utmost efforts had produced the opposite of what he intended. He had always assumed something must be wrong with himself. It turned out, all along, it had simply been fate toying with him.

Prince Ling said, “Why should I help you? If it weren’t for you, my mother wouldn’t have died, wouldn’t have been struck from the registers by my father — and I wouldn’t have fallen to this state.”

“You would stop at nothing for your own advancement — but what wrong did my mother ever do? What wrong did I ever do?”

Fang Yuanshan wept, “You wish to hate me, to have my life in payment — I accept it, all of it. But if you ask what wrong you did, then let me ask you — what wrong did Fulan ever do? Every fault here is mine alone; she knew nothing of any of it. She has cherished you with deep affection — knowing how stifled and troubled you’ve felt in this deep palace, she hasn’t spoken to me, her own father, in three days, all because she wants to leave Jinling with you, wants to marry you. Today, I’ve bid her a final farewell — I didn’t even have the chance to say a proper last word to her.”

“And furthermore—” Fang Yuanshan paused, then steeled himself, “though you were raised in this deep palace, though you bear the noble title of prince, your father despises you, the Imperial Noble Consort fears you might implicate her and has abandoned you entirely, even the palace servants look down on you — which civil or military official at court has ever given you any regard? In this entire palace, in all of Jinling, in the whole realm — who besides Fulan has ever cared for you with true sincerity? You have nothing else. You have only her, only her! Would you truly abandon her, simply out of hatred for me? Could you ever face what she has given you — her deep devotion, her true heart?!”

The Front Hall Command soon returned to report, bringing with them an imperial decree ordering immediate execution.

Not until the guards of the Front Hall Command dragged Fang Yuanshan out of the cell did this Vice Minister of Rites, who had commanded the court for the better part of his life, finally show true panic. Looking at Prince Ling, dazed and shaken, he cried out hoarsely, “Take all your hatred, all your resentment, out on my blood, my life! I beg you, save Fulan, save Ful—”

The final word “an” never left his lips before the executioner’s blade fell. The first thing Prince Ling saw as he rushed out of the cell was Fang Yuanshan’s head rolling upon the ground, blood gushing forth to spread three feet across the floor, while at his neck remained only an empty, gaping wound still pouring out blood.

A sudden wind rose across heaven and earth, fierce and howling, carrying with it the heavy stench of blood.

Prince Ling stumbled back to his quarters through that windswept night, hatred and shock tearing through his chest as if to rend him apart entirely, so much so that before he could even find a stretch of eaves to shelter under, he had already collapsed beneath the steps, retching violently.

The catastrophe had come far too swiftly.

The day after Fang Yuanshan’s execution, Lady Fang hanged herself. Not long after, the former Empress passed away as well.

Overnight, the entire imperial palace fell into chaos.

People always live in peaceful ease during times of calm, never realizing until the storm arrives that they lack the ability to weather wind and rain.

Prince Ling’s preparations came too late. Though his natural intelligence was enough to see himself through the chaos, he had no power, no influence — and thus no ability to help others. Moreover, with the Empress deceased, as a prince he was obligated to observe mourning day and night, so even hearing that the Fang household had fallen and its members scattered in flight, he was powerless to act.

Not until Chai Ping came to him, saying he wished to repay a debt of gratitude and was willing to lend his strength, did Prince Ling — belatedly, too late — begin, in this barren wasteland, to piece together the beginnings of his own domain.

The people at their disposal were too few, and news from beyond the palace traveled too slowly. So by the time Chai Ping told him what had happened to Fang Fulan, it was already the day after her disgrace.

Hearing this news, Prince Ling was struck utterly senseless.

The boundless hatred and the bone-deep love in his chest twisted together, as if about to erupt into flame and burn his mortal body to ash.

Dazed, he could only walk step by step against the morning wind, out of the palace. Yet the further he walked, the clearer his thoughts became.

He suddenly realized that Fang Yuanshan had been right.

He, this man, had nothing at all — nothing but Fang Fulan.

This Vice Minister of Rites who had commanded such power at court had truly understood how to read a person’s heart.

His father despised him, the Imperial Noble Consort loathed him, the palace servants looked down on him, the civil and military officials paid him no mind — in this deep palace, in this world, in this realm, only Fulan had ever cared for him with true sincerity.

He had only her.

Even these past days, using the pretext of mourning the Empress to associate with the arrogant clan members, gradually forming alliances, humbling himself to expand his influence — what had it all been for?

He never dared to dream of the throne; he only hoped to gain a little power in hand, enough to help her weather this storm.

Prince Ling was suddenly overcome with regret. He had watched Fang Yuanshan be executed with his own eyes; he had known the Fang household would meet disaster; he had already promised to take her away, to leave Jinling with her — why had he broken that promise? If he could have set aside the tangled causes and effects of the past and taken her away one day sooner, she would never have suffered any of this.

But there was no time for regret now. Once Prince Ling had calmed himself, he considered: his father had ordered the entire Fang household exiled, and Fulan now bore the guilt of a criminal’s family. Though he was a prince, his power was still too thin to clear her of blame — and if he went to plead with his father directly, it would surely backfire.

Besides his father, who else could he turn to?

Prince Ling thought of the Imperial Noble Consort.

The Imperial Noble Consort was shrewd and self-serving, always fearing that Prince Ling might implicate her, always pushing him away. And yet, hadn’t they still seen each other often during festivals and holidays over the years? On every auspicious occasion, didn’t he still go to pay his respects to her?

The bond between mother and son was thin, almost nonexistent — but she was still the person in this palace who had treated him best.

And now, with the Empress deceased, the Imperial Noble Consort held authority over the inner palace. Only she could save Fulan.

Prince Ling went to the Imperial Noble Consort’s palace and begged her to have Fang Fulan given to him in marriage — he would take her away from Jinling afterward, go wherever, even if it meant atoning for every sin Fang Yuanshan had committed, he was willing.

But the Imperial Noble Consort scolded him: “You can’t tell what matters and what doesn’t! Look at the state the Fang household is in now — and you still dare to associate yourself with anyone from that family?”

“I used to think you had some natural talent, and felt a measure of pity for you — but I never expected that for the sake of some woman, you’d throw away even your status as a prince, defy your own father’s imperial decree! It seems you’re simply destined to amount to nothing. I shouldn’t have expected anything of you!”

“You bring this on yourself — don’t you dare drag me down with you!”

Just then, someone outside reported that the young lady of the Fang family had entered the palace and was waiting outside for an audience.

Hearing this, Prince Ling froze for a moment, then immediately stood, intending to go outside to find Fang Fulan. But the Imperial Noble Consort cried out urgently, “Someone, hold him back!” Seeing Prince Ling struggle, she ordered further, “Cover his mouth, drag him—” she glanced around the hall, her gaze landing on a large vermilion phoenix screen at the side of the chamber, “drag him behind that screen!”

And so, when Fang Fulan entered the hall, Prince Ling was, in fact, right there behind the screen at the side of the chamber.

Bound hand and foot, gagged, he could not utter a single word no matter how desperately he struggled — he could only watch her through the hazy screen, watch her kneel in the hall, begging the Imperial Noble Consort to clear her father’s name.

The Imperial Noble Consort scolded her: “The daughter of a condemned criminal — do you think you’re fit to come to my palace?”

Fang Fulan nodded and knelt quietly, her pale hands clasped together over her skirts, as though she had gathered up all her courage before finally asking in a hoarse voice, “Your Highness, is the Third Prince… in the palace? I haven’t been able to find him these past few days. I would like… to see him.”

Her voice had been hoarse when she began, but the moment she said “Third Prince,” a wave of sorrowful tears suddenly welled up — as though someone drowning had suddenly grasped a floating log, without knowing where that log might carry her.

But Prince Ling suddenly understood — she, too, had only him.

In this whole world, she had nothing left but him.

The Imperial Noble Consort said, “Xuan’er isn’t here. You may go now. And he will not see you again, from now on.”

The phoenix embroidered on the screen, wings spread across nine heavens, glared with furious eyes, its feathers seeming bathed in fire, as if to keep him and her forever separated on opposite ends of the mortal world.

As Fang Fulan withdrew from the hall, Prince Ling nearly bit through the cloth stuffed in his mouth, until blood seeped from his lips.

He wanted to call out to her, to tell her that he was right there in that very hall, that he hadn’t gone far, that he would never abandon her — not for his entire life.

But it wasn’t until a flustered eunuch rushed in from outside to report, “Your Highness, terrible news — the young lady of the Fang family has thrown herself into the lake!” that the guards holding him finally let him go.

Prince Ling stumbled out of the hall, and in that instant, it felt as though the whole world had gone dark.

In this world where he existed, all was a vast, hazy sea of nothingness — save for hatred, and this one small remaining fragment of love.

He didn’t want to lose her. He couldn’t afford to lose her.

Yet before he even reached the lake, Prince Ling saw a young girl in vermilion robes, her features bright and vivid, pulling Fang Fulan out of the water. She checked closely for breath beneath Fulan’s nose, then broke into a radiant smile and said briskly, “She’s fine.”

Hearing Yun Xi say this, the breath that had been trapped, congested in Prince Ling’s chest, suddenly released all at once, spreading through every bone in his body — as if a thousand blades had all at once been lifted from his throat. Freed from the brink of life and death, he collapsed abruptly to the ground.

Prince Ling steadied himself, and seeing that Yun Xi seemed about to take Fang Fulan away, rose to his feet again and stepped forward, wanting to ask Yun Xi to hand over the unconscious Fang Fulan.

At that moment, some palace eunuch — who had apparently witnessed Prince Ling’s abject, dust-like despair — was struck with sudden pity, and stepped up beside him to advise, “Your Highness, that is the young lady of the Zhongyong Marquis household.”

Yes — that was the young lady of the Zhongyong Marquis household. Her name was Yun Xi. He knew that.

The eunuch continued, “This young lady of the Yun household seems to be kind-hearted. If she’s willing to take the young lady of the Fang family back to her own household, perhaps the young lady of the Fang family could truly be kept safe.”

Hearing this, Prince Ling stared blankly at the eunuch. “If she goes to the Marquis household, Fulan will be safe?”

“Yes. The Marquis household.” The eunuch said, then emphasized again, “The Zhongyong Marquis household.”

Yes — he was, after all, only a weak, unfavored prince. How could he possibly compare to a mighty, illustrious Marquis household holding real military power?

Only by going with Yun Xi to the Zhongyong Marquis household could Fulan’s life be spared.

If she stayed with him, there was no guarantee she would even see tomorrow.

Prince Ling slowly, step by step, walked back from the lakeshore to his own quarters. With each step, the sky seemed to dim a little more, until it became the same cold, gray color as that lake water that day — and a sudden hatred rose in Prince Ling’s heart.

He thought, why? Why should he have to endure all this? He had never done wrong by anyone, had always treated others with kindness — and yet his father despised him, his brothers looked down on him, the palace servants fawned upon the powerful and paid him no mind whatsoever. Having fallen to such depths, he no longer cared about anything else — he only wanted to protect the one person who mattered to him. But he couldn’t protect her; he could only watch, helpless, as he lost her.

Hatred grew like creeping vines, spreading wild and unchecked in an instant, gradually covering his heart, covering his small, narrow world — so much so that from that day forward, his sky never seemed to brighten again.

Prince Ling shut himself away in his quarters, refusing to see anyone, until the twenty-first day of mourning for the Empress had passed, until the brief period of lying-in-state within the palace concluded and the Empress’s coffin was moved to the imperial mausoleum — until Chai Ping came to report outside his chamber that General Xuanwei of the Zhongyong Marquis household had used his military merit to petition the Emperor for a pardon for the young lady of the Fang family, and that in the coming days, he intended to marry her as his wife, the young mistress of the Marquis household.

She had become the young mistress of a Marquis household — no longer the same person she once was.

But what did that matter, in the end?

During those days he had shut himself away, letting hatred brew drop by drop within him, letting his mortal heart sink slowly into obsession, he too had long since ceased to be his former self.

The first thing Prince Ling did upon emerging from his quarters was to go seek out Pei Ming and Luo Fuyou, both of whom had once shown interest in pledging themselves to him.

Because these two had returned from the northern frontier.

Before his death, Fang Yuanshan had told him that Cheng Xu had, in the end, fled to the northern frontier — and so Prince Ling had ordered Pei Ming and Luo Fuyou to conspire with the Second Prince of the Daman tribe, offering a defense map as payment for Cheng Xu’s death.

As for how much he actually hated Cheng Xu — it wasn’t entirely that. Prince Ling simply believed he deserved to die.

He thought, having fallen this far himself, what right did Cheng Xu have to live?

Besides, the Crown Prince was gravely ill, and now that he hoped Yun Shuguang would bring Cheng Xu back from the frontier — if the Crown Prince learned Cheng Xu had died, wouldn’t his illness worsen beyond recovery?

And Prince Yun had misappropriated the northern frontier’s military supplies — if Cheng Xu died because the Loyal Valor Army was defeated, wouldn’t that add to Prince Yun’s guilt as well?

Let them all go to this hell together, then.

In truth, before Prince Ling had the defense map sent to the frontier, he had considered the consequences. He knew this map might well doom the Zhongyong Marquis household, might well doom tens of thousands of soldiers stationed at the frontier.

He still remembered that girl in vermilion robes who had pulled Fang Fulan from the lake — on the very day she saved Fulan’s life, she had also granted him a breath of continued life. But he did not hesitate. His heart had already fallen into obsession; he no longer felt pity for human life, no longer clung to any notion of right and wrong.

And so, over the years that followed, he killed one after another — anyone who stood in his path, anyone who blocked his way, even anyone he simply disliked — feeling not a shred of guilt, not a flicker of fear. And at last, this path led him to Cheng Mingying.

Only occasionally, in his dreams, did he feel himself falling, as though plunging into a bottomless abyss, the wind howling bone-deep in his ears, cutting into his flesh like a blade scraping bone.

Prince Ling met Fang Fulan again over a year after Yun Luo’s “death,” in an apothecary shop.

She wore plain mourning white and exchanged greetings with him.

So much time had passed that neither of them spoke again of the past, of cause and consequence, nor mentioned the feelings they had once shared.

The long-awaited reunion revealed only the old wound buried deep within, festering still.

Perhaps once they had missed that single moment of mutual redemption, and neither had managed to endure alone afterward, all the world’s beauty and kindness had simply become undeserved for them both.