Due to the backlash of the gu poison and to keep his secret, Li Huaijin had no choice but to seclude himself in the sickroom for even longer periods.
Yet, the lively girl would often burst in with noisy commotion, completely transforming the gloomy, lifeless atmosphere of the room.
"Brother, look! I caught a dragonfly!"
"Brother, I stole this roasted chicken from the kitchen!"
"Brother, I promised Miaomiao we’d climb the tree tomorrow to steal bird eggs!"
...
Before he knew it, Li Huaijin found himself sitting on the sickbed, untouched by sunlight, watching the girl appear in the doorway, bathed in light. She seemed unbearably bright to his eyes.
A pang of regret struck him, followed by an overwhelming urge to destroy.
Had he used the Snow Ephemeral back then, would he be the one leaping about now, radiant and carefree?
While he lingered in the shadows, barely alive, she could smile so effortlessly, reaching out to touch the first rays of spring sunlight.
Suddenly, Li Huaijin felt disgust—disgust at her existence, and at his own past weakness.
So, on that summer day, when Li Furong and Chu'he were playing in his courtyard, climbing a tree to steal bird eggs and falling, Li Huaijin caught Chu'he.
Li Furong crashed heavily to the ground, her skin scraped and bruised. Lifting her face, she saw her beloved brother shielding Chu'he while ignoring her. Tears welled up uncontrollably in her eyes.
Her sorrow and pain brought Li Huaijin a strange, perverse satisfaction.
Outwardly, he was the doting elder brother. But in secret, he coldly watched her stumble again and again, waiting for the day her heart would finally shatter.
One day, she would surely snap, screaming at him in hysterics.
Human nature was truly ugly. Only by proving Li Furong was just as wretched could he justify his regret—that he should never have spared her life back then.
Yet she remained foolishly oblivious, never sensing his impatience. She even believed every lie, plunging into danger just to find him a cure.
The masked man posing as Doctor Wu came and went like a shadow, his methods as mysterious as they were deadly.
"You don’t seem happy," the black-clad masked man said, his voice youthful and lively. "Little Huaijin, you’ve finally found the Jade Crystal Puppet Thread. You won’t die now."
Everyone assumed the Jade Crystal Puppet Thread had been used on Cang Yan, forgetting one crucial fact: the Cang Family’s youngest daughter had been found in a dry well. How could a two- or three-year-old child survive such a fall unscathed?
Yet she had emerged unharmed, lively as ever—because the treasure had already been used on her.
Li Huaijin said, "You knew where the Jade Crystal Puppet Thread was all along."
"Of course," the masked man replied, resting his chin on his hand with a smile. "Fifteen years ago, when I examined the girl’s pulse, I discovered it."
He had to admit, the identity of Doctor Wu had been incredibly useful. If Shangguan Huanxi and her companions hadn’t disrupted his plans, he wouldn’t have abandoned that puppet body so easily.
Li Huaijin’s hands clenched slowly. "If you knew fifteen years ago, why keep it from me all this time?"
"Keep it from you?" The masked man feigned confusion. "Long ago, someone taught me a lesson—nothing should come without effort. You found the treasure through your own hard work. That makes it all the more meaningful."
"A story needs twists to be interesting. Don’t you think it’s fascinating that what you sought was right beside you all along? Just like in the operas."
He stood and approached, his laughter soft. "Fifteen years ago, you made a choice you’ve regretted ever since. Now, you have another chance. Little Huaijin, don’t waste it."
Though his tone was friendly, he had watched coldly for over a decade as Li Huaijin and Li Furong’s relationship grew increasingly tangled.
Now, Li Huaijin had pushed them to a point where only one could survive.
After twenty years of suffering, his will to live burned fiercer than ever.
But the girl had called him "brother" for so many years...
What choice would he make?
The uncertainty thrilled the onlooker.
Li Huaijin suddenly smiled. "Isn’t my choice obvious?"
Behind the mask, crimson eyes gleamed. The masked man’s voice quickened with excitement. "You’re finally acting? Then hurry—kill her, and you’ll live!"
Li Huaijin would surely suffer afterward, perhaps even grieve.
And that was exactly what the masked man longed to see.
Li Huaijin turned away, walking back to the bed. He gazed at the unconscious girl and slowly reached out.
The masked man’s eyes fixed on Li Huaijin’s murderous hand, eager to see it stained crimson.
But just as his fingertips were about to touch her, Li Huaijin whirled around, his arm sweeping out. Countless silver needles scattered like stars across the sky.
The masked man stumbled back, dodging most—but one grazed his hand. Black corrosive mist immediately seeped from the wound.
Every needle was laced with lethal poison.
As the masked man examined his hand, Li Huaijin vanished with Li Furong in his arms. A low chuckle escaped the masked man’s lips, his eyes darkening with malice.
"Using my own methods against me? How adorably naive."
He flexed his hand, the black mist dissipating as the wound healed instantly. A blue ghostly insect materialized, darting in Li Huaijin’s direction.
The masked man followed at a leisurely pace, his silver hair flowing like cold moonlight in the night breeze. A soft "hmph" escaped him—half laugh, half mockery.
"Has the child forgotten? The gu I planted in him still lingers."
Blood gushed from Li Huaijin’s mouth as he plummeted through the darkness, instinctively shielding the girl in his arms.
When he looked up, he saw them again—the endless blooms of hibiscus lining the mountain path.
He couldn’t stop now. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up, hoisting Li Furong onto his back. Step by step, he trudged forward, blood dripping in his wake.
The same dilapidated temple stood before him, even more ruined than before. Half the eaves had collapsed, tiles missing, the night wind howling through the gaps, carrying an icy chill.
The metallic tang of blood rose in his throat. Li Huaijin staggered, falling to his knees as more black blood spilled from his coughs.
The agony of countless insects gnawing inside him had numbed—he no longer felt pain. As he laid Li Furong down, an absurd urge to laugh bubbled up.
After all this, he had circled right back to where he began.
