Fang Songhe and Gao Yuan moved with incredible speed.
Chu’he couldn’t keep up with them, but fortunately, she had Ninth to act as her pack mule, carrying her on his back as he leaped forward in a few bounds to catch up.
The wind howled past them as Chu’he stared at Gao Yuan and demanded, "What kind of grudge do you and Song Tingxue have? Why would he set up such an elaborate scheme to harm you?"
Gao Yuan replied in a low voice, "The Second Miss wanted to escape… She asked for my help. Song Tingxue… found out. During the struggle… he hurt her."
Chu’he thought of the letters in Zhao Shuxing’s room. At the time, she had already suspected that the person corresponding with Zhao Shuxing might be the missing guard, Gao Yuan.
But something had always felt off. Now, she finally realized what it was.
"The one writing to Zhao Shuxing was Song Tingxue!"
Gao Yuan was a rough man. Though he could read and write, he could never produce such refined, scholarly handwriting.
Fang Songhe, an upright man, was shocked by Chu’he’s deduction. "Song Tingxue was involved with the Second Miss?"
"No!" Gao Yuan said fiercely. "He… deliberately approached her!"
Zhao Shuxing was playful and loved excitement. Unlike Zhao Rongyue, who preferred quiet, Zhao Rongyue could sit still for hours reviewing account books, while Zhao Shuxing could never manage such patience.
It happened during last year’s Lantern Festival. Zhao Shuxing had pestered Zhao Rongyue to accompany her to see the lanterns, but Zhao Rongyue had too many ledgers to review and couldn’t leave. So, Zhao Shuxing went out alone.
The streets were crowded, and she got separated from her guards—just in time to be harassed by a lecherous man.
Faced with his crude remarks, Zhao Shuxing’s temper flared, and she slapped him.
The man snarled, "You refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit!"
As his hand shot toward her, a strong grip seized his wrist. A sharp crack—the sound of a bone breaking—echoed before the man could even scream. Then, a kick sent him flying into the water.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
The one who had intervened was a tall young man in black robes, his face hidden behind a dark gold mask. His ruthless movements radiated danger, yet his mysterious aura sparked curiosity.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly.
Zhao Shuxing’s face flushed.
From that day on, she began exchanging letters with this enigmatic man who called himself "Ying Suifeng." As time passed, Zhao Shuxing became certain that their feelings were mutual. But strangely, he never showed his true face.
Nor did he ever mention coming to the Zhao residence to propose.
Finally, Zhao Shuxing decided to force his hand. She reserved a private room and invited him in a letter.
"Ying Suifeng, you always give me the feeling that we’ve known each other for a long time. Is that just my imagination?"
He chuckled. "We met long ago."
How long ago?
Zhao Shuxing had no memory of it. Gathering her courage, she pressed, "Then when will you come to marry me?"
This time, he fell silent.
Zhao Shuxing downed a cup of wine for courage and slammed the table. "You’re not just playing with me, are you? Let me tell you, I despise men who toy with women’s feelings. If you’ve deceived me, I’ll never let you off!"
She was tipsy, swaying slightly. Ying Suifeng steadied her. "Careful."
Seizing the moment, Zhao Shuxing suddenly leaped up and tore off his mask.
No one knew what happened afterward.
Gao Yuan only knew that after returning to the Zhao residence, Zhao Shuxing was consumed by terror. She refused to see anyone, especially her sister.
Yet, every night, letters professing love still appeared on her bedside. She didn’t dare respond—only grew more afraid.
So, she wanted to escape.
"Gao Yuan actually planned to take her away from Xiaocheng. How could I allow that?"
Ying Suifeng plucked the most beautiful flower and tucked it behind Zhao Shuxing’s ear. His smile was dark, obsessive, twisted with madness.
"I wanted to kill Gao Yuan, but she threw herself in front of him. When my sword pierced her chest, she bled so much…"
"I never meant to hurt her."
"But I won’t let her die."
"Why?"
Ying Suifeng turned to Zhao Rongyue, his handsome features contorting with pent-up fury.
"Why does Song Tingxue get to live in the sunlight, marrying whoever he pleases, doing whatever he wants, while I’m left in the dark, wandering the same place night after night?"
"Eighteen years ago, in this very cave, he could hide while I bore the fear and helplessness."
"Eighteen years later, he’s a respected teacher, praised by all, while I still wear a mask, only able to be myself for a few hours at night."
"He’s had his happiness long enough. Now, it’s my turn, isn’t it?"
Zhao Rongyue’s eyes flickered. "So, you’ve existed since eighteen years ago. I’m sorry I never noticed. If I had known back then—"
She didn’t finish.
Eighteen years ago, Zhao Rongyue and Zhao Shuxing had been kidnapped together. Song Tingxue had found solace in Zhao Rongyue’s comfort, clinging to her like a drowning man to driftwood.
But when night fell, Ying Suifeng opened his eyes and saw the sleeping girl holding him. Resentment festered in his heart.
Why should Song Tingxue, that coward, have everything?
So, he woke Zhao Shuxing and whispered, "Do you want to come with me to find help for your sister?"
Young and naive, Zhao Shuxing believed him after just a few words, willing to sneak away without her sister to embark on this risky venture.
Find help?
Ying Suifeng had never intended to. The kidnappers were ruthless—if they discovered the children fleeing, their rage would be uncontrollable. Killing them wasn’t out of the question.
If Song Tingxue got Zhao Shuxing killed, that girl Zhao Rongyue would surely despise him forever.
As expected, the two children didn’t get far before the kidnappers caught them.
Ying Suifeng fell, his head smacking against a rock. As a kidnapper’s foot came crashing down, he saw Zhao Shuxing’s small body throw itself over him, shielding him from the blow.
What happened after that?
Why didn’t the kidnappers finish them off?
How were they rescued?
Neither Song Tingxue nor Ying Suifeng knew—consciousness had slipped away.
For years afterward, Ying Suifeng lay dormant within Song Tingxue’s body. Then, seventeen years after the kidnapping, he finally found his chance to awaken.
Song Tingxue was unaware of Ying Suifeng’s existence, but Ying Suifeng could perceive everything about him.
The happier Song Tingxue was, the more Ying Suifeng seethed.
Song Tingxue had the life he wanted, the woman he loved.
And as Ying Suifeng watched from the shadows, witnessing Zhao Rongyue’s devotion to Song Tingxue, his mind always returned to that single memory—Zhao Shuxing protecting him.
She was the only one who had ever shielded him.
And so, he wanted her. Desperately.
His fingertips brushed against Zhao Shuxing's skin, still warm yet unnaturally pale, as he murmured, "I won't let her die."
Zhao Rongyue pressed a hand to her aching chest, her fingers trembling. "Ever since Shuxing disappeared, my health began to fail. They said my heartache was born of endless worry—that I needed medicine daily. And every night, you were the one who brewed it for me."
Her gaze drifted back to Zhao Shuxing’s serene, slumbering face, and suddenly, she smiled—a bitter, knowing smile. "You want my heart."
The young man, as refined as jade, lifted his eyes to meet hers. "You truly are perceptive, my lady."
Zhao Rongyue closed her eyes, exhaling softly. When she opened them again, they were clear—untouched by resentment or fear. "If Shuxing’s life depends on my heart, you had only to ask. Why harm the innocent? Why damn yourself for this?"
For a moment, he stood frozen, speechless.
