Ying Suifeng had schemed in the shadows for so long, even going so far as to capture countless innocent young women for his experiments, all in a desperate attempt to revive Zhao Shuxing.
Yet none of those women’s hearts had been suitable, and Zhao Shuxing remained in slumber.
Once upon a time, Ying Suifeng had despised bandits and their ilk just as much as anyone else. But for Zhao Shuxing’s sake, he had gradually descended into their world—absurdly, ironically—becoming their hidden leader.
Despite all his efforts, every attempt had ended in failure.
Ying Suifeng muttered, "That man was right. The Ghostly Blossom can preserve Shuxing’s body, keeping a sliver of life within her. But only the heart of someone bound to her by blood can truly match her form."
And so, in the end, his gaze fell upon Zhao Rongyue.
Zhao Rongyue thus suffered from a so-called "heart ailment," forced to take medicine every night—medicine that was nothing more than preparation for the day her heart would be cleanly extracted.
He had plotted so meticulously, yet Zhao Rongyue had only one thing to say:
"If Shuxing needs my heart, you only had to ask."
Ying Suifeng felt as if all his machinations had become a joke in her presence.
She spoke of life and death with unsettling calm.
But then, in an instant, Zhao Rongyue pulled the hairpin from her hair and pressed it against her chest.
Ying Suifeng: "What are you doing?!"
"If my heart is damaged, your plan will fail, won’t it?"
Ying Suifeng clenched his fists, his lips curling into a sneer. "I thought you were above such things. Turns out you were just pretending—"
"I have one condition."
Ying Suifeng paused. After a moment, he asked, "What?"
"Once Shuxing wakes, you must surrender yourself to the authorities. Confess to your crimes and pay for the lives of those innocent women."
Ying Suifeng had never imagined that Zhao Rongyue’s final act of defiance would be for such a "pointless" reason.
After a long silence, he laughed. "Yes, I committed those atrocities. Though Song Tingxue knew nothing of them, he and I share the same body. Do you truly have the heart to let him suffer imprisonment for my sins?"
At the mention of "Song Tingxue," Ying Suifeng’s eyelid twitched. The dormant other personality within him seemed to stir, struggling to awaken and change the course of events.
Zhao Rongyue hesitated briefly, but in the end, she said, "I know him. Though he bears no blame for these tragedies, he would still feel guilt. He would blame himself. And he would make the same choice I have."
From the name he had chosen for himself, it was clear Ying Suifeng had always sought to sever all ties to Song Tingxue. But no matter how much he wished otherwise, their fates had been intertwined from the moment he was born within Song Tingxue’s body.
"After all these years as husband and wife, I failed to notice your existence. That was my failing. And now that you’ve wrought such devastation, I too must bear the consequences."
Zhao Rongyue met his gaze, pressing the pin deeper until it pierced her skin. A thin line of blood seeped into her robes.
She asked, "Now, I ask you—will you turn back?"
His fingers curled unconsciously, knuckles whitening as if frozen by an unseen force. His pupils contracted sharply, the indifference in his eyes shattering in an instant.
Even the struggling soul within him seemed to quiet at this moment.
Born from fear, he had always been a shadow—unknown, unseen, destined to dwell in darkness.
Human negativity was what he understood best, and in turn, it fed into him, shaping his nature.
In the endless dark, he had clung to the memory of the one person who had protected him in childhood, the sole light in his life. That desperate need to reclaim that warmth had driven him forward.
Yet now, inexplicably, fragments of Song Tingxue’s memories surfaced—Zhao Rongyue’s smiles, her laughter, all the moments he had deliberately ignored.
He had known Zhao Rongyue for nearly twenty years, yet now she seemed both unfamiliar and inexplicable.
She was like any other mortal, and yet unlike any other.
Confusion, bewilderment, uncertainty.
He could find no answer.
Zhao Rongyue repeated, "What is your choice?"
Ying Suifeng’s throat tightened. "Ridiculous," he rasped.
Zhao Rongyue lowered her eyes, disappointment flickering across her face.
A sudden, inexplicable panic seized him.
A blade’s wind tore through the air, kicking up dust.
Ying Suifeng reacted instantly. Though he knew he should evade, he instead lunged forward, grabbing Zhao Rongyue and pulling her back with him.
Blood sprayed, pooling on the ground in an instant.
His arm trembled, flesh torn and blackened veins spreading like vines beneath his skin. Realizing he had been poisoned, he instinctively released Zhao Rongyue and staggered back.
Soon, intricate black patterns crawled across half his face, twisting his features into something monstrous.
He lifted his head, voice icy. "The Miaojiang people’s tricks truly are impossible to guard against."
A red-cloaked, white-haired youth approached leisurely, idly crushing a plucked flower in his fingers before letting the ruined petals fall beneath his boot.
"I promised Chu’he I’d kill whoever she hates. But it seems you’ve made more enemies than just me."
With a smirk, he stepped aside.
A sword flashed—a handsome young man lunged forward, blade aimed at Ying Suifeng, who barely managed to draw his own weapon in time.
The dim stone chamber erupted in a storm of steel.
"Second Miss!" Gao Yuan rushed to the stone bed, dropping to one knee in reverence.
Chu’he hurried to Zhao Rongyue’s side, supporting her weakened form. "Miss Zhao, you’re too frail—Ninth, come check on her!"
Ninth ambled over, giving Zhao Rongyue only a cursory glance. "She’s dying."
Chu’he glared at him—couldn’t he show some tact?
Yet Zhao Rongyue only smiled faintly. "I know. I don’t have much time left."
Ninth rarely encountered those who faced death with such composure—especially not a woman who had been led to this fate by the one she loved.
For once, he regarded her seriously. "Your body is failing because all its vitality has been funneled into your heart. The two are no longer compatible."
Chu’he pressed, "Ninth, isn’t there any way to save her?"
Unlike Chu’he, Ninth lacked such overflowing sympathy. In truth, he didn’t understand why she cared so much about others’ lives.
"Eldest Miss." Gao Yuan knelt before Zhao Rongyue, kowtowing. "I beg you—save Second Miss."
He knew. Only Zhao Rongyue’s heart could revive Zhao Shuxing now.
