Gao Yuan had been Zhao Shuxing's guard since childhood. Unlike other wealthy young ladies, Zhao Shuxing never looked down on him for his humble status. Instead, she treated him as a friend, sharing conversations and laughter with him.
Gao Yuan didn’t know when his heart, which had always been devoted to protecting her, began to change.
He loved Zhao Shuxing, yet he knew he was unworthy of her. So, he dared not confess his feelings.
When Zhao Shuxing met with misfortune, he blamed himself.
If only he had realized sooner that the masked figure was Song Tingxue. If only he had been more cautious when taking Zhao Shuxing away—then she wouldn’t have been injured, nor would she have ended up in this vegetative state.
To save Zhao Shuxing, Zhao Rongyue would have to be sacrificed.
Gao Yuan knew he shouldn’t selfishly plead with Zhao Rongyue, but wasn’t she already dying?
Since her death was inevitable, why couldn’t she save Zhao Shuxing before passing?
Chu'he stepped in front of Zhao Rongyue, furious. "Gao Yuan, how dare you demand someone sacrifice themselves for another? Is Zhao Shuxing’s life worth more than Zhao Rongyue’s?"
Gao Yuan couldn’t meet their eyes. He lowered his head and muttered, "The young mistress… doesn’t have much time left."
Between people, there were always those closer and those farther.
So even though Gao Yuan knew his request was absurd, he still made it.
The battle nearby was nearing its end.
Ying Suifeng was injured and poisoned, his body wracked with pain as if bitten by a hundred insects. That he could hold his own against Fang Songhe for so long was nothing short of extraordinary.
Yet even in such dire straits, he couldn’t help but divert his attention to the other scene.
Hearing Gao Yuan’s plea to Zhao Rongyue, his gaze instinctively fell upon her.
There was something in his eyes—hope for her agreement, perhaps, or something else, an emotion even he couldn’t name.
Fang Songhe’s sword pierced Ying Suifeng’s chest. The latter clutched his wound and collapsed to the ground, battered and broken.
The blade rose again—but stopped mid-air.
Through blurred vision, Ying Suifeng saw the frail silhouette of a woman standing before him.
"Fang Songhe, spare him. Even if he must atone for innocent lives, let it be in the prison of the magistrate’s office, after true repentance."
Fang Songhe hesitated. "Miss Zhao…"
Zhao Rongyue said, "In his current state, he poses no threat."
Fang Songhe glanced at Ying Suifeng, who was barely clinging to life, then sheathed his sword.
Zhao Rongyue turned, her gaze settling on the bloodied man.
Though illness had withered her body, her eyes remained bright and unwavering.
For a moment, Ying Suifeng felt a sting.
"The vow of growing old together… I broke it first."
She turned away and took a step forward.
Ying Suifeng reached out, shouting, "I’m not him! Why do you see him when you look at me?"
She didn’t look back. With each step toward the flower-covered figure, she drew closer to death.
Inside Ying Suifeng, another soul raged, desperate to stop her—but his broken body refused to obey.
That retreating figure felt hauntingly familiar.
For a moment, it was as if they had returned to eighteen years ago.
"These brats dared to run away together—let’s kill them!"
"No, this girl is the youngest daughter of the Zhao family. She’s worth a fortune!"
"Then kill the boy. I’ve had enough of him."
The unconscious girl was roughly hauled up by the kidnappers, leaving the gravely wounded boy on the cold ground. Before darkness took him, he saw a lone figure standing firm.
"I am Zhao Rongyue, the Zhao family’s daughter. I’m worth plenty. Spare this child, or I’ll make sure you get nothing."
She held a sharpened wooden stake to her own throat.
He remembered that stake—she had hidden it, painstakingly sharpening it over time. She once told him it was for self-defense, something that might save her life one day.
But no one expected she would turn it against herself.
Her defiance bought enough time for rescuers to arrive, saving all three children.
From the very beginning, Zhao Rongyue had protected more than just Song Tingxue.
Ying Suifeng coughed up blood. His outstretched hand trembled as he dragged himself forward, chasing the figure he should have held onto but never could.
"Zhao Rongyue… come back."
"Don’t… you can’t die."
"Zhao Rongyue."
"Come back!"
In that moment, the two souls within one body finally merged, united by a single purpose.
What did it matter if he was Song Tingxue or Ying Suifeng?
If he didn’t seize that vanishing figure, they would both perish in the cruelest way.
But this time, she wouldn’t turn back to wait for them.
She sat on the stone bed as vines, sensing life, coiled around her. Her fingers brushed her sister’s cheek. The moment her heart was carved open, blood bloomed across the lost soul’s face, staining his vision red.
In the end, she didn’t spare him a single glance.
Gao Yuan kowtowed deeply toward Zhao Rongyue.
Fang Songhe’s expression twisted with sorrow, but there was no perfect solution.
Chu'he turned away, burying her face in Ninth’s chest, her tears dampening his clothes.
Ninth, however, felt little. Only Chu'he’s tearful state stirred something in him.
He wiped her cheek and asked, childlike, "Why cry?"
Chu'he sniffled. "Miss Zhao was good. I don’t want her to die."
A small green snake peeked from Chu'he’s hair. Though it couldn’t shed tears, its eyes seemed to glisten in mimicry.
Ninth scoffed. Now Chu'he had even won over the snake—it had grown accustomed to siding with her.
He flicked the snake’s head back into hiding, then said lazily, "If you don’t want her to die, then don’t let her die."
Chu'he blinked. "You can save her?"
Ninth shrugged. "She gave her heart to another. Just replace it with someone else’s. But it must be given willingly, or it won’t suit her body."
The broken figure on the ground, as lifeless as a corpse, stirred. His lashes fluttered, and hope flickered in his eyes as he lifted his face.
Three days later.
The bodies of the wrongfully slain were returned to their families. The cave overgrown with ghostly flowers was burned to ashes. The storm seemed to have passed—but for those who lost loved ones, the pain would linger forever.
Summer cicadas hummed. Shadows of trees swayed as a cool breeze drifted through.
A youth in striking red robes perched among the branches, his bell-adorned leg dangling idly in the air.
In his hand were freshly picked mulberries, staining his palm a deep purple. He popped a small berry into his mouth, his expression unreadable, giving no hint of whether it tasted good or not.
The noisy chatter beside him finally ceased, bringing a welcome silence.
Chu'he set down her short flute and took several deep breaths. "Ninth, how do you even play this thing? Why can’t I get a single tune out of it?"
"Stupid Central Plains—"
Chu'he’s willow-thin eyebrows shot up. "Hmm?"
Ninth swallowed the rest of his words and instead picked a plump mulberry, lazily offering it to her lips. "This flute is for controlling insects. If you want to learn, I’ll make you an ordinary one another day."
Chu'he was somewhat appeased and opened her mouth to accept the berry. The next moment, her face scrunched up like a steamed bun, and she swatted at him. "It’s sour!"
Ninth didn’t dodge the poorly aimed slap, and with a crisp "smack," his head took the full brunt of the attack.
Then, he simply stared at her in silence.
Chu'he froze, quickly leaning in. "Why didn’t you dodge? You’re supposed to be so skilled! Let me see if you’re hurt!"
"Who are you?"
Chu'he blinked. "What did you say?"
The young man’s eyes were blank. "Who are you? I don’t remember."
Chu'he pressed her lips together, her cheeks puffing up like a bun.
He then let out an exaggerated "Ah!" and said flatly, "My head hurts. I’ve lost my memory. I don’t remember anything."
Tears welled up in Chu'he’s eyes.
Ninth paused, then bent down to cradle her face in his hands. Her cheeks were soft and plump, quite pleasant to touch. "I remember now. You’re A’he, my fiancée. You even promised to spend all your money buying me candied hawthorns."
Chu'he pinched him. "I never said anything like that!"
Lately, she’d been brooding over the tragic love story between Zhao Rongyue and Song Tingxue, so his sudden amnesia act had her projecting their sorrow onto herself.
Ninth expected Chu'he to scold him further to vent her frustration, but instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried herself in his embrace.
She clung to him tightly, as if he were a delicious fruit coated in syrup.
Chu'he mumbled into his chest, "Back in Miaojiang, when I was thrown in as material for your Gu refinement, you didn’t remember anything then either. What if… what if you lose your memory again someday and really forget me?"
So that’s what she was worried about.
Ninth tossed aside the sour mulberry, wiped his hands on the little green snake coiled on a branch, then lifted her onto his lap. Twirling a lock of her black hair around his finger, he listened to her sniffling breaths, feeling his own heart soften like cotton.
"That day will never come."
"But what if it does?" Chu'he stubbornly lifted her head, demanding an answer. She hadn’t forgotten—the male lead in this world had lost his memory and fallen for the female lead.
Amnesia wasn’t exactly rare!
Ninth wasn’t one for sweet talk. He adjusted the newly replaced hairpin in her locks and said softly, "If that day ever comes, I’ll teach you what to do."
"What to do?" Chu'he’s eyes sparkled with hope, imagining he’d produce some legendary love Gu to bind them together for eternity.
To her surprise, Ninth simply said, "Stand in front of me."
Chu'he waited, but there was no follow-up. "That’s it? Nothing else?"
"Nothing else."
Chu'he fumed. "You’re teasing me!"
"Just by appearing before me, the moment I see you, I’ll know you’re the future mother of my little treasure."
Chu'he was stunned.
"Don’t get it?"
She nodded. "A little."
The young man grinned, lazily leaning against the tree trunk. Dappled sunlight flickered over him as he closed his eyes in feigned sleep. "If you don’t get it, then forget it."
Chu'he refused to let it go, tugging at his white braid in his arms. "Explain properly! No sleeping until you do!"
He kept his eyes shut, lips quirking upward as he held her steady, preventing her from toppling over in her agitation, letting her noisy protests drown out even the cicadas’ cries.
The little green snake sprawled in the shade cast them a sidelong glance, oozing disdain.
—The stench of love was absolutely everywhere!
