On the steps, Nan Banruo and Lin Qingyang locked eyes.
Behind him, the bridal chamber burned fiercely, its crimson windows, bed, desk, screen, and wedding couch all melting into a blinding blaze of color amidst the flames.
Lin Qingyang stood wreathed in fire, like a vengeful spirit clawing its way out of the eighteenth layer of hell.
"Ah," he murmured with a faint, mocking smile, "my fault."
Nan Banruo didn’t immediately grasp what he meant by "his fault."
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, his robes settling behind him as he moved.
"Thought you’d died in that bed," he said, his dark eyes blinking slowly, feigning regret. "My mistake for not finishing the job."
The inferno behind him was too vast for her to see his true expression.
From his tone, it seemed he was lamenting his failure to kill her in that bed the night before—how convenient it would have been to let the fire erase everything.
Her lips parted, but before any sound could escape, a scorching wave of heat forced her back.
Her throat was parched, the flames suffocating.
She struggled to breathe.
Lin Qingyang took another step closer, lifting a hand to brush a smudge of soot from the tip of her nose. With a soft exhale, he blew it away, then tenderly cupped her cheek, his voice a whisper. "If you refuse to die when you should, then you’ll only suffer for it."
Nan Banruo frowned and tried to pull away, but before she could move, his hand snapped up, gripping her jaw with crushing force.
His lips curled into a chilling smirk. "But it’s not too late to die now."
She couldn’t break free. With a careless tug, he yanked her forward, sending her stumbling against him.
Without hesitation, he swept her into his arms and turned toward the raging fire.
"Boom!"
A beam collapsed, the impact sending a tidal wave of flames surging through the doors and windows.
The heat seared her skin, sharp and agonizing.
Lin Qingyang ascended the stone steps, adjusting her weight in his arms. His gaze flicked to the warped window frame before he strode straight into the fire and hurled her into the blaze.
Weightlessness seized her.
Nan Banruo soared through the air, a helpless arc ending in the heart of the inferno.
The scorching air stole her breath.
In that fleeting moment, her eyes met his—cold, black, unreadable.
Twin flames burned in his pupils, her reflection trapped at their core.
She was soft, pale, fragile—like a flower tossed carelessly into a furnace.
Not yet touched by the fire, yet already withering.
She watched him, silent, unresisting.
The flames licked at her back, death’s embrace opening wide to claim her.
Still, she only stared at him.
"Snap."
Pain flared in her wrist.
At the last possible second, his hand shot out, catching her.
She hung suspended in midair, time stretching impossibly long.
Fire crawled up her skirt, hungry and relentless.
His fingers trembled faintly around her wrist, his grip so tight it threatened to crush bone.
With a vicious, hateful yank, he dragged her back from the edge of the fire.
Nan Banruo crashed into him. His icy gaze dropped to her, the sheer force of his presence smothering the flames clinging to her clothes.
He tilted his head, studying her with eerie calm.
"You’re not afraid," he observed, his voice low.
The menace in his tone now was worse than when he’d tried to kill her.
"Are you so sure I won’t kill you… or do you not care if you die?"
Her teeth chattered faintly.
She knew the truth—if he’d truly wanted her dead, he wouldn’t have left the doors and windows unlocked. He wasn’t done with her yet.
But that wasn’t the answer he wanted now.
Her lips parted, a whisper so faint even she barely heard it.
"Say it again," Lin Qingyang demanded, leaning closer.
"...Lin Qingyang, I’m hungry."
Silence.
The courtyard was eerily still, save for the crackling fire.
He didn’t move, as if frozen.
Just as her legs began to buckle, Lin Qingyang finally straightened, exhaling softly. A slow, inscrutable smile curved his lips.
Nan Banruo lay in Lin Qingyang’s arms as they left the burning estate behind.
Over his broad shoulder, she watched flames devour the rooftops, smoke billowing into the sky.
Half the capital would see this.
The thought made her pulse stutter, her gaze darting back to him.
He looked bored now, lips downturned, eyes disinterested.
They moved unhurriedly through deserted alleys and streets—places just a wall away from bustling markets, yet perfectly hidden.
For all his arrogance, he was meticulous, always prepared.
A gust of wind swept through the city.
Smoke from the fire curled after them, and in the distance, a voice called her name.
"Ban—ruo—"
"Ban… ruo…"
The wind carried not just heat, but that faint, desperate cry.
Her heart leapt to her throat, pounding so hard it hurt.
Someone was looking for her. Someone was searching!
Lin Qingyang paused, glancing down.
"Hear that?" he asked, though he didn’t need her answer. After a moment, his lips curled. "Want to know who it is?"
Her breath hitched.
"Ask me, and I’ll tell you—no?" His eyes gleamed with mischief, taunting.
She trembled, turning her face away.
He sighed, feigning disappointment, and kept walking. "Fine. Your loss."
Nan Banruo pressed her lips together.
She wouldn’t believe a word he said.
Even as they traveled farther, the calls followed.
"Banruo… Banruo…"
Each one frayed her nerves further.
Suddenly, Lin Qingyang looked down at her.
She tensed, fingers tightening reflexively.
He smirked, nodding at the faint strain in her hand. "That’s all the strength you’ve got? How long do you plan to keep tearing at it?"
Her fingers twitched.
She’d been secretly shredding a scrap of fabric, hoping to leave a trail. Of course, he’d noticed.
"Need help?" he offered sweetly.
She unclenched her fist. "No."
He chuckled. "Suit yourself."
By the time they passed the city gates, the smoke and voices had faded.
The high walls blocked everything—sound, sight, hope.
She wanted to push her heart back into place, yet no matter how hard she pressed, it refused to settle.
Passing through a bamboo grove, she saw a violet-hued manor standing quietly between the mountains and water.
Lin Qingyang pushed open the courtyard gate and was about to step inside when a distant call echoed from behind.
"Banruo—"
Nan Banruo whirled around.
Lin Qingyang paused on the threshold, turning back with amused interest toward the source of the voice.
Before long, a figure in green appeared within sight.
Nan Banruo held her breath, fingers unconsciously clutching Lin Qingyang's robe. If it came to a fight, she could do little more than scratch his face or bite his throat.
Under her tense, expectant gaze, the figure swiftly closed the distance.
Her heart leaped into her throat, knocking against her teeth until they ached.
"Thud."
A soft sound—the figure dropped to one knee, bowing his head with clasped hands. "My lord."
Nan Banruo froze, brows knitting in disbelief.
Lin Qingyang gave a hum, flicking two fingers in dismissal.
The man rose, keeping his head low, retreated several steps, then vanished into the distance.
Nan Banruo stared blankly as the figure disappeared from view.
It took her a long moment to regain her senses.
Lin Qingyang... He had deliberately ordered someone to call her name, deliberately made her nervous and uneasy, deliberately let her hope in vain.
Dazed, she barely registered as Lin Qingyang carried her into the courtyard and set her down.
"Didn't I say you could ask me? That was one of my men." His smile was both delighted and wicked, his celestial features sharpening into something demonic as he leaned in. "Why didn’t you ask? Who did you think it was?"
Nan Banruo slowly lifted her gaze.
She had never been one to curse, but now, after piercing him with a thousand venomous glances, she finally spat through gritted teeth, "You’re vile!"
Lin Qingyang blinked, then burst into laughter.
He laughed until he could barely stand, slapping his knee between gasps.
When he finally caught his breath, he straightened with effort, swaying slightly as he studied her furious expression.
"Nan Banruo," he mused, grinning as he drew closer, "you’re so much more interesting when you’re angry. Far better than before—that insincere, scheming act of yours was unbearably tedious."
The moment the words left his mouth, all expression vanished from his face.
His gaze turned icy, freezing her to the core.
Nan Banruo pressed her lips together.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, she resisted the urge to step back and met his eyes squarely.
So he knew.
He’d always known her past smiles were lies.
She sneered, "Did you really think someone like you deserved anyone’s sincerity?"
His eyes darkened instantly.
His throat moved as he arched a brow, then turned away. "Weren’t you hungry? Come."
Nan Banruo frowned at his retreating figure.
She was.
The kitchen had congee.
Plain, simple pork and vegetable congee.
Simmered until tender, kept warm over a low flame—ready to serve, neither too hot nor too cold, the rice soft, the greens fresh, the meat tender.
Lin Qingyang ladled a bowl for her.
The motion overlapped with countless memories as he handed it to her.
"Eat quickly," he urged. "Then go wash."
A faint trace of distaste colored his tone.
He had bathed and changed, the scent of blood long gone from his clothes. But beneath her inner robe, his blood still clung to her skin.
Nan Banruo lowered her head and ate.
The congee, at least, was innocent.
Behind the violet bamboo grove lay a natural hot spring.
Lin Qingyang showed no intention of leaving.
She ignored him, undressed, and stepped into the water.
The warm embrace of the spring eased her exhaustion, her spirit lightening as if floating upward.
A splash.
She wasn’t surprised when a lean, hard body pressed against her from behind.
A large hand settled over her abdomen.
It was slightly swollen, a discomfort she’d endured for hours.
Lin Qingyang nipped at her ear, his voice laden with implication. "Unless you want consequences..."
His burning fingers trailed lower.
"You’d better let go."
