"Unless you want someone to die... you'd better separate."
Mist seeped into the purple bamboo grove.
Slender bamboo leaves, thin and sharp-edged, drifted onto the water's surface, swaying rhythmically with the ripples. They grazed Nan Banruo's snow-white, luminous skin, leaving faint crimson marks that didn't break the surface but traced delicate, intersecting patterns.
The crisscrossing red streaks were hauntingly beautiful.
Nan Banruo bit her lip, her body trembling uncontrollably.
She floated amidst the undulating waves, her only anchor being the left arm of the man behind her, locked tightly around her waist.
His right hand moved beneath the water, disturbing the stillness with deliberate motions.
Lin Qingyang had beautiful hands—long fingers, well-defined knuckles, hardened and calloused from years of wielding a sword.
With meticulous care, he cleansed her inch by inch.
Nan Banruo's breaths came in ragged gasps as her body swayed, her soaked black hair tangling around the buttons of his robe. The tighter the strands coiled, the more it felt like an invisible hand was yanking her head back, forcing her to arch her neck.
Her body occasionally floated upward, only to be ruthlessly pressed back down.
The steamy spring rippled with rhythmic waves, one after another.
Overwhelmed, Nan Banruo reached beneath the water, her fingers weakly wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to stop him.
But her strength was pitifully inadequate. Instead of halting him, her touch only made her more acutely aware of the sinewy muscles and unyielding tendons of his arm.
She wasn’t drowning, yet she could barely breathe.
Her fingers gradually slackened, slipping from his wrist, drifting aimlessly in the warm water.
Her vision blurred as she parted her lips, desperately drawing in the thinning air around her.
Her head tilted back instinctively, brushing against Lin Qingyang’s firm chest.
Her dazed gaze traveled upward—past his collarbone, his neck, his Adam's apple, his jaw—
Then her eyes met his cold, impassive profile.
His skin resembled translucent jade buried deep in an ancient tomb, untouched by sunlight. His long lashes cast shadows as his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression as detached as a judge in the underworld decreeing life and death.
In her disoriented state, the sight of his face struck her like a physical blow.
Her eyes flew open in shock, her entire body convulsing involuntarily.
Above and below the water, the boundaries were starkly drawn.
Her lips parted wordlessly as, in her daze, the love and hatred Lin Qingyang poured into her surged forth—icy and scalding all at once.
Nan Banruo was carried back to the chamber in a daze.
Her fingers lacked even the slightest strength as he dried her body and hair, leaving her slumped against the soft divan, her chest rising and falling faintly.
When he retrieved a jade ointment to tend to her, she only flinched slightly.
She fell asleep almost immediately.
By the time she woke, it was already dusk.
Clad in a loose white robe, she rose from the bed, the lingering coolness on her skin soothing the previous day’s aches.
She stepped out of the bedroom and followed the sound of movement to the courtyard, where she found Lin Qingyang.
He wore a matching white robe, standing beside a large wooden basin filled with freshly washed clothes.
A rope was strung between two trees, and he was hanging the garments to dry.
The scene was achingly familiar.
Nan Banruo paused at a distance, watching him warily.
He finished hanging the clothes with practiced ease, then bent to lift the basin. When he turned and saw her, his brow arched slightly, and a warm, breezy smile spread across his face. "Woke up hungry, didn’t you?"
Nan Banruo pressed her lips together, silent.
This demeanor of his was no different from when he had deceived her before.
What new scheme was he plotting now?
Lin Qingyang strode toward her, casually setting the basin aside before scooping her up into his arms, just as he had when her legs were injured in the past.
Outside the kitchen stood a small bamboo dining room.
He carried her inside, nudging a chair into place with his foot before settling her into it.
Then he turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
Soon, the sizzle of a roaring fire and the mouthwatering aroma of cooking filled the air.
Nan Banruo’s hand drifted to her stomach.
She was starving.
The food was ready in moments. Lin Qingyang brought out the dishes, pressed bamboo chopsticks into her hand, and motioned for her to start eating while it was hot.
Then he returned to the kitchen.
Nan Banruo stared at the chopsticks, memories flooding back.
In the past, when she had loved him, she would always dawdle, pretending to be busy—just so she could wait and eat with him.
Now, there was no need for such courtesy.
Her gaze dropped to the fragrant dishes before her. Just as she was about to take a bite, her wrist jerked, her breath hitching.
...Insects?!
Nestled among the red and green peppers were crispy, golden-fried insects!
He had served her a plate of bugs!
After a moment of shock, Nan Banruo exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
Of course Lin Qingyang would torment her.
If he didn’t stir up trouble, that would be cause for alarm.
Silently, she set down the chopsticks and rose, making her way to the kitchen—she would see what other "surprises" he had in store.
Leaning against the bamboo doorframe, she peered inside.
He was cooking braised fish.
His movements were precise, the heat perfectly controlled.
Lin Qingyang hadn’t stepped into a kitchen in years.
After becoming Emperor, his meals had been reduced to exquisitely plated but bland imperial dishes—a routine that had lasted nearly a century.
Now, he had returned to his old craft.
The rich, savory scent soon wafted from the pan.
His skills seemed even sharper now; the aroma alone promised tender, succulent meat.
With a flick of his wrist, he plated the dish, then glanced back at her with a grin.
"Caught the smell again, didn’t you?" He tilted his head, amused. "Come on, I’ll bring it to the table."
It felt like a lifetime ago.
When she didn’t move, he raised a brow. "Or are you waiting for me on purpose?"
Nan Banruo slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.
So he had known all along. She’d thought she’d hidden it well.
Her expression remained blank. "Waiting for you to eat maggots."
Lin Qingyang burst into laughter, coughing mid-chuckle. "Ignorant. See this purple bamboo grove? Bamboo worms are a delicacy."
Nan Banruo said nothing.
Whether they were a delicacy or not, his intentions were undeniably malicious.
Her gaze shifted to the plate in his hands.
...Not braised fish. It was braised snake.
Lin Qingyang preempted her protest. "Look how weak you’ve gotten. I went out of my way to find ingredients to replenish your energy. Don’t mistake kindness for malice."
Nan Banruo nearly laughed coldly.
He slung an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back to the table.
She resolved not to touch a single bite.
Lin Qingyang returned with a vegetable dish and, seeing her reluctance, picked up a bamboo worm with his chopsticks, crunching into it demonstratively.
Crisp.
Crunch.
It sounded even more fragrant than fried pork.
After finishing the worm, he peeled back the snake’s skin with his chopsticks, releasing a burst of savory steam.
Nan Banruo suddenly remembered the first time she’d tried cured crab.
She didn’t dare, and he didn’t urge her—he simply ate in front of her. She watched and watched until her mouth watered, unable to resist taking a small bite. Just as she began to savor the taste, it was gone, leaving her glaring resentfully at the empty shell for a long while.
Lin Qingyang seemed to recall the same memory.
His chopsticks moved even faster, sweeping through the food like a whirlwind, leaving only a blur.
Nan Banruo decisively reached out with her own chopsticks to snatch the snake meat.
One taste confirmed it was delicious.
Lin Qingyang chuckled and pushed the plate toward her, then pointed helpfully at the bamboo worms. "Want to try one?"
Nan Banruo shielded her bowl.
Insects were a hard pass.
After the meal, Lin Qingyang efficiently gathered the dishes, preparing to wash them outside.
He turned back, instructing her as he had in the past: "Don’t laze around on the bed. Walk around the courtyard to help your digestion. I’ll be back soon."
"..."
Nan Banruo couldn’t help but snap at him, "Lin Qingyang, are you putting on a performance? Do you really think we’ve gone back to how things were?"
She had no patience for his game of reliving the past.
Lin Qingyang lowered his eyes with a faint smile.
Just as the air threatened to freeze, he spoke, unhurried, "Is something wrong?"
A chill crept into Nan Banruo’s heart.
Slowly, he lifted his chin, his gaze towering over her. "If your parents hadn’t died, this is how things should have been—don’t you agree?"
Before she could react, he turned and strode away, carrying the pots and bowls.
Nan Banruo stared at his retreating figure, her brow furrowed.
Back then, she had been naive. He lied, telling her her family was still alive, and she foolishly trusted him, loved him.
But now?
If he spoke like this, were her parents truly safe, or was this another deception?
She clenched her fingers, inhaling deeply.
No.
She couldn’t fall into his trap. The more unsettled she became, the more it played into his hands.
Nan Banruo turned and walked into the side room.
She yanked the bamboo door shut, leaning heavily against it, her breath uneven.
Having been reborn to defy fate, how could she bear to lose them again?
She refused to think about it—didn’t dare.
By the time Lin Qingyang finished handling the chores around the courtyard, it was already dusk.
He carried out these tasks with meticulous care, as if he genuinely enjoyed them.
Hearing his footsteps approach, Nan Banruo immediately shut her eyes, feigning sleep.
The bamboo bed dipped slightly.
Lin Qingyang’s cooking carried the warmth of a simple life, yet he bore no trace of grease or smoke. As he pulled the blanket over himself and lay beside her, she caught only the familiar scent of agarwood.
She kept her breathing steady.
Even as his intense, invasive gaze settled on her, she pretended not to notice.
He suddenly laughed softly. "Remember when I told you that you always blink when you pretend to sleep—did you forget?"
Nan Banruo forced her eyelids to stay still.
A moment later, realizing she’d been tricked, she opened her eyes to meet his amused expression.
He lay on the outer edge of the bed, propped up on one elbow, watching her face without restraint.
He made no effort to hide the darkness in his eyes.
Nan Banruo’s breath hitched.
Last night, she had been too focused on stabbing him to notice just how formidable he was.
Now, even the slightest thought made her still-recovering body ache faintly.
He raised his hand, pressing it heavily against her cheek.
"Don’t be afraid," he murmured lazily. "We only consummated yesterday. Rest easy—I won’t touch you."
Nan Banruo stared at him.
This, too, was something he’d said before.
A young man, full of vigor, having tasted desire, had forced himself to endure an entire night, his eyes gleaming like a wolf’s as he watched her hungrily.
She frowned.
"Lin Qingyang," she asked, "do you really need to be this immersed in your role?"
His hand stilled, his gaze boring into hers.
"Nan Banruo," he said seriously, "if I told you your parents are safe, would you believe me?"
Her breath vanished for a moment.
"Lin Qingyang." She suppressed the tremor in her voice, glaring coldly. "The way you said those words in our past life was far more convincing than this!"
Their eyes locked—blades clashing, flames devouring the heart.
