The atmosphere was unbearably awkward.
Ye Ting felt her facial muscles stiffen as she mechanically replied, "It was Xue'er. She gave it to me."
That was the truth.
Though conveniently, the witness was now dead.
Xiao Zhiheng nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips as he smoothly remarked, "Though you came and went together, her intent was to poison, while you remained unaware. First, she deceived you, then she deceived me. Had I drunk that wine, both you and I would have met our end. A perfect murder—two birds with one stone."
Ye Ting’s eyes lit up, almost slapping her thigh in admiration.
Wasn’t that exactly how it had happened?
Before she could revel in her realization, she heard him chuckle softly—a sound as crisp and enchanting as snow falling from pine branches.
With an air of solemnity, he continued, "Though you walked with assassins, shared their origins, and knew of their schemes—poison, ambush, seduction—I know deep down, you are a good girl."
Ye Ting: "..."
How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?
Xiao Zhiheng spoke as if everything he said was casual, stopping just short of elaboration. He reached out instead, pulling Ye Ting up. His voice softened with concern. "The floor is cold. Get up. Look, your hands are even colder now."
Ye Ting sat beside him like a puppet on strings, her mind a complete mess.
Xiao Zhiheng gently pushed a cup of plum wine toward her, his eyes glinting with amusement as he said, "Drink some plum wine. It’ll warm you up."
Ye Ting’s shoulders tensed.
His fingers traced the intricate patterns on the cup as he murmured, "Does this look familiar? The wine you poured for me that day was this very same one."
Ye Ting’s composure nearly shattered, her knees almost giving way beneath her.
But before she could drop to the ground, Xiao Zhiheng held her steady. Despite his frail, sickly appearance, his grip on her wrist was unyielding—she couldn’t move an inch.
Xiao Zhiheng said coolly, "Why kneel again? Today, I merely wish to share a drink with you. There’s no need to be nervous."
How could she not be nervous?
Easy for you to say—you’re about to send me off with a cup of poisoned wine!
Ye Ting’s thoughts were in complete disarray.
Today’s events had caught her completely off guard. She had no time to prepare, no way to defend herself. With Xue'er and the other spies dead, she was the last one standing in this assassination squad. There was no one left to pin the blame on, no chance to redeem herself. What was she supposed to do now?
Heaven really wants me dead.
Is this damned fate forcing me to die all over again?
Ye Ting felt her sanity teetering on the edge. She was truly at her limit. Holding the cup, her heart sank into an icy abyss.
Sitting rigidly, her unblinking gaze fixed on the small stove, two exaggerated tears suddenly rolled down her cheeks.
Like a delicate, pitiful little white lotus.
Xiao Zhiheng’s smile froze, his expression turning slightly odd. "Why are you crying?"
Clearly, Ye Ting’s instant switch to melodrama had stunned the scheming Crown Prince.
Ye Ting sniffled. "I’m crying over my miserable fate. Life is too hard for me."
"..."
With tears streaming down her face, Ye Ting launched into her performance.
She sobbed, "Your Highness, please believe me. I would never dare commit such a treasonous act as harming you. I follow the Buddha’s teachings—I abstain from meat, avoid killing, and wouldn’t even step on an ant. Poisoning you? I wouldn’t dare even if I had a hundred lives to spare! I truly knew nothing about the poison. You can search my belongings—I’ve never hidden any toxins, nor have I secretly corresponded with Xue'er or the others. They were the ones who dared plot against a prince! I cherish my life and my blessings—how could I possibly be their accomplice?"
Xiao Zhiheng remained silent, his gaze fixed on her tear-streaked face.
Who knew what he was thinking?
Once Ye Ting started acting, she threw all restraint to the wind.
Wiping her tears, she continued, "Every word I say is true, Your Highness. I am but dirt beneath your feet. If I had any ulterior motives, it would only be because I coveted your beauty and status—that’s why I schemed my way into the Crown Prince’s residence, just to catch your attention and serve you. If I wanted anything, it would be Your Highness’s favor. Why would I want your life? Would I be insane enough to kill you?"
Such blatantly fake, cringe-worthy nonsense—who would believe it without god-tier acting skills?
But Ye Ting was a natural-born prodigy. She delivered her lines with heartbreaking sincerity, even controlling the flow of her tears, letting them fall at just the right moments for maximum effect.
My acting is worth a hundred million. Ye Ting marveled inwardly as her tears fell like tragic masterpieces.
Xiao Zhiheng listened quietly, his pale, refined face finally betraying a flicker of speechlessness.
He carefully picked out two of the most bizarre phrases from her rambling and repeated, slowly, "Coveted… my beauty?"
He frowned. Had she actually lost her mind from fear?
Ye Ting, having already inflated her flattery to the heavens, now spoke with utmost sincerity. "You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life."
In both lifetimes, she had never encountered such an ethereally captivating sickly beauty.
Xiao Zhiheng’s eyes held no warmth, but he tilted his head slightly, amused. "Is that so?"
Ye Ting’s breath hitched, her heart clenching.
Damn, what kind of celestial being is this?
She nodded emphatically, seizing the chance to grab the Crown Prince’s hand—her sleeve sweeping across the table and knocking over all the wine cups in the process.
Her eyes reddened, but she made one last desperate plea. "Your Highness, think about it—if I really wanted to harm you, wouldn’t I have succeeded that day at the hot springs?"
Xiao Zhiheng paused, momentarily taken aback.
And that was precisely the puzzling part.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t even be sitting here right now.
Unaware of his confusion, Ye Ting, sensing hope, pressed on tearfully. "Your Highness, I swear everything I’ve said is true. My heart belongs only to you."
She lowered her head, feigning pitiful vulnerability. Just as she debated whether to cry even harder, he finally reacted.
Her face was suddenly cradled in his hands, lifted gently as his cool fingers brushed away her tears.
[What a load of nonsense.]
Ye Ting: ?
Had she imagined that?
Xiao Zhiheng’s long lashes cast shadows over his dark, fathomless eyes as he gazed at her tenderly.
[But she does cry beautifully.]
??
Ye Ting blinked rapidly. Had she cried so hard she was hallucinating?
Xiao Zhiheng’s lips curved as he asked softly, "Are you serious? Not a single lie in your words?"
Ye Ting’s ears tingled strangely, as if pricked by needles. But when he questioned her, she answered firmly. "As true as it gets."
[Liar.]
Ye Ting froze.
There it was again.
Xiao Zhiheng seemed to consider her words before pulling her into his embrace, murmuring just one word: "Good."
As Ye Ting sat on the Crown Prince’s lap, her cheek pressed against the cool silk of his robes, she could hear his heartbeat.
In her dazed state, that icy voice returned, whispering ominously:
[Sweet lies, but false. Lovely tears, but fake. Cunning beyond measure, a killer without bloodshed. By law, she deserves death.]
Ye Ting stiffened instantly.
Wait… she was starting to realize where that voice was coming from…
She pressed close, so close that the medicinal scent clinging to Xiao Zhiheng’s body filled her nostrils. His embrace was warm, radiating a gentle heat.
But the words echoing in her ears were anything but comforting.
[She’s gone cold. Pitiful. Where should I start? The throat?]
This sinister inner monologue belonged to none other than the man holding her so tenderly.
Ye Ting jerked her head up in horror.
Did I transmigrate into the wrong damn novel?!
Xiao Zhiheng looked down at her, still smiling. "What’s wrong?"
"You—" Ye Ting’s face paled. She didn’t even know what to say. Her temples throbbed, her heart pounding so hard it felt lodged in her throat.
How could someone’s psyche be this fractured?
In two lifetimes, she’d never encountered anything so terrifying!
Ye Ting wrenched herself free from his warm embrace. No, she needed to calm down.
She retreated to her seat, her entire body numb from the cold. The shock had been too much—her rationality had fled, replaced by the overwhelming urge to just quit.
This place is hell. Forward or back, it’s all death.
Why even struggle? I’m done.
She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for a monumental decision, then gritted her teeth. "Your Highness. Let me drink with you."
If death was inevitable either way, she might as well go out like this.
Xiao Zhiheng paused, his gaze flickering with quiet calculation. "I thought you didn’t want to."
"I do now."
He said nothing, his expression unreadable, as if trying to decipher her sudden shift.
Ye Ting had originally planned many things, but now all she wanted was to drown in alcohol. She couldn’t bear to imagine the gruesome fate awaiting her—flayed alive, tendons ripped out—so she resolved to get blindingly drunk. More than anything, the future seemed unbearably bleak, devoid of light...
Just moments ago, she’d been terrified of the poisoned wine. Now, steeped in despair, she poured a cup and downed it without hesitation.
She drank, but this time, she didn’t hold back her fear. The tears that streamed down her face were real—half from the burn of the liquor, half from sheer terror.
Xiao Zhiheng watched her silently.
After a long pause, he asked, "Why are you crying?"
"My life is miserable."
"..."
Ye Ting downed three cups in quick succession, showing no signs of stopping. If not for her tear-streaked face, the scene might have looked almost heroic.
Xiao Zhiheng didn’t touch a drop. He sat there, cold and detached, occasionally coughing into his sleeve, his lips growing pale. But he didn’t stop her. He simply let her be.
Surprisingly, Ye Ting’s alcohol tolerance was better than expected. She drank mechanically, barely tasting it, only collapsing when the jar was nearly empty. She slumped over the table, motionless, as if she’d successfully poisoned herself.
But she hadn’t.
She was just drunk.
Xiao Zhiheng waited until Ye Ting was completely still before rising slowly. He pried the cup from her limp fingers, studying it with an inscrutable gaze.
After a moment, the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint, unreadable smile. "Quite the drinker."
Then, with deliberate grace, he poured himself the remaining wine and sipped it elegantly.
Only now did he truly taste it.
He frowned slightly.
Not good at all.
Soon after, his guard arrived.
Wu Yihai froze at the sight before him. Glancing between the unconscious Ye Ting and his composed master, he cautiously asked, "Your Highness, how should we deal with her?"
No matter how you looked at it, this woman had been sent by enemies to the Crown Prince’s estate—and she’d once attempted to harm him. Keeping her close was far too dangerous.
A cold autumn wind swept through, biting to the bone. Xiao Zhiheng suppressed a cough, then spoke. "Let it go."
"Your Highness—"
Xiao Zhiheng cut him off with a light, unshakable smile. "Enough. I’ve made up my mind. You’ve worked hard these past few days."
His tone left no room for argument. Wu Yihai swallowed his protests, though his face twisted in bewilderment as he bowed and retreated.
...
When Chunya spotted His Highness carrying someone back through the corridor, his expression as indifferent as ever, she nearly dropped the tray in her hands.
Flustered—whether from excitement or nerves—her cheeks flushed bright red. "Y-Your Highness, why are you—"
The Crown Prince’s robes were stained with the drunkard’s vomit, and his perpetually pallid face had taken on a particularly grim shade.
He stepped inside and coldly ordered, "Prepare hot water, fresh robes. And incense." By the last word, his patience seemed to fray, as if he were moments away from dropping the half-dead Ye Ting right there.
Chunya stammered an eager assent, hiding a giggle as she hurried off.
Ye Ting, thoroughly wasted, fell into a nightmare.
In it, she hadn’t died from poison—instead, she’d turned into a bald goose, recklessly harassing the aloof Crown Prince before he, with a smile as sweet as a knife’s edge, tenderly skinned her alive.
She woke with a gasp.
Her head pounded as she stared blankly at the soft canopy above. Her chest felt heavy, each breath a struggle.
Then she turned her head—and found the Crown Prince lying beside her, eyes shut, dark circles beneath them, his sleep visibly troubled.
Ye Ting’s mind went blank.
Am I still trapped in this nightmare?!
