The “self” with the golden petal mark on her forehead used her power to break free from the ropes and slapped him sharply across the face. Her authoritative, resonant voice echoed through the cavern: “How dare you!”
But the man, clutching his face, let out a low, crooked laugh that slithered into her ears. “Master, don’t be angry. It’s I who provoked your anger. I’ll punish myself so you can calm down.”
Suddenly, the dagger in his hand plunged fiercely into his own heart.
Blood splattered, soaking the golden petals on her forehead and her white robes, running down the blade in a steady stream.
He gripped her hand and drove it along with the dagger, his voice twisting between madness and longing: “Master, let’s see what’s inside. I never meant to make you angry. Look inside my heart—is it not filled with you?”
The “self” with the glowing golden mark tried to pull her hand back, but he held on tight. Blood poured over her hand. “You’re insane! What are you trying to do?”
He stabbed again, sending more blood flying across her face.
Amid the sea of red, his voice, smiling yet frenzied, whispered: “Not obvious enough? I want you, Master.”
Shameless!
Madman!
Truly insane!
In her dream, Wen Shuyu couldn’t free her hand. Her white robes were dyed red with blood, drops blurring her vision.
If this continued, the dagger would carve out a heart alive.
She struggled desperately—and jolted awake.
Outside the gilt window, a gentle breeze swayed the bed curtains. Smoke from the calming incense coiled lazily from the rosewood table, and the qilin beast lay asleep on the cushion nearby, drooling softly.
Thank heavens—it was only a dream.
Why would she have such a dream?
But at least, it was only a dream.
She would never be with such a madman. She didn’t like that type. She liked Xiao Jingchen—gentle, refined, with the serene elegance of an immortal sage.
No matter what she did, he would never be angry—not like some sinister madman who ties people up.
Wen Shuyu patted her chest, letting out a sigh of relief.
No, this dream was far too frightening. She needed Xiao Jingchen—his presence, his warmth—to calm her heart.
In the bamboo garden outside, Fuling hurried to the palace, breathless. “Quickly report to His Highness! My lady had a nightmare—she kept calling out the Crown Prince’s name!”
Inside, Xiao Jingchen heard the commotion. Before the eunuch could relay the message, he pushed open the door, draping a cloak over his shoulders as he rushed toward the Plum Garden.
By the time he arrived, Xiao Liu had already vanished elsewhere to sleep.
The hall was dimly lit, candles flickering. A cold wind cut through, brushing past Wen Shuyu as she curled on the couch, hands over her ears, trembling and quietly sobbing.
“Wen Shuyu?” Xiao Jingchen approached, voice soft, eyes gentle as he called her.
Her tear-streaked face lifted, and she threw herself into his arms, shivering and sobbing with a heavy, trembling voice: “I had a nightmare… Crown Prince…”
Xiao Jingchen held her calmly, voice tender. “What did you dream of? Don’t be afraid. Tell me. You’ve always been fearless—what could possibly scare you this much?”
Her almond-shaped eyes glistened, wet with tears that fell onto her cheeks. Her gaze reflected the countless stars outside, the shadow of the man before her, full of hope and love.
She whispered, “Crown Prince, do you… like me?”
“Even if only for a few years. When you ascend, I will have no regrets left.”
“I really… really like you.”
At that moment, anyone looking into her eyes would find it impossible to refuse.
A faint, gentle smile curved Xiao Jingchen’s lips as he shook his head kindly. “Being liked by me isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
“You need to think carefully—the word ‘like’ isn’t something to throw around. You’ll be responsible, understand, Ayu?”
“If you decide you don’t want to like me now, you can retreat… but later, it will be too late.”
“Think carefully…”
Every word felt like rejection to Wen Shuyu.
The second attempt… failed again.
She loosened her grip on Xiao Jingchen’s waist, turned her head, not wanting to meet his gaze, and pulled the blankets over herself. “Go. I need to rest.”
Yet Xiao Jingchen still spoke with concern, slowly and softly: “You’ve cried more these past few days than in the last three years combined. If you keep crying, your eyes will swell like peaches. Being mischievous suits your body better.”
Mischievous?
Peaches?
Wen Shuyu’s mind wanted to kick him, but she held back, muffling her voice under the blanket. “It’s all because I like you… and can’t have you, that I feel so sad…”