Xia Ji's pupils constricted sharply, and she dared not move a single inch.
The youth's ink-black hair hung loose in scattered strands, his white jade hairpin drooping as well. His lips curved in a smile, yet his phoenix eyes were wide open as he leaned down to stare at her. A scent of incense mixed with a faint trace of blood rose to her nostrils.
"How strange, Hangiang. Do you want me to obey you?"
The cold, hard object pressed with a slight increase in force. Xia Ji instantly froze, feeling a bone-chilling cold surge through her as her mind went completely blank.
She wasn't particularly brave, and Bujing Nu had never treated her like this before. Remembering how he had been drenched in blood earlier, Xia Ji trembled with fear, her entire body cold.
—She hadn't managed to test how obedient Bujing Nu was, but she had certainly tested his sharp intelligence. Xia Ji bit her lip hard to keep it from trembling.
She had brought this upon herself!
His cool, silky black hair scattered across her face. Bujing Nu observed Xia Ji's terrified expression, his fingertips tracing her warm neck, and the woman beneath him broke out in fine, dense tremors.
Even her teeth were chattering. Those eyes that had stared straight at him the very first time they met now scattered with fear.
Bujing Nu studied her carefully.
He truly wanted to keep watching.
He wanted to see her heart, the one pounding without rest right now—to cut it out and look at it. Hangiang was so soft, so warm, and so stupidly bold. Would her heart be hot? When he cut it out, it would surely still cling to his palm, beating without pause.
"I don't have that intention," Xia Ji closed her eyes, steeling herself. She wrapped both arms around Bujing Nu's neck in a tight embrace. "I just saw that your hair was too messy earlier. You scared me."
Bujing Nu loved holding her most at night.
For the sake of her mission, Xia Ji clung to him tightly as well. Whatever precarious life she had, if she could gain even a little Luck Value, that was something.
No matter how tightly she held him, Bujing Nu could break free with just a slight exertion of strength.
The violent pounding of her heart, contained within her chest, crashed against his own through flesh and bone. Held by her, Bujing Nu's fingertips stroked through Xia Ji's ink-black hair.
"Stupid Hangiang."
She was trying to please him. Bujing Nu was most familiar with this feeling—those about to die by his hand either tried to curry favor or cursed him, and he had never once shown mercy.
Bujing Nu turned his head, and this small movement frightened the woman beneath him into absolute stillness. Bujing Nu found it amusing. His phoenix eyes curved in a smile as he looked at her through the tangled strands of hair, at her face flushed with two red patches from the fever. Xia Ji seemed to sense his gaze and turned her head as well, her apricot eyes holding a watery sheen, naturally soft by birth.
She looked at him too.
Bujing Nu's fingertips traced her cheek, the tip of her nose, her lips.
In his mind, he recalled a phrase he had heard from somewhere in his childhood: A person's death is like a lamp going out.
Death Soldiers were governed by the imperial court—they did not study, did not learn to read, did not interact with outsiders, living extremely isolated lives. Bujing Nu was somewhat different. He had been born abnormal, feeling nothing even when killing. Having earned the favor of the Son of Heaven, he had followed at the emperor's side since childhood, protecting the sovereign's safety.
That was the first time he had heard such words. He had thought about it for a long time then—like a lamp going out meant blowing out a candle, leaving only darkness, unable to shine again. Like the dead—once dead, no matter what, they could never wake again.
"I won't kill you. Are you happy?"
Xia Ji's heart seized in her chest, and she couldn't find words.
"I only listen to the adults," his cold hand pressed against her neck. "Not to anyone else. But I will treat Hangiang well. Hangiang, am I good?"
He leaned in, drawing closer and closer, then suddenly pressed his forehead against hers.
Xia Ji was still sick, and she found his body pleasantly cool against her skin.
—And now he was asking for praise again.
Xia Ji steeled herself and ignored him.
She could tell that Bujing Nu enjoyed being praised by her. A Death Soldier—especially one who had reached Bujing Nu's level—must have grown up never interacting with anyone. She couldn't give him everything he wanted. She couldn't praise him just because he asked for it.
Only when he truly did something right would he earn her praise.
—If her praise truly could bring this youth, who had never been closely connected to anyone, a sense of novelty and joy.
"Why aren't you speaking? Hangiang, Hangiang, Hangiang, Hangiang, Hangiang?"
Xia Ji still ignored him. She released her hold and turned her back to him, lying to the side.
"Hangiang?"
Bujing Nu pushed at her shoulder. Xia Ji still said nothing.
"If you don't speak, I'll kill you."
"Cough, cough!"
The youth's voice behind her suddenly lost all emotion, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Startled, she choked on her own saliva. Xia Ji turned around—Bujing Nu's ink-black hair was disheveled, his phoenix eyes wide open, his face utterly bloodless, sitting behind her and staring at her without blinking.
Xia Ji: …
Terrifying.
"I thought Hangiang had gone deaf," he said with a curled lip, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, his gaze still fixed intently on her. "So you haven't. You're ignoring me? Why?"
She hadn't expected him to get this angry over such a brief moment of being ignored.
It was almost like… Xia Ji found it hard to describe—like a child who had made their first friend in a lonely world, unable to tolerate being ignored or neglected, not even the slightest bit.
Usually, she could sense how clingy Bujing Nu was—extremely clingy. Even when sleeping at night, he would hold her tightly and never let go.
"Speak. If you don't, you won't need those ears anymore." He picked up an object and suddenly knocked it against the bed frame. Xia Ji jumped in fright, and when she looked closely, she saw it was a jade dagger in his hand.
"Don't always scare me like this," Xia Ji said, gripping the bedding beneath her tightly. She was trembling all over from fear, her teeth chattering. "Bujing Nu, I'm sick. You scared me just now, and I'm upset. You frightened me and still expect me to praise you—I don't want to talk to you."
"You're upset? Just because you're upset, you won't talk to me? What gives you the right?" He seemed to suddenly grow angry—Bujing Nu had almost never been angry with Xia Ji before. "I've been so good to you, yet Hangiang has no heart! How wicked!"
He must have never scolded anyone before, nor had he ever heard much scolding himself.
Xia Ji curled up entirely. She didn't think she had taken things too far; rather, the more intense emotions she could provoke in this Death Soldier who spent his days lost in unknown thoughts, the less likely he would be to kill her later.
But right now, no matter what, she had to find a way to survive.
Xia Ji pressed her lips together tightly. "Bujing Nu, can you put the knife down first? I'm sick. If you keep this up, I'll be too scared to get better."
The woman's soft face was naturally pitiful and gentle, and now with her delicate posture, she reached out and tugged at his sleeve.
Bujing Nu was silent for a moment, then casually tossed the dagger onto the table on the other side.
Xia Ji felt immensely relieved.
She slowly moved closer and hugged Bujing Nu again, pressing her cheek against his.
"Don't use a knife on me, Bujing Nu. You scared me just now." Her fear wasn't feigned—her hands and feet were weak at this moment, and if she weren't hanging onto Bujing Nu, she could barely sit up on her own.
Before she could recover, Bujing Nu's hand reached out and tugged at her hair. Xia Ji inhaled sharply, furrowing her brows as she looked at him.
"Hangiang is not allowed to ignore me," Bujing Nu said, pulling her hair as he lowered his head to stare at her face. "If Hangiang ignores me, I'll use a knife on Hangiang."
Xia Ji hadn't even had the chance to protest.
Bujing Nu hugged her again. Xia Ji leaned against the young man's shoulder, breathing in the faint incense on his snow-white robes.
She couldn't identify the scent—some sweet floral fragrance, mixed with a very faint trace of blood. It suited Bujing Nu well. Xia Ji was so absorbed in the scent that the young man pinched her cheeks.
Xia Ji: …
She lifted her face and met Bujing Nu's gaze as he looked down at her. His expression was somewhat strange.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Hangiang is so strange. What are you doing?" Bujing Nu had no idea what Xia Ji was doing. He sniffed his own sleeve again. The robes Prince Beikang had gifted him were perfumed with incense, and whenever he wore them during the day, he felt as though he had returned to the palace banquet, surrounded by nobles carrying that same scent. "Do you like this smell?"
"Mm," she replied—it smelled better than blood, and this sweet floral fragrance suited Bujing Nu well. "It smells nice, and the robes are pretty too."
Bujing Nu looked at her for a moment, then sniffed his sleeve again, playing with her hair.
"Then I'll wear incense too, and put on new clothes, alright? Hangiang."
"Fine…" He had suddenly become so agreeable again.
During this commotion, the cook brought in the meal with several servants.
Five light dishes along with soup and porridge—a simple task for the cooks summoned by Prince Beikang's residence. When Prince Beikang had sent them over, he had instructed them not to delay, and they had to cook quickly.
The group entered, bowed, and set the dishes neatly on the table, far more orderly than how Shanu had arranged them.
Bujing Nu got off the bed, sat down on a chair, and picked up his spoon to start eating as usual. Xia Ji, still dizzy, lowered her head to put on her shoes. It seemed her feet had been measured while she slept, as even new shoes had been bought—a pair of peach-pink embroidered slippers. Xia Ji wasn't quite used to wearing ancient shoes and was about to just slip them on and shuffle over.
Bujing Nu walked over.
Today, the red sash tied around his white robes had small copper bells, and as he walked, they jingled. Bujing Nu knelt on one knee and picked up her shoes.
Xia Ji was still a bit dazed.
The peach-pink shoes in his hands made his skin look especially fair. Bujing Nu examined them, then grasped her foot, slipped the shoe on, and fastened it properly before taking her hand to help her up.
"Time to eat, Hangiang."
Bujing Nu didn't pay her any more attention, picking up his spoon and eating on his own.
Xia Ji nodded and sat down beside him, stealing a glance at him. In the past, when Bujing Nu was covered in blood, she would go outside to vomit, and he would eat without a care.
—Yet just now, he had come over to put on her shoes for her.
The madman had finally become a human being.
Faced with the bland dishes finally suitable for a patient, Xia Ji held the bowl of white congee before her and ate with deep emotion.
"Both Shunxi and Tingzhu are dead? Weren't the two of them only infiltrating the Prince's residence three days ago?!"
In the dark of night, only a single dim candle burned within Wenxuan Hall. Zhong Yanli, who only a few days prior had been freed from shackles and allowed to walk freely within the hall, wore his night robes. His still-handsome face was twisted with fury, eyes wide as he stared at the trusted subordinate who had rushed over under the stars: "Who ruined my plans… who?!"
"My lord, there is one more matter yet to report. Shunxi is dead, but Tingzhu's head has been sent to the Son of Heaven. I followed the Jinling Army patrol's carriage all the way here—by now, Tingzhu's head has likely already been presented. Beyond that, I have also learned a piece of intelligence: Prince Beikang's return to Jinling is no simple matter. Our information was limited, so we were unaware—the Son of Heaven appears to have given a Death Soldier to Prince Beikang. The reason Shunxi and Tingzhu were discovered within just three days is because this Death Soldier happened to pass in and out of the residence and noticed something amiss."
"A Death Soldier…?"
Zhong Yanli sat back down on the couch. He bit down on his knuckle, his gaze fixed steadily ahead.
The Death Soldiers raised by the imperial court were never simple.
"Do you know which Death Soldier it is?"
"Your subordinate is incompetent."
"It's only natural you wouldn't know. Unless Third Brother is a fool—now that the Beikang Prince's residence can no longer accommodate new informants, and the old ones dare not send word out at all," Zhong Yanli furrowed his brow tightly, running his fingers through his hair, "Xia Qiu'er is most likely inside the Beikang Prince's residence. Third Brother hates me, and he knows of my feelings for Xia Qiu'er. The Xia family is his to dispose of as he pleases, but he would never let Xia Qiu'er die so easily."
Zhong Yanli rose and paced back and forth: "A Death Soldier… Third Brother… Xia Qiu…"
"Pass down my order: since no informants can be placed within the Beikang Prince's residence, keep a close watch on the residence's movements. Once Xia Qiu is found, deliver the token to her at the first opportunity. I am beset on all sides now—this woman is loyal, and if she falls into Third Brother's hands, he will never kill her easily either. To topple Third Brother and regain Father's trust, this woman Xia Qiu will surely prove most useful."
"My lord, what should be done about Tingzhu?"
"Tingzhu was secretly cultivated by my mother in those years," Zhong Yanli narrowed his eyes, a shadow of darkness crossing his face. After a moment of deliberation, his breathing had already steadied, though his gaze remained cold. "Tingzhu has nothing to do with me. It was Sixth Brother, unable to stomach Third Brother's arrogance, who attempted to harm Third Brother. To be safe, send someone to plant Tingzhu's deed of indenture in Sixth Brother's residence—bury it in the earth. Father's mind runs deep; if he recognizes Tingzhu, he will dig three feet down to uncover the clues! Sixth Brother is a fool—he'll never think to search the ground. Go quickly, and make no further mistakes."
Sixth Prince and Zhong Yanli were brothers born of the same mother.
"Yes, my lord."
"Hangiang, Hangiang…?"
Xia Ji was sleeping soundly.
In her dream, she stood at the curb with a canvas bag on her back, finally eating chicken-wing stuffed rice. So fragrant, so delicious—the crispy, oily skin, the plump filling, one bite and she was utterly satisfied. So good.
It really was delicious.
Though for her, life had always been plain and hard. Her family had never cared about her, so she'd been working nonstop since graduation—first as a waitress at a restaurant, taking tutoring gigs in her spare time, until she finally found a full-time job. She worked overtime every day, and because she looked honest, everyone dumped their work on her.
But Xia Ji was truly easy to please.
After a hard day's work, going home at night to eat something good made her happy again. Even though she never wanted to sleep, never wanted tomorrow to come again, this kind of life—where she never had to worry about when she might die—wasn't so bad.
She'd even thought about saving up more money and buying a cheap little house in the northeast. Then she'd finally have a home of her own.
She'd had it all planned out.
"Hangiang…"
The youth's tone was soft and gentle—at first listen, it sounded like a lover's whisper, the kind of voice that brought a sense of peace, cute and delicate.
But to Xia Ji's ears—
"Mmm…"
She took another bite of the delicious-looking chicken-wing stuffed rice in her hand, when suddenly the color of the rice inside turned pure black, looking eerie and terrifying.