Yu Ange hurried to the city gate and saw Shang Qingyan clad in silver-white armor, descending like a divine warrior from heaven, leading tens of thousands of troops straight toward the gate.
Reinforcements… had arrived.
Heavy rain poured from the sky, and Yu Ange’s corpse hanging from the city gate seemed to have wept bitterly.
She watched as Shang Qingyan led the troops of Yinguo to retake Wangchuncheng and saw the emperor of Liangguo fleeing in panic with Song Jin’er like a stray dog.
She saw Shang Qingyan personally carry her corpse down from the city gate.
His jade-like face was stained with blood and grime from the battle. As he gazed at the cold body in his arms, a tear unexpectedly fell from the corner of his eye.
“I’m sorry.”
“General Yu, I came too late.”
…
“Young Master Yu! Wake up!”
Yu Ange awoke from a dream of uncertain truth, and the first thing she saw was Shang Qingyan’s refined and elegant face.
The person before her overlapped with the Shang Qingyan clad in armor from her dream. Yu Ange embraced Shang Qingyan tightly, and the figure from her dream gained tangible reality.
Unconsciously, Yu Ange spoke: “Shang Qingyan, thank you.”
Shang Qingyan had a cleanliness obsession and never allowed close contact with others. The sudden embrace left him flustered, yet he did not feel the expected aversion.
The person in his arms was unlike ordinary men—not only was their body supple, but they also emitted a faint fragrance. Upon closer inspection, it resembled the cold, serene scent of snow-covered pines and cypresses clinging to steep cliffs.
For a moment, Shang Qingyan’s mind went blank. He had been awakened by Yu Ange’s sobs. Drawing closer, he saw tears glistening in the corners of Yu Ange’s eyes, sorrow etched on their face, and their lips faintly murmuring his name.
Shang Qingyan considered himself a vengeful scoundrel. When he was still uncertain of Yu Anhe’s intentions in approaching him, he had even teased them with prayer beads. He felt undeserving of this gratitude, and the embrace felt inexplicable.
“What are you thanking me for?”
The question snapped Yu Ange fully awake. Realizing she was embracing Shang Qingyan, she recoiled as if electrocuted, stammering, “I just had a dream and acted improperly for a moment. Please forgive my rudeness, Your Highness.”
The already faint scent of cold pine dissipated further. Shang Qingyan involuntarily leaned closer to Yu Ange, staring into their eyes as he asked, “What dream made Young Master Yu cry out my name?”
Yu Ange flushed with embarrassment. She didn’t know whether the dream was a memory from her past life or a fantasy born of her deep obsession.
But Shang Qingyan’s presence undoubtedly brought her hope, whether in her past life or this one.
Knowing this person had a piercing gaze, Yu Ange avoided his eyes: “Just a dream. I forgot it as soon as I woke up.”
Seeing Yu Ange speak and act with flawless precision, Shang Qingyan’s suspicions grew even stronger.
With a teasing glint in his eyes, Shang Qingyan remarked, “Those who know might think Young Master Yu has ulterior motives. Those who don’t might assume Young Master Yu is deeply in love with me—not only risking life and limb to save me but even calling my name in their dreams.”
Yu Ange’s ears turned red at these audacious words: “Your Highness, be careful with your words! We are both men. How could there be any talk of deep affection?”
Shang Qingyan chuckled softly, his laughter sparse and hoarse from his recent fever: “This prince is but a sickly body, barely clinging to life. Aside from this reason, I truly cannot think of anything else about me worth your attention.”
Though the question sounded self-deprecating, Yu Ange detected a murderous undertone.
Last night, she had forced Shang Qingyan to reveal his strength, and he naturally felt resentful. However, injured as he was, he had no time to delve deeper into the matter for now.
And now it was time to settle accounts.
Yu Ange locked eyes with Shang Qingyan. His glass-like pupils reflected her face. Both were smiling, yet beneath those smiles lay hidden sharp edges.
Yu Ange spoke bluntly, “A sickly body isn’t truly sickly, and a life of compromise isn’t necessarily a life of compromise.”
Shang Qingyan narrowed his eyes, unconsciously gripping the prayer beads on his wrist. The bloodstains from last night still hadn’t been washed clean.
After years of disguise, even the Emperor had been fooled, yet he had been seen through by this so-called “waste,” Yu Anhe. What was more, he couldn’t see through this “waste” at all.
Dangerous and troublesome—better to kill and be done with it.
He placed his hand on Yu Ange’s neck, stroking it. The gesture was intimate, yet Yu Ange sensed only his murderous intent, with no trace of tenderness.
Yu Ange covered Shang Qingyan’s hand, the one wearing the prayer beads. “Your Highness was more severely injured than I was last night. It would be best to rest properly in the cellar.”
The implication was clear: if Shang Qingyan truly intended to act, he might not be able to defeat her. Moreover, the inn was filled with her people. Acting rashly would not be wise.
Shang Qingyan narrowed his eyes like a fox observing its prey from the grass. “Young Master Yu is a clever person. You must know that those who get involved with me never come to a good end.”
When the Emperor first ascended the throne, he meticulously plotted to strip him of his position as Crown Prince. Every official who supported him was systematically purged by the Emperor.
Even now, with only the title of Feitaizi left, the Emperor still saw him as a thorn in his side, going so far as to send assassins to Wangchuncheng to take his life.
Yu Ange had gone to great lengths to save him. Either her ambitions were vast, or…
Shang Qingyan considered his own situation and couldn’t think of a second possibility.
Yu Ange removed Shang Qingyan’s hand from her neck, looking at him with unwavering determination. “I know the worst possible outcome, so I’m not afraid of getting involved with Your Highness.”
Shang Qingyan clicked his tongue and withdrew his hand. Between his fingertips was a piece of straw that had accidentally clung to Yu Ange’s collar. He casually tossed it aside.
As if the earlier murderous intent had merely been to help Yu Ange remove that piece of straw.
Yu Ange offered no further explanation. She knew Shang Qingyan wouldn’t dispel his doubts with just a few words from her. To gain his trust, she would have to proceed step by step.
Just then, a commotion outside broke the tense, rigid atmosphere in the cellar.
The door above the cellar opened, revealing the faces of both Yanbo and Zhu Ying.
“Young Master!”
“Master!”
Both tried to come down, jostling each other at the narrow cellar entrance.
Yu Ange looked up and said, “Let me come out first.”