For a moment, Jiang Yin almost saw her long-departed great-grandmother whom she had never met.
But fate had not yet sealed her doom. After a brief sensation of hanging in midair, she landed softly, enveloped by the heavy, bitter scent of dry hay.
Glancing to the side, she realized she had fallen into a wooden cart piled high with loose fodder.
Though her clothes had snagged on roof tiles during the descent, slowing her fall, and the hay cushioned her landing, the impact still left Jiang Yin dazed and disoriented.
Yet she had no time to dwell on the pain. Scrambling frantically out of the cart, she immediately sprinted along the route she had rehearsed countless times in her mind, never looking back.
Worried that renting a carriage would waste precious time, she silently rehearsed the words she would say while running, already clutching a large-denomination silver note tightly in her hand.
…Rent a carriage, leave the city, take the back roads…
…Then it’ll be over.
…
Meanwhile, behind Jiang Yin, in a brilliantly lit tower, a figure clad in plain white robes sat leisurely by the window, his expression serene.
His gaze followed the bamboo-green silhouette as it swiftly weaved through the crowd and vanished around a street corner.
…Just like the first time they met.
The man gently stroked the smooth, lustrous white jade cup in his hand, his fingers slightly curled, lost in thought.
After a long while, he released his grip, letting the cup fall. It struck the tiled eaves outside the window, tumbled a few times, and plummeted to the ground below, shattering into pieces.
…How strange. Wasn’t it she who had begged for his protection that day?
Why, then, did she flee so desperately when he offered it?
If giving her money allowed that so-called System to command her at will, forcing her to playact with those she despised, why couldn’t he do the same?
Why shouldn’t he be able to?
Was it because he was different from Shen Fengzhi… because Shen Fengzhi was the protagonist, and he was not?
…Protagonist.
Under the heavy cloak of night, the young man’s handsome features were half-hidden in darkness. His nose was high and straight, his thin lips pressed tightly together. His phoenix eyes, usually gentle, now gleamed with a chilling intensity, radiant yet devoid of warmth, revealing a beauty that was almost sinister and undeniably bewitching.
He wore no hair crown, his ink-black tresses cascading down, merging with the shadows and blurring the line between himself and the night.
Yet his plain robes and pale skin stood out vividly, glowing softly in the dimly lit room.
From a distance, he resembled a newly manifested spirit—half-visible, half-concealed, neither fully human nor wholly ghostly.
Standing silently by the window, braving the cold wind for a long while, the young man suddenly smiled as if struck by a thought.
The corners of his lips lifted, yet remained tightly pressed, the smile never reaching his eyes.
He lowered his gaze slightly, looking at his now-empty palm.
…He had always known his hands were beautiful, just as he himself was beautiful.
His beauty was not one of heroic vigor or dignified grace—it was simply beauty, delicate and fragile, like a flower, like bamboo, like jade that could shatter at a touch.
Thus, from childhood, he had never been well-liked.
As a man, he was too beautiful, too easily able to charm women, so men disliked him.
Yet he could not blend in among women either, for they did not truly care for him—only for his appearance.
They would praise him and draw close only when he sat quietly, allowing himself to be admired.
The moment he acted in ways that displeased them, they would frown and retreat far, far away.
He longed to practice martial arts, to wield a sword, to kill, to let wind and rain wash away the bloodstains after a cathartic slaughter.
Yet they preferred him to read, play chess, compose poetry, and gently strum the zither with fair hands amidst the blooming flowers on sunny days.
He had no mother. His father disliked him, and his elder brother despised him. The only one who could offer him shelter was his father’s lawful wife, the Empress of Da Jing, Shen Fengzhi’s mother.
From childhood, he had catered to that woman’s whims, presenting himself as refined, elegant, and noble, all to win her favor—to beg for scraps from Shen Fengzhi’s table, to secure a tiny foothold for himself.
…Yet despite all his compromises and endurance, he still ended up like a stray dog, abandoned and alone.
In the past, he had simply accepted it as his fate—a victim of his own virtues, a beauty cursed with misfortune—and endured it silently, gritting his teeth.
Until he met her…
Until he met her, he finally understood that the reason he had suffered such a tragic life was simply because he stood in Shen Fengzhi’s way.
The protagonist was destined for boundless prospects and radiant glory, while he could not, he was unworthy.
But why?
…
His fingers slowly curled, clenching tightly—tighter, even tighter—until thick, vivid crimson flowed along the lines of his palm, dripping onto the snow-white hem of his robe, blooming into blossoms of blood.
Shen Shouyu slowly closed his eyes, the strength in his hand unrelenting, allowing the pain to surge and consume his consciousness.
…He refused to believe it. He refused to accept it.
Why should Shen Fengzhi have what he could not?
He would have it. He would fight for it. He would defy fate with this worthless, insignificant life, and make her see clearly who the true protagonist was.
After a long silence, a low murmur slowly rose in the darkness, ethereal yet resolute:
“…Go, bring her back. Alive.”
…
The winter night’s wind was piercingly cold. By the time Jiang Yin boarded the carriage, she was nearly numb.
She wrapped herself tightly in the few scraps of cloth she had, hugging her knees and shrinking into the corner of the carriage, rubbing her hands together to warm herself.
Due to the lack of time, Jiang Yin was still registered as a lowly commoner and could not pass through the city gates.
After paying the merchant seven times the usual price, he finally agreed to hide her behind a carriage full of fabric, smuggling her out of the city.
She had initially worried that the merchant’s method might not work, but unexpectedly, he found a reliable coachman who successfully managed to get Jiang Yin out.
The official road at night was empty. The coachman cracked his whip, boasting proudly, “Don’t you worry, miss! No matter where you want to go, I guarantee I’ll find a way to get you there!”
“…Thank you.”
Her tense mood eased slightly at his words. Jiang Yin rummaged through the heavy bolts of fabric, found a relatively thick one, and wrapped it around herself a few times.
After all, she had bought all this fabric to get out of the city—no use letting it go to waste.
With her new “clothes,” the chill on her body finally became more bearable. Jiang Yin lifted the carriage curtain to look ahead and asked the coachman, “Can we take the back roads?”
The coachman scratched his head. “No need to worry, miss. We’ll take the back roads during the day… It’s easy to overturn at night on those paths, and since the official road is empty, it’s better to stick to it.”
Jiang Yin explained, “…No, I’m worried someone might come after me. It’s better to take the back roads, even if we go slower.”
“Alright then!”
Seeing her insistence, the coachman grinned and agreed. “Then we’ll take the back roads! Hurry back inside, miss—the wind’s freezing, and you’re dressed so lightly. I’ll call you if anything happens!”
“…Alright.”
Jiang Yin withdrew into the carriage, thought for a moment, then took out a silver note and handed it out: “Brother, just keep heading west… I’ll trouble you with this.”
The driver pushed the money back in: “No need for that, miss! I won’t take it! We already agreed on the price, I won’t take more!”
“Take it,” Jiang Yin pushed the money out again. “I’m too tired and need to sleep for a while. If we reach a town by tomorrow morning, use this money to buy me some pastries.”
At the mention of pastries, she suddenly recalled Shen Shouyu’s cold expression as he warned her to avoid them. Her heart trembled, and it took her quite a while to calm down.
Hearing Jiang Yin’s arrangement, the driver finally accepted the money: “Alright! Then I’ll do as you say, miss!”
“Thank you.”
Without waiting for the driver’s response, Jiang Yin tidied the cloth inside the carriage, made a simple bed for herself, and lay down to sleep.
Tortured all night the night before, terrified all night last night, and now on this third night, having endured such a life-and-death escape, Jiang Yin was utterly exhausted.
Almost as soon as she closed her eyes, she fell asleep.
…She didn’t know how long she slept in her daze, but in her groggy state, she suddenly heard a sharp whistle.
Already on edge, her body reacted before her mind could, and she sat up instantly.
Fierce flames shone through the carriage curtains, casting a crimson glow all around, as if she were trapped in a scorching cage with nowhere to hide.
A cold, stern voice called out from outside:
“Get out of the carriage!”