Noon.
The scorching sunlight slanted through the window, falling directly onto the head of the bed.
Disturbed relentlessly by the sun’s intrusion, the beautiful young lady on the bed reluctantly sat up and stretched lazily.
After a moment, Ying Xu rubbed her now fully awake eyes and raised her voice slightly, calling for a maid from outside to help her wash and get ready.
After finishing her grooming and dressing, Ying Xu sat at the table, eating the meal the household servants had kept warm for her—ready for her to eat at any time. Suddenly, she seemed to remember something and asked the servant beside her, “Where’s Xie Jingchen?”
The servant replied, “Miss, His Highness the Eleventh has not yet risen.”
Hearing those familiar yet strange titles, Ying Xu felt, for a fleeting moment, as if she had returned to four years ago.
But it was just a moment—she was not the kind of person to indulge in the past. After all, there was nothing worth lingering over.
For Ying Xu, every day was comfortable, so there was no need to cling to so-called happy memories.
She quickly furrowed her elegant brows, muttering somewhat strangely, “It’s already midday; why hasn’t he gotten up? Does he want to sleep himself to death?”
Even though she had just woken up herself, Ying Xu had no conscience at all in criticizing Xie Jingchen for still being asleep. She was a classic case of double standards: she could sleep in, but no one else could.
Though she found it a bit odd, Ying Xu didn’t rush to see what was keeping Xie Jingchen in bed. She first finished her “late breakfast” with dignity, filling her stomach, and then went to check on the silly dog temporarily renamed “Lazy Pig” who still hadn’t woken up.
On the way to Xie Jingchen’s room, passing by the Ying family’s martial training yard, Ying Xu casually picked up the self-defense “weapon” the late emperor had given her on her birthday years ago and carried it along.
Arriving at Xie Jingchen’s room, Ying Xu strode in arrogantly, as if the place belonged to no one else.
By the bed, Xie Jingchen was indeed still asleep, showing no signs of waking.
Seeing him sleep so soundly, completely undisturbed by the noon sunlight that had roused her, Ying Xu suddenly felt a twinge of displeasure.
Ying Xu was the type who could always find a reason to be annoyed; if she was unhappy, no one else would have peace either.
So she set her sights on the sleeping Xie Jingchen. She drew the short knife she had picked up earlier—a blade inlaid with dazzling, precious jewels that could almost pass for a vase—but in reality, it could cut through iron. She brandished it above him, making two slicing motions.
With no reaction from him, as if entirely unaware of the threat to his life, Ying Xu found it boring and lowered the blade.
Before fully sheathing it, though, for reasons even she didn’t understand, she sliced off a lock of his hair with the knife, keeping it along with the blade.
Then she raised her hand and jabbed his cheek repeatedly, her tone angry but playful:
“Still asleep, idiot, fool, dumbhead! Sleeping this soundly—you wouldn’t even notice if someone tried to kill you!”
Perhaps because Ying Xu’s poking grew increasingly vigorous, it escalated from jabbing to pinching, even shaking his shoulder. Finally, Xie Jingchen slowly opened his eyes.
Though awake, he was still in a daze, caught between sleep and reality.
Seeing the girl before him, his half-lidded puppy eyes grew even hazier. He gently grasped one of her fingers in his hand, holding it tenderly, his voice soft and coaxing, almost whining, yet endearing:
“This is nice… this dream… has A-Xu in it.”
Then he closed his eyes again, as if wanting to prolong this “dream of seeing Ying Xu.”
Hearing his nearly whispered words, Ying Xu froze for a moment, then blinked her phoenix-like eyes in slight confusion.
After a moment, she seemed to realize what was happening. She withdrew her finger from his hand; he had been holding it lightly, so she didn’t need any effort to pull away.
As she did so, the Xie Jingchen who had slept so soundly—even impervious to threats to his life—suddenly sat upright.
“Awake?” Ying Xu waved her hand in front of him.
Seeing her delicate, milky-white hand, he froze, staring blankly as if unable to distinguish dream from reality.
After a moment, seeing her truly there and not about to disappear, he murmured her name in a dazed voice, “A-Xu?”
Seeing his foolish expression, Ying Xu responded good-naturedly with a soft acknowledgement.
Then, gazing at the handsome young man, she suddenly asked, “So you really dream about me, Xie Jingchen?”
Xie Jingchen looked at her and replied, “When have I ever lied to A-Xu?”
He had never treated Ying Xu lightly.
Yet unexpectedly, after he said this, those beautiful eyes fixed on him and said seriously:
“You did lie.”
At those words, Xie Jingchen froze completely.
Impossible.
“I…?” He didn’t dare blink, staring at her in confusion, uttering a single word of uncertainty.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall ever lying to Ying Xu. How could he have done such a thing?
Under the intense gaze of her phoenix eyes, panic rose in him. Carefully, he asked, “A-Xu… could you give me a hint?”
Although he couldn’t remember when he had done such a terrible thing, he could remember every word Ying Xu had said to him, and naturally, he could recall what he had said to her.
If she gave him a timeframe, he thought he might be able to recall when he had lied.
Even if he couldn’t believe it, he could have done such an unforgivable thing.
Hearing him ask for proof, Ying Xu generously gave him the exact time and event, letting the silly dog die with dignity, leaving nothing incomplete.
Her clear, beautiful voice said:
“When I was twelve, Jiangnan, boating on the lake.”
Hearing this extremely specific clue, Xie Jingchen froze.
In the twenty-first year of the Yongyuan era, during summer, the late emperor went to Jiangnan.
Naturally, Ying Xu, traveling with him, was part of the small group. Already favored by the emperor, Xie Jingchen accompanied her.
The emperor’s journey was not for pleasure—it was to observe the people and understand their lives. Such duties were even more tedious than usual back in Jinling.
Though the emperor prioritized governance, Ying Xu’s trip to Jiangnan was not to idle away in a new place—otherwise, why travel so far instead of staying in Jinling?
During that time, Ying Xu dragged Xie Jingchen along to explore. They visited nearly every scenic spot in Jiangnan, and on a whim, once even brought a group to inspect the ruins of a previous dynasty’s mausoleum—bluntly speaking, they dug up the former emperor’s tomb.
As a result, Xie Jingchen was severely punished by the late emperor for not being well-behaved while bringing Ying Xu along.
Aside from that reckless tomb-digging, the Jiangnan trip’s other memorable moment was boating on West Lake.
In West Lake, the most abundant sight was not scenery, but couples shamelessly showing off their affection.
That year, Ying Xu and Xie Jingchen were unsurprisingly targeted by such couples. For fun, Ying Xu rented a small boat for just the two of them; Xie Jingchen rowed while she enjoyed the scenery.
While looking around, they noticed a particularly heartwarming scene: on a large boat nearby, an elderly couple, both white-haired and wrinkled, clung to each other, speaking words that might have sounded cheesy to the young, yet radiated visible happiness. Decades of love were still evident.
The elderly man said, “If there’s a next life, I’ll only be with you.”
The elderly woman feigned annoyance: “Is it only the next life?”
Upon hearing this, Ying Xu raised her eyes to the boy rowing behind her and asked,
“Xie Jingchen, would you only ever stay with me?”
Ying Xu’s question then wasn’t born of affection, but simply the bossy side of her noble-lady personality.
The boy rowing smiled brightly, grinning from ear to ear:
“Have I ever not only been with A-Xu?”