Mu Zhaoran recalled the system’s tone, which treated the matter as if it were some grand reward. The memory made her feel as if she had just eaten a fly—disgusted to the core. Her expression immediately soured, and she refused decisively, “I will not see him.”
Rong Tingjue was skilled at reading people. His gaze calmly swept over the subtle changes in her expression. Rising, he said his farewell, “It is late, and Your Highness must be tired. We should not continue to disturb your rest any further.”
When he spoke, Ning Shuai also rose, and together they bowed and took their leave.
Ye Lingyan hesitated several times, wanting to speak and perhaps mend her relationship with Mu Zhaoran, but seeing Mu Zhaoran’s current displeased expression and sour mood, she feared it would backfire. So she left with the other two.
Outside the courtyard, they saw Zhu Qinglan standing by the phoenix bamboo, twirling a folding fan in his hand.
Hearing the reply from a servant, he looked disappointed, craned his neck to peer inside, and muttered, “I’ve always heard that Her Highness Yaoguang is breathtakingly beautiful, a true peerless beauty. I thought I might see her today.”
Before he could finish, a streak of sword light as sharp and white as a flowing ribbon shot from inside the room, aimed directly at his face.
Zhu Qinglan spun around, narrowly dodging the blade. Though he avoided the vital strike, a cut grazed his ear, drawing blood.
Panicked, he touched his ear, relieved it was still intact, and carefully folded his fan, bowing from a distance toward the house. With a serious expression, he said, “Forgive me, forgive me. This little fox came only to pay respects to the mountain, but with no gatekeeping knowledge, I have offended Your Highness. Please forgive me.”
Shuang Xu sheathed his sword and said coldly, “The princess wishes to rest. Leave now.”
Zhu Qinglan awkwardly bowed once more and turned to leave. After a few steps, a suppressed laugh came from nearby. Following the sound, he saw Rong Tingjue and his group.
Ning Shuai pointed at him and laughed heartily, “Did you hear that? He said he came to pay respects to the mountain—ha! Does he think Her Highness is some country bumpkin monster from your backwater mountains?”
Zhu Qinglan’s gaze swept from Rong Tingjue and Ning Shuai to Ye Lingyan, and his eyes instantly lit up. Like a wisp of blue smoke, he drifted over. “This lady is truly beautiful. What’s your name? Are you also from our Southern Territories, here to enter Tiandao Palace to cultivate?”
As expected of a fox spirit, Zhu Qinglan’s appearance was delicate and alluring, with red markings at the corners of his eyes enhancing his charm. His red robes burned like fire.
Ye Lingyan had initially looked down on such a rural demon, but when she met his upward-slanting fox-like eyes at close range, and he sweet-talked her, her head spun with dizziness.
Her eyes glazed as she responded earnestly, “My name is Ye Lingyan, eldest daughter of General Ye of Nanrong, here to cultivate in Tiandao Palace with a Yan Gold Token.”
Zhu Qinglan’s face lit up with obvious joy, his fox-like eyes curved into crescent moons. “That’s wonderful! To have a beautiful lady as a classmate makes all my struggles to obtain this Yan Gold Token worthwhile.”
He sighed, sharing his troubles. “This Yan Gold Token was truly hard to acquire. To come here and see you, I have endured many hardships.”
Seeing his downturned mouth, Ye Lingyan felt an overwhelming sympathy, nearly wanting to pour out her heart to him. She murmured, “My Yan Gold Token also came with great difficulties. At first, it was actually—”
A sudden snap rang at her ear, like a bolt of lightning. Her hazy mind cleared instantly; realizing how close she was to speaking recklessly, she hurriedly covered her mouth, wide-eyed, glancing gratefully at the person who snapped.
Rong Tingjue lowered his hand, smiling reassuringly at her, then turned to Zhu Qinglan. “Since you and the lady are both from the Southern Territories and will be fellow disciples in Tiandao Palace, it is improper to use seductive arts on her immediately. Your ear is still bleeding, too.”
Zhu Qinglan’s fox eyes flicked over their faces, then he shook his fan in front of his face. When he lowered it, his features remained delicate, but the seductive charm had faded.
He apologized, “This little fox is merely a country bumpkin from the back mountains, unfamiliar with the world’s rules. My words were reckless, my actions clumsy. I accidentally offended Your Highness, and now the lady. Please don’t be angry.”
Ning Shuai crossed his arms, blocking Ye Lingyan. “You stinking fox! So it’s because of my words that you’re embarrassed? Taking it out on others—what kind of skill is that?”
Zhu Qinglan hurriedly waved his hands. “No, I didn’t. I only used the fox charm instinctively because I like the lady.” He struck the fan hard three times in his palm. “I deserved that. Truly deserved it.” Then he offered the fan to Ye Lingyan. “Or maybe the lady can hit me a few times too, to vent?”
Having suffered this slight, Ye Lingyan didn’t dare look him in the eye. She ignored him, instead glancing toward the shadow in the corridor corner, and snapped, “Why are you standing there? Come with me!”
Ye Lizhi knew she wouldn’t have a good outcome later, so she carefully tilted her head and peeked inside. Candlelight flickered against the bright tiles, and Shuang Xu leaned against the doorway, sword in hand, watching coldly.
Her posture made clear the stance of the Holy Maiden.
Ye Lizhi felt a vague disappointment, then self-mockery. Perhaps “protect her” had been only a casual remark, but she had taken it to heart.
Before Ye Lingyan became angry, Ye Lizhi quickly lowered her head and replied obediently, bowing to the three, then followed Ye Lingyan and her maid out of the courtyard.
Zhu Qinglan’s gaze followed their backs until they disappeared, then he sighed with regret. “The moonlight is so beautiful, and now it’s just you two and me, a lone male fox. Among all of us males, this is really dull. Such a pity for such a fine evening.”
With that, he floated away.
After a moment, Ning Shuai reacted, fuming, “That stinking fox actually said we were mere menservants, and that the males were facing each other? What nonsense is this?”
Rong Tingjue patted his shoulder, shaking his head helplessly. “Why bother quarreling with a fox? Go back and rest early.”
The courtyard quieted. Shuang Xu returned to Mu Zhaoran’s side. “Your Highness, did you have some prior grievance with Zhu Qinglan?”
“I’ve never met him,” Mu Zhaoran replied.
Shuang Xu frowned. “Anyone capable of winning a Yan Gold Token and entering Tiandao Palace alone must be extraordinary. Why not recruit him under your command? I see Rong Gongzi is already taken with him.”
“He’s a loyal dog with a master already. You know me—I value purity and don’t use secondhand goods,” Mu Zhaoran said with disdain.
She remembered that in her previous life, Zhu Qinglan and Ye Lizhi had likely formed a bond early on, even in Nanrong. Now, she acted as if they had never met.
The system had said that if she performed well, she could take one good man from the heroine’s side—aside from the male lead and second male lead—as a husband.
Yun Xiaoyang was the male lead, so he was for the heroine. The second male lead was Ye Lizhi’s support.
That left only a devoted and loyal third male lead.
She would have to behave well to claim the heroine’s dog.
Thinking this, Mu Zhaoran crushed the teacup in her hand, laughing angrily. Her laughter turned to tears, a mix of hatred and unwillingness streaming from her eyes.
Shuang Xu, seeing her half-laughing, half-crying, felt as if countless needles pierced her heart. She quickly picked up the broken porcelain and checked for injuries.
“Your Highness, what’s wrong? If you dislike him, you could deal with him before formally entering Tiandao Palace tomorrow. His reckless words were truly offensive. It would be reasonable for you to punish him.”
Mu Zhaoran gripped her hand, took a deep breath, and adjusted her mood. She smiled faintly. “It’s nothing, just a few words. You’ve already reprimanded him. If I fussed over this, how could I cultivate my heart and seek the Celestial Seal?”
Shuang Xu felt guilty for her suffering. “Forgive me for letting Your Highness be wronged.”
A little grievance is nothing, as long as she doesn’t repeat past mistakes. She truly feared that her companions might die because of her.
Mu Zhaoran patted her hand. “It’s late. You should all return to your rooms to rest.”
The lights in Ruguo Tower gradually dimmed, leaving only sparse lanterns hanging from the eaves.
Back in familiar surroundings, Mu Zhaoran found it hard to sleep. She wrapped herself in her robe, leaning against the window to gaze at the snowy white gate. In moonlight, it looked even more majestic and pure, a symbol of supreme authority.
It stood in stark contrast to the crime steles at its base.
Earlier, due to Zhu Qinglan’s interruption, she hadn’t finished reading the names on the stele and didn’t know whether Yan Luo’s name had been inscribed.
She hadn’t gone to the stele to find him—Yan Luo was an enemy of Tiandao Palace, and she wanted no repeat of her past life. This life, she hoped, would keep her far from him.
Yet, when she saw the stele, she instinctively jumped from the carriage.
“Yan Luo, in my past life I wronged you. You must have hated me… this life—” Mu Zhaoran’s words died on her lips. She forced herself to push him from her thoughts, closed the window, lay back on the couch, and shut her eyes.
“Apologies are apologies,” she thought selfishly. Even knowing all Yan Luo had done for her, in a new life, she could not walk the same path again. To oppose the world for one person exists only in books—a foolish notion.
The debts of her past life could not be repaid. It was best not to meet him again.
The candlelight flickered softly. Her heavy thoughts gradually dissipated, and her breathing steadied as she fell asleep.
After an unknown amount of time, a sharp, clear sound suddenly awakened Mu Zhaoran. She opened her eyes, but what she saw was not the room in Ruguo Tower—it was her palace in Nanrong.
“Why am I back here again?” Mu Zhaoran’s heart raced as she stood up in a panic, wobbled, then sank back down onto the seat. A faint scent of wine drifted through the air.
Looking down, she saw a tipped-over wine jar, its pale red liquid slowly spilling out. A black cat was crouched nearby, pawing at the broken jar.
“Wutuan, move away…” she murmured, waving her hand instinctively.
Hearing the noise, the maids outside pushed the door open. They moved in smooth coordination: one cleaned up the broken jar and opened the window to air the room, while another reached to lift the cat—but it wriggled free and disappeared.
Two maids came to support her arms. “Your Highness, let us help you to bed,” they said.
Half-supported by them on each side, Mu Zhaoran staggered forward, shaking her head to clear the dizziness. Through the half-open window, she caught sight of the rising full moon and slowly remembered—tonight was the full moon night, and Yan Luo was expected.
Mu Zhaoran disliked Yan Luo. She was wary of the scars covering his body and uneasy about the strange creatures inside him. Yet she depended on his protection and the elixirs he brought, so certain rituals were unavoidable.
With the maids’ help, she was guided to bed and covered with a blanket. They quietly pulled the curtains, dimming the room until only she remained by the bed.
A soft creak of the door signaled someone entering. The quiet steps and rustling of the curtains caught her attention, drawing her focus like a spark.
A tall figure stood by the bed. Mu Zhaoran reached out instinctively, clutching his wrist.
“Why this dream?” he asked softly, noticing her expression. He paused, then let out a faint, self-deprecating laugh. “Well… perhaps we don’t have other dreams between us.”
She liked this kind of dream, so he decided to go along. He moved closer, a silver mask covering his face, faintly reflecting the scars he bore from the past.
Mu Zhaoran called to him with a trembling voice. She reached out, touching the mask. He glanced toward a shadow at the edge of the curtain and said, “Go.”
The shadow dashed forward, swiping his hand before disappearing.
“Even your cat attacks me,” he said with a dry laugh, showing the scratches on his hand.
Her gaze softened, and she no longer thought of his scars or the creatures within him. She held his hand and gently traced the old marks.
Yan Luo’s hand tensed, but he allowed her gestures, keeping his gaze locked on hers.
After a moment, he guided her gently and the silver mask shifted, revealing the lower half of his scarred face.
Mu Zhaoran looked at him and smiled, a mix of relief and longing in her eyes.
He held the back of her neck and let her focus on him. Though he maintained his serious demeanor, his eyes betrayed no anger.
Finally, he spoke in a low, almost pained voice: “Mu Zhaoran, you are truly difficult to deal with.”