Xiang Zhile’s concerned words instantly sounded like “If you can’t do it, then get lost!” in Yan Junnuo’s ears.
Fury struck his heart, triggering a familiar spasm in his stomach—his chronic gastric condition had chosen this moment to flare up.
Cold sweat instantly beaded his forehead, and even Xiao Xiaonuo seemed to be losing strength.
Seeing his face turn pale, the words “It’s over” clamored into Xiang Zhile’s mind.
Her wretched mouth! She had meant to ask if he had eaten, if he wanted something. How… how had it come out like that?
And it seemed to have triggered his gastric condition.
She hurriedly tried to salvage the situation, grabbing an inner garment to sit up while draping another over him.
“Wangye, please relax, take it slow, take it slow.”
Hearing this, Yan Junnuo felt his masculine dignity being ruthlessly trampled.
A fresh wave of anger worsened the spasms in his stomach.
Clutching his abdomen, he shot her a sharp glare.
Xiang Zhile guiltily shrunk her neck. “I… Qieshen didn’t mean to look down on you…”
But to Yan Junnuo, it sounded like: “See, I told you you couldn’t do it.”
“Xiang Zhile, shut up!!!”
…
The sun was high in the sky.
In the disheveled bridal chamber.
Xiang Zhile’s eyes snapped open.
The sensation of her body feeling as if it had been dismantled and reassembled made her frown tightly.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What did I do?
Why was she so exhausted?
Not even leading troops on horseback for a full day and night had left her this weary.
The room was so quiet only her breathing could be heard.
Xiang Zhile struggled to sit up, warily scanning her surroundings.
The festive room looked strangely familiar, as did the Dragon and Phoenix Auspicious Brocade Quilt covering her…
Memories from before she lost consciousness flooded her mind.
The final “Xiang Zhile, shut your mouth for this Wangye!” was particularly vivid.
A rush of blood surged from Xiang Zhile’s feet to her crown—yesterday, during their second encounter, Yan Junnuo’s gastric condition had flared up midway, and he had knocked her out.
Last night, dazed and confused, everything had felt like a dream, yet not quite a dream.
Now fully awake, her mind cleared considerably.
A bold, absurd thought struck her.
Holding her breath, she scrambled and stumbled to the dressing table.
The polished bronze mirror clearly reflected a breathtakingly beautiful face.
This was…
Her from seven years ago.
Could it be…
Last night wasn’t a dream, but a fresh start?
With no certainty in her heart, Xiang Zhile hastily threw on an outer robe, her hair disheveled, and staggered out the door.
The Regent Manor before her was still exquisitely carved and grandly designed, utterly different from the desolation and decay seven years later.
Stumbling as she ran, she dashed through every corner of the manor, wanting to see it all.
Tears blurred her vision; she wiped them away, only for them to cloud again, and she wiped them once more.
It was as if she needed to release all the grievances she had endured in her previous life.
The servants were terrified, chasing after her the moment she burst out of her room.
But how could ordinary servants keep up with Xiang Zhile, who was trained in martial arts?
Eventually, someone shouted:
“Quick, inform Wangye! The Wangfei is running and crying—she seems to have gone mad!”
Hearing this, all the servants swarmed toward the study like a hive of bees.
In the study, Yan Junnuo was still pondering Xiang Zhile’s unusual behavior from the previous night.
The tenderness in her eyes last night had been truly intoxicating.
So intoxicating that he wanted to physically verify her authenticity.
Yet, his own body had failed him—his stomach ailment had flared up at the worst possible moment, instantly shattering his dignity as a man into pieces.
Frustrated, he unknowingly snapped the jade-handled wolf-hair brush in his hand.
Just as he was about to instruct Chu Shan to dispatch more guards to strengthen the mansion’s security, he was interrupted by the commotion outside.
“Wangye, the Wangfei is running through the mansion with disheveled hair, weeping as she goes—she seems to have gone mad.”
Before Chu Shan could even turn to inform his master, Yan Junnuo’s figure blurred and vanished in an instant.
Xiang Zhile didn’t know how long she had been running before she finally stopped at the pavilion where she had taken her own life in her previous existence.
The physical exhaustion filled her with joy.
She could feel tiredness, she could feel pain—so this was real, everything was real.
In her past life, after achieving vengeance, she had taken poison before Yan Junnuo’s memorial tablet.
After her suicide, she had been reborn, returning to seven years earlier.
Yan Junnuo was now a living, breathing person, not a cold memorial tablet.
At this thought, she couldn’t help but wipe away her overflowing tears with her sleeve.
A warm outer robe, still carrying body heat, was wrapped around her shoulders.