This must be a tactical retreat, Yu Wanyin thought, meant to make me feel the sting of conscience.
Yet for some reason, she felt no resistance in her heart—even her breathing had lightened.
"You don’t have to play pitiful for me to stay." She patted Xiahou Dan’s hand. "Hurry up and get better. We still need your acting skills for the next step of our plan."
Xiahou Dan silently watched her. She sat there, her eyes already beginning to slowly shift, like a little animal preparing to hunt.
Lost in thought, Yu Wanyin suddenly felt an itch in her nose and sneezed.
Xiahou Dan touched her sleeve. "Completely soaked?"
"It’s nothing..."
Xiahou Dan grabbed the bell by his hand and summoned a palace attendant. "Take the Noble Consort to bathe."
After a hot bath, the gloom in Yu Wanyin’s heart dissipated entirely. It had been so long since she’d felt such comfort and peace.
She dried her hair and intended to bid Xiahou Dan farewell before leaving, but he said naturally, "It’s raining. Don’t trouble yourself—just sleep here."
Yu Wanyin hesitated for a moment, then gladly lay down beside him. The bedding was warm, and the sound of thunder and rain outside the window made her drowsy.
"Does it still hurt badly? Want me to massage it for you?"
"Mhm."
Xiahou Dan lay with his eyes closed, feeling her draw near. The little creature had no defenses—she only sought mutual warmth.
Xiahou Dan feigned illness and skipped court for two days. On the third day, he sat on the throne looking perfectly fine and said lazily, "The Empress Dowager has wanted to build a mausoleum for years. With her birthday approaching, I’d like to show some filial piety. Minister of Revenue, are the taxes sufficient?"
The Minister of Revenue was stunned. "This servant will verify immediately."
Xiahou Dan had previously executed a Minister of Revenue in court. The current one was the younger brother of that man. The change in such a high-ranking official caused no ripple—even the ministry’s affairs continued as usual, as if nothing had happened.
Such was the court of Great Xia.
For over a decade, two factions had vied for power, propping up countless redundant officials who did no real work. Officials came and went swiftly—morning edicts, afternoon appointments, and perhaps a coffin by evening.
In such an environment, everyone’s mind was set on mere survival or squeezing as much profit as possible while in office. Countless policies were issued but never enforced; those who actually worked had long been eliminated.
The Minister of Revenue grew anxious.
Other imperial edicts, he might have been able to feign compliance and muddle through. But the Empress Dowager’s mausoleum was absolutely non-negotiable. He had been promoted by the Empress Dowager, and as a newly appointed official, this was his golden opportunity to prove his worth.
But there was one practical problem: the treasury was truly empty.
Where was he supposed to conjure funds for such a massive project?
The Minister of Revenue thought of the only solution: continue squeezing the people dry.
At the next morning court session, Xiahou Dan said lazily, "The Ministry of Revenue proposes another tax increase this year. What do my esteemed ministers think?"
None of the officials dared to speak. If the Emperor had a sudden whim to display filial piety, even if everyone knew the people had already been squeezed to the bone—another tax hike might spark rebellion—no one would dare oppose it.
Xiahou Dan waved his hand. "Then it’s settled."
Somehow, news of the tax increase spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of the capital within days. The people grumbled, but their voices would never reach the Emperor’s ears.
One day, Xiahou Dan left the palace to visit an old minister who had fallen ill. Before setting off, he summoned the carriage driver and gave him strict instructions.
On the way back, the carriage suddenly jerked to a halt.Xiahou Dan sat steadily in the carriage when he heard the guards outside roar, "Who dares block His Majesty's procession!"
The shout was thunderous, drawing the attention of commoners half a street away.
Knowing the actors were in place, Xiahou Dan leisurely lifted the carriage curtain and stepped out. "What's the matter?" he asked.
In the distance knelt a ragged extra who, upon seeing him descend, immediately began wailing like a slaughtered pig: "Oh Sage Emperor! Oh heavens! Open your eyes and see! Every one of my fellow villagers toils from dawn to dusk all year farming and weaving, yet the grain we keep is barely enough to fill our stomachs. My younger siblings, born during a famine year, were starved to death by our weeping parents..."
Li Yunxi, hidden among the crowd: "?"
Why did this impassioned speech sound so familiar?
The extra directly recited Li Yunxi's entire script from the boat that day, concluding with a tearful howl: "My family cannot survive! If taxes increase again, we can only cut off our heads and offer this bowl of hot blood to nourish our Sage Emperor!"
Thud thud thud—he kowtowed violently.
Li Yunxi: "..."
The surrounding commoners were moved to tears, joining the wailing chorus. More people kept arriving from afar, completely blocking Xiahou Dan's path back to the palace.
Xiahou Dan wore an expression of utter distress, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. Suddenly, he slapped a guard and hissed, "Useless! Summon the Minister of Revenue immediately!"
Under the watchful eyes of the entire city's populace, the Minister of Revenue knelt before Xiahou Dan.
Xiahou Dan: "Why increase taxes?"
Minister of Revenue: "..."
Wasn't that your own approved memorial?
Trembling, the minister recounted the memorial's contents, wisely omitting any mention of the Emperor's filial piety projects, claiming it was solely his idea.
Xiahou Dan declared righteously: "So the tax hike is for building mausoleums? Then where's the original tax revenue earmarked for imperial tombs?"
The minister froze in terror.
Xiahou Dan: "Take Us to see. Today We must give... give the people an answer!"
Moments later, the sweating Minister of Revenue tremblingly opened the doors to a treasury.
Xiahou Dan stood rigidly at the entrance for a long moment before suddenly bursting into mad laughter: "Where's the money? Where's Our money?!"
Palace servants fell to their knees in waves around him.
With murder in his eyes, Xiahou Dan looked around, then snatched a guard's sword and strode toward the minister.
The minister immediately wet himself: "Your Majesty!!!"
"Your Majesty—" An Xian came scurrying over, "General Zhang of the Right Army sends urgent word, saying..."
He leaned in to whisper, but Xiahou Dan impatiently snapped, "Speak up."
An Xian: "He says the military pay has gone moldy."
Xiahou Dan threw down the sword, took the memorial from him, scanned it briefly, then hurled it at the minister's face: "They're threatening Us—saying if this year's military pay isn't increased, their horses may lack strength to guard the borders."
Everyone knew those generals were basically Prince Duan faction members. Choosing this moment to pressure the Emperor naturally meant they'd heard about the tax hike and wanted their cut.
Xiahou Dan staggered: "Fine, fine. Everyone comes to Us for money, yet the treasury stands empty. This empire might as well change its surname now!"
Having finished wet himself, the minister now spoke with eerie calm: "This servant deserves death."Xiahou Dan didn't pick up the sword again. After catching his breath, he said wearily, "This matter requires discussion with the Empress Dowager."
Meanwhile, the Empress Dowager had also heard about the day's farce.
She felt somewhat alarmed: "The state treasury can't continue being drained like this."
Those who've never led troops ultimately still fear those unruly soldiers—both wary of them yet dependent on their protection.
"Those military men think simply. For now, we must first satisfy them," the Empress Dowager adjusted her gold-and-jade-inlaid hairpin with a smile. "Have the Ministry of Revenue devise a solution and allocate some supplies."
Her confidant asked, "What about the mausoleum project..."
The Empress Dowager gazed at her crimson nails: "Since the Emperor shows such filial piety, naturally the mausoleum must still be built."
In the Imperial Garden, Zhang San's so-called "Two Dragons Playing with a Pearl" flower arrangement had been planted and would soon bloom.
After dismissing the palace attendants, he took up a shovel himself and buried a box beneath the soil where the "pearl" would be.
Inside the box was a note: "If you're one of us, leave me a message. I want to meet you."—written in simplified characters from left to right. Any time traveler would understand at a glance.
Though the flowers hadn't bloomed yet, Zhang San had already begun finding excuses to linger nearby daily.
Of course, the soil remained undisturbed.
Xiahou Dan recounted the dramatic scene to Yu Wanyin, who doubled over laughing: "You're such a great actor!"
Xiahou Dan: "It's my only remaining virtue."
Yu Wanyin: "It's perfect—extremely effective. With this, Er Lan and the others should make their move soon. The Ministry of Revenue implementing the open border policy is inevitable."
"But the seed problem remains unresolved..."
"It's time to investigate Yan Kingdom matters," Yu Wanyin said thoughtfully. "I'll first do some research in the library."
The library had been rebuilt, with new books replacing those burned in the fire.
Yu Wanyin spent the day there, finding several general records about Yan Kingdom. After sweet-talking the attendants, she prepared to take the books back for further study.
Passing by her former workstation on the second floor, she glanced out the window and suddenly froze.
A new batch of flowers had bloomed in the Imperial Garden.
Viewed from above, the flower beds clearly formed a massive "SOS" shape.
Goosebumps rose on Yu Wanyin's skin as she turned to ask an attendant, "When were those flowers planted?"
Attendant: "This servant doesn't know."
Yu Wanyin abandoned the books and rushed downstairs to the flower beds.
The SOS was composed of pink-purple clematis flowers, strikingly different from surrounding plants.
Could it really be what she thought? Had a fellow time traveler planted this?
There was absolutely no such plot in "Rebirth of the Demon Consort."
Was this another accidental traveler? If the SOS was a message, there should be other clues nearby.
Yu Wanyin searched the area, first checking every tree hollow fruitlessly. Undeterred, she bent down to examine the soil beneath the flowers.
Footsteps suddenly approached from behind.
As if sensing something, Yu Wanyin turned to find the taciturn Little Crown Prince watching her silently.
After several seconds of locked gazes, the prince bowed: "Consort Yu."
"...Your Highness, what are you doing here?"The Little Crown Prince looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of wariness and confusion. "I was just passing by."
Yu Wanyin took two steps closer, an unbelievable conjecture forming in her mind.
She pursed her lips and tentatively asked, "There are two trees in front of my house. Do you know what kind they are?"
The Little Crown Prince stared at her blankly.
Yu Wanyin took another step forward. "One is a jujube tree. What about the other?"
The Little Crown Prince slowly furrowed his brows. "Consort Yu?"
In the distance, a young eunuch hurried over, bowing to Yu Wanyin before addressing the prince. "Your Highness, the Empress Dowager is waiting for you."
Yu Wanyin watched them leave with disappointment.
"Your Highness, please come with me quickly," the eunuch whispered urgently, his voice trembling. "The Empress Dowager is not well."
Zhang San was pushed into the Empress Dowager's chamber as if sleepwalking.
For a moment, he didn’t recognize the woman on the bed—her face half-paralyzed, eyes bulging.
She had suffered a stroke, aging twenty years overnight. Drool trickled from the corner of her slack mouth as she tremblingly reached out a hand to him.
Zhang San took the Empress Dowager’s hand.
Her fingers clamped onto him like an eagle’s talons, as if clinging to an obsession. The resentment in her eyes was almost fierce enough to devour him whole.
A voice announced from outside the chamber, "The Emperor has arrived—"
Zhang San paused and turned his head.
A tall figure approached the bed, kneeling and calling out, "Mother." Without waiting for her response, he looked up and gave Zhang San a cold smile. "Dan'er."
Zhang San didn’t reply.
The Empress Dowager on the bed glared fiercely at the Emperor. But the Emperor appeared perfectly composed, gently wiping the drool from her mouth as he smiled. "Mother, rest well. You’ll recover soon."
Zhang San stood silently in place, breathing in the cold, metallic scent of shifting power in the air. A sharp pain suddenly pierced his skull, but he endured it without a sound.
It was the first headache of his life.
The Empress Dowager’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and she passed away a month later.
And just as the Emperor had wished, a new Empress was installed.
The young and beautiful Empress, adorned in jewels, lightly pinched Zhang San’s cheek with her manicured fingers. "Dan'er, from now on, I am your mother."
Zhang San subtly tilted his head away from her touch and replied meekly, "Mother Empress."
He had been in the palace long enough to understand many things.
For instance, before her rise to power, this new Empress had been poisoned by the late Empress Dowager, rendering her infertile for life.
For instance, the stroke and death of the Empress Dowager were likely orchestrated by this very Empress.
And for instance, the Empress undoubtedly hated him. Yet, at the same time, she needed to tame him. Once the Emperor was gone, she would become the next Lü Zhi.
He wasn’t truly a child. But as an ordinary middle schooler, his cunning might not even match that of a child raised in the palace.
First, the Empress Dowager had controlled him. Now, the new Empress did. He was no match for either.
But where was that consort—the Demon Consort who should have been the protagonist of this story, his only kindred spirit?
Zhang San had tried leading the Empress near the SOS flower patch to observe her reaction. But her gaze passed over the flowers without a flicker of recognition.
She was too busy consolidating her own faction, tightening her grip on both the court and the harem.Zhang San knew that his influence as the future emperor was being eroded step by step. But he was powerless—his birth mother in the book had long passed away, and the Emperor showed him no extra favor.
His headaches were becoming more frequent.
Where was that person? When would they appear?
Could he still wait for her?
At night, Yu Wanyin excitedly sought out Xiahou Dan and told him about the flower patch.
Xiahou Dan paused. "Could it have been planted by Xie Yong'er?"
"That was my first thought too," Yu Wanyin said. "But Xie Yong'er's every word and action are written in the book, and she definitely didn't do this. Besides, she always believes she's the only transmigrator and wouldn't think to look for others. I think it must be someone else, like us, who accidentally crossed over."
Xiahou Dan: "But we've been here so long. If there were any strange individuals, we should have noticed by now."
"Maybe that person is trying desperately to hide? He—or she—doesn't know who to trust, so they can only send a distress signal this way... No, I have to investigate who planted that flower patch."
Xiahou Dan chuckled dismissively. "Most likely a coincidence. You think it's an SOS, but they might have just planted a 'Two Dragons Playing with a Pearl' pattern."
"I know. But what if? What if there's someone else waiting for us to save them? How terrifying must it be to be alone in this world."
Xiahou Dan silently watched her.
Yu Wanyin smiled. "Don't look at me like that. Use your imagination a little—with three people, we could play cards! Do you think that person is male or female? Would they like hot pot?"
A year after the Empress was crowned, Zhang San reached the age to attend the Imperial Study.
In this world, the Imperial Study usually hosted all the princes together. But after Zhang San enrolled, he found the surroundings eerily empty. The vast study hall had only him sitting at the center, with all the tutors comically orbiting around him.
He knew this was the Empress's doing—that ambitious woman was isolating the Crown Prince from the roots.
Zhang San refused to accept fate.
Even without any real abilities, he still harbored the superiority complex of a modern person and wouldn't yield so easily. He would do everything possible to improve his situation until he found that companion.
Zhang San obediently attended classes for a few days. When the Emperor and Empress came to inspect his progress, he shyly said, "Your son sits alone every day, truly lonely and bored. I beg Father and Mother to show mercy—even one more companion would be a blessing."
He wanted to try making friends and building his own faction.
The Emperor glanced at the Empress. She patted Zhang San's head and smiled. "Then let Bo'er accompany you."
Xiahou Bo was several years older. Though born a lowly illegitimate son, he was handsome and refined, like an orchid or jade tree. Only when bowing to Zhang San did the icy disdain in his eyes become barely concealed.
The tutor had Xiahou Bo sit opposite the Crown Prince.
Amid the tedious lecture, Zhang San's eyelids grew heavier, and he was on the verge of dozing off when a sharp "smack" suddenly rang in his ears.
It was as if he'd been transported back to middle school math class. He jerked his head up in alarm.
"Smack"—another sound. The tutor's ruler rose high and struck Xiahou Bo's palm hard. "No daydreaming!"
Xiahou Bo hadn't been daydreaming.
The tutor was simply making him suffer in the Crown Prince's stead.
As the lecture resumed, Xiahou Bo curled his swollen hand, glaring at Zhang San with lips pressed into a thin line.After class, Zhang San immediately went to ask the young eunuch who followed him, "An Xian, what's the deal with Xiahou Bo? Don't think of hiding it from me—I'll find out one way or another."
An Xian trembled and spoke evasively, but Zhang San roughly understood: in the long history of Imperial Harem Intrigue, his deceased mother had caused the death of Xiahou Bo's mother.
Yet all involved parties were already dead. Within these palace walls, where pretense became reality and truth blurred with illusion, who could say for certain?
The only thing Zhang San knew for sure was this: Xiahou Bo hated him.
And the Empress was more than happy to deepen that hatred.
From that day onward, every tutor's punishments for Xiahou Bo grew increasingly severe. Soon they were no longer satisfied with rulers—willow switches appeared in the Imperial Study.
Even the eunuchs and palace maids competed to show their creativity in meals and tea, devising various humiliating tricks. Whenever Xiahou Bo swallowed dirty water without expression, they would gleefully look at Zhang San as if expecting a reward.
It was said the Empress had instructed them thus: "If the Crown Prince has a headache, someone beside him must suffer more."
Zhang San pleaded softly several more times, but by then the Emperor had gradually withdrawn from governance, leaving everything to the Empress.
The Empress showed no mercy by transferring Xiahou Bo away—instead, she brought in more illegitimate and unfavored princes.
As one might expect, every classmate became "the Empress's tool to please the Crown Prince." In everyone's eyes, Zhang San was firmly bound to the Empress, as close as mother and son.
Zhang San sometimes wondered: there were many ways to isolate the Crown Prince. The Empress had chosen the most extreme method, perhaps because after that abortion long ago, she had already come to hate all princes.
What that woman hadn't anticipated was that from this venomous Imperial Study would eventually emerge a gu* more potent than herself.
The bruises and bloody marks on Xiahou Bo's body increased day by day, yet the look in his eyes when he gazed at Zhang San grew more restrained each day. Now there wasn't a trace of hatred left on his face—his brows and eyes were gentle and refined, his smile humble and courteous. He was so likable that all the abused princes rallied around him.
Zhang San didn't believe in fate.
He tried standing up for his classmates when tutors reprimanded them, arguing on principle. The elderly tutor bowed in terror, begging him to calm his anger, only to whip the students twice as hard the next day. His protests became clumsy performances, playing the righteous role under the mocking gazes of the princes.
He tried bringing meals for all his classmates to improve relations. He personally selected lavish dishes and pastries, watching as the palace staff packed them into food boxes to bring to the Imperial Study. Yet when his classmates opened the boxes, what greeted them was unmistakably husks.
One hot-tempered prince couldn't take it anymore, smashing the food box on the spot: "How profoundly affectionate His Highness the Crown Prince is!"
"Third Brother." Xiahou Bo patted the prince's shoulder to calm him, then said courteously, "Thank you for Your Highness's generous gift."
Zhang San: "I didn't—this isn't—someone!"
The eunuch who carried the food box knelt weeping as if his heart would break. When Zhang San angrily berated him, the princes again wore expressions of watching a self-directed farce.
Unable to defend himself, Zhang San's head throbbed as if splitting. He kicked the eunuch over: "Who put you up to this? Speak!"
"Spare me, Your Highness, spare me..."
At precisely this moment, Xiahou Bo gently said, "This castrated one's crime doesn't merit death. I beg Your Highness's mercy." With that, he cheerfully ate the husks.
(*Note: "Gu" refers to a legendary venomous insect used in dark magic, often cultivated by sealing poisonous creatures together until one survives by consuming the others—a metaphor for surviving ruthless competition.)Zhang San stood rooted to the spot, feeling a chill run down his spine.
In that brief moment, he had caught the exchanged glance between the young eunuch and Xiahou Bo.
While he had been childishly pondering how to "ease tensions," Xiahou Bo had already mastered the arts of framing others and winning people over.
He had even tried feigning illness for half a month straight, simply avoiding the Imperial Study altogether.
At this point, the Empress who usually paid him no mind suddenly appeared, sitting by his bedside with feigned concern: "Dan'er, His Majesty has heard that you've been neglecting your studies and finding ways to humiliate your peers. He's furious—you must go and kowtow to beg his forgiveness."
Zhang San felt a pang of anger in his chest, unable to maintain his usual mask of obedient innocence any longer. He glared at her coldly and said, "As for who truly humiliated them, I believe Her Majesty knows better than I do."
The Empress feigned surprise. "Who? Tell me, and I'll stand up for you."
Zhang San: "..."
Zhang San wrote a long letter and personally handed it to the Emperor.
Using all his wit, he first lavished praise on his father's benevolence, then recounted the hardships he and his brothers had endured. He made no mention of grievances, only expressing concern for his father, fearing he might be deceived by treacherous individuals.
He received no response from the Emperor.
Instead, it was the ever-smirking Empress who appeared before him again. "Oh, Crown Prince, Crown Prince... I've treated you as my own, yet you harbor such deep misunderstandings about me. How heartbreaking."
Zhang San: "Father, he—"
The Empress scoffed. "Do you really think the court and the inner palace are still under your father's control? I might as well tell you—I've hated many in my life, but none more than him."
Zhang San's heart skipped a beat.
If she was willing to say such things outright, did that mean he was about to be silenced?
The Empress dragged her long fingernail across his cheek, pressing down hard enough to draw a bead of blood. "If you refuse to stand with me as mother and son, there are other princes who will."
At that moment, Zhang San understood something for the first time.
In this story, who he was—what kind of person he was—didn't matter much at all.
Zhang San dropped to his knees before the Empress and kowtowed. "This unfilial son deserves punishment. I will reflect on my faults in solitude."
During his days of seclusion, the clematis in the Imperial Garden arranged in the shape of "SOS" bloomed once more.
Zhang San repeatedly went to inspect the soil, only to return disappointed each time. Until one day, he suddenly stopped in his tracks from afar—the earth beneath the flowers showed signs of being disturbed.
Without even bothering to fetch a shovel, he knelt and dug into the dirt with his bare hands, unearthing a box buried deep within.
With grimy nails, he pried open the box. The note he had left inside was gone, replaced by a strangely shaped leaf.
In the days that followed, Zhang San searched tree by tree until, in a secluded corner of the palace, he found the same leaf.
He ran his fingers along the bark inch by inch until he felt a tiny carved character: "Chou."
At the hour of Chou in the dead of night, Zhang San slipped past the sleeping palace attendants and made his way to the tree alone.
A frail little maid stood beneath it, holding a lantern, her face pale as she stared at him.
Zhang San held his breath.
He hurried over to her. "...Did you get my note?"
The little maid's hands trembled, and she dropped the palace lantern, immediately falling to her knees. "Your Highness, spare me! This humble servant didn't know it belonged to you!"
Zhang San watched her reaction, his heart sinking.
Still unwilling to give up, he tested her: "Hello?"
The little maid stared back in blank terror.
Zhang San's blood ran cold. "If you didn't recognize that flower arrangement, why would you think to dig there?""This servant... this servant was serving in a side hall nearby and often saw a figure lingering in the distance. The flower bed looked strangely shaped, so out of curiosity, I dug around..."
The little maid's voice trembled with tears. "The handwriting on the note was bizarre, and the words made no sense. I thought... I thought it might have been some illiterate guard... I deserve death!"
Zhang San let out a hoarse laugh.
"Stop pretending. Are you afraid I'll harm you? Trust me, we're the same kind."
The little maid looked bewildered and terrified.
"I—you're the only one I have in this world." Zhang San stepped closer to her, but she retreated step by step.
Zhang San stopped.
"You really aren't?"
"Aren't... what?"
Suddenly, Zhang San smiled gently and reached out to softly caress her face. "Never mind. Now you know my secret."
The little maid blushed in confusion.
Zhang San's hand slowly slid down to her slender neck.
Before sunrise, he drowned her in the pond.
She was the first person he had ever killed.
Yu Wanyin inquired among trusted palace servants, but no one knew who had planted that patch of clematis.
"They said no one has touched that part of the Imperial Garden in recent years," Yu Wanyin said disappointedly.
Xiahou Dan shrugged. "See? I told you—you're overthinking it."
"But from above, it really looked like an uncanny SOS..."
Xiahou Dan raised a new question. "Here's the thing. These flowers have just begun blooming and will last a long time. What if Xie Yong'er passes by and, like you, mistakes the 'Two Dragons Playing with a Pearl' for an SOS? What do you think she'll assume?"
Yu Wanyin gasped in realization, covering her mouth. "She’d suspect there’s another like her nearby."
"And sooner or later, she might have a sudden epiphany and suspect us," Xiahou Dan coaxed.
Yu Wanyin grew anxious. "We can’t leave that flower bed there. Can we find an excuse to remove it?"
"Ridiculous. If I wish to renovate the Imperial Garden, I don’t need an excuse."
That afternoon, after confirming Xie Yong'er hadn’t left her quarters, Xiahou Dan ordered the flower bed to be redone.
The clematis were uprooted one by one. Xiahou Dan watched from a distance in the pavilion, his expression indifferent.
When he turned, Yu Wanyin beside him looked sullen.
Xiahou Dan chuckled. "What’s wrong?"
Yu Wanyin hesitated. "Call me whimsical, but I keep thinking—what if there really was someone like us, who went through all that trouble to plant those flowers as a cry for help, only to get no response and even have them destroyed? Should we at least bury a note there or something?"
Xiahou Dan: "..."
Xiahou Dan gazed at her tenderly. "There’s a risk Xie Yong'er might find it."
"Alright." Yu Wanyin gave up.
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