Love and Crown

Finally, the carriage was settled in a sheltered empty room at the post station, so Xiao Huan didn’t need to disembark to rest.

After discussing the next steps with Su Qian and Shi Yan, I returned to the carriage. Xiao Huan’s breathing was faint and steady, deep in sleep.

Half his face was buried in shadow, his nose straight, his eyelashes peacefully closed, slightly upturned at the tips.

My gaze lingered greedily on his face. The candle hissed softly, its flame utterly still, as if time itself had frozen.

I stared at his face, unwilling to look away even for a moment. He was sleeping so deeply it almost resembled unconsciousness.

It suddenly occurred to me that it was no wonder he hadn’t noticed Hong Qing secretly passing me messages. In his current state, forget keenly observing his surroundings—just staying awake for a short while each day must be a struggle.

To be unable to even maintain consciousness, fighting to survive every moment—doesn’t living like this exhaust him?

After hesitating, I stood up and quietly walked to his side. Kneeling down, I leaned over and gently pressed my lips to his. His lips were soft, slightly cool to the touch.

He remained unaware, still lost in slumber.

I lay down beside him in my clothes, resting my head lightly against the edge of the fur blanket, and soon fell asleep.

When I awoke, the carriage was already moving, swaying gently with the motion.

Opening my eyes, I realized my head was pillowed on a soft cushion made of silver fox fur, and someone had draped a lynx fur over me, keeping me warm.

Sitting up, I saw Xiao Huan on the other side of the carriage, wrapped in a snow fox cape, bent over a small table as he wrote something by the now-brightened lamplight.

The carriage jolted slightly, and he coughed softly, steadying the paper with one hand as he focused on his writing, moving the brush slowly.

The moment felt lazy and peaceful. I turned onto my side, propping my head up with my arm to watch him. “Master, has anyone ever told you that you’re very handsome?”

He paused his writing and turned to look at me, his deep eyes faintly misty as he smiled. “Why do you ask?”

I shook my head. “Xiao Qianqing is so beautiful, but when the two of you stand together, people can’t decide whether to look at him more or at you more. Doesn’t that mean you’re also very good-looking?”

He seemed amused. “I’ve never paid attention to such things.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Hmm? How could you not have noticed?” Then I suddenly remembered. “Ah… the first time we met in Jiangnan, the first thing I said to you was, ‘Who are you?’ The second was, ‘You’re really handsome.’” I couldn’t help laughing at the memory. “Back then, I was practically pressing my face against yours—didn’t I seem like some lecherous woman?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not lecherous. At the time, I wondered if this young lady was looking at me as though I were some delicacy she was about to devour whole.”

I burst out laughing. “If that’s not lecherous, what is?”

Then I paused and smiled. “Master… you were the first truly handsome man I ever saw. Back then, was I more infatuated with you?”

He seemed surprised by my words, letting out a soft “Hmm” before smiling without responding further.

I sat up and looked at him. “Master… let’s make love again, shall we?”He suddenly looked up, stunned.

I smiled at him. "This time you came... prepared to die, didn't you? For the past year, I've been lying to everyone that I'm pregnant. But you know I haven't conceived your child. If you can't return this time, I thought at least I could leave some lineage for the Xiao Clan Vermilion Bird Branch."

His expression remained unchanged, still silent.

Just when I thought he wouldn't agree, he suddenly said, "Alright." With a faint smile, his face still pale as snow, a trace of warmth lingered at the corners of his lips. "I'm not used to daytime. Would evening work?"

"Of course," I hurriedly replied. "Any time is fine."

He smiled again and said no more, turning to pick up the brush on the table and continuing to write slowly on the sheet of rice paper. After just a few strokes, his hand trembled slightly, his shoulders shaking as he coughed up blood onto the paper.

The crimson blood quickly spread across the snow-white paper. Unlike the purplish-black blood he usually coughed up, this was pure red, vivid as vermilion, strikingly beautiful.

A chill ran through me in fright, and I rushed to support him. "Master, what's wrong?"

He shook his head, coughing lightly with a smile. "It's nothing." He crumpled the blood-stained paper and tossed it aside, still smiling. "What a waste of good paper. I'll have to start over."

He was smiling, but for some reason, looking at his indifferent expression, I felt a tightness in my chest.

Noticing the ink in the inkstone was nearly dried, I quickly added water and began grinding it.

Leaning against the table to rest briefly, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the small shelf embedded in the carriage wall and spread it out. I handed him the freshly ground ink, and he dipped the brush, writing stroke by stroke between low coughs.

He was detailing the state of affairs in the Phoenix Come Pavilion—from the total number of banks and silver shops across its branches to the temperaments and preferences of each hall and altar leader. Every minute detail was recorded in small, neat script, filling an entire large sheet of rice paper over two or three hours. Twice during this, his coughing became severe, and I urged him to rest, but he only smiled and shook his head.

By the time he finished writing and lay down to rest, it was already afternoon. The snow continued to fall, and our carriage moved slowly, stopping briefly at a relay station at noon before continuing the journey.

We encountered two more ambushes along the way, but the assassins this time were no experts, showing no improvement in skill. Both attacks were swiftly quelled without disturbing Xiao Huan.

As we traveled, we arrived at another town before dusk.

The carriage stopped in front of a relay station. Xiao Huan was resting, so I stepped out to find Su Qian.

The woman looked me up and down and said, "Sleeping with Master at night is one thing, but sticking to him all day too? Are you really just the Pavilion Master's disciple?"

By now, everyone knew the titles of master and disciple were nothing but a joke.

But without these roles as a pretense, neither Xiao Huan nor I knew how to face each other.

I forced a smile. "He hasn't eaten all day. Could you find me a clay pot? I'll make some congee."

Su Qian didn't tease me further and turned to fetch it.After getting the clay pot, I went to the post station to find a small charcoal stove. Placing the pot half-filled with clear snow water over the fire, I didn’t use any special ingredients—just a handful of fragrant rice, rinsed and added to the pot.

The flames in the small red clay stove flickered steadily, and the delicate aroma of rice gradually seeped out from under the lid.

A shadow appeared beside me—Su Qian had taken a seat on the low stool by the stove at some point. "How is the Pavilion Master today?"

I shook my head. "Still coughing. He vomited blood once."

Su Qian sighed. "Actually, it’s better that you’re here. Before you came, no matter how ill he was, he never let anyone else into the carriage."

I stared at the crimson flames, hesitating for a moment before finally asking, "What happened to Brother Xiao’s eyes?"

Su Qian smiled faintly. "I thought you hadn’t noticed."

"I didn’t at first, but then I saw," I admitted with a small laugh. "Even writing a single character seems difficult for him now."

"A few days before you left for the capital, his vision would occasionally blur," Su Qian replied without evasion. "Mr. Li said it’s the result of the poison’s erosion and that it will only get worse."

I gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment. No wonder those deep eyes always seemed veiled in a faint haze. No wonder, these past few days, whenever he looked at me, he had to strain to focus.

Su Qian suddenly spoke again. "I was once a disciple of the Tianshan Sect."

Back at the Imperial Villa, Li Mingshang had mentioned she was somehow connected to the Old Monster of Tianshan. Though I’d found it odd at the time, I hadn’t pressed for details. Now that she brought it up herself, I listened attentively.

"Disciples of the Tianshan Sect are pitted against each other from a young age. If you’re too weak, you’re killed," Su Qian said, her voice flat, as if recounting someone else’s story. "I hated it there, so I ran away. But when my identity as a Tianshan disciple was discovered, I was hunted by the Central Plains Martial World. The Pavilion Master saved me. Back then, he was still alone. After reviving me, he stared at me for a long time before asking if I wanted to join him in ruling the Martial World."

Xiao Huan must have been gathering his strength then, preparing to oppose the Azure Jade Sect. Su Qian was likely the first person he recruited.

A faint smirk curled her lips. "Of course, I said yes. Tianshan disciples revere strength. The Pavilion Master was the only person I’d ever met who might surpass my mother."

Noticing my surprised look, she added, "The Old Monster of Tianshan is my mother. But even as her daughter, I was no different from any other disciple on Tianshan—still forced to slaughter my peers to climb the ranks."

"Without the Pavilion Master, there would be no Su Qian as I am today." She stood, looking down at me. "So remember this—the Pavilion Master isn’t yours alone now. You’d better not let anything happen to him under your watch."

That was quite the stern warning. I smiled and nodded. "Alright, I understand."

Once the congee was ready, I ladled it into a wooden bowl and carried it into the carriage.

Setting the bowl on the small table inside, I wrapped my arms around Xiao Huan’s shoulders and helped him sit up.

As I lifted him, his lashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes, coughing softly before smiling at me. "Cang Cang, is it already evening?""It's still early," I said, noticing his expression was decent, so I helped him lean against the bedding and picked up the bowl with a teasing smile. "Master, you immediately asked if it was getting late—could it be you're already impatient?"

He paused slightly, coughing lightly before chuckling. "If you think it's fine, we can start now."

No blushing or shyness? Just calmly saying we could start now? My face instantly grew warm. I cleared my throat. "First, you need to eat something." I blinked at him. "Tell me, with how weak you are, you won’t pass out midway, will you? That’d be awkward for me."

He coughed out a soft laugh. "I’ll do my best."

Do his best? Was there another meaning in those words? My face burned hotter… How did he effortlessly take the upper hand with just a few words? Now I was the one flustered!

Stay calm! I secretly took a deep breath and beamed. "Since the Pavilion Master says so, I’ll rest assured."

Not daring to tease him further, I quickly moved the porridge bowl in front of him. "Have some porridge."

He frowned slightly, eyeing the overcooked plain porridge with little appetite, then coughed. "Just leave it."

I set it down—this porridge would surely go cold and be thrown out later.

Ignoring his reluctance, I scooped a spoonful, blew on it, and tested the temperature before bringing it to his lips. "Just a little. Don’t force yourself."

Only then did he lower his head to take a bite. I wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and fed him until he finished the bowl.

I smiled. "Was it alright? What would you like to eat? Just plain porridge like this, or would some seasoning help?"

He seemed surprised. "You made this porridge?"

I looked up with a grin. "Well? Not bad, right?"

He nodded, smiling faintly. "Passable."

I laughed and pushed the medicine bowl toward him. "Now, this one too!"

A flicker of panic crossed his face—unsurprisingly, he still hated bitterness the most.

Watching him finally struggle through the medicine with a furrowed brow, I gathered both bowls and took them outside to wash. Then I returned with the prepared hot water and a washcloth, setting the basin down and grinning at him. "Will you undress yourself, or shall I?"

He froze for a moment, then shook his head lightly and quickly began unbuttoning his robe himself. As he did, his lashes lowered, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks.

Suppressing a laugh, I soaked the white cotton cloth in the hot water, wrung it until damp, and started wiping him down from the neck, working slowly. As I did, I wondered who had been helping him wash during the journey when bathing wasn’t possible. "Who’s been cleaning you these past few days?"

He seemed puzzled by the question but answered softly, "Myself. Shi Yan helps sometimes."

A thought struck me. "Shi Yan has been with you since you were very young, before you ascended the throne, right?"

He nodded. "Shi Yan was assigned by my father as my martial arts companion. We’ve always been together."

I wrung the washcloth fiercely. That seemingly honest Shi Yan—how dare he quietly take so many liberties with Xiao Huan!

As I carefully wiped him down, my own face gradually warmed. Under the lamplight, his skin was smooth, his physique nearly flawless—except for that scar on his chest. A vicious, slender line, left by the wound I had once inflicted on him.From that moment on, the misunderstandings between us grew deeper... Apart from brief moments of sweetness, all that remained were painful memories.

So what I’m asking for now... isn’t really too much, is it?

I untied my own clothes, washed them clean with water, then turned and leaned over his chest. Lightly, my nose traced a path along his collarbone, Adam’s apple, chin, and jaw before finally stopping by his earlobe. I smiled soundlessly. “My nose is a little cold, isn’t it?”

He nodded slightly, his arm wrapping around my waist.

I took a soft breath. “Shall we begin?”

He nodded again, gently, as if afraid of shattering something.

My hands clung tightly to his back, his chest faintly warm against me.

Without hesitation, I lifted my head and pressed my lips to his, tongues entwining as our breaths grew shallow. My heart pounded wildly, each beat threatening to burst from my chest.

My hands moved frantically down his chest.

Then my wrist was caught. His gaze covered mine, those deep, misty pupils filled with a brilliance like the starry night, consuming my entire vision.

My body was slowly laid flat. His cool fingertips traced my neck, drifting downward, his long hair spilling over my shoulders.

His arm held my waist as his kisses trailed down my neck, light as scattered sunlight, sending ripples of warmth through my entire body.

Holding him close, I laughed, my voice hoarse as if lit with fire. “Are you tired?”

He didn’t answer, only slid his fingers into my hair and pulled me gently into his embrace.

Even the corners of my eyes grew damp. I tightened my arms around his neck. Every time I embraced him, I trembled—uncontrollably, as if my very soul were shaking.

I was so afraid of losing him. Every single time, so afraid.

Pressing my face tightly against his chest, I felt the uneven scars beneath my cheek. Smiling faintly, I closed my eyes. In this moment, nothing existed beyond the sound of our breathing. Even the heavy snowfall outside the carriage was utterly silent.

Only the faint warmth between us expanded, slowly enveloping my body and mind, filling the quiet space until it stretched infinitely.

Could this silent snowy night last just a little longer?

I slowly opened my eyes in the cradle of his arms and kissed his closed eyelids. He furrowed his brows slightly but remained deep in sleep.

Last night’s intimacy had been gentle, yet he was utterly exhausted, sleeping soundly through the night.

Rising, I walked to the carriage door. Outside was complete stillness. I peeked through the leather curtain, snowflakes landing coolly on the tip of my nose. As far as the eye could see, there was only an endless expanse of snow stretching to the horizon.

Not a soul in sight. The vast, empty snowfield was silent save for the whisper of falling snow and the sound of horses grazing.

We weren’t outside the town’s post station, nor were we on the way to Bogda Peak. Where exactly we were, I didn’t know.

Last night, I had asked Su Qian to take us—along with ample provisions and fodder for the horses—deep into the heart of the Gobi Desert once Xiao Huan had fallen asleep.The falling snowflakes were the best at erasing traces. By now, the wheel tracks we left along the way had completely vanished. The desert was the perfect hiding place—even the most skilled tracker would find it difficult to locate us across such vast stretches of barren land. As for the most essential survival resource in the desert—water—the thick blanket of snow on the ground made it easily obtainable.

Su Qian and the others would use another carriage to disguise as if Xiao Huan were still with them, continuing toward Bogda Peak to draw all attacks. Meanwhile, Xiao Huan and I would rest peacefully in this place until the snow stopped and the water sources disappeared.

I curled my lips in a silent smile. A long, long time—as long as the snow kept falling, I could stay with him for days and nights, countless hours, endless moments—a very, very long time.

A rustling sound came from behind. Xiao Huan seemed to have finally woken up. He came to the entrance and reached out to lift the leather curtain. "It's so quiet. Haven't we set off yet?"

Without turning around, I pressed his hand back imperiously. "It's cold outside. You're not allowed out."

He seemed to realize something and reached out again. "Cang Cang, this isn't outside the post station. Where are we?"

I pushed his hand back again. "I said it's cold outside—no coming out! From now on, you're my Male Concubine. No objections allowed!"

I raised my head, watching the silent, drifting snowflakes, and suddenly smiled. "Brother Xiao, tell me—why is it that such cold snowflakes, falling so quietly, can feel so gentle? Like tenderness scattered from the sky, so much of it, so warm."

A broad sandstone stood solitary on the barren land, our carriage sheltered behind it in the lee of the rock.

Wispy white smoke rose, slowly ascending amidst the falling snowflakes. I turned the skewers roasting over the charcoal fire—this was already the fifth batch.

Our carriage was stocked with all kinds of ingredients. I had even found a few pieces of fresh meat.

So I lit the charcoal fire, skewered the sliced lamb with bamboo sticks, and started grilling. The first few batches were either too tough or too hard, but since food couldn't be wasted, I had swallowed them all. Now, this fifth batch was slowly turning golden, the savory aroma of meat wafting through the air—finally, there was hope for success.

Behind me, the leather curtain of the carriage lifted, and Xiao Huan's voice carried a hint of laughter. "Had enough of your meat cravings? Was my brush useful?"

While flipping the skewers, I snorted disdainfully. Such a petty man! All I did was take apart one of his brushes to make skewers when I couldn't find anything else. Was it worth holding a grudge? Even if it was a Huzhou purple bamboo wolf-hair brush.

Muttering inwardly, my hands didn’t slow down. Noticing the glistening oil dripping from the skewers, I sprinkled salt and seasoning, gave them another turn, and they were ready.

I took a bite first—the meat was tender and juicy, so delicious I could have swallowed my tongue.

Quickly, I carried the skewer over like a treasure and held it out to Xiao Huan. "This one's really good—take a bite!"

He smiled. "Careful, the oil is hot. Don’t burn your hands." Then he leaned in and tore off a piece of meat with his teeth, chewing slowly.

Watching his refined, picture-perfect eating manners, I couldn’t help but laugh.

He glanced at me, waiting until he had swallowed before asking, "What is it?"I grinned until my eyes were nearly shut. "It just occurred to me—last winter when you were at Kumoer's place, it must have been quite a challenge pretending to be someone like Zhao Fugui. Acting all rough and crude must've been exhausting, huh?"

He chuckled as well. "That kind of disguise is the least likely to draw attention."

I shook my head playfully. "My Male Concubine is more refined than me and even prettier than me. Honestly, I feel like I'm the one who looks more like a man."

A sharp flick landed on my forehead. Xiao Huan hated it when people compared his looks to a woman's. Annoyed but amused, he scolded, "What nonsense is this? A young lady shouldn’t pick up such glib talk from others."

I rubbed my head. "Got it, Master, Pavilion Master..." While chattering away, I quickly seized the opportunity to persuade him to eat a few more pieces while they were still hot. Only when there was one piece left did I take it back and pop it into my mouth.

After just a couple of chews, it was gone—hardly enough to fill the gaps between my teeth. Smacking my lips, now that I had a successful experience under my belt, I decided to grill some more.

Just as I was about to turn away, I suddenly jabbed my fingers swiftly at the major acupoints on Xiao Huan's chest. Once done, I grinned at him. "That knock on my forehead earlier hurt so much. Got your strength back? The acupoints must be loosening soon, huh? If you hadn’t reminded me, I’d have forgotten it’s almost time for the Pressure Point Strike."

There was no way Xiao Huan would obediently stay put with me. That morning when he woke up and learned that Su Qian and the others were fighting enemies on his behalf, he immediately wanted to rush after them. Fortunately, I had sealed his acupoints while he was off guard, stopping him in his tracks.

Though my other martial skills were lacking, my Master was renowned in the Martial World for his unique Pressure Point Strike technique, and as his disciple, I had at least picked up twenty to thirty percent of his skill. Moreover, my Master’s finger technique was entirely his own—unless I released the points myself or waited twelve hours for them to loosen naturally, there was no way to undo them. Though Xiao Huan was so furious he nearly fainted, there was nothing he could do.

Over the past couple of days, I had been reinforcing the Pressure Point Strike every twelve hours. With his inner force sealed, Xiao Huan could move freely, but sneaking off to chase after Su Qian and the others was out of the question.

Still, without the strain of constant travel these past few days, his health had improved somewhat. His coughing had lessened, he no longer coughed up blood, and the faint haze in his eyes had lightened compared to before.

Seeing my smug expression, Xiao Huan looked torn between laughter and exasperation. "You..."

I flashed him a smile and turned back to the charcoal stove to grill more meat.

Before I could even skewer the meat, the rustling of fabric sounded behind me. Xiao Huan climbed down from the carriage and stood beside me.

Without turning my head, I tossed out a remark, "It’s freezing out here! Go back inside!"

His slightly cool fingers brushed against my forehead as he chuckled. "It’s red. Did it really hurt?"

I turned to look at him. "Yeah, it really did."

He smiled, then bent down to check the charcoal fire. The rising smoke and ash made him cough a few times.

I quickly turned to urge him, "You’ve barely started recovering and you’re already running around. Go back inside!"

He shook his head with a smile. "It’s fine." Moving his face a little farther from the stove, he asked, "Would you like to try braised lamb?"

My eyes lit up. "Sure! But I don’t know how to make it."

He grinned. "Go fetch the pot."

He said he’d braise lamb, and to my surprise, he actually did it.

When the lid of the clay pot was lifted, an irresistible aroma wafted out. I eagerly scooped up a piece of lamb and stuffed it into my mouth, chewing enthusiastically despite the heat, and said to Xiao Huan, who sat across from me, "This is delicious! Who taught you how to cook like this?"

He smiled, watching me devour the meat without any grace, but didn’t pick up his chopsticks. "Mr. Li liked to bring raw meat to the Hall of Mental Cultivation to see me. We’d dismiss everyone else, cook a pot of meat, and drink together."

I clicked my tongue. "Hiding from others to cook meat and drink? Don’t tell me there’s a clay pot for cooking meat stashed under your imperial desk in the Hall of Mental Cultivation."

He shook his head with a laugh. "No." Then immediately added, "The pot and stove are hidden under my bed in the Eastern Warm Chamber."

I burst out laughing. "Under the bed... When we get back to the Forbidden Palace, I’m definitely digging out that clay pot."He also smiled, picking up a piece of mutton to chew slowly before setting down his chopsticks with a light laugh: "It's missing a few seasonings—not quite the same flavor as before."

I grinned and asked, "You and Mr. Li are quite close, aren't you?"

He nodded with a smile. "Though Mr. Li is technically my father's sworn brother, I've always regarded him as an elder brother." He paused, then chuckled again. "Before I set off for Tianshan this time, he tried to dissuade me. When he couldn't, he smashed his medicine chest right in front of me—he must have been furious."

I sighed and muttered under my breath, "If I were him, I'd have smashed that chest over your head."

He caught my words but only gave a soft laugh, ignoring me.

I chuckled and suddenly remembered something, standing up to press his shoulder. "Wait here—I'll go find some wine."

Retrieving the leather flask I'd brought, I poured the remaining half of strong liquor into a pot to warm over the stove. Once it was heated through, I poured it into a silver cup and brought it back to the carriage. Smiling at Xiao Huan, I said, "It's a shame it's not your favorite Bamboo Leaf Green, but this packs a punch. Can you handle a little?"

He smiled and nodded, taking the cup from me to sip. Though he coughed a few times afterward, he still laughed. "Good wine."

"Right? Good wine," I said, snatching the cup back and setting it before me. "With meat and wine, the spirit's there—that's what matters." I cleared my throat. "Drink too much, and you'll hurt your health. Then you won't be up for anything tonight."

At this, he arched a brow and smirked. "Don't worry. As your male concubine, I can still fulfill my duties."

Though I often threw around the term "male concubine," hearing him say it aloud was oddly embarrassing. I lifted my chin with a vague "Hmm," quickly lowering my head to stuff my face with meat and wine.

Suddenly, a cool hand rested atop my head. I paused mid-bite and looked up to meet his faintly misted eyes. I grinned. "What?"

He seemed momentarily stunned, then smiled. "Cang Cang, you're just infatuated with my looks, aren't you?"

I flashed him a toothy grin. "Yep." Setting down my chopsticks, I leaned across the table to cup his face and press a kiss to his pale lips. "I'm just very infatuated with you."

Frowning slightly, he gazed at me quietly before turning away with a soft laugh. "Cang Cang, is there anything you truly want to do?"

I blinked, puzzled by the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

He smiled. "Something you desire purely for yourself, without any other considerations. Does such a thing exist for you?"

I nodded, thinking carefully. "Anything? Not like mastering martial arts or being a good empress—something completely unambitious. That counts?"

He chuckled. "Yes."

After a moment's thought, I said, "I really like Phoenix Come Pavilion. Compared to the palace, I prefer the Martial World. I think staying here, eating meat, drinking wine, doing whatever makes me happiest—that sounds perfect. So if I had to choose, I'd want to stay at Phoenix Come Pavilion."

He pondered this before meeting my eyes. "Cang Cang, how would you feel about becoming the next Pavilion Master of Phoenix Come Pavilion?"

I froze. I'd only meant staying at the pavilion, doing the things I'd dreamed of since childhood—championing justice, living freely in the Martial World.

But Xiao Huan had just placed before me an organization with tens of thousands of disciples, its influence spanning the entire realm.But thoughts kept bubbling up—while being carefree alone was nice, if I could take charge of Phoenix Come Pavilion, I could do more of what I wanted, transforming it into the kind of Martial Arts Sect I preferred.

"Of course I like the idea." The words slipped out, and even I found it unbelievable. I had never imagined that one day I would become the leader of a Martial World organization.

His deep, misty eyes brightened as the corners of his lips lifted into a smile. "Good. I’ve been troubled over the succession of the Phoenix Come Pavilion Master."

I froze for a moment, recalling the sheet of paper he had been writing on a few days ago, listing the various affairs of Phoenix Come Pavilion. Along with it flashed the image of that stark, vivid red stain on the pristine white paper.

After a pause, he smiled again. "Cang Cang, I want you to do what you truly desire."

His words suddenly reminded me of a time back in Kumoer’s camp, when I had argued with Kumoer and carelessly blurted out, "No one ever asks me what I really want to do." At the time, Xiao Huan had been disguised as Zhao Fugui inside the tent—he must have heard it. So he had remembered all this time.

The steam rising from the clay pot blurred my vision, filling my sight with a white haze. I nodded absently and lowered my head to continue eating the mutton.

When Xiao Huan’s eyes were well, he would read. Every night, we lay together—sometimes making love, other times doing nothing at all, simply holding each other until dawn.

The days passed one after another. Outside the carriage, the blizzard raged on without pause, the snow gradually burying half the wheels. The storm howled, the snowflakes swirling wildly, plunging the world into darkness as if the apocalypse had come.