Love and Crown

A black shadow stood silently atop the roof ridge in the night, while a noisy crowd passed beneath his feet.

The elderly postmaster, young errand boys, loud-mouthed maids, and weary travelers with heavy footsteps.

All sorts of sounds reached him—laughter, greetings, playful banter, and clamor.

All the people and noises felt distant to him. The only thing close was the long sword he held in his arms, its black scabbard and snow-white blade emitting a cold gleam no matter the time or place.

Outside the post station, two figures gradually approached. A girl in red gauze robes tugged at the young man's sleeve, chattering tirelessly about something, while the young man listened with a gentle smile.

They reached the entrance of the post station, exchanged greetings with the old postmaster guarding the gate, and stepped into the courtyard.

The girl's laughter became clearer—bright and crisp, the kind of voice that was hard to find annoying.

"Brother Xiao," she called out repeatedly, as if afraid he wouldn't listen, "Brother Xiao, today I didn’t break a single medicine jar! Even Aunt Liu praised me!"

The young man in bamboo-green robes smiled at her. "Oh? Cang Cang is truly amazing."

The girl stuck out her tongue playfully. "I know you're laughing at me, but I’ll do even better tomorrow—just you wait!"

Chatting and laughing, they made their way across the modest courtyard.

As they neared the central hall, the young man's steps faltered slightly, and he glanced upward as if by chance.

No eyes met his. The night over the central hall of the Luzhou post station was a murky, pitch-black void.

Lowering his head, the young man continued teasing the girl with a smile. "Hmm, I’ll be watching closely."

"Eh? What do you mean? You think I can’t do it?" the girl cried indignantly. "I’ll definitely succeed! Ugh, you’re so annoying!"

They passed through the central hall, their figures disappearing into the dim yellow light of the guest rooms.

On the roof ridge above the hall, the shadow stirred. As he had done countless times before a mission, he slowly sat down on the broad rooftop, tightened his grip on his sword, and began tapping the blade with his fingers.

The crescent moon climbed bit by bit to the zenith, and the clamor in the courtyard gradually quieted. One by one, the sounds faded—first the grumbling of the errand boys, then the travelers' chatter in the guest rooms, followed by the creak of doors being locked. Until finally, apart from the occasional distant bark of a dog and the chirping of autumn insects, only the faint whisper of the night wind remained.

The irregular rhythm of his fingers gradually aligned with an indistinct cadence—the mournful hum of a bloodthirsty famed sword. Only in the dead of night, when the devoured souls began to stir and howl, would it break free from its icy shackles, flowing along the cold Sword Energy like water, seeping into the swordsman’s body.

The moment the Sword Energy reached its peak, the finger that had been tapping in a singing rhythm stilled.

The moon’s gentle silver light seemed abruptly eclipsed as an overwhelming cold radiance poured down, swirling with countless dark phantoms, as if countless furious, shrieking vengeful spirits were descending together. The world was left with nothing but a blood-thickened intent to kill.

In an instant, the dark and cruel shadows coalesced into a single snow-white sword gleam. After the utmost cruelty and bloodshed came a coldness purer than moonlight itself.

Three feet of unadorned steel, three lifetimes of Xian Xue—no fortune could buy its draw, and once unsheathed, it would not return without a kill.With a sharp "ding," a blinding white light, almost capable of piercing heaven and earth, clashed against a gentle, soothing blue glow.

Blades crossed, illuminating two youthful faces.

A series of delicate clinks rang out, like a distant breeze inadvertently stirring the lonely wind chimes beneath the eaves, soft and melodious.

Amid these almost tender sounds, Sword Energy capable of shredding silk and skin unfurled in waves, blades clashing, killing intent crisscrossing the air.

Suddenly, a window in the courtyard swung open.

"Brother Xiao!" a girl called out with a hint of panic. "Where are you?"

The black-clad figure flipped midair before retreating, sheathing his longsword.

The blue shortsword, its glow so mild it bordered on dull, flickered once before disappearing back into his sleeve.

"Who are you?" The girl, clad only in her undergarments, leaped directly from the window into the courtyard, scrutinizing the figure in the shadows without hesitation.

The handsome young man in black chuckled softly but didn’t look at her, instead addressing the other young man standing nearby: "Though I dislike sparring with exhausted opponents, assassins always prefer their targets to be on the brink of collapse."

He curled his lips into a lazy smile. "Next time we meet, I might just be on a mission."

With that, his figure vanished into the night.

"What a weirdo," Cang Cang muttered, sticking her tongue out at his retreating back. She turned to the young man beside her with a smile, only to notice something off about his stance. Her expression froze as her gaze landed on his right hand pressing against his left arm.

Thin streams of red blood seeped from between his pale fingers, dripping onto the ground. Half of his blue sleeve was already stained with splotches of blood.

"It’s nothing, just a flesh wound," Xiao Huan said, noticing her stare. He coughed twice. "Why are you still awake so late?"

"I had a nightmare and woke up scared. I went to your room, but you weren’t there," Cang Cang answered blankly, the remnants of her dream lingering—running endlessly through white mist, gasping for breath, yet never catching sight of that familiar figure.

"It’s cold at night. Remember to put on your outer robe next time," Xiao Huan chided gently before coughing again. This time, the fit didn’t stop, bending him over as he clutched his injured arm.

Strangely, she didn’t tease him about losing the fight or being frail. Maybe it was his earlier mention of being "on the brink of collapse," but her nose suddenly stung. Without hesitation, she wrapped her short arms around him, dragging him toward the room while holding him close. "You’re sick. I’ll fetch a doctor."

Still coughing uncontrollably from the chill rising in his chest, Xiao Huan found his current state of being half-dragged rather undignified. He managed a weak laugh. "Cang Cang… there’s no need—"

"Shut up!" she snapped, ignoring him as she hauled him into the room.

Resigned, Xiao Huan let her pull him inside, where she promptly pushed him onto the bed to lie down. His coughing continued unabated. Frantic, Cang Cang lit a lamp, poured a cup of tea from the table, and brought it to his lips.

The moment the tea touched his mouth, he coughed it back out, splashing his robes and smearing the bloodstains into larger, uneven patches.Cang Cang couldn't understand why a perfectly healthy person would suddenly cough so violently that even water couldn't be fed to him. After a dazed moment, her eyes reddened as she stood up to leave: "I'll go find a doctor..."

With no time to explain that cold water would only worsen his condition, Xiao Huan could only grab her sleeve: "I... am a doctor..."

Cang Cang stopped, suddenly remembering something, and quickly turned back to press on the wound on his arm: "Don't move, or it'll bleed."

There had been many times when his condition was worse than this episode, yet Xiao Huan had never felt so flustered before. He could only manage a somewhat helpless smile: "Don't be afraid... it'll pass soon..."

Nodding hurriedly, Cang Cang then felt a gradually increasing warmth and dampness in her palm—blood was seeping from the wound. She jolted in realization, remembering that she always carried various medicinal ointments with her, and jumped up: "I'll get the medicine to dress your wound!"

Rushing back to her room to retrieve the medicine, she began examining the wound on Xiao Huan's arm. It wasn't serious, just deep enough to have bled profusely. After applying the medicine, the bleeding slowly stopped.

Carefully tending to his wound, she silently recalled the method she had recently learned and managed to bandage it quite decently.

Xiao Huan had been meditating with his eyes closed, and his coughing had eased considerably. When she finished, he opened his eyes and smiled: "Cang Cang... thank you."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Cang Cang began to feel that her earlier panic had been somewhat ridiculous. She nodded and looked at him, then reached out to place her hand on his forehead.

His skin didn't feel hot to the touch; instead, it was cold and damp with sweat. Beads of perspiration had already trickled down his temples into the soft pillow he was leaning against.

"Beautiful things really do fall ill easily," she concluded solemnly, nodding seriously again. "You're the doctor—what do you suggest we do?"

He hadn't expected her to circle back to this remark. Xiao Huan coughed through a wave of chills, closing his eyes briefly before finally catching his breath: "No need to rush... it'll pass after this wave."

Cang Cang gave an "Oh," fiddled with the clothes and blankets for a moment, and then climbed onto the bed.

"Cang Cang?" Xiao Huan asked between coughs, somewhat startled.

Quite naturally, Cang Cang pulled the blankets over both of them. "Geez, I'm freezing to death," she said, wrapping her arms around Xiao Huan. "When I was sick, you held me to sleep. Now that you're sick, it's my turn to hold you." As she spoke, she even patted his shoulder in a motherly fashion. "Sleep well."

After saying this, she curled her legs and pressed her body tightly against his, shivering slightly—perhaps from the cold.

Xiao Huan paused, then finally nodded with a smile. He truly was exhausted, closing his eyes without another word.

His thin lips, still intermittently trembling with coughs, were suddenly met with something soft and warm. Xiao Huan's eyes flew open to find a pair of large eyes very close to his. In the dim candlelight, those eyes shimmered with a faint layer of moisture.

"Can—" He barely managed a syllable before Cang Cang lowered her head again.

This time, the kiss was deep. His lips were cool, carrying a hint of mint. Cang Cang wasn't sure if she was still breathing, only aware of the slow, cautious exploration—deepening, savoring, memorizing his taste.

Pulling away, Cang Cang gasped for air, hearing his own rapid breaths interspersed with light coughs.Isn't this bad? Kissing him while he's sick? But it seemed like he took the initiative too? That moment when she felt like she was floating on clouds.

Unable to hold back her laughter, Cang Cang buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.

Neither spoke for a while until Cang Cang mumbled, "Brother Xiao, should I help you take off your clothes?"

His light cough paused as Xiao Huan froze, "Cang Cang... what did you say?"

"Your outer robe, you haven't taken it off yet, right?" Cang Cang was becoming more awake now and lifted her head. "Isn't it uncomfortable to sleep in? Do you want me to help you take it off?" Her face suddenly burned—had she said something wrong?

Xiao Huan was silent for a moment before replying, "Alright."

Now it was Cang Cang's turn to freeze. "Brother Xiao, you agreed?"

"Didn't you say... it's uncomfortable to sleep in outer robes?" He answered with a light cough, amusement coloring his voice. "Or did you mean something else?"

"Oh." Her face flushed completely red, but Cang Cang didn't dare say anything more, only nodding timidly like a coward.

Dawn broke, white sunlight spilling bit by bit onto the blue-tiled floor of the room. Propping her head up, Cang Cang's gaze swept over the unfamiliar furnishings—the blue robe hanging by the bed, the bloodstains on the bedding—before she finally came fully awake.

Last night, she had a nightmare and ran out in the middle of the night to find Xiao Huan. Then she saw him fighting a rather handsome assassin in the courtyard. The assassin fled, leaving Xiao Huan with an injured arm. After that, she dragged him inside and... ended up climbing into his bed, holding him as they slept. But vaguely, maybe... something else had happened too?

She turned her gaze to the pillow beside her, looking at the man lying so close.

His eyes were closed, long lashes casting fan-shaped shadows beneath them. His face was slightly pale, more like the color of white jade than usual. On those cheeks were two tiny droplets of blood—small, not glaring, as if they could stay there without needing to be wiped away. His hair, which she had helped loosen last night, cascaded like a flowing river, some strands spread over the satin pillow, others spilling onto his pure-white underrobe.

Slowly, the word she often used to describe him surfaced in her mind: pretty. Now she considered replacing it with: beautiful.

A beautiful man—just the thought of it sounded sinful.

But if this man was hers, then it wouldn't matter, right?

Yes, if he belonged to her, no matter how beautiful he was, it wouldn't matter. After all, no one could take him away...

His perfectly shaped lashes fluttered, revealing a pair of deep black eyes—utterly pure, like flawless black gemstones without a single blemish. So perfect... impossibly perfect, as if such perfection couldn't exist in this world.

Those perfect eyes flickered, and something bright seemed to spill from that pure darkness. Instinctively, Cang Cang wanted to close her eyes.

Too bright. That light—so bright it felt like staring too long would bring tears.

"Cang Cang?" His voice came then, gentle and deep, like a whisper against her ear, sending tingles through her."Cang Cang?" he called again, his dark eyes not only bright with amusement but also holding something more. He raised his hand and placed it on her forehead. "Do you have a fever? Why is your face so red?"

Startled by the cool touch of his hand, Cang Cang suddenly jumped up.

The not-so-sturdy bed in the posthouse couldn't withstand the force of her leap, creaking loudly under the strain.

Clutching her head where it had bumped against the bed frame, Cang Cang stared blankly at Xiao Huan, who had propped himself up halfway, looking at her in surprise.

Just as abruptly as she had jumped up, she suddenly flipped over and pressed down on Xiao Huan's shoulders. "Brother Xiao, let's get married!" she declared in one breath, as if making a vow. "Didn't we already... you know... last night? Even though you didn't say I had to take responsibility, since we've already... you know... we might as well get married. Anyway, we're already engaged, so we’d have to marry sooner or later. I’m telling you now, I won’t look for other men, so you can’t go marrying a bunch of wives either. Even if you’re the emperor, it’s not allowed! If you dare find someone else, I won’t let you off!"

After a brief moment of confusion, Xiao Huan let out a soft laugh. "Cang Cang, we didn’t... do that..."

"Huh?" Cang Cang blinked her still-groggy eyes. "Then what exactly is... that thing?"

Cang Cang hadn’t expected Xiao Huan to actually start "recuperating." She thought he’d probably get up the next day and immediately rush back to those seemingly life-or-death tasks he’d never let go of.

But to her surprise, when he got out of bed in the morning, looking perfectly fine, he sent Cang Cang to the clinic to inform them he wasn’t feeling well. Then, completely at ease, he began lazily "resting" at the official posthouse.

Since he wasn’t going, Cang Cang saw no reason to help at the clinic either.

Xiao Huan sat in the room, leisurely setting up a chessboard while studying a chess manual. She crouched by the table, munching on roasted chestnuts and sipping from the pot of steaming tribute chrysanthemum tea.

By the time Cang Cang had stuffed herself with a large bag of chestnuts and most of the tea, feeling so full she was nearly hiccuping, Xiao Huan suddenly spoke. "Cang Cang, go back to the capital."

"Huh?" She turned her head, her gaze unfocused, not quite understanding.

Xiao Huan smiled, his expression gentle. "Go back to the capital, Cang Cang. Go back and wait for me."

Finally processing his words, she stared at him in confusion. "Why do I have to go back? Aren’t you coming?"

"I’ll return soon too. I want you to go ahead and wait for me there," he continued, the corners of his lips curving softly. "I promise you those things."

"Promise me what?" It seemed to dawn on her. "Ah! You’re trying to send me back so you can stay here and have fun alone! You’re so sneaky!"

Xiao Huan chuckled, set down the chess manual, and stood up to walk over to her. Gently, he stroked her hair. "Be good, Cang Cang."

She still didn’t understand why he was saying this, but she vaguely sensed that he truly meant for her to return to the capital alone.

"You’re being ridiculous!" she huffed angrily, swatting away his hand before stomping out of the room.There was a moment of silence before a figure nimbly flipped in through the open window. The person strolled in casually, sat down at the table, poured himself a cup of tea, and laughed: "Since we parted, I've dreamed of our reunion—how many times has my soul wandered to meet you in dreams?"

Taking a deep breath, Xiao Huan also sat down at the table: "In dreams, I wandered the misty rivers of Jiangnan, traversed its length, yet never met the one who left." He smiled. "Have you been well since we parted?"

The man laughed heartily but then asked, "What were you about to agree to with that young girl earlier?"

The rapid-fire words from the morning, which he hadn’t been able to interject into, flashed through his mind. Xiao Huan took another breath. "Things I ought to agree to." He looked up with a polite smile. "Brother Xu, what brings you here in such haste?"

The young man in white across the table studied him, his sharp phoenix eyes gradually narrowing. After a long pause, he finally laughed. "I’ve never been sure whether you truly consider me a friend. A cup of wine to sever ties—as if the bond between us were as thin as that single drink. If that’s truly the case, I don’t know why I’d still walk into this room and sit here today!"

After that cup of wine, all ties were cut. The next time they met, they’d be enemies on the battlefield.

Xiao Huan’s gaze grew solemn. The polite yet distant smile at the corners of his lips faded, leaving only grave seriousness.

Suddenly, he laughed again, placing his arm on the table with his palm open. "Through storm and strife together."

A hearty laugh followed as a strong hand clasped his. "Through storm and strife together!"

Their equally spirited smiles mirrored each other. Xu Lai clapped Xiao Huan on the shoulder where his arm hung at his side. "How about drinks again tonight?"

With a slight, wry smile, Xiao Huan pointed to his arm. "There’s a sword wound here."

Xu Lai paused, then burst into laughter again. "There’s actually a swordsman in this world who can injure you? I’d bow in reverence to him!"

"It is rather embarrassing," Xiao Huan admitted with a resigned sigh, joining in the laughter.