The sudden change in his surroundings filled the young man’s cold and sharp gaze with suspicion and vigilance.

He shifted his legs slightly—sore, swollen, and painfully sharp, as though the agony begged for amputation.

It had been days like this. Without money for medicine, he could only follow an old prescription from the palace physician, venturing out to gather herbs himself. Today, his luck hadn’t been too bad—he’d found a few usable plants. But on his way back, he encountered a group of strangers. They accused him of being a murderer, and when words failed, they resorted to violence.

Before he could explain, he blacked out.

His legs, deliberately “misfired” at during the autumn hunt last year, had gone untreated for far too long. The injury worsened over time, often leaving him faint from the pain. He thought passing out this time would surely mark the end of his life. Yet, to his surprise… he awoke in this unfamiliar place.

Enduring the pain, Rong Ting attempted to get out of bed. But even the simple act of rising caused beads of sweat to form on his forehead, veins bulging with strain.

The pain… it was somehow worse than when he had set out to gather herbs.

A mere movement sent waves of agony through his bones, as if countless ants were gnawing at the marrow, draining him of all strength.

He clenched his teeth, his gaze darkening with despair, harboring a deep and smoldering hatred.

…

Jiang Rao finally caught up to her younger brother after a strenuous chase.

Fortunately, thanks to the foresight granted by her dream, the servants Jiang Rao had sent to capture the culprit returned just in time. They brought the perpetrator back to the manor, handing him over to Fourth Master Jiang for interrogation.

The truth came to light.

Jiang Jinxing’s self-perception instantly crumbled, transforming from a “master thief-catcher” to a “fool who falsely accused others.”

The young boy was deeply embarrassed, unable to lift his head. He looked as though he wanted to bury himself in the snow and disappear from sight.

After soothing her younger brother, Jiang Rao returned to her own courtyard, just in time to see a maid coming back from washing a pouch.

Inside the pouch was a jade token, an item that seemed precious to its owner. Jiang Rao carefully set it aside and instructed the maid to hang the pouch to dry.

As she thought of the young man’s pale, sickly face and his frail frame—so thin it seemed even more delicate than rice paper—she called another maid over.

The herbs the boy had been holding earlier couldn’t be fed to horses but were harmless for human consumption. In times of famine, people often dug up such herbs to stave off hunger. Worried that the boy might have been driven by starvation to collect those herbs, she instructed the maid to have the kitchen prepare some pastries to send to him.

After finishing all this, the turbulent emotions that had been surging since she woke up finally began to settle slightly.

She thought to herself, things were already starting to take a completely different course from what she had seen in her dream. The outcome… should be different this time, right?

Behind her, a sudden sound came from inside the room.

Jiang Rao turned and pushed the door open, locking eyes with the boy.

The person who should have been lying on the bed was now propped up against its edge with one hand, his right knee half-bent in an awkward position. He knelt beside the bed with great difficulty.

The gaze he lifted to meet hers was sharp, like a barbed hook.

Just as in the dream, his eyes were fixed on her, unwavering. Beneath the surface, a violent storm of emotions churned in the depths of his pupils.

But unlike in the dream, there was less hatred in his eyes—replaced instead by wariness and vigilance.

He resembled a venomous snake hidden in the shadowy corners of a thicket late at night—alert to the slightest movement, flicking its tongue, exuding cruelty and ferocity. He seemed poised to strike at any moment, ready to kill.

Instinctively, Jiang Rao felt a wave of fear.

How had she ended up provoking him?

Yet, recalling the events in her dream, she could only force a faint smile and try to explain today’s misunderstanding. “What happened today was a mistake. My younger brother misunderstood, thinking you were the one who caused our father to fall from his horse. That’s why he argued with you.”

Her smile was strained, and her usually soft, delicate voice was now hoarse and shaky from fright.

“We were in the wrong today. It was our misunderstanding, and we owe you an apology. We should compensate you.”

Looking at him now, she couldn’t help but think of the ruthless methods he used against others in the dream. Trembling slightly, she inched toward him—half a step, another half step, and yet another cautious half step.

The boy closed his eyes briefly. Since he couldn’t stand, he simply sat down on the ground, ignoring her entirely.

Still, the bloodthirsty aura surrounding him seemed to abate slightly.

This did little to ease Jiang Rao’s nerves. She continued to inch forward, moving quietly until she was two steps away from him, and then stopped.

In the dream, that cold and terrifying man treated everyone with extreme disdain and disgust.

Jiang Rao was perceptive enough to know that getting too close might provoke him. She didn’t dare move closer, instead halting at a careful distance and sneaking a glance at his legs.

The noise just now—it sounded like he had fallen from the bed.

He could barely stand by leaning on something for support, unable to rise on his own.

It seemed that, contrary to her dream, she wasn’t the one who had injured his legs. His legs were already in this state before they met.

Jiang Rao let out a quiet sigh of relief, but a trace of pity crept into her heart.

She had seen him in the dream, confined to a wheelchair—weak and teetering on the edge of madness.

She hadn’t expected that his injuries had happened so early.

Fourteen or fifteen—this should have been the prime of his youth, full of vitality and ambition. And yet his legs…

How had they ended up like this?

Noticing the pale tint of his lips, she poured a cup of water and placed it beside him.

“For you to drink,” she said softly.

The boy didn’t move, not even a glance toward the cup of water.

Jiang Rao couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t take it. He looked parched, as though he desperately needed a drink.

Just then, the maid who had gone to the kitchen returned with some pastries.

Arranged neatly in an octagonal glass box, the pastries were shaped like the twelve zodiac animals, their sweet aroma enticing.

Jiang Rao noticed the boy’s Adam’s apple move slightly, a subtle sign of interest.

But when she placed the pastries in front of him, he remained as indifferent as ever. His delicate, emotionless face resembled that of an ethereal celestial youth, seemingly untouched by worldly desires.

Summoning the courage she still hadn’t fully regained, Jiang Rao picked up one of the pastries—a small rabbit—and asked softly. “Do you want to eat this?”

She carefully extended it toward him, her every movement cautious and measured.

Her slender, pale fingers pinched the rabbit delicately at its belly, causing the soft, glutinous rice pastry to indent slightly.

The pastry, made of smooth white rice flour and filled with warm, fragrant red bean paste, gave off an irresistibly sweet aroma.

The boy’s pupils flickered briefly, his molars clenched tight as if holding something back. After a moment of hesitation, his long fingers finally lifted slightly.

Jiang Rao, who had been watching him intently, seized the opportunity. She quickly placed the pastry into his palm and then stood by, wide-eyed and expectant, waiting for him to eat.

At last, the boy moved.

But instead of eating it, he split the pastry in half and held one piece out to her. “You eat first,” he said.

His voice, hoarser and deeper than that of most boys his age, carried a steady calmness tinged with weakness.

Jiang Rao blinked in surprise. Share it with her? That kind of kindness?

Yet his gaze didn’t seem particularly friendly.

In an instant, the realization hit her like a spark of lightning.

He’s testing for poison.

“…”

No wonder he wouldn’t drink the water either.

His guardedness was truly excessive.

Jiang Rao lowered her head, sulking as she took a bite of the pastry.

As she chewed, her head remained bowed, her cheeks puffed out with the pastry, making her look like a soft, glutinous rice ball.

Being mistrusted didn’t feel good. Her well-intentioned gesture had been treated like something foul, leaving her both hurt and a little annoyed.

Before he could say anything, she huffed indignantly, grabbed the cup of water beside her, and took a sip—loudly and purposefully.

After swallowing the pastry, she tilted her chin up slightly, raising her head to look at him.

The glance she gave him seemed to say: See? I’m still alive, aren’t I?

Her almond-shaped eyes glistened, damp as though on the verge of tears, but they carried an unspoken grievance that seemed almost audible.

Even without saying a word, it was as if her gaze conveyed a soft but defiant hmph!

The pastry wasn’t poisoned.

The water wasn’t poisoned either.

Yet Rong Ting’s eyes remained cold and emotionless.

He held the half-pastry delicately between his long fingers, his movements unhurried and composed.

Even though he was starving to the point of madness, there wasn’t the slightest hint of desperation in his gaze.

Some things, no matter how tempting they appeared, could cost a person their life.

The palace was deep, and hearts were cruel.

He had known since childhood: endure hunger, or face failure and death.

If he hadn’t understood that, how could he have survived until now?

Only after watching her eat the entire pastry did he finally lift his hand and tentatively take a small bite.

…

By the time the box of pastries was empty, Rong Ting had eaten no more than four and a half pieces. The rest had all ended up in Jiang Rao’s stomach.

His face remained as expressionless as ever, shrouded in an icy frost.

In contrast, Jiang Rao ate with evident delight.

She had always been fond of sweets, and these pastries suited her taste perfectly. Sitting together and sharing them with the boy, she began to imagine a closeness between them that didn’t really exist. Gradually, her initial fear melted away, leaving only a sense of ease and comfort.

^_^