As dusk fell, the two who had returned empty-handed finally arrived back at the Duke’s residence. Before they could even settle in, Sui Zheng hurried over, lifting her skirts as she rushed in.

Thanks to the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review’s dramatic scene at the teahouse, news of Young Master Sun’s disappearance had spread like wildfire through the capital in the blink of an eye.

It wasn’t just Sui Tan, who was always out and about, who had heard—even Sui Zheng, who rarely left the inner chambers, had caught wind of it. The moment she learned her younger sister had returned, she couldn’t wait to come and ask for details.

The usually poised and dignified eldest daughter of the Qin family, hailed as a model noblewoman of the capital, now wore an expression tinged with barely concealed anxiety.

Sui Tan, her almond-shaped eyes keenly observing her sister, pulled her down to sit while skillfully deflecting the conversation with vague remarks.

“Young Master Sun was always idle and unambitious—who knows if he made some unsavory friends who’d help him pull off something as reckless as this? Anyway, he just vanished out of thin air!”

“Vanished out of thin air… so there’s no trace of him at all?”

“None whatsoever!”

“Then…”

Sui Zheng hesitated, her pearly teeth biting her red lips as she lowered her gaze, as though struggling to voice her thoughts. But in the end, she couldn’t suppress her worry and spoke up.

“…Will this affect Lord Zhu? Could he be implicated?”

“!”

This was an unexpected delight.

Just a moment ago, Sui Tan had been fretting that her sister might still harbor feelings for Young Master Sun, racking her brains for ways to sever any lingering attachment. Now, she was overjoyed and immediately reassured her sister on Lord Zhu’s behalf:

“No effect at all, none! It won’t delay him marrying you in the slightest!”

“Tan’er!”

“And don’t worry, elder sister—if you want to marry him, His Highness the Third Prince will help too! Right, Lin Qi?”

“Tan’er!”

Sui Zheng twisted her silk handkerchief between her fingers, both embarrassed and exasperated by her sister’s shameless matchmaking.

But thanks to this diversion, she temporarily set aside her worries about Zhu Yan.

Only when Sui Tan saw her out, still chattering nonstop about bliss, did Sui Zheng marital hesitate again. After a moment of shy deliberation, she asked timidly:

“Tan’er, if Lord Zhu and I… will His Highness the Third Prince really help us?”

“Of course!”

Sui Tan thumped her chest with full confidence. “If you don’t believe me, ask Lin Qi!”

“Just asking Lin Qi is enough?”

Sui Zheng frowned slightly, looking genuinely puzzled. “Isn’t he just the Third Prince’s bodyguard?”

The two who had been questioned reacted in an unusual way.

Lin Qi, who had been standing to the side with his arms crossed over his sword, abruptly lowered his head and coughed lightly, as if trying to mask something but only making it more obvious.

Meanwhile, Sui Tan’s round, lively eyes darted about as she affectionately looped her arm through her sister’s.

“That’s only because His Highness the Third Prince is so approachable! He’s deeply loyal and treats his subordinates with such warmth that Lin Qi can speak on his behalf.”

“Really?” Sui Zheng remained skeptical.

“Really!” Sui Tan nodded emphatically.

“Otherwise, how could His Highness be known as the ‘Number One White Moonlight of Great Liang’? He’s just that wonderful a person!”

Whether the Third Prince truly deserved the title of Great Liang’s top white moonlight was debatable, but this glowing praise from his future princess-consort inexplicably pleased the prince’s bodyguard.

By the time Sui Tan had coaxed Sui Zheng away and returned, Lin Qi was still standing in the corner with his sword as usual—except now, unlike a quarter-hour earlier, the corners of his lips were curled in an irrepressible smile.

“Lin Qi!”

His obvious good mood was contagious.

Sui Tan’s eyes curved into crescents as she lifted her skirts and hurried over to him in quick, light steps. Tilting her head up, her delicate, porcelain-like face drew close—so close that he could almost see the fine down on her cheeks.

“Tell me, isn’t His Highness the Third Prince exactly that kind of person? Could his noble character and benevolence toward the people be just an illusion? Could he be deceiving me?”

Lin Qi lowered his gaze to meet hers, his voice laced with amusement.

“No.”

“What about you?”

The question struck like a sudden, piercing arrow.

If Sui Tan hadn’t, with remarkable foresight, thrown her arms around his waist the instant the words left her mouth, his first instinct would have been to flee.

Instinctive reactions never lied.

Yet Sui Tan acted as though she hadn’t noticed his momentary stiffness, tightening her embrace and burying her face deeper into his chest.

Muffled by the fabric of his robes, her voice sounded small—yet because of their closeness, each word seemed to resonate from his own heart, as if they were his own unspoken thoughts.

“Do you remember our first meeting, Lin Qi? I told you I was here to help you.”

“So in this world, you’re the one person who must never lie to me.”

The crown of her head nestled against his chest, and a faint tremor of uncertainty in her murmur made him freeze.

The image of her, looking so aggrieved, overlapped with scenes from the past. As if moved by some deep impulse, he reached out, fingers brushing toward her dark hair—only to slip into a whirlpool of memories instead.

The moment they first met burst forth, rippling through the gray monotony of his recollections in vibrant color.

Back then, he had just woken from a nightmare of war-torn ruins and endless flames, once again confronted with his own powerlessness.

In the throes of despair and self-doubt, he had bid farewell to his worried subordinates and set out on a desperate, last-ditch journey—chasing after the one variable in this world that might change everything, like the mythical Kuafu pursuing the sun.

The unshakable confidence nurtured by the wealth and power of the Nine Provinces had long since faded. His once-proud bearing had been worn down by days of rough travel and sleepless nights.

But he had no time to dwell on such things. Even during brief rests, closing his eyes only brought back the endless screams of the dying and the suffering of a broken land. Even in sunlight, he felt no warmth.

He had staked everything, filled with nothing but grim resolve, convinced he would spend the rest of his life marching against the tide, severed from love and hatred alike.

Yet on the outskirts of his destination, all his solemn grief was abruptly overturned in the most unexpected way.

A girl in a verdant green dress, like a celestial maiden descending from the heavens, suddenly appeared midair above the boundless official road—and crashed straight onto his back with a heavy thud.

In the midst of his furious, grief-driven march, he had never anticipated such a thing. Caught completely off guard, he stumbled and fell, his instincts immediately sharpening:

What kind of enemy would use such a massive projectile?

“I am not a projectile!”

The girl, wincing as she rubbed her twisted ankle, protested indignantly after regaining consciousness:

“And I’m not a villain either! I came to this world to do great things! I’m here to help!”

Her words sounded like something out of a myth, and he neither affirmed nor denied them, offering no opinion on whether he believed her.

After all, compared to her sudden appearance, he had witnessed—and experienced—far stranger things.

And at that time, burdened by the hatred of a ruined nation and a life lived on the edge of a blade, he had no need for fleeting kindness from chance encounters. All were passing travelers; he walked alone.

Yet four days later, after relentlessly pestering him into carrying her injured self all the way to Bianzhou, her constant chatter guiding him to a certain courtyard—only for him to realize this was also his final destination—he was struck by a surreal sense of absurdity, as though fate had played a twisted joke.

“Thank you, Lin Qi.”

In front of the gates of the Duke of Qin’s Bianzhou retreat, the girl struggled to hop down, balancing precariously on one foot.

Her delicate, jade-like hand clapped his shoulder with exaggerated bravado, utterly unlike the frail, bedridden beauty rumored to be too weak to lift a finger or walk three steps without gasping for breath.

“Without you, I wouldn’t have known how to get back. Don’t worry—I won’t forget this debt. If you ever need anything, come find me here. I’m Qin Sui Tan, and I’ll do everything I can to help!”

The girl was brimming with righteous fervor, looking as though she might pull out three sticks of incense on the spot to swear brotherhood in gratitude for his help.

After days of traveling side by side, he had come to understand her a little. Lin Qi took a deep breath. Countless thoughts tangled and untangled in his mind, but in the end, he could only fall silent for a long moment before speaking slowly.

“…Qin Sui Tan.”

“Hm?”

She responded, pausing mid-reply to mutter in confusion:

“Weren’t you always calling me ‘Miss Qin’? Why the sudden full name?”

Because I didn’t realize this Qin Sui Tan was that Qin Sui Tan.

That was his silent answer. Outwardly, he only gave her a deeply complicated look, his expression unreadable.

“…Do you know of Shen Lingyun?”

Sui Tan blinked, baffled.

“Of course. The Third Prince, the young general who defended Xiangcheng, a great hero and champion.”

“Then,” he paused, inexplicably finding the next words difficult to voice,

“…do you know about his arranged marriage with the Qin Duke’s second daughter?”

At this, Sui Tan’s almond-shaped eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as if she had just realized something.

He knew what she was wondering, but having come this far, he could only steel himself and press on with the explanation he had prepared.

It was the first time he had ever done this—so much so that he had to lower his gaze, unable to meet her eyes out of sheer shame.

“That Third Prince is my master, and the Second Miss Qin you speak of is my master’s betrothed.”

“I came to Bianzhou for her sake.”

“His Highness cares deeply for Second Miss Qin. Before falling into a coma from his grave injuries, he ordered me, his guard, to ensure her safety and prevent her from being targeted as well.”

For a moment, Sui Tan’s expression was spectacular—a kaleidoscope of emotions, some even bordering on ferocious.

She stared at him oddly, muttering things like, “No, that’s not the right face…” before seeming to suddenly grasp something. She smacked her fist into her palm with an exclamation of, “No wonder he didn’t die when I fell on him!”

Throughout this entire spectacle, Lin Qi remained silent, eyes fixed on the ground as though standing at attention.

Outwardly, he appeared to be respectfully awaiting orders, but inwardly, he felt as though he were walking along the edge of a cliff—everything around him surreal and dreamlike.

Had he truly misunderstood the Third Prince’s fiancée so badly?

Even if many of the details from back then had grown hazy, was this really what the noblewoman—whose only connection to him had been through exchanged portraits—was supposed to be like?

His last hope, the only variable he knew of, the “celestial maiden” he had picked up on the official road and been forced to stick with for four days, the strange girl whose antics and chatter had left him no time to wallow in misery—

All of it had led to this one person.

Just what kind of twists of fate could have woven such a convoluted tale around the infamous Second Miss Qin?

“So you’re the Third Prince’s guard, huh?”

As if having reconciled something within herself, Sui Tan suddenly clasped her hands behind her back and spoke with exaggerated formality:

“Then let’s properly introduce ourselves. Nice to meet you, Lin Qi. I’m Qin Sui Tan, Duke Qin’s second daughter and the Third Prince’s fiancée. I look forward to working with you from now on.”

“And as for our informal first meeting—when I said I was here to help, you didn’t believe me. But that’s fine, because I’d like to say it again.”

She took a step forward, leaning in close with a grin. Her lively almond eyes fluttered like butterfly wings, the mirth in them more dazzling than the vibrancy of spring itself.

“I’m here to help the Third Prince.”

“Right now, I’m here to help you, Lin Qi.”

…

“I’m here to help you, Lin Qi.”

Night had fallen over the Duke’s estate. A crescent moon hung in the sky, the darkness thick and heavy.

Hidden within the endless shadows, Lin Qi listened to the soft sound of Sui Tan’s breathing from inside her room and exhaled slowly.

Perhaps it was because of the teahouse incident earlier, or perhaps it was the resurgence of old memories—but tonight, he had found himself thinking back to that day again and again.

He knew his own fate. He should have known hers, too.

Yet the girl’s sparkling eyes and her light yet weighty promises kept intertwining in his mind. There was no reason for it, and yet, he had tucked the memory away, revisiting it over and over.

And it had led him, time and again, to make choices the Third Prince of that time would never have approved of.

Maybe from the moment she fell onto him and pestered him into carrying her back, it was destined that he would keep acting out of character.

Or perhaps it had started even earlier—from the moment she became the “variable,” the one he had traveled thousands of miles to Bianzhou in desperate pursuit of.

That was when everything had spiraled out of control.