To gamble—how could Lin Qi dare to gamble?  

Cradling Sui Tan in his arms, he bandaged the wound on her arm while feeling her breaths grow increasingly faint. His hands trembled uncontrollably.  

Fragmented moonlight seeped through the gaps of the barred trapdoor overhead, casting its glow upon two ceramic bottles placed on the ground.  

Hope or despair, life or death—all hinged on his choice in this very moment.  

Sui Tan’s eyes were half-lidded, as if she had exhausted all her strength. Her voice was barely a whisper as she murmured, “Pick one. Either is fine.”  

Lin Qi obeyed, hastily grabbing one at random. Sui Tan let out a weak cough and continued in a frail voice, “Drink it.”  

Lin Qi froze. The medicine bottle in his hand instantly burned like fire.  

The woman in his arms was on the verge of death. After a long silence, as if he had waged some internal war, he finally gave a bitter smile. Gently laying her down on the ground, he rose to his knees, facing the direction of the capital, and kowtowed deeply toward the distant Forbidden City.  

Then, he pressed the other bottle—its contents unknown—into her hand. Pulling her back into his embrace, he made sure that even if he chose wrong and was instantly killed by poison, he wouldn’t let her fall back onto the cold ground. With his free hand, he uncorked the chosen bottle, raised it to his lips, and prepared to drink it all in one go.  

A delicate, jade-like hand reached out and pulled his arm away.  

At the same time, she struggled to prop herself up, clutching the front of his robes for support, and mustered all her remaining strength to lean in.  

Her pale, bloodless lips pressed against his startled mouth, drawing the unswallowed medicine from him.  

The two ceramic bottles slipped from their hands and rolled to the ground one after another. Lin Qi’s eyes widened as the cold liquid flowed from his mouth into Sui Tan’s.  

There, in his arms, she shared the same life-or-death potion with him in an unbearably intimate embrace.  

It might have been a fleeting moment, or it might have felt like an eternity—but eventually, Sui Tan released her grip and slumped back into his embrace, burying her face against his chest as she gasped for breath.  

Whether they had gambled correctly or not, the bleeding from the wound on her arm finally stopped. The thin silk of her dress was soaked through, leaving only a horrifying crimson stain behind.  

“Miss!”  

It took Lin Qi a long moment to find his voice again, though before speaking, he instinctively checked her pulse first.  

“You… I… This—how improper!”  

“It’s fine,” Sui Tan weakly waved him off. “Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, and I know.”  

“If you don’t want others to know, don’t do it in the first place. But we—you and I—”  

“What’s there to fear?”  

Sui Tan lifted her head with effort, meeting his slightly reddened ears and his stammering, righteous indignation. A faint smile touched her lips, though she didn’t call him out on it, choosing instead to play along with the charade.  

“You’re the keepsake of my late fiancé. Even if the Third Prince is dead, I’ll still take care of you.”  

“And besides,” she propped herself up and leaned closer to him, “Am I not beautiful? Do you not like me?”  

Her usually cunning almond eyes, now hazy from injury and poison, gazed at him from mere inches away, stirring ripples in an unknown heart.  

Her fragrant lips were a deepened red from the earlier friction against another’s. He could still recall the taste of that kiss—mingled with the bitterness of medicine, the delicate scent of the girl had enveloped him, as if capable of cleansing all the world’s injustices.

Lin Qi’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. He squeezed his eyes shut, then suddenly pressed Sui Tan back against his chest—his movements rough, yet every touch carried the carefulness of handling a priceless treasure.  

Sui Tan giggled softly, seemingly pleased by his loss of composure, and nestled contentedly back into his embrace.  

“Miss.”  

Only in the quiet did he realize Sui Tan’s body temperature was unnaturally high, as if the medicine was taking effect. She was drowsy, clearly in discomfort.  

Lin Qi called out to her anxiously, afraid to let her fall asleep—he had seen too many old comrades who closed their eyes and never woke again.  

“…Lin Qi.”  

Sui Tan’s voice was faint, but she seemed to know she couldn’t afford to faint now. Curled up in his arms, she forced her eyelids to stay open and struggled to stay conscious.  

“Talk to me.”  

Lin Qi tightened his hold on her. “What would you like to hear, Miss?”  

“Anything.”  

She was too exhausted to open her eyes, yet still made an effort to think. “Or… tell me about yourself.”  

Lin Qi paused. “Alright.”  

Perhaps it was the desolate wilderness, the empty trap where only they clung to each other—or perhaps it was the way he held her, feverish as a burning stove—but for the first time, he felt the urge to speak of the secret buried deep in his heart for years.  

—The origin of everything.  

His voice was low as he began, measured and deliberate:  

“The first time I realized the world had changed beyond recognition was when I was fifteen.”  

“That year’s spring hunt, the newly titled Prince of Pingnan’s heir was invited to participate.”  

Even now, years later, speaking of the past made it feel as though it belonged to another lifetime.  

Yet the shock of having his understanding of the world overturned—the moment he first grasped the new rules governing their era—remained as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.  

“I… like the Third Prince, also came from the battlefield. The Great Liang values martial prowess. Every spring hunt, even if His Majesty could not attend in person, the one who claimed the highest honors would be richly rewarded. This made the hunt a fiercely contested event among those renowned for their martial skills.”  

“Every year, the generals would sharpen their blades early, determined to seize the opportunity to win favor. For years, the crown had never strayed far—it always circulated among those few distinguished commanders whose names were known to all.”  

“But that year, an anomaly occurred.”  

The echoes of the past surged within him, and even now, recounting it, Lin Qi couldn’t help but fall silent for a moment.  

Sui Tan, curled up with her eyes closed, shifted weakly in his arms to show she was still listening.  

Lin Qi snapped back to the present, instinctively reaching to check her temperature.  

Her fever was breaking.  

He exhaled silently in relief, holding her closer as he continued recounting the events of that year.  

“When the first day began, no one noticed anything unusual. Like every year before, I spent the day roaming the woods alone, returning to camp near dusk with my game.”  

“The others had already returned ahead of me. I had intended to see what General Zhao Sheng of Weiyuan had bagged—whether he could surpass my twelve—but was told that this year’s greatest contender wasn’t Zhao Sheng, but the heir of Prince Pingnan.”  

“He returned with fifty kills—more than all the others combined. It stunned everyone.”  

Lin Qi was not one to gossip, so he glossed over many details with understatement. But Sui Tan could well imagine just how staggering the reactions of those present must have been.