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The heir of Prince Pingnan was infamous in the capital as a spoiled wastrel—a man who had never applied himself to study or discipline. His battle-hardened father had thrown him into military camps multiple times to toughen him up, only to end up with a son who could neither ride a horse nor draw a bow. If not for the lack of other heirs, Prince Pingnan would never have chosen him to inherit the title.
And yet, this very same heir of Prince Pingnan had shone brilliantly that day.
“When I arrived, the generals were already arguing with him.”
“Zhao Sheng was berating him for cheating, accusing him of using underhanded tricks. The heir of Prince Pingnan remained unruffled, simply proposing a rematch the next day—three hours, one man, one horse, one bow into the woods—to see who could bag more game.”
“The dispute had drawn a crowd, and with others egging them on, Zhao Sheng agreed.”
“But then the heir added one more condition: since it was a wager, there had to be stakes. If he lost, he would apologize. But if he won, Zhao Sheng would have to admit that the generals of Great Liang were nothing but frauds—unworthy of their reputations.”
Sui Tan let out a soft ah, recalling an old rumor.
Lin Qi gave a bitter smile and nodded, confirming her uneasy suspicion.
“Yes. Zhao Sheng lost.”
Sui Tan pressed her lips together and buried her face back against him, suddenly unsure how to offer comfort.
The generals of Great Liang rose and fell together, and Lin Qi—who had long seen Zhao Sheng as a rival—had taken the defeat harder than most.
Her warm cheek nuzzled gently against his chest, and Lin Qi, sensing her silent solace, couldn’t help but smile faintly.
Years later, many details of that day had faded from memory, but the shock, the fury, the dread—those had never left him.
“Zhao Sheng was proud and stubborn—losing was inevitable. But what unsettled me was something else.”
Sui Tan lifted her head with effort, and Lin Qi, not one to drag out suspense, tucked her back against him, fingers combing through her sweat-dampened hair as her fever broke.
“The truth is, no one knew—but that day, aside from the two of them, I had also slipped into the woods unseen. And I witnessed everything.”
“Zhao Sheng fought with gritted teeth, his shots ruthless. But strangely, no matter what he shot down, when he rode closer to retrieve it, the game would be gone.”
“Meanwhile, the heir of Prince Pingnan merely had to walk through the forest, and he would stumble upon a steady stream of prey.”
“The wild goose Zhao Sheng had felled, the hare he had wounded—even a stag that had taken an arrow from Zhao Sheng and escaped would collapse from exhaustion, just so happening to land directly on the heir’s path back to camp, as if delivered to him on purpose.”
“Picking up the spoils,” Sui Tan murmured, her eyes half-lidded.
Lin Qi’s smile turned wry. “Yes. I heard the heir muttering the same thing.”
“He boasted that no one’s skill could match his. If he wished, he could take anything from anyone—claim their efforts as his own.”
“Not just Zhao Sheng’s. Anyone’s.”
He sighed. “Once I realized he truly wasn’t relying on his own ability—that something else was aiding him—I couldn’t stay silent. I confronted him.”
The newly titled heir was still young then, unfamiliar with the princes, and it never occurred to him to question why a third person—in a heavily guarded forest meant only for him and Zhao Sheng—had suddenly appeared.
He simply assumed Lin Qi was another disgruntled general and openly mocked him.
“He laughed at us. What did it matter if we trained through winter’s chill and summer’s heat? What was the point of mastering archery, of hitting targets a hundred paces away? In the end, we were just laboring for his glory. The harder we worked, the more we toiled in the woods, the more we secured*
his victory.”
Lin Qi’s tone was calm, but in that moment, Sui Tan felt a pang of empathy, understanding why he saw this as the origin of everything.
Amid the jeers directed at the generals in the hunting grounds that year, his entire worldview had been upended.
The concept of “picking up the spoils”—of effortlessly obtaining whatever one desired with just a flick of a finger—had rendered all his suffering, his perseverance, into nothing more than a futile struggle in the eyes of others.
The blood and tears of the past had become mere dinner-table jokes, met with scornful laughter and pitying shakes of the head, leaving behind only the hollow label of “frauds.”
“Did no one ever realize there was something wrong with the heir of Prince Pingnan?”
After a long silence, Sui Tan asked, her voice muffled—though it was unclear exactly what she was so indignant about.
“No.”
Lin Qi pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. Still warm, but no longer scalding.
“Even in this year’s spring hunt, despite the major incident with the murdered woman, the heir of Prince Pingnan still defeated all the generals and took first place once again.”
By now, he could speak of his own helplessness with complete composure.
Because he knew—no matter how he thought, no matter what he did, no matter who was involved or what details changed—he could only watch as history repeated itself, marching toward the same inevitable conclusion.
It was like being trapped in a self-imposed cycle, a cursed loop where all possibilities were extinguished.
“I’ll help you.”
Suddenly, a seemingly random response came from the figure in his arms.
Lin Qi looked down. Though her fever had broken, Sui Tan was still weak from the ordeal, her face alarmingly pale.
Yet even so, she mustered the last of her strength to push herself up, thumping her chest lightly but firmly as she declared with solemn gravity:
“He’s just cheating with his ability, using it to trample on and mock your efforts.
The heavens and earth would never tolerate such injustice. Next time, I’ll help you nullify his ability—so you can compete with him on equal footing.”
Her breaths were faint, but every word was resolute, as if it could pierce through time itself and reach that fifteen-year-old boy lost in uncertainty, adrift in the river of history.
Lin Qi couldn’t suppress the curve of his lips, his eyes softening instantly.
Silently, he mouthed a “Okay,” then pulled her swaying form back into his embrace, tucking her close to his heart.
“Sui Tan.”
Drowsy, she didn’t notice the change in how he addressed her, responding with a soft, “Hmm?”
“What exactly is your ability?”
She seemed too exhausted to stay awake, offering no reply for a long while.
Lin Qi, too, acted as if he had merely asked in passing, expecting no answer. He simply stroked her slender back with infinite patience, soothing the discomfort left by the poison.
Finally, after a long pause, a murmur slipped out.
Sui Tan, too far gone to think clearly, answered by instinct in the haze between sleep and wakefulness:
“Nothing.”
Her whisper was so quiet it seemed to betray the world’s greatest secret:
“…No skill. And making others have no skill… Nullifying everything.”
Lin Qi froze.
The next moment, Sui Tan turned over and, utterly spent, fell asleep.
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Dreamy Land[Translator]
Hey everyone! I hope you're enjoying what I'm translating. As an unemployed adult with way too much time on my hands and a borderline unhealthy obsession with novels, I’m here to share one of my all-time favorites. So, sit back, relax, and let's dive into this story together—because I’ve got nothing better to do!