At the end of winter, in Ye City, a sudden heavy snowfall blanketed the town.

Overnight, the city was sealed off by the snowstorm. Those who wanted to enter couldn’t, and those who wanted to leave were stranded. Early risers found their plans thwarted, and the streets echoed with complaints and grumbles.

Due to the heavy snow, Jiang Rao’s family was forced to stay in Ye City.

Inside a residence, a maid was carrying a finely crafted, four-handled ceramic pot as she made her way toward Jiang Rao’s courtyard.

The pot was steaming, filled with freshly simmered pigeon soup.

Upon reaching the courtyard, she informed the night maid standing guard, “Master asked me to bring some pigeon soup to the young lady.”

The night maid yawned, her breath visible in the frosty air. “Why so early?”

“Yesterday, the young lady predicted the snow and said she wanted to leave the city, but Master didn’t believe her. They argued a bit, and it wasn’t a pleasant exchange. Who’d have thought the snow would actually seal the city today? Feeling guilty, Master had the kitchen prepare the young lady’s favorite pigeon soup to make amends.”

The “Master” mentioned by the maid was Jiang Hangzhou, also known as Jiang Siye (Fourth Master Jiang).

Before marriage, he was a carefree and rakish gentleman, but afterward, he became renowned for his devotion to his family and love for his wife. After having a daughter, he turned into a complete daughter-doting father. His tendency to go overboard with gestures just to please his daughter was a common occurrence. The servants were long accustomed to his behavior and no longer found it unusual.

The night maid opened the door for her and whispered, “The young lady is still asleep. Place the soup inside, and keep your movements light.”

Inside the room, the underfloor heating was burning steadily, creating a warmth like spring that made the air almost too hot to bear. The contrast between the room’s coziness and the fierce snowfall outside only highlighted the harshness of the weather.

After setting down the pigeon soup, the maid stepped outside, where icy snowflakes lashed against her face like blades.

She couldn’t help but grumble quietly, “If only they had listened to the young lady, we wouldn’t have been delayed on our journey back to the capital, and we wouldn’t be freezing here now.”

The night maid closed the door behind her, saying, “But the sun was shining so brightly yesterday—who could’ve known it would snow?”

“The young lady knew, didn’t she?”

They exchanged a glance, then cast a look back into the room.

On the chaise, someone was curled up like a kitten.

Her delicate cloud-like hair was styled in soft waves, and her lips were tinted red as if kissed by flower petals. Her sleeping face was serene and enchanting, framed by her glossy, jet-black hair that spilled over the pillow like satin. Her fair complexion seemed as though it might compete with the snow clinging to the branches outside.

From any angle, her beauty was flawless.

The Jiang family of Jinling was renowned for its beautiful women—a well-known fact across the entire Zhaozhao dynasty. Jiang Rao had been a delicate and captivating beauty from a young age. However, at the age of six, she left her hometown of Jinling to travel the world with her father, gradually fading from public memory. Even as she grew more charming and stunning with each passing year, her name was rarely mentioned when speaking of the beauties of the Jiang family.

Only the servants of the Jiang household knew just how breathtaking their young lady was. Even now, as she lay asleep with her eyes closed, her cheeks soft and pink, she looked like a doll stepped straight out of a painting.

At thirteen, she had already blossomed into a beauty that left people marveling at the stunning woman she would become one day.

But at the moment, her slender brows were deeply furrowed, refusing to relax, her expression fraught with agitation.

Jiang Rao was not sleeping soundly.

Lately, she had been plagued by nightmares…

And shockingly, every single one of them had come true!

The first time, she dreamed of the family’s horses going mad with fright.

At first, she dismissed it as an ordinary nightmare. But the very next day, news arrived that her father had fallen from his horse and been injured.

Then came the snowfall.

Now, she was trapped in yet another nightmare.

In this dream, faint light broke through the clouds at dawn, and a maid burst into the room, shouting, “Young Master has been bullied!”

The “Young Master” referred to was Jiang Rao’s younger brother, Jiang Jinxing.

Contrary to the composed nature suggested by his name, Jinxing was mischievous, impulsive, and an expert at stirring up trouble—a prodigy at climbing walls and rooftops. However, at only seven years old, he was still too young to hold his own, and more often than not, he ended up being the one bullied instead of the one causing trouble.

Jiang Rao was very protective of her little brother. Upon hearing that he’d been wronged, she immediately gathered people and hurried to the scene.

In her dream, on the snowy ground, she came face to face with the person in conflict with her brother—a boy of about fourteen or fifteen.

Her brother claimed it was this boy who had fed their family’s horse something it shouldn’t have eaten, causing the accident that injured their father.

The boy stood outside the stable, his body streaked with a mix of blood and mud. In the biting cold of winter, he was drenched from head to toe, looking as wretched as a beggar. Yet his eyes remained shockingly bright.

There was no warmth or humanity in his gaze—only ice-cold detachment and an unrelenting hostility, brimming with a savage ferocity. His eyes were eerily reminiscent of a bloodied wolf, ruthless and terrifying.

In his hand was the very herb that would drive horses mad if eaten. But despite the evidence, he stubbornly refused to admit to any wrongdoing, let alone reveal the person who had orchestrated it all.

Even when the servants Jiang Rao had brought pressed him into the snow and beat him in an attempt to extract answers, he didn’t utter a sound. Instead, he bit down on his cracked, bleeding lips and glared at her with bloodshot eyes, unyielding and defiant as if pain did not exist for him.

His wolfish gaze sent shivers down Jiang Rao’s spine. Overwhelmed, she left with Jiang Jinxing, her brother, without pressing further.

Later, the true culprit behind the incident that had driven their family’s horse mad was uncovered—it wasn’t the boy. Someone else was responsible.

Overcome with guilt, Jiang Rao tried to find him to apologize, but he had disappeared without a trace.

Years later, Jiang Rao herself was bound hand and foot and thrown at the feet of a man in a wheelchair.

The man wore a dark cloak, his pale skin like cold porcelain. His face was strikingly beautiful, with an otherworldly air of danger and elegance that was rare among men. His long, narrow eyes exuded a chilling dominance, their gaze steeped in cruelty and menace.

As his cold, haunting eyes met hers, Jiang Rao felt a sickening familiarity. That ferocity—it was the same as the boy’s gaze from years ago. And now, it terrified her even more.

It took her several moments and a closer look to recognize him.

The boy who had once been a lone, wretched figure, collapsed in the snow like a beggar.

Now, he was surrounded by attendants, dressed in luxurious robes, sitting with an air of aloof indifference at the head of the room. His posture was upright, his presence commanding, and his face strikingly handsome, exuding an almost divine aura.

In just a few short years, he had risen to become someone of immense power and influence, a man no one dared to cross.

His methods of revenge, however, were nothing short of insane and merciless.

Jiang Rao jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.

Shaken from the nightmare, she felt as though she had been dragged back from the brink of death. Her heart seemed to have been gripped tightly, only to be abruptly released. The numbness in her chest, coupled with the lingering sense of suffocation and despair, left her breathless and unsettled.

That dream—no, that nightmare—had been horrifying.

She lifted her gaze toward the window.

The sky was still heavy with darkness, faintly tinged with gray. Outside, snowflakes drifted silently to the ground.

Jiang Rao’s heartbeat quickened, pounding rapidly in her chest.

The weather outside was eerily similar to the one in her dream.

The skies were just beginning to lighten, dawn breaking faintly on a dim, overcast world. The oppressive gloom pressed down, making her chest feel tight and uneasy.

At that moment, the door creaked open with a sharp “squeak.”

A maid burst in, snow clinging to her shoulders, panting as she shouted breathlessly, “Young lady, the young master is being bullied outside!”

For a split second, Jiang Rao thought she was still dreaming.

The break of dawn, the frantic maid rushing in—it was all exactly like the scene from her nightmare.

She lifted her head and looked at the maid.

What she saw reflected in her pupils was the same face she had just seen in her dream.

Her breath caught, and her body shuddered as though pricked by needles. “Where is Jinxing?” she demanded.

“By… by the stables near the post station,” the maid stammered.

The stables by the post station.

Exactly like in the dream.

Which meant that everything her dream had foretold was going to happen today…

Jiang Rao’s heart sank into a state of panic. Throwing off the quilt, she hurriedly stepped into the embroidered shoes placed at the bedside. “Take me there, quickly!”

…

Yesterday’s heavy snowfall had devoured the world like a glutton, swallowing every trace of color in a single night. White blanketed the earth endlessly, stretching as far as the eye could see—until a crimson figure broke through the monochrome scene.

It was Jiang Rao, draped in a red cloak, dashing toward the stables.

She ran urgently, her cloak’s ribbons coming loose and fluttering behind her in the icy wind. The hem of her garment billowed with each gust, making a sharp, rustling sound.

As she ran, her mind spun with thoughts of what awaited her by the stables.

If her younger brother hadn’t done anything wrong, she would take him away immediately—far away from that boy, as far as possible.

But if her brother had already offended the boy…

Jiang Rao felt a headache coming on.

Considering the boy’s future reputation for holding grudges and seeking vengeance, if her brother had provoked him, she wasn’t sure if there was any way to avoid the eventual retaliation.

The more she thought about it, the stronger her sense of dread grew.

In her previous nightmares, even though she had been forewarned, she hadn’t been able to change the outcomes. What if this time was no different…?

Her anxious thoughts were interrupted as several figures came into view.

A crowd had gathered outside the stables.

Among them, she spotted her younger brother and some of the household servants.

But the boy—the one from her dream—was nowhere to be seen.

Her eyes scanned the area carefully, and when she finally noticed something, Jiang Rao sharply sucked in a breath…

The figure lying on the ground, surrounded by the crowd, was too far away to see clearly, but it seemed to be the boy.

Scattered across the snow were bits of crushed grass and a crude wooden crutch.

Her brother’s voice rang out loudly as he commanded the servants, “Pour this bucket of cold water on him! Let’s see if that wakes him up!”

Jiang Rao’s heart clenched as if gripped by an icy hand. Without thinking, she dashed forward, throwing herself in front of the boy. “Stop!”

The servants froze at her command.

Gasping for breath, Jiang Rao glanced at the bucket of freezing water that had nearly been poured over the boy. In an instant, she understood why, in her dream, the boy had been soaked through.

If she had arrived any later, he would have been drenched in water by now.

Thankfully, she had come just in time.

Had she been any later, a bucket of icy cold water would have been poured over him, and she couldn’t imagine how much more painful it would have been in the middle of winter.

Just thinking about it made her shiver.

Jiang Rao’s heart was still racing in fear as she lowered her gaze to examine the boy’s face.

His hair was a tangled mess, and his high nose bridge was stained with blood. His forehead was swollen and bruised, and his long, beautiful eyes were tightly shut. His pale skin, against the backdrop of the freezing snow, made him look eerily lifeless, as if frozen in a chilling silence.

Jiang Rao’s face drained of color as she quickly reached out to check his breath.

Alive, but barely.

She couldn’t tell how long he had been lying in the snow, but the flakes had accumulated in thick layers on his body.

It was the depths of winter, and he wore nothing but a thin, tattered tunic. The fabric was so worn that it couldn’t even cover his arms properly. One gaunt arm hung limply in the snow, exposed and bruised from the cold. The ragged tunic was so filthy, it seemed unfit even for her household servants to use as a rag.

How had he ended up in such a dire state in this cold weather?

Jiang Rao hurriedly took off her cloak and draped it over him, shielding him with her own body. “What happened? How did he collapse?”

“Did you hit him?” Jiang Rao asked, her voice trembling.

Jiang Jinxing rubbed his nose and looked aggrieved. “I didn’t hit him! He was the one hitting me! He suddenly collapsed—it has nothing to do with me. I think he’s pretending.”

The little boy, now kneeling in the snow, was both irritated and frustrated. “Look at the herbs in his hand! This is the stuff that made the horse go mad! He’s the one who hurt our father!”

Jiang Rao’s gaze shifted to the boy’s hand.

Indeed, he was gripping a handful of herbs.

In her dream, her first instinct had been to assume that because he was older than her brother, he was the one bullying him. Later, she had believed her brother’s version of events because of the herbs in his hand.

But simply having the herbs didn’t necessarily mean he was the culprit.

Jiang Rao now regretted her impulsive judgment in the dream.

The boy’s hands were covered in deep frostbite and cracks, the wounds jagged and painful-looking.

Jiang Rao’s heart filled with even more guilt.

Earlier, she had been focused on taking her brother away, as far from him as possible. But now, seeing him in such a pitiful state, her heart ached with pity.

Regardless of what his future status might be, right now he was just a weak, helpless boy who had fainted, his thin frame clearly starved, unable to defend himself against anyone.

Her heart was full of compassion and regret. “He really did pass out… it’s not a trick.”

As she spoke, Jiang Jinxing, dissatisfied, pouted and grabbed her hand. “Sis, didn’t you say that when we found the person who drugged the horse, we’d make the person who hurt Dad suffer the same way? I found the bad guy. It’s time to get our revenge.”

Jiang Rao fell silent.

It was true, she had said that.

After their father fell from his horse and had been bedridden for over a month, barely able to walk, seeing him so weak had made her furious. That’s when she had made such a vengeful promise.

Her gaze flickered to the boy, and her mind unwillingly conjured the image of him grown—broad shoulders, sitting tall with a commanding presence, a tall, powerful figure able to wear a dark cloak with authority.

But instead, he was a pitiable cripple, unable to ever stand again.

Had it been her fault that he became like this?

Jiang Rao’s conscience shook with a pang of guilt.

Suddenly, a thick wooden stick, about the size of a bowl, appeared in front of her—it was from Jiang Jinxing. “Are we going to take action, Sis?”

Jiang Rao: “…” Her conscience trembled again.

It seemed like she and her brother had stepped right out of one of those malicious sibling roles in a drama.

The kind who causes trouble for the protagonist.

The thought of how such characters rarely lasted long in those stories…

Made Jiang Rao’s heart race with warning as she stubbornly looked at her brother and said. “He’s not a bad person. I’m taking him back.”

…

After bringing him back to her courtyard, Jiang Rao instructed a maid to boil some hot water. She soaked a cloth and gently wiped the mud off the boy’s face and neck.

As the blood and dirt were wiped away, his sharp, beautiful features became clear.

He had a high, defined nose and narrow, almond-shaped eyes with long lashes, their outer corners slanted upwards. His skin had a sickly pale tone, giving off the aura of a fragile, delicate beauty.

Yet, he hadn’t fully matured—his fine, white chin and thick lashes conveyed an innocence and vulnerability that contrasted with the cold, ruthless, and proud persona he would one day have.

When Jiang Rao moved the cloth to his neck, she suddenly stopped.

There were several ugly scars etched into his skin.

The deepest and longest one lay across his right shoulder blade, slanting from the back of his neck down to the top of his collarbone.

It looked like the mark of a brutal lash, cruelly inflicted and long-healed, forming a winding scar that resembled the body of a centipede.

It must have been deep enough to reach the bone when it was first made, and though it had healed over time, the wound remained conspicuously deep, still raw under the surface. Every glance at it sent a shock through her, and her hand trembled slightly as she hesitated to continue.

Her touch grew even more delicate and gentle as she wiped him down. After finishing, she rinsed the cloth and wrung it out.

The maid who had been sent to fetch the doctor then picked something up off the ground and handed it to Jiang Rao, saying, “Miss, is this his pouch? It was dropped here.”

Jiang Rao’s gaze swept over the pouch.

It was old, with frayed edges where the thread had worn away. The blood had stained the pouch, covering its original color, and the patterns were smeared with dried blood, creating a horrifying, patchy effect.

Jiang Rao furrowed her brow. “It’s his pouch. Go wash it clean.”

She adjusted the blanket over the boy, then left to find Jiang Jinxing.

Ever since she brought the boy back, the little one had been sulking the whole way.

He was eager to avenge his father and, seeing his sister favoring the “culprit,” was so angry that he stopped talking to her altogether.

But she couldn’t let her brother continue to misunderstand.

Otherwise, even though she had brought the boy back, her brother would still go after him.

That couldn’t happen.

She planned to wait until the boy woke up, apologize, and explain the misunderstanding clearly.

If the boy wasn’t angry, that would be great. But if he was, or even if he was very angry, she would treat him like royalty, coaxing and comforting him until he calmed down.

But when she stepped outside, she was startled by Jiang Jinxing.

The little chubby boy was lying in the snow outside the door like a turnip, his plump fingers pressing into the snow. His movements were violent as he vented his frustration, his anger directed entirely at the snow.

He was certain that the boy was responsible for his father’s fall, and seeing his sister care for the “bad guy” so tenderly made Jiang Jinxing feel like his lungs might explode.

His cheeks puffed up, as if he had a pufferfish inside, seething the entire way.

When Jiang Ruo came out to find him, his eyes were full of blame and anger, throwing a tantrum. “I don’t have a sister who’s so naive and misguided, treating a thief like a father!”

“It’s not me who’s misguided,” Jiang Ruo said calmly, walking over and sitting down beside him.

Though Jiang Ruo was still young—she wouldn’t turn fourteen for another six months—she loved to act mature around her seven-year-old brother. With a serious expression on her sweet little face, she spoke in a tone that tried to sound grown-up. “The phrase ‘recognizing a thief as a father’ doesn’t fit here. ‘Calling a deer a horse’ would be more appropriate. You may not know anything, but don’t misuse words like that. It’ll only make people laugh at you.”

Jiang Jinxing’s face turned bright red. “Who dares to laugh at me?”

“I do.”

Jiang Jinxing: “…”

He sulked even further, puffing up like a pufferfish.

Jiang Ruo cupped his face in her hands and stared at it for a long while before asking, “Does it hurt?”

Jiang Jinxing scoffed.

Jiang Ruo reached out and gently rubbed his chubby cheek. “Don’t be angry. You wronged him. If you wanted to break someone’s legs, then yes, you deserved to be hit. Trust your sister, the one who poisoned the horses is definitely not him.”

Jiang Jinxing didn’t believe her. Instead, he felt frustrated and angry, on the verge of tears. He stood up slowly and let out a hiccup, “How is it not him?! He’s in the stable, and the medicine is in his hand! He must still want to hurt Father!”

Jiang Ruo stood up with him. “I’ve already sent people to search. When we catch the real culprit, you’ll believe me.”

In her dream, she had seen that the real culprit was a butcher from the village. She had already sent people to find him, confident they would catch the right person.

Jiang Jinxing didn’t listen to her at all. “You’re just mistaken! I’m going to find Father and have him get rid of him!”

He stormed out of the house in a huff.

Inside, Rong Ting struggled to open his eyes.

His eyelids, which had once been heavy with blood, felt much lighter. He reached up to rub them.

His fingers were clean, not a trace of dirt or blood on them.

Someone had wiped his face for him.

A flicker of doubt passed through his eyes as he slowly glanced around the room.

It was a strange room.

The cold wind and falling snow were kept out by the tightly shut window, leaving the room warm and cozy.

Everything was neat and clean, with two rows of ancient shelves behind a screen, filled with small books and volumes.

The quilt was soft and comfortable, as warm as sunlight collected over several days.

But Rong Ting’s eyes grew cold, as if he had seen something vile. He instinctively grabbed the quilt and yanked it off…

There were no needles.

No insects.

His movements slowed as his gaze turned frosty. He furrowed his brow, sinking into thought.

Where was this?

=^_^=