Over the past year, those who frequently knocked on his door were none other than the mischievous kids from the west side of town. They would hurl stones to break open his door, hoping to lure him outside for their amusement and ridicule.

Rong Ting’s brows furrowed habitually but gradually relaxed. Something crossed his mind, and the irritation he had felt moments ago began to dissipate.

Those troublemaking kids were nothing but bullies who only backed down when confronted with firmness. Ever since Wang Zhou was apprehended, they hadn’t dared to return.

The person seeking him today could only be Jiang Rao.

He closed the medical book in his hands and wheeled himself toward the door. However, his eagerness betrayed him making his movements less composed than usual causing the wheelchair jolted against the threshold with a thud.

Jiang Rao had been knocking at the door for a while but hadn’t heard him coming to open it. Thinking of his limited mobility, she patiently waited, exercising all the patience she could muster. Just then, a loud thud came from inside.

It sounded as if someone had fallen.

Though separated by the door, Jiang Rao couldn’t help but imagine the scene of Rong Ting sprawled on the ground, his wheelchair overturned in the courtyard.

Since she couldn’t see what had happened, her mind conjured up the worst possible scenarios. Anxiously, she wanted to push the door open and rush in, but just at that moment, the door swung open.

With nothing to brace against, she lost her balance and stumbled forward. Rong Ting caught her before she fell, steadying her.

Her eyelashes quivered as she looked up at him. “Are you okay? I heard a sound just now—it sounded like you fell.”

As she spoke, Jiang Rao realized how close she was to him—so close that her hand was pressed against his chest.

She had never been this close to a boy face-to-face before. Beneath her palm, she could even feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his heartbeat. Startled, she quickly moved her hand away.

Freeing her arm from Rong Ting’s grasp, she worried that she might have offended him. Her voice softened, timid and apologetic. “Are you sure you’re okay? I heard a sound earlier… it sounded like you fell.”

As her slender fingers slipped away, Rong Ting’s gaze darkened almost imperceptibly. His fingers, as if reluctant to let go, curled slightly before retreating. In a calm, understated voice, he replied. “I’m used to it.”

Used to it?

So, he really had fallen?

And not just this time?

Jiang Rao frowned deeply.

Though the pain was clearly his to bear, his expression betrayed no trace of discomfort. Instead, it was her face that brimmed with concern and sorrow.

She quickly moved behind him, placing her hands firmly on the handles of his wheelchair. “Stop trying to move on your own. I’ll push you inside.”

“Mm”

Once inside, Jiang Rao crouched in front of him, tilting her head upward to meet his gaze. Her eyes were filled with concern. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell? Is there any place that hurts?”

Rong Ting shook his head.

Seeing how quiet and unresponsive he remained, Jiang Rao’s heart ached even more. Unbidden, she found herself comparing the man before her to the small figure in her dreams—the one who hid behind a tree, silently enduring his pain.

No one will hear you even if you cry out, so you learn to endure it.

Jiang Rao reached into her arms and offered him a handful of sugar candies. “I came to bring you some sweets.”

The milky-white candies, dusted with a layer of powdered sugar were soft and delicate. As she unwrapped them, a faintly cool and sweet fragrance wafted through the air.

However, Rong Ting’s eyes narrowed slightly, and an emotion resembling disdain flickered in his gaze.

The ability to endure hunger had been painfully honed over the years.

As a child when hunger became unbearable he would scavenge the entire house for something to eat. One day, lured by a faintly sweet scent, he had stumbled upon a few sugar-dusted pastries hidden in a corner by the wall.

The pastries had long gone cold, but to a child who hadn’t eaten in days, they were an irresistible temptation.

But the pastries were laced with rat poison.

If he hadn’t noticed a pile of dead insects nearby just before taking a bite, his life would have ended that day.

Later, he overheard the maids talking. Those pastries had been deliberately placed there by the Empress. She had set them out under the guise of poisoning rats, but they had been intended for him. After starving him for days, she had left the poisoned pastries out as bait.

Had he eaten them, the poison would have taken effect within the hour.

After his death, the narrative would have been simple: a greedy child had mistakenly eaten rat-poisoned pastries and died.

The Empress would have shed a few crocodile tears, and everyone would have pitied her for the tragic loss of her adopted son.

Meanwhile, he would have been remembered only as a foolish boy—so stupid that he couldn’t even tell the difference between food meant for humans and bait meant for rats.

It was then that he learned a bitter truth: the line between truth and lies was controlled by those in power. The rich and powerful could sit comfortably, invulnerable to harm, while the powerless and destitute had lives as cheap and fragile as those of tiny insects.

From that moment on, he developed an intense aversion to anything sweet.

Jiang Rao noticed his cold and reluctant expression. Though she couldn’t quite understand how anyone could resist sweets, she firmly stuffed the bag of candies into his arms. “Today is a festival called ‘Spring Festival.’ My maid told me that eating sweets on this day means the whole year ahead will be filled with happiness and sweetness.”

In her heart, she thought of her own family—her younger brother, her parents. Even if the coming year brought its ups and downs, she would have her loved ones by her side but Rong Ting had no one, all alone in his loneliness. It seemed only right to help him have a little less bitterness in his life.

Her voice softened, carrying a hint of coaxing. “I haven’t even had one myself yet. You try one first, okay?”

Rong Ting’s expression remained unwilling, but under her pleading gaze, he finally picked up a piece of the candy and held it in his palm.

The snow-white powdered sugar clung to his fingertips, and his frown deepened. He glanced at her with his eyes full of silent discontent.

Jiang Rao’s soft gaze held earnest encouragement. “Go on, eat it.”

For a moment, he wondered if he was imagining it, but her eyes seemed to regard him as though he were a younger sibling—a child needing care and coaxing.

Ridiculous. He was clearly older than her.

With a quick and indifferent motion, he swallowed the candy whole. The sweetness spread on his tongue briefly, but his brow furrowed even further.

The candy went down, but a cool sensation suddenly spread across his forehead, leaving him oddly unsettled.

As Rong Ting raised his eyes, Jiang Rao quickly withdrew her hand, her lips curling into a smile.

Her smile was particularly radiant, though it carried a faint trace of guilt, as if she had just done something mischievous. The brilliance of her expression was tinged with a hint of playful appeasement.

Rong Ting instinctively lifted a hand toward the center of his forehead, but before he could touch it, Jiang Rao blurted out. “Don’t!”

She had stopped him just in time, preventing him from wiping away the vermilion mark she had placed on his forehead.

Aware of his aversion to people invading his personal space, she hadn’t dared to ask for his permission beforehand.

She worried that if she asked and he reluctantly agreed, she’d still hesitate under his gaze, her hand trembling too much to follow through.

So, she mustered her courage and acted first, quickly pressing the mark onto his forehead while he wasn’t expecting it—swift and decisive for both their sakes.

Her movement had been both bold and fleeting, a mix of timidity and determination.

Jiang Rao stole another glance at him.

The red mark suited him far too well. His already exquisite features were instantly elevated by the vivid crimson on his forehead making his beautiful brows and eyes became so strikingly enchanting that they seemed almost otherworldly—dangerously alluring, like a breathtakingly vivid painting.

His unrestrained elegance and defiance were unmatched, standing apart from anything or anyone else.

His pale complexion, so light it carried a faint chill, paired with his deep, narrow eyes, gave him an air of untouchable elegance. Despite his striking beauty, there was a coldness about him, a distant and unapproachable aura that made him seem almost otherworldly.

How can someone look this good?

No wonder her beauty-obsessed mother constantly asked why she didn’t invite him to their residence every day.

With a face like his, he didn’t even need to speak—just sitting there quietly was more pleasing to the eye than any flower could ever be.

The “beauty” gave a soft cough, snapping Jiang Rao out of her daze. She lowered her head, slightly embarrassed.

Now came the moment of truth, the part where she explained her actions after taking them.

“I just… placed a dot of vermilion on your forehead.”

“It’s part of the festival tradition,” she added slowly, her voice soft and hesitant. Nervousness bubbled up within her, and she could feel the sweat pooling in her palms. To demonstrate, she raised a finger and lightly tapped her own forehead. “A vermilion mark on the forehead wards off evil and brings peace.”

She continued. “And I heard from my maid that during the lantern festival tonight, you can buy a Kongming lantern, write your wishes inside it, and release it into the sky. If the heavens see your wishes, they might make them come true.”

As Jiang Rao spoke, her eyes sparkled with excitement. When she said the word “come true,” it was as if she could already see her wish becoming reality. A sweet smile graced her face, and her faint dimples peeked out making her expression all the more endearing.

She actually believes in these things.

Rong Ting’s gaze held a mix of emotions—part envy, part self-mockery.

He had lost his innocence too early and had long stopped believing in such fantasies.

When he was just a boy, during the times he went hungry or was locked in a dark room, he had prayed to the gods, too.

But the gods had never heard his voice.

Jiang Rao finished speaking at her own leisurely pace, then looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “How about I take you to release lanterns tonight?”

Meeting his slightly indifferent gaze, she added earnestly. “I want to wish for your safety.”

In her heart, she wanted to give him all the things that the boy hiding behind the tree had once envied and longed for.

Sweet candies, vermilion marks, Kongming lanterns—everything others could have, he should have too.

Rong Ting’s fingers tightened slightly around the bag of candies.

For fourteen years, every festival and celebration had belonged to others.

For fourteen years, not a single person had sincerely wished him peace or joy.

When he opened his mouth to respond, he wasn’t sure why his throat felt tight. His voice came out hoarse. “Alright.”

Looking at her, he started to believe—just a little—that perhaps there really were gods in this world.

And perhaps she was their answer to him.

…

The dungeon was damp and cold, like the depths of a sewer.

Wang Zhou hadn’t slept in several nights. His bloodshot eyes were riddled with veins, and the whites of his eyes were streaked with crimson, giving him a disturbingly frenzied appearance.

He was consumed by one thought—how to speak on the court tomorrow in a way that would minimize his punishment.

The best option was to shift all the blame onto Empress Jiahe.

But she was the mother of the nation…

Wang Zhou clenched his teeth, his heart sinking as a ruthless thought took root. Even if she was the empress, someone he couldn’t afford to offend, there was no other way. If he didn’t pour all the dirty water onto her, he’d be the one beaten and exiled when the time came!

A faint light flickered briefly, then quickly vanished.

In the oppressive darkness, there seemed to be movement—a faint, shifting silhouette.

Wang Zhou’s ears caught the sound of footsteps, light but echoing ominously in the vast, empty dungeon. The sound made his scalp prickle.

Then, a chilling voice, deliberately lowered to a sinister whisper, came right next to his ear.

“So, you’re Wang Zhou?”

A shiver ran down Wang Zhou’s spine like icy needles. He turned sharply toward the source of the voice, his expression instantly contorting into sheer terror.

=^_^=