A displeased and sharp expression surfaced briefly on the handsome face hidden beneath the fearsome mask of a red-faced, fang-toothed demon. It was fleeting, concealed once more by the mask.

Rong Ting curled his fingers impatiently, an inexplicable irritation churning within him.

That man surnamed Yang—every word he spoke grated on Rong Ting’s nerves.

And yet, his ears pricked up, catching every syllable against his will.

Jiang Rao, on the other hand, felt as though she’d been struck over the head. She stood frozen, struggling to process what had just been said.

Marriage… There were still more than two years before she came of age. Marriage? What marriage?

Wasn’t it too soon?

Jiang Rao frowned slightly.

By the quiet stream, under the dim lantern light, her delicate features took on a luminous quality, her furrowed brows adding a painterly elegance to her visage.

Yang Xiuzhu was momentarily captivated, unable to look away. His gaze betrayed his unrestrained admiration.

In a gentle voice, he asked. “Might I have the honor of accompanying you this evening, my lady?”

A few days ago, while purchasing medicine for his younger sister, he had encountered her carriage on a street near the apothecary.

By chance, he caught sight of her lifting the curtain and casting a glance outside.

That fleeting moment…

Was engraved itself into his memory.

Even though she had not yet come of age, he was willing to wait. As long as the engagement could be secured now, he didn’t care how long it would take.

Today, his father had tested the waters on his behalf, but Fourth Master Jiang had politely declined.

He refused to give up.

It was said that Fourth Master Jiang doted on his daughter immensely. If he could first win her favor, the matter of marriage might proceed more smoothly.

Tonight, he speculated that she might come to Zhuque Bridge to release a Kongming lantern. Arriving early, he waited patiently—never expecting that his gamble would pay off.

After Yang Xiuzhu spoke gently, his gaze was filled with hope and anticipation.

Rong Ting’s jaw tightened into a sharp, unyielding line.

The stifling emotion in his chest grew unbearable, and his hand, resting on the wooden armrest of his wheelchair, nearly splintered it with the force of his grip.

There had always been a streak of madness in Rong Ting’s nature.

Yet he had mastered the art of self-restraint, rarely allowing his emotions to surface—until now.

A fiery turmoil ignited within him, burning away reason and leaving his heart in chaos. The heat scorched him from the inside making his chest tighten uncontrollably.

His eyes narrowed.

In his glassy, amber eyes, stormy clouds gathered, heavy with suppressed fury and aggression.

Like a young leopard, fiercely guarding its territory.

Jiang Rao was still frowning.

They had only just met, and he was already inviting her to accompany him. Her instinctive reaction was to refuse.

She shook her head at Yang Xiuzhu, about to speak, but before her words of rejection could leave her lips, Yang Xiuzhu cut her off with a quick response:

“It must be tiring for a young lady like you to push this wheelchair. Why not let me accompany you and take over the task?”

As he finished speaking, he clasped his hands in a polite gesture, exuding the refined demeanor of a scholarly gentleman.

Though his words were framed as an offer of assistance, his posture was so respectful and his manners so impeccable that Jiang Rao, even if she wished to refuse, couldn’t bring herself to be harsh. Instead, she offered him a small, apologetic smile.

Crack.

The armrest finally gave way under the pressure.

The wheelchair suddenly slipped from Jiang Rao’s and Yang Xiuzhu’s hands.

Rong Ting turned away, his large hand gripping the armrest firmly as he took control of the wheelchair on his own, moving forward without a word.

Beneath the mask, his jade-like face was darkened with anger, his eyes cold and unrelenting.

His retreating figure bristled with unspoken fury, every step radiating sharp defiance.

Jiang Rao quickly stepped forward to follow him.

He was clearly upset.

She had been careless. Too caught up in talking with Yang Xiuzhu, she hadn’t noticed his hand resting on the wheelchair for so long. It must have displeased him.

It reminded her of a dream she once had. In it, she was attending to him during a visit to the hot spring baths. A young helper, newly hired, had seen her struggling to push the wheelchair out and, without asking, had stepped in to assist, removing her hand and taking over.

Rong Ting had been furious.

Had she not knelt to plead on the boy’s behalf, the helper might not have left the encounter alive.

Even with her intervention, Rong Ting’s mood remained stormy for days—his expression as dark as the sky before a thunderstorm. Not long after, the young helper was dismissed.

Jiang Rao quickened her pace to catch up, grabbing hold of Rong Ting’s wheelchair.

She noticed his long fingers gripping the wooden bar of the chair tightly, veins bulging under the strain. Whether it was the effort of pushing the wheelchair uphill or the intensity of his anger, she couldn’t tell.

But judging by his bowed head and masked face, there was nothing remotely joyful about his demeanor.

She grew anxious, completely overlooking the fact that, despite holding the toys she had bought in his lap, Rong Ting still managed to free a hand to push the chair himself.

From behind, Yang Xiuzhu’s concerned voice called out. “Miss, are you alright?”

Afraid that Yang Xiuzhu might step forward again with good intentions that would only worsen the situation, Jiang Rao turned back with a strained expression and hurriedly stopped him.

“Young Master Yang, please don’t come over.”

In her urgency, her tone carried an unintentional hint of reprimand.

Across the crowd, an invisible boundary seemed to form, clearly separating her from Yang Xiuzhu.

He froze awkwardly in place, his expression tinged with embarrassment and unease.

Rong Ting’s fingers relaxed, his grip on the wheelchair easing.

The corners of his lips quirked up ever so slightly.

It wasn’t until after Jiang Rao spoke that she realized her tone had been harsher than intended.

Softening her voice, she added. “Thank you, Young Master Yang.”

The faint smile on Rong Ting’s lips disappeared in an instant.

“But we’ve only just met today, so there’s no need for us to travel together.” Jiang Rao said earnestly but politely, addressing Yang Xiuzhu.

Jiang Rao had always been reserved around strangers.

Although Young Master Yang had a refined and scholarly appearance, bringing up marriage so quickly—even if her father had been involved—left her feeling uncomfortable.

The failed marriage proposal didn’t make him any easier to look at, and staying in his presence only heightened her unease.

After speaking, she gave Yang Xiuzhu a formal bow and pushed Rong Ting’s wheelchair forward, leaving him behind.

As one of Ye City’s most renowned scholars, Yang Xiuzhu was accustomed to being praised and pursued. His standards were impossibly high, and he had never truly regarded any young lady with particular interest.

Today marked the first time he had pursued someone—only to be met with utter rejection.

Yang Xiuzhu lifted his gaze to watch Jiang Rao’s departing figure.

Her silhouette blended into the crowd on the bridge, yet her poised steps and elegant demeanor made her stand out effortlessly. Her refined temperament was unmistakable, a testament to her impeccable upbringing.

The sting of disappointment in his heart eased slightly as he lowered his head with a wry smile.

Being turned down was, perhaps, exactly what he deserved.

A well-bred young lady would never agree to a sudden invitation from someone she had just met.

It was his impatience, his impulsive boldness, that had been at fault.

…

As he turned around, however, he was met with the sight of his younger sister, Yang Qi’an, glaring at him with visible anger.

Yang Qi’an pouted, her expression sour and unpleasant. She was slightly out of breath, clearly having rushed to find her brother.

Her tone was sharp, and her lips jutted out dramatically. “Brother, did you come out to look for that woman?”

Her brother never participated in these festive celebrations. If he was here today, it could only be because of the girl he had his eye on!

But Yang Qi’an wasn’t having it.

She had already made promises to her circle of noblewomen in Ye City—that whoever treated her best would have her help in matchmaking with her brother.

She only wanted to choose a sister-in-law who was good to her.

“Qi’an!” Yang Xiuzhu’s face darkened, his tone turning cold. “Watch your attitude.”

Yang Qi’an stomped her foot in defiance. “Hmph! I don’t want her to be my sister-in-law!”

…

On Zhuque Bridge, one Kongming lantern after another rose into the sky.

Surprisingly, as they pushed farther uphill, the effort required grew lighter. Upon reaching the bridge’s crest, Jiang Rao stopped, placing two stones under the wheels to hold the chair steady.

She took a Kongming lantern handed to her by Ming Shao, patched it up carefully, then passed a slip of paper to Rong Ting.

“Write your wish,” she said, before lowering her head to write her own.

With deliberate strokes, she began. First, she wished for the safety and health of her parents and family, and for her clan’s prosperity to endure without decline.

Then, she prayed for herself—not to fall into slavery, not to become someone else’s servant.

After pausing to think for a moment, she remembered she would turn fourteen next year. The year before coming of age, she would have to study Nüxun and Nüjie—the teachings for women, said to be unbearably tedious.

She added a final wish: to avoid having to study those dry lessons.

The small slip of paper was now packed to the brim, filled entirely by her little, greedy wishes.

After tying the paper securely inside the Kongming lantern, Jiang Rao turned to look at Rong Ting, only to find his paper still blank.

“Why haven’t you written anything yet?”

Rong Ting’s expression remained calm and unreadable, his brow slightly furrowed.

The suffocating frustration in his chest had yet to dissipate.

His mind replayed the moment when she smiled at that Yang fellow.

It was a smile both beautiful and maddening.

The inexplicable frustration boiled inside him with no outlet, his fingers curling tightly into a fist. He couldn’t understand why this sudden fire had flared within him, but his voice came out low and sullen as he said. “Go release your lantern first.”

Through the mask, Jiang Rao couldn’t see his face. She could only detect the heaviness in his tone, the faint hint of something off in his mood.

She didn’t press him for answers. Instead, she pouted briefly, then picked up the brush again.

On the already crowded slip of paper, she squeezed in one last line:

— [Let him be kinder to me.]

After finishing her writing, Jiang Rao stood up, lit the wick inside the Kongming lantern, and leaned over the bridge’s edge to release it.

Tilting her delicate chin upward, she gazed eagerly at her lantern as it rose into the sky, joining the firefly-like specks scattered across the night.

But a sudden gust of wind swept in, knocking her lantern off course. It plunged straight into the river below the Zhuque Bridge, the flame extinguished as the water engulfed it.

The shimmer in Jiang Rao’s eyes dimmed, much like the light of her lantern.

Her heart sank, a faint ache spreading through her chest. Drooping her head, she muttered softly to herself. “It’s fine.”

Sniffling against the cold wind, her slender neck bent like a wilted lotus leaf, her head hanging low. “I was too greedy, wrote too many wishes—it was too heavy,” she consoled herself.

Suddenly, something was pressed into her hands—a piece of paper and a brush.

Looking up in surprise, she saw Rong Ting turning his face away, revealing only the sharp and elegant contour of his jaw beneath the mask.

She froze for a moment before hearing him say. “Take my lantern and use it.”

“But if I write my wishes on this, what about yours?”

His voice was low and slightly hoarse as if carrying some unspoken weight. “They’re already written.”

Yet the paper in her hands was completely blank.

Jiang Rao’s mind blanked for a moment.

Was he implying that he had no wishes of his own?

As she stood there, lost in her swirling thoughts, his voice interrupted her. “Write yours. If yours are written, then so are mine.”

…

Jiang Rao processed his words, and it dawned on her—he was essentially saying that her wishes were his wishes too.

It was like being struck dizzy by an unexpected surprise.

She hadn’t forgotten the way he was supposed to treat her in the future, according to the original trajectory—those moments of cruelty and torment. Yet here he was, giving up his chance to make a wish for her sake.

Kind. Generous.

These weren’t qualities she ever expected to see in him.

The Kongming lantern was lit once more. This time, it ascended steadily, soaring smoothly into the night sky.

Jiang Rao smiled, turning back to Rong Ting with a bright and radiant expression. “This time, I wasn’t greedy. I only wished for my family’s safety—and yours, too.”

In that moment, as Rong Ting caught sight of her luminous smile, something clicked.

He finally understood the strange, inexplicable feeling that had been gnawing at him all along.

She smiled at him, and that felt right.

Only to him—only that way—felt right.

…

However, Rong Ting’s gaze fell, a quiet loneliness in his eyes as he looked at his own legs.

She smiled at him, treated him kindly—it was just pity.

Jiang Rao watched the Kongming lantern fade into a tiny golden speck in the distance, and her voice rang with excitement. “Let’s go guess lantern riddles together!”

Just then, a voice called from beside them. “Isn’t this Miss Jiang?”

It was the elderly physician from the medical hall, standing nearby.

He glanced at Jiang Rao and then at Rong Ting.

Though Rong Ting wore a mask, the doctor had treated him before and had recognized him immediately from the wheelchair.

The physician looked between Jiang Rao and Rong Ting, as though confirming some private guess in his mind. A teasing smile appeared on his face as he remarked. “Miss Jiang, here with the young gentleman you fancy releasing lanterns?”

=^_^=