On the fifth day in Hanchuan, the skies finally cleared for a brief while.
It was not a bright clearing. The leaden gray clouds that had pressed down overhead for days were finally torn open by the wind, revealing a sliver of pale daylight. That bit of light fell upon the snow-covered eaves and city walls. It was not warm, but it was enough to make many people look up.
There was still a long line in front of the porridge shelter.
Only today, the line was much quieter and more orderly than in the previous few days.
The commoners had learned to hold their wooden tokens and line up according to their wards. The elderly and children were arranged at the front, while the sick were looked after separately by the military physician and several women who knew some medicine. Thin porridge simmered in the large pots, mixed with dried vegetable soup ingredients and a small amount of powdered marching rations. When steam rose, the air carried the long-lost fragrance of rice and vegetables.
The fragrance was still very faint.
Yet it made the entire city seem to slowly take another breath.
Qin Feng stood outside the porridge shelter, watching the soldiers distribute bucket after bucket of hot porridge. The taut string inside him, which had been stretched tight for so long, finally loosened a little.
Hanchuan had not died.
At least not today.
After Du Wenzhou was imprisoned, the army’s reaction was more complicated than expected.
There was anger, confusion, and many soldiers who did not know what to do.
After all, Du Wenzhou had been their commander for many years. Even if he could not be considered particularly popular, he was ultimately a superior they were familiar with.
But Xiao Yuan gave the army no time to fall into chaos.
That very night, he ordered Qin Feng to temporarily take charge of military affairs and reorganize the city defenses, grain warehouse guards, and shifts at the porridge shelters.
The personal guards who had originally served under the commander’s residence were divided up and incorporated into various battalions. Several officers who had been overly close to Du Wenzhou were temporarily suspended pending investigation. All military orders were to be issued through the main government-office command tent, with copies kept on record, and no one else was permitted to issue orders privately.
The regulations were extremely strict.
Yet they quickly stabilized the Hanchuan garrison.
Because the soldiers soon discovered that Prince Su had not come to punish all of Hanchuan.
He was cutting away the rotten parts while preserving those who could still fight, still defend the city, and were still willing to save the common people.
When Qin Feng had received the military seal the previous night, his palms had been covered in sweat.
It was not excitement.
It was mostly the weight of the responsibility.
He knew that from that moment onward, if Hanchuan fell into chaos again, it would no longer be Du Wenzhou’s crime.
It would be his.
Xia Lanshi had noticed his unease.
When the discussion had ended the previous night, the sickly Chief Secretary had sat beneath the lamplight in his thick cloak. His voice was still slightly hoarse from coughing, but it remained steady.
“General Qin, don’t rush to prove that you’re more suitable than Du Wenzhou.”
Qin Feng had been startled.
Xia Lanshi pushed the organized duty roster toward him.
“You only need to be more willing to look than he was. Dare to look at how much grain remains in the warehouses. Dare to look at how hungry the people have become. Dare to look at how many people in the army are unsettled. As long as you see it, you can deal with things one by one. The most frightening thing isn’t making a mistake. It’s closing your eyes like Du Wenzhou.”
Those words had left Qin Feng silent for a long time.
In the end, he had solemnly cupped his fists.
“This subordinate will remember it.”
Now, standing before the porridge shelter, seeing those commoners holding bowls of hot porridge, seeing the child who had still been too weak to cry while lying in his mother’s arms yesterday now able to hold a bowl and take small sips, Qin Feng finally understood what Xia Lanshi had meant by “dare to look.”
Seeing suffering was difficult.
But refusing to look would only make the suffering deeper.
◆◇◆◇◆
Near the military farms outside the city, several personal guards were collecting soil.
On the surface, this had been described as an inspection of land for spring cultivation. In reality, every person had been personally selected by Qin Feng.
They were not the cleverest, nor were they the most eloquent, but they all shared one quality—their families were in Hanchuan, their backgrounds were clean, and over the past few days, they had not had any contact with grain merchants, temples, or people from the transport office.
What Hanchuan lacked most right now was not clever people.
It was reliable people.
Xia Lanshi sat inside the carriage, watching several personal guards follow Su Muchen’s instructions, placing soil from different locations into separate cloth bags and marking the direction and terrain.
It was the first time those soldiers had done such a thing, so their movements were inevitably clumsy. One of them nearly put soil from the riverbank into the bag meant for the slope, and Chi Banyue immediately rapped the back of his hand with a bamboo stick.
“Doctor Su said they cannot be mixed.”
The soldier stared blankly after being struck, but did not dare argue. He hurriedly withdrew his hand and repacked the soil.
Watching this scene, Xia Lanshi suddenly let out a soft laugh.
Chi Banyue turned around.
“What are you laughing at?”
“I was thinking that if Doctor Su really came to Dasheng, it probably wouldn’t take long before the entire Northern Frontier heard one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes, his tone gentle.
“Doctor Su said so.”
Chi Banyue froze, then burst out laughing.
The image was simply too vivid.
She could almost imagine that Doctor Su, far away in another world, coldly writing pages and pages of rules, after which the entire Prince Su’s army—from eating and drinking medicine to farming and washing their hands—would be managed into complete obedience by those few words.
But after laughing, Chi Banyue suddenly remembered something else.
“Do you think he really can come here?”
Xia Lanshi’s fingertips paused slightly.
Outside the carriage, the wind swept up snowflakes that struck the carriage wall with a faint rustling sound.
He did not answer immediately.
Only after a long while did he say, “If the door chooses him, it will let him come one day.”
Chi Banyue looked at him.
“What if it doesn’t?”
This time, Xia Lanshi remained silent even longer.
He thought of the expression on Xiao Yuan’s face every time he returned from behind the door.
Xiao Yuan had always been good at concealing his emotions.
Even when injured, hunted, or forced into a desperate position by the imperial court, he could use an indifferent face to suppress every disturbance within him.
But some things could not be hidden.
For example, whenever he mentioned Su Muchen, his voice would become slightly lower than usual.
For example, whenever he brought back a note written by Su Muchen, he would instinctively put it away with great care.
And for example, when he had asked last night, “What if one day the door lets you come over?” that question had not actually been probing the door.
It had been probing Su Muchen.
Xia Lanshi could not help closing his eyes and softly saying, “Then His Highness will probably be very sad.”
The smile on Chi Banyue’s face faded.
The words had been spoken very softly, yet they were painfully accurate.
She looked toward the distant city walls and suddenly felt somewhat sentimental.
“One door separating two worlds, yet it still makes people fall for someone. Heaven really knows how to torment people.”
Xia Lanshi’s fingertips touched the white jade peace pendant at his wrist.
“Yes…”
Chi Banyue had merely spoken casually, but when she heard his reply, her gaze shifted slightly.
“I was talking about His Highness and Doctor Su. Who were you thinking about?”
Xia Lanshi: “…”
He let out a soft sigh.
These past few days, his body had been controlled by Su Muchen’s recuperation plan, while his mind seemed to be suffering no less from Chi Banyue’s mouth.
Chi Banyue smiled extremely happily.
“Xia Lanshi, you’re really becoming less and less like the person you used to be.”
Xia Lanshi looked toward the soldiers outside who were collecting soil and did not refute her.
Because he had noticed it too.
Ever since he had awakened from being poisoned, many things had changed.
He had once thought that he would spend his entire life like a quiet blade, hidden beside Xiao Yuan, cutting through the darkness in the imperial court, along the frontier, and within people’s hearts for him.
Yet at some unknown point, someone had emerged from a distant snowy night, carrying a body full of mysteries, and stood before him once again.
He still was not certain whether that person was Owl.
But once suspicion had arisen, it was difficult to take it back.
It was like footprints left in the snow. Even if the wind covered them, that did not mean they had never existed.
Only, until now, he had found countless excuses for himself. He had never asked Xiao Yuan to relay a message, nor had he written a letter to Su Muchen asking him to confirm with one glance whether there was a flower-shaped birthmark on Owl’s back.
He, Xia Lanshi, could play the qin and chess with his hands. He could even pick up a brush and kill people with words.
Yet he had become timid over something like this.
Because he was afraid the answer would not be the one he wanted.
◆◇◆◇◆
Guichen Studio remained closed today.
Su Muchen hung a sign outside saying “Store Inventory,” yet he could still sense that there were several more pairs of eyes watching the Changning Alley.
After that Advisor Xu from the Sheng Corporation left yesterday, he had not returned for the time being.
But Su Muchen knew this did not mean the matter was over.
The other side was simply waiting for him to make a mistake.
Early that morning, he had already received two calls from unknown numbers.
One claimed to be an agency entrusted by his creditors, calling to confirm the source of his funds and his repayment plan.
The other was an invitation for cooperation from an antique platform. They said they had seen Guichen Studio’s recent records of consigned antiques and hoped to conduct online appraisals and joint auctions.
Su Muchen recorded all of them before hanging up.
He was no longer like he had been at the beginning, when every phone call made his heart race out of control.
The Sheng Corporation wanted to use rules to pressure him, so he would record every single rule.
He was not richer than Sheng Chengxiu.
He did not have the influence of the Sheng conglomerate.
But at the very least, he could stop standing foolishly in place and waiting for someone to harvest him.
When Owl came in, he was carrying a bag of freshly purchased breakfast, once again the peculiar combination of coffee and rice balls.
“I found a lawyer.”
Su Muchen was sitting behind the counter organizing the Hanchuan soil-sampling forms. Hearing this, he looked up.
“Reliable?”
“Reliable. He specializes in debt restructuring, inheritance disputes, and commercial oppression. His fees aren’t cheap.”
“Money isn’t a problem.”
The words had barely left his mouth when Su Muchen himself froze.
Owl laughed.
“Muchen, you couldn’t have said that half a month ago.”
Su Muchen expressionlessly took the coffee.
“Don’t remind me that I used to be poor. I’m not exactly rich now either. At least I have enough money to hire a lawyer.”
“Living off the prince to keep the shop running?”
Su Muchen gave him a cold look.
Owl immediately raised both hands in surrender.
“I’m done.”
Su Muchen lowered his head and took a bite of the rice ball, only then realizing that he had barely eaten anything since last night. Once the hot food entered his stomach, his entire person seemed to return to reality from among all those numbers, forms, and crises.
Owl watched him for a while before suddenly saying, “You should write yourself a recuperation plan too.”
Su Muchen frowned.
“I’m not a patient.”
“Chief Secretary Xia thinks the same way.”
“…”
Su Muchen was rendered speechless by that sentence.
Owl slowly sat down opposite him at the counter.
“Staying up late, excessive stress, irregular meals, long-term mental tension. You can understand all of that yourself when you’re writing medical records.”
Su Muchen said coldly, “I don’t have time to be sick.”
Owl’s smile faded slightly.
“Being sick won’t wait just because you don’t have time.”
Those words sounded too much like something Su Muchen himself would say to Xiao Yuan and Xia Lanshi.
So for a moment, he actually had no way to refute them.
After a while, somewhat irritably, he opened the lid of his coffee.
“I know, okay?”
Owl looked at him.
“You know what?”
Su Muchen lowered his head and looked at the forms.
“I know I’ll eat lunch today.”
Owl was satisfied.
“Very good. Doctor Su has finally begun accepting medical instructions too.”
Su Muchen felt that sentence sounded extremely irritating.
Just then, a sound came from behind them.
A faint white light emerged beyond the door.
Su Muchen immediately raised his head.
Xiao Yuan had arrived earlier than usual.
He still carried the chill of the snow outside. A thin layer of white covered the shoulders of his black cloak, making him look as though he had walked directly out of the snow and wind of the Northern Frontier and into the warm light of Guichen Studio.
Su Muchen’s first glance was still at his face.
The second was at his shoulder.
The third was at his hands.
Only after confirming there was no blood and no new injury did he frown and ask, “Why are you here at this time today?”
Xiao Yuan watched that entire series of instinctive glances, and an almost imperceptible softness appeared in his eyes.
“To bring the soil samples.”
He placed several small cloth bags on the table.
Every bag had been marked according to Su Muchen’s requirements.
Eastern slope of the military farm outside the city, frozen soil beside the river valley, sheltered mountain hollow, sandy soil of the old horse pasture, and the place north of the city that remained covered in snow year-round.
The handwriting was not Xiao Yuan’s, but the markings were extremely clear.
Su Muchen picked up one of the bags and looked at it. His expression finally softened somewhat.
“Not bad. You didn’t mix them.”
Xiao Yuan fell silent for a moment.
He suddenly could not tell whether that counted as praise.
Su Muchen placed the soil samples into the testing boxes one by one, then opened the AI agricultural model. While waiting for the analysis, he finally noticed that Xiao Yuan was still standing by the door.
“Sit.”
Xiao Yuan walked over and sat down beside the table.
He had come to Guichen Studio many times and was already familiar with this table, that medical kit, the pen Su Muchen habitually used, and the drawer behind the counter that held all kinds of documents.
But for some reason, today he suddenly realized that he actually liked the lighting here.
It was not bright, even carrying the dim yellow warmth of an old shop, yet it made him feel more at ease than the brazier in the Hanchuan government office.
Probably because Su Muchen was here.
Xiao Yuan’s gaze fell upon the man’s lowered brows and eyes.
Su Muchen was examining the soil samples. There were faint dark circles beneath his eyes, and an unfinished drink sat beside his hand.
His hair was slightly messy, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a little soil stained his fingertips. Yet he seemed completely unaware of it, staring intently at the data on the screen.
He looked different from everyone in Da Sheng.
He was neither a civil official, nor a physician, nor a merchant, nor a wandering martial sorcerer.
He was someone from beyond the Door.
Yet, by some strange coincidence, he had already stepped into Prince Su’s battlefield, one step at a time.
At first, Xiao Yuan had only needed him to save his life.
Later, he needed his medicine, his food, his knowledge, and his judgment.
However… by now, Xiao Yuan could no longer tell whether every time he opened the Door at night, he was there to take away supplies or merely to take one look at Su Muchen still sitting beneath that lamp.
When this thought arose, something seemed to press lightly against Xiao Yuan’s heart.
It did not hurt.
Yet it went very deep.
Su Muchen noticed his gaze and looked up.
“Why are you looking at me?”
Xiao Yuan did not answer immediately.
If it were anyone else, he could easily brush it off with a single sentence.
But facing Su Muchen, he suddenly did not want to lie.
So after a moment of silence, he said, “You don’t look well.”
Su Muchen froze.
That sentence was far too familiar. Usually, he was the one saying it to Xiao Yuan.
Having it said back to him now somehow made him inexplicably uncomfortable.
“I’m fine.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
“That’s what patients say most often.”
Su Muchen: “…”
Xiao, who was standing nearby, suddenly coughed hard, as though desperately trying to suppress a laugh.
Su Muchen shot him a cold look.
Xiao immediately picked up his coffee and pretended he had merely choked on it.
A trace of amusement also appeared in Xiao Yuan’s eyes.
Su Muchen was silent for a moment before expressionlessly picking up his coffee and taking a sip.
“Is that enough?”
Xiao Yuan said, “There’s also the rice ball.”
Su Muchen: “…”
He suddenly deeply understood why Xia Lan had felt so helpless about his health regimen.
So this was what it felt like to have one’s own words turned back against oneself.
He picked up the rice ball and took a bite, his tone somewhat displeased.
“You’ve learned bad habits lately.”
Xiao Yuan said quietly, “I learned from someone.”
Su Muchen’s movement stopped.
It seemed that this was not the first time someone had used that phrase to describe him.
He raised his head and looked at Xiao Yuan, only to see that the other’s expression remained calm, while the faintest trace of a smile was hidden in his eyes.
Very light.
Like a trace of warmth suddenly falling into the shop amid the snow and wind of the northern border.
The tips of Su Muchen’s ears grew slightly warm, and he could only lower his head and look at the screen.
“The data’s out.”
The AI model showed that the soil beside the frozen ground at the river valley and in the sheltered mountain hollow was more suitable for trial planting of potatoes. The sandy soil at the old horse pasture could be used for a small-scale trial of buckwheat, while the eastern slope of the military settlement was suitable for comparing winter wheat and oats. The area north of the city where snow accumulated year-round was not recommended for large-scale cultivation for now, but could be used to observe the limits of cold resistance.
Su Muchen copied the results into terms that people in Da Sheng could understand and drew a simple diagram as well.
“For the first batch of trial planting sites, choose the river valley and the sheltered mountain hollow. Cut the potatoes into pieces for planting; don’t bury all of them. Keep some as backups. Use the old horse pasture’s sandy soil to test buckwheat. Put the winter wheat and oats on the eastern slope of the military settlement. For winter vegetables, start by building simple shelters. I’ll organize the details later.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
After finishing the writing, Su Muchen added another sentence at the very bottom.
—Trial planting must not seek quick results, nor chase miracles. First, make them live. Then, make more of them live. Finally, make sure they live well.
Xiao Yuan saw this sentence and his gaze stopped.
“Is this agricultural methodology too?”
Su Muchen glanced at it, only then realizing that he had casually written something that did not really resemble an instruction.
He coughed somewhat awkwardly.
“Consider it a summary.”
Xiao Yuan quietly repeated it.
“First, make them live. Then, make more of them live. Finally, make sure they live well.”
Su Muchen became even more uncomfortable hearing him recite it.
“Don’t read it aloud.”
Xiao Yuan looked up at him.
“You wrote it well.”
It was a very ordinary sentence. It was simply that Xiao Yuan had said it too seriously.
So seriously that Su Muchen did not know how to respond for a moment.
He could only lower his head, fold the paper, and stuff it into Xiao Yuan’s hand.
“Keep it safe. Don’t lose it.”
Xiao Yuan took it, and his fingertips accidentally brushed against Su Muchen’s hand.
It was only the slightest touch, yet Su Muchen recoiled slightly as though he had been burned by something.
Xiao Yuan saw it.
He also saw the faint flush behind Su Muchen’s ears.
At that moment, countless words nearly reached his lips.
He wanted to ask, If one day the Door can open toward you, will you come?
He wanted to ask, If one day the Door closes, will you remember me?
He even wanted to say, The snow and wind in Hanchuan are cold, but every time I stand before this lamp, I feel as though I can keep walking a long way.
In the end, he said nothing.
Because the Door was still not something he could control.
Because Su Muchen still could not come here.
Because behind him were the northern border, the imperial court, the Crown Prince, the Emperor, and countless deadly plots.
Because he did not dare drag someone from beyond the Door into the bloodstained road he had yet to make safe.
So Xiao Yuan merely lowered his eyes and carefully tucked the paper into his sleeve.
“I’ll keep it safe.”
Su Muchen gave a quiet hum.
The air suddenly became somewhat silent.
Xiao stood not far away. For once, he did not make a sound to break the atmosphere.
He looked at the two of them, a faint smile in his eyes, yet there also seemed to be a trace of worry that no one else could understand.
The Door connected two worlds.
But no one had ever said that the people connected by the Door would necessarily be able to reach the same side.
Whether it was Su Muchen or himself.
◆◇◆◇◆
Before Xiao Yuan left, Su Muchen handed him another small bag.
“What’s this?”
“Your medicine.”
Xiao Yuan lowered his head.
Su Muchen’s tone was very calm, as though he were explaining something completely ordinary.
“Although your wounds have been recovering quickly lately, there’s a lot going on in Hanchuan and you’re sleeping too little. It’s easy for your injuries to regress. I added some nutritional supplements to support recovery, as well as some topical medicine. Don’t think it’s troublesome.”
Xiao Yuan held the small bag.
After a moment, he asked, “Nothing else?”
Su Muchen was startled.
“What?”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
“Xia Lan has a health regimen. Do I have one?”
Su Muchen: “…”
He felt that Xiao Yuan had really been getting stranger and stranger lately.
In the past, getting him to take medicine had been like interrogating him under torture. Yet now he was actually asking whether he had his own regimen.
Su Muchen was silent for a moment before opening the notebook beside him.
“Yes. Patient Number One: Recovery Period Precautions.”
Xiao Yuan’s eyes brightened slightly.
Su Muchen became even more uncomfortable at that instant of expression and could only force himself to read:
“Avoid strenuous fighting. Avoid pulling at the wounds. Change your dressings on time. Rest on schedule. Reduce staying up late. Don’t act tough. Don’t say you’re fine. Don’t treat yourself as though you’re made of iron.”
Xiao slowly added from the side, “The last three can be given to His Highness Prince Su and Chief Administrator Xia to share.”
Su Muchen nodded.
“Very suitable.”
Xiao Yuan did not argue.
He merely looked at the medical record labeled “Patient Number One.”
It was strange.
It was obviously only a medical record.
Yet somehow, he felt it gave him more reassurance than many people’s vows.
Because Su Muchen had written him into it.
Written him into a place where he needed to be recorded, needed to be cared for, and where someone would wait for him to return so his condition could be updated.
It had been a very long time since Xiao Yuan had felt that someone was thinking about him.
So long that he had almost forgotten that someone could remember how far his wounds had healed, force him to correct himself when he said they did not hurt, and tighten their fingers because he could not come every night, yet still say that safety came first.
Xiao Yuan said quietly, “Then I’ll trouble Physician Su to keep taking care of me.”
Su Muchen’s heart felt as though something had lightly touched it.
He looked up at Xiao Yuan.
The lamplight fell across the other’s brows and eyes, softening some of their usual severity.
Xiao Yuan was still that seventh prince of Da Sheng, still Prince Su, covered in wind, snow, and bloodstains. Yet at this moment, sitting inside Guichen Studio and holding a packet of modern medicine, he somehow looked like someone who had finally been willing to entrust himself to another person to care for.
Su Muchen swallowed.
In the end, he only said softly, “Then be a little more obedient.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
“Okay.”
That word again.
Su Muchen suddenly felt that whenever Xiao Yuan said “okay,” it was as though he were silently placing certain things into his hands.
Trust.
A promise.
And some things he temporarily did not dare think about.
Xiao Yuan had to return. He could not remain here for too long. There were still many matters waiting for him on the other side.
When he stood, Su Muchen also rose.
The two stood facing each other across the table.
It was clearly only an ordinary farewell, yet for some reason, neither of them spoke immediately.
In the end, Su Muchen spoke first.
“As for Hanchuan… don’t rush. The grain has already bought us a few more days, and the seeds are only the beginning. What’s most important for you right now is to stabilize the people. Don’t let the Crown Prince set the pace for you.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“I know.”
“As for Xia Lan, have him spend less time looking over the accounts.”
“Mm.”
“Qin Feng has only just taken over military affairs. Don’t put everything on him, and don’t carry everything yourself either.”
“Mm.”
“And…”
Su Muchen stopped when he reached this point.
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
“And?”
Su Muchen was silent for a moment.
“Come back alive.”
The words were very soft.
Yet they carried more weight than all his previous instructions combined.
Xiao Yuan’s gaze deepened.
He wanted to say, I will.
But those words seemed too casual.
So he merely raised his hand, tightened his grip around the medicine bag Su Muchen had just given him, and said quietly, “I promise you.”
White light gradually brightened, and Xiao Yuan turned and stepped into the Door.
Su Muchen stood where he was, watching his back disappear into the light.
Only after the Door closed and Guichen Studio returned to silence did he slowly lower his head and notice that a little water had somehow fallen onto the tabletop.
It had melted from the snow on Xiao Yuan’s cloak.
It quickly evaporated in the warmth of the room, leaving behind only a very faint water mark.
Su Muchen stared at it for a long time, somewhat dazed.
Xiao walked over, a coffee cup in his hand.
“Mu Chen.”
Su Muchen came back to himself.
“What?”
Xiao smiled meaningfully.
“You haven’t finished your rice ball.”
Su Muchen: “…”
He expressionlessly sat back down and took a bite of the now-cold rice ball.
Xiao looked at the redness at the tips of his ears and, for once, did not continue teasing him.
Because he knew that once some words were spoken aloud, they could never be taken back.
And the most cruel thing about something like the Door was—
It first allowed people to meet, then taught them how to fear losing each other.
◆◇◆◇◆
By the time Xiao Yuan returned to Hanchuan, night had already fallen deeply.
Inside the abandoned storehouse in the rear courtyard of the government office, the white light faded away, leaving only the chill of the northern border pressing back onto him.
Xiao Yuan stood where he was and did not leave immediately.
Inside his sleeve was the trial-planting guide Su Muchen had written. Against his chest was the packet of medicine meant for him.
They were obviously only a few sheets of paper and several packets of medicine, yet they felt heavy, as though carrying the warmth of another world.
A hidden guard reported quietly from outside the door, “Your Highness, General Qin has finished reorganizing the city defenses. Chief Administrator Xia has also retired for the night.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“I know.”
When he stepped out of the storeroom, the snow had stopped.
Above Hanchuan City, a rare patch of dim starlight appeared.
Xiao Yuan did not know whether those stars were the same as the ones in the world where Su Muchen lived.
He did not know when the Door would close, nor whether Su Muchen would be able to come.
He also did not know how many people would ultimately be swept into the path he had chosen.
There was one thing he did know.
He wanted to live.
Not the cold, lifeless kind of living he had once pursued solely for revenge and the throne.
He wanted to live so that he could return, push open that Door, see that lamp in Guichen Studio still burning, and see Su Muchen frown as he asked how his wounds were and whether he had taken his medicine on time.
That thought was softer than ambition.
And more dangerous than ambition.
Xiao Yuan raised his hand and pressed it against the paper hidden inside his sleeve, murmuring to himself:
“Wait for me.”
Those two words fell into the night of Hanchuan and were quickly swallowed by the wind.
Only he himself heard them.
They were meant for the person beyond the Door.
The northern border would not be his end.
It would be his beginning.
His gaze grew dark as he looked toward the capital.
There were many people there who wanted him dead.
And he…
Would one day make every one of them pay the price.