Bai Lan counted the days anxiously as Ning Muyan’s departure for the capital drew near.
In the garden, servants bustled about, preparing the young master’s belongings for the journey. Bai Lan knew he could wait no longer—otherwise, he would have to resign at the matriarch’s residence.
Yet each time he stood before Ning Muyan’s door, he could not summon the courage to knock.
He sighed. These days had been restless, and the early spring changes in weather had taken a toll on his health; he had even developed mild chills.
The previous night, he had prepared a strong herbal decoction. He lit the stove, warmed the medicine, and fetched several buckets of hot water for a bath, adding two herbal sachets to the tub—planning to soak and dispel the chill, hoping to recover faster.
With Sanling away today, he had to do everything himself.
Absentmindedly, Bai Lan bolted the door and sank into the tub. Today, he resolved, he would finally find the courage to speak with Ning Muyan. Once the servants had finished their preparations, he would go and explain everything clearly.
He smacked his own head in frustration—drinking that wine had truly caused trouble.
The herbal bath made him drowsy. Exhausted from days of poor rest, he drifted into a half-sleep in the tub.
“Although the exams are in early spring, the late chill will make it very cold at the Gongyuan. I had the cloth shop make two thick woolen coats for you—Brother can wear them over his outer garments to stay warm.”
Seeing Ning Muyan preparing to leave for the capital, Ning Zhengyu had come over with some items.
“All right.”
“I wish you success and that your name tops the list,” Ning Zhengyu said.
Ning Muyan replied with a nod.
Ning Zhengyu suddenly found himself at a loss for words but wouldn’t leave. Ning Muyan noticed his unusual behavior over the past few days and asked, “Do you have something you want to tell me?”
After several hesitations, Ning Zhengyu finally asked bravely, “Brother… do you like Bai Lan?”
Ning Muyan’s brows shifted slightly. He gave Ning Zhengyu a long, steady look, unwilling to deny it: “Yes.”
Though he had suspected it, Ning Zhengyu was still momentarily stunned. Worry laced his voice: “But… but—”
“Is there anything wrong with Bai Lan?” Ning Muyan asked in return.
“He’s very good. But his background is modest… how could grandmother approve?”
Patiently, Ning Muyan explained, “Zhengyu, if I cannot be with Bai Lan, nothing in life would hold meaning. You think a noble background makes someone better, but does it really? Take the Bian family, who have recently grown close to Mother. They associate not only with the Ning family but also with other talented young families, betting on who is most outstanding. If one were to marry into such a family, do you know what the consequences could be?”
Ning Zhengyu frowned.
Ning Muyan bent down, placing his hands on Ning Zhengyu’s shoulders. “When I go to the capital, you must look after Bai Lan on my behalf. That way, I can focus on my exams with peace of mind, understood?”
Looking into Ning Muyan’s eyes, Ning Zhengyu nodded. “All right. Whatever Brother decides, I will stand by your side.”
As he left Ning Muyan’s room, he felt somewhat dazed. He still didn’t fully understand the situation. Just days ago, Bai Lan had secretly cared for his brother—how had it suddenly become that Ning Muyan could not do without him?
Indeed, his little brother’s schemes were clever and intricate. Yet since Ning Muyan had entrusted him with this task, he had also promised to follow through. During his brother’s time in the capital, he would make sure to speak with their mother, limiting her dealings with the Bian family.
Realizing he hadn’t seen Bai Lan in days, he decided he had to go tease him a little. The potion his brother had given Bai Lan had certainly made his dreams come true.
He turned toward Tianmendong, but at the doorway, a curl of black smoke rose. Alarmed, Ning Zhengyu shouted, “Water’s running!”
Ning Muyan was the first to react. Seeing smoke curling from Tianmendong, he sprinted toward the door.
“Bai Lan!”
He pounded and called, only to find the door seemingly locked from within.
A wave of terror ran through him. He pushed with all his strength, but the door barely budged. It reminded him of countless dreams—dreams in which he had desperately tried to open a locked door, powerless every time.
Until the flames devoured the doorframe and reduced it to ashes, Ning Muyan awoke from the nightmare, heart racing, instantly consumed by endless guilt…
Ning Zhengyu worried about what was inside, but seeing Ning Muyan’s nearly feral expression, he grew even more concerned for his brother. “Brother, the smoke isn’t much… maybe—”
Before he could finish, Ning Muyan stepped back, then suddenly kicked the door repeatedly, over and over, until the panels crashed down. Ning Zhengyu was stunned by the sight of his brother’s near-mad frenzy.
Ning Muyan did not pause for a moment, stepping over the fallen panels and charging inside. Ning Zhengyu, snapping out of his shock, hurried after him.
“Y-Young Master…”
Bai Lan froze at the sight of the figure bursting in. He had just climbed out of the bath and, seeing smoke rising in the backyard, hurriedly wrapped a robe around himself and went to check on things.
The jars of medicine, poured into bowls by Sanling the day before, had been left on the stove. Distracted while warming them, he hadn’t noticed that the jars were nearly empty. The remaining contents had overheated, sparks flew, and the dried herbs piled on the floor caught fire.
The herb stalks, damp and stubborn, smoked heavily but didn’t burn well. Hearing the commotion, Bai Lan rushed to handle it, and when he heard knocking at the door, he was about to say it was nothing—only to see the door kicked in. Ning Muyan had charged in.
“I…”
He couldn’t finish. Ning Muyan, eyes reddened, crossed the room and wrapped him in a fierce embrace.
Ning Zhengyu, standing behind, noticed Bai Lan’s disheveled, post-bath state. His brother paid no mind to the robe loosely covering him; the two were pressed together. Ning Zhengyu drew in a sharp breath, averting his eyes, covering them, and turning away.
Seeing the servants carrying water to extinguish the fire, he waved them off. “Go down, go down, it’s all right, really.”
Bai Lan tilted his chin, feeling the tight hold of Ning Muyan. His mind went blank. Had he just seen Ning Muyan cry?
After a moment, he instinctively patted Ning Muyan’s back. “I… I’m all right.”
His voice was small, as if he feared startling the person holding him.
In truth, Ning Muyan was lost in memories, unable to distinguish past from present.
That summer, the exile caravan had entered Lingnan. Ning Muyan had finally relaxed after the arduous journey. Though the destination was hardly ideal, Bai Lan’s encouragement along the way had made him look forward to life there—away from fame and officialdom, with the person he cared about most at his side, life seemed not so bad.
But upon entering Lingnan, misfortune struck immediately. A severe drought, crop failure, and insect plagues led to disease outbreaks. Corpses littered the roads, and many sick travelers were driven out of the city.
Bai Lan had sensed trouble early, buying medicine at the border in preparation. During the journey, even one official fell ill, and the disease spread rapidly. Bai Lan spent each day preparing preventative brews, always serving Ning Muyan first. The farther they traveled, the more deaths occurred, and their supplies dwindled. Fortunately, they pressed on, finally reaching Lingnan before the medicine ran out.
The night before entering the city, Ning Muyan felt unprecedented relief. Only a few companions remained, and the destination was near. That night, he climbed an old tree outside the city, plucking a string of late lychees. Under the starlit sky, he sought Bai Lan.
He recalled Bai Lan’s playful words of encouragement: “Three hundred lychees a day, no matter how long I live in Lingnan.” At least in Lingnan, they could enjoy fine fruit. Ning Muyan smiled at how gluttonous Bai Lan had always been.
He had been eager to tell Bai Lan that the words he had spoken in the prison were not sincere—he wanted to answer again properly. Once they settled in the city, Ning Muyan would secure a teaching post, while Bai Lan would work nearby as a doctor. After school, Ning Muyan would meet him at the clinic, and together, they would return home at dusk. Over time, they hoped to have two children…
Yet time is fleeting, and opportunities missed may never return.
Now, seeing the raging flames, Ning Muyan felt as though a wild fire swept across the land. Without hesitation, he charged at the locked door, the heat searing, his skin threatened. He dared not imagine Bai Lan trapped inside.
He resolved to save him, even if it meant dying together.
But words left unspoken would remain so. He never saw that person’s face again; the fire consumed everything, leaving his heart in ashes. From that moment, his dreams were haunted by a locked door, unstoppable flames, and the sound of everything breaking apart.
He thought: to give hope and then take it away—this must be both punishment and retribution.
Bai Lan felt the trembling of the person holding him. “…Young Master?”
“How could you be so cruel, not letting me see you one last time? Was it to punish me for ruining your life, to trap you within bounds, or to punish me for speaking boldly but not meaning it…”
Hearing the hoarse whisper, Bai Lan felt his breath catch.
“You…”
The embrace slowly loosened. Their eyes met, and everything seemed to need no explanation—it all made sense.