Several days had already passed since 03 revealed the truth, yet Lin Zhiji still couldn’t pull himself back from the collapse.
03 seemed to feel genuinely guilty about it. After promising to do everything possible to help him push for a higher task evaluation rating, it had disappeared — staying away for days without coming to bother him.
Lin Zhiji sat by the window. The book in his hands hadn’t been turned for a very long time.
He had believed that as long as he could work around the task system, he could not only help Xie Yi but also stay here himself.
But 03’s words had thoroughly shattered that delusion.
According to 03, the tasks had a time limit. He could only guard against the system for so long — in the end, what was coming would come.
In a moment like this, Lin Zhiji found himself missing Xie Yi deeply.
Since they had been bound together, they had never been apart for this long.
Before, he had been occupied with matters that needed his attention, and on top of that had been consumed with worry over whether his plan would succeed. He had managed to keep that longing pressed down. But now, suppressed for so long, it came rushing back on him in waves many times over.
In that state, he thought he heard someone outside calling “my lord.”
Was he so overcome by longing that he was starting to imagine things?
Lin Zhiji stood up and moved toward the door on instinct.
To his surprise, the door was pushed open from outside.
Standing in the doorway — who else but Xie Yi.
Lin Zhiji was frozen.
Even though they had only been apart for just over a month, it felt like a lifetime.
Xie Yi seemed slightly taller than before, his features more sharply defined.
He still carried something of the battlefield’s killing air that hadn’t yet dispersed, along with the dust and frost left by a long hard march, forming a quality that was both unfamiliar and deeply known to Lin Zhiji.
Xie Yi stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
The noise from outside was shut away, and the room fell suddenly quiet.
The sound of Lin Zhiji swallowing became startlingly clear: “…Xie Yi?”
“It’s me.” Xie Yi stepped forward and pulled him into his arms, saying in what seemed like a quiet exhale, “I’m back.”
Cold armor and familiar warmth enclosed Lin Zhiji at the same time, and to his own surprise, he felt a wave of something close to grievance welling up.
He suppressed the emotion rising inside him and wrapped his arms around him in return.
In that instant, the part of him that had been crumbling, and the uncertainty and distress he had been carrying, seemed to settle.
Xie Yi’s army had marched through the night — they had gone days without proper sleep.
So Lin Zhiji quickly sent him off to bathe, then went to the kitchen himself to prepare something for him to eat.
By the time he returned to the room, Xie Yi was walking out of the bath, a robe loosely draped over him, the vapor still clinging to his bare chest.
Lin Zhiji’s gaze swept over him — and caught several new wounds on his body.
The one at his side and lower abdomen in particular appeared to have only healed recently, its edges still tinged with pink.
Lin Zhiji’s brow furrowed.
Only then did Xie Yi belatedly move to pull his robe closed.
But Lin Zhiji stepped forward instead, and reached to pull the robe off him.
Xie Yi said deliberately, “You’ve grown bolder in the time we’ve been apart, have you?”
Lin Zhiji’s expression didn’t change. He pulled the single layer of fabric from Xie Yi’s shoulders, revealing the several scars across his back.
Hearing no response from Lin Zhiji, Xie Yi exhaled quietly to himself and drew him into his arms: “How can anyone come back from a battlefield without scars? These are nothing.”
“I know.” Lin Zhiji said, his voice subdued. “Eat first.”
Xie Yi was about to say something more, but Lin Zhiji had already stood up and taken out a dry cloth to towel his hair.
This was something Xie Yi had always enjoyed doing for him in the past.
But now that it was his turn to “enjoy” the same treatment, it didn’t quite work out that way — not that Lin Zhiji was doing it on purpose. He was actually being very careful, but he simply wasn’t skilled at it, and kept accidentally tugging at a few strands of Xie Yi’s hair.
Yet when Xie Yi saw the way his brow was furrowed and his eyes had gone faintly red around the rims, he found he genuinely had nothing to say about it.
All he could do was finish the meal in a state of suffering mixed with happiness.
And yet, this small distraction caused the anger that had been building inside him earlier to gradually dissipate.
Over the following days, Xie Yi handled official business during the day and spent his evenings with Lin Zhiji.
The two of them, reunited after a brief separation, were sweeter than newlyweds. Lin Zhiji was especially accommodating, and everything between them felt particularly tender.
It was as though the earlier tension had vanished entirely.
Songlü and the others let out a long breath of relief.
As expected, Young Master Lin always had a way. My lord had returned to his old self once again.
As the most prosperous city in Jiangnan, Jiangcheng was far livelier than Qingxi City had been.
Xie Yi’s return happened to coincide with the Ghost Festival.
With war breaking out continuously beyond its borders, Jiangnan, while still relatively stable, had inevitably felt some of the impact. Perhaps to ward off ill fortune, this year’s Ghost Market was being held more grandly than ever before.
Despite being called the “Ghost Market,” the streets were actually brightly lit, lined with vendors selling paper garments and ceremonial offerings for the dead, alongside others selling vegetarian meals and Yulan cakes.
Lin Zhiji bought one out of curiosity and found the taste quite good.
He offered Xie Yi a bite. Back before he’d had a body of his own, whenever he wanted to eat something, he’d had no choice but to ask Xie Yi — and in the process, Xie Yi had ended up trying many flavors he’d never had before. By now, his own tastes had grown more and more similar to Lin Zhiji’s.
Xie Yi had no objection, and bit into the same spot Lin Zhiji had just eaten from.
The two of them went on like that, taking turns until the small Yulan cake was finished.
After finishing the cake, Lin Zhiji noticed a crowd gathering up ahead.
He knew that on a festival like this, a stage would be specially set up to perform “ghost operas.” He had only ever heard of it before, never actually seen one, so curiosity got the better of him and he pulled Xie Yi along to go take a look.
But before they could even reach the front of the crowd, they overheard someone nearby say: “The five-colored robe altar has always been run by the Zhou family. Why has it changed hands this year?”
The person beside the speaker laughed. “You wouldn’t know — the Zhou family’s fortunes have collapsed. It’s the Liu family cloth shop now.”
“The Liu family cloth shop? Hiss — wasn’t their whole family wiped out?”
“I heard the young heir got away. Came back not long ago. Tch, clever and lucky too — only a few months in and he’s already pushed the Zhou family down. Even the five-colored robe altar slipped right out of their hands…”
The voices of the two speakers faded into the distance.
Lin Zhiji felt a sudden resistance pulling at his wrist.
The two of them stopped browsing and turned back against the flow of the crowd, heading back to the governor’s residence.
Compared to the bustling market, the governor’s residence was considerably quieter.
Lin Zhiji had taken it upon himself to give most of the servants the day off, leaving only the guards and Luo Zhitang, who was busy tallying up the count of the new military rations.
Xie Yi turned a palm-sized “ration cake” over in his hand. He had already experienced firsthand just how convenient it was — for daily marches, a single small piece like this was enough to sustain a soldier for a day. The taste was good, no fire needed to prepare it, and although it looked hard, it was far easier to eat than the dry, tasteless rations they’d relied on before.
The item looked small, but it was absolutely crucial to his upcoming plans.
He looked at Lin Zhiji. “Zhiji, this isn’t something Liu Muzhi could have produced. You exchanged it with your points, didn’t you?”
Lin Zhiji knew there was no hiding it from Xie Yi.
But he hadn’t expected Xie Yi to ask the question this directly.
It caught him completely off guard, and for a moment he simply froze.
Xie Yi’s gaze darkened slightly. “What — can’t say it?”
Lin Zhiji knew there was no avoiding it any longer. He clenched his jaw and said, “I’ll tell you the truth. Just not right now.”
Even if 03 had said this could only buy him a little time, a little time was still time worth having.
If Xie Yi found out the truth, given how hostile this world was toward him, it would only mean endless, relentless targeting. With Liu Muzhi’s name attached instead, at least things might go a bit more smoothly for him.
Lin Zhiji couldn’t forget the new scars he had found on Xie Yi’s body when he returned.
Even though Xie Yi had brushed it off lightly, calling them minor wounds, the ache in his chest had been unbearable regardless.
Even if he was ultimately fated to leave, for as long as he was here, he wanted to use everything within his power to protect Xie Yi.
He kept his head down, and so he missed the flash of disappointment in Xie Yi’s eyes.
Xie Yi hadn’t expected that even now, at this point, Lin Zhiji still refused to tell him the truth.
He would rather let Xie Yi’s suspicions stand than risk exposing Liu Muzhi.
He gripped Lin Zhiji’s shoulder, his ash-gray eyes holding back something turbulent underneath. “It’s a task, isn’t it?”
Lin Zhiji froze.
Before he could even open his mouth, Xie Yi’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Is that what you were about to tell me?”
Lin Zhiji: “I…”
“Zhiji, I’ve seen it.” Xie Yi said flatly. “The other system. Not yours.”
Lin Zhiji: !!!
He stared at Xie Yi in shock, wanting to ask when he had seen it — but the moment he opened his mouth, his throat closed up, and no words would come out.
Xie Yi watched his eyes and asked quietly, “Zhiji, do you also want to kill me?”
Lin Zhiji was overcome with grief. Before he had even fully registered the question, he was already shaking his head frantically.
He was moving so urgently that tears flew from his eyes with the motion.
He wanted to save him!
How could he ever want to kill him!
Xie Yi curled a finger and wiped the tears from his face.
“If you don’t want to kill me, then why can’t you tell me?”
Lin Zhiji clenched his fists and could only repeat: “Just wait a little longer. I’ll tell you eventually…”
Xie Yi’s fingers stilled.
He had always prided himself on being able to see straight through people — especially someone like Lin Zhiji, whose every emotion showed plainly on his face. But in this moment, it felt as though he had lost every ounce of his judgment when it came to him.
He stopped asking and turned to leave.
Lin Zhiji grabbed instinctively at the hem of his robe.
But this time, Xie Yi paid him no mind, and walked away with unwavering resolve.
The force of it made Lin Zhiji stumble, and all he could do was watch Xie Yi’s retreating back.
He stood frozen where he was.
All the strength seemed to drain out of his body.
But maybe this was for the best.
If he was destined to leave eventually, then maybe it was better for Xie Yi to be disappointed in him — or even to hate him.
But even knowing this rationally, his heart still ached, terribly, deeply.
The way it ached when his points dropped into negative numbers.
Except this time, Xie Yi probably wouldn’t come back for him.
Drip.
A tear slid from the corner of Lin Zhiji’s eye and struck the ground.
But in the very next instant, he was pulled hard into someone’s arms, wrapped in warmth and a familiar scent.
Xie Yi said, nearly gritting his teeth: “You haven’t done today’s daily task yet.”