The waning moon curved like a hook, while wisps of pale mist adorned the pitch-black night sky. Swaying Luozhi blossoms gave off a cold, melancholy fragrance. The Third Prince sat upon the bed, silently watching the serene face lost deeply in sleep.
“Your Highness the Third Prince, we’re so close. The person I like most is Your Highness…”
Those words, carelessly blurted out in a moment of desperation, now lingered in the Third Prince’s heart like the fragrance of the night-blooming flowers outside, refusing to fade.
Could a person truly lose his memory? Could Mu Xueshi have forgotten all the humiliation and torment the Third Prince had inflicted upon him, remembering only that the Third Prince had saved his life? If so, then both Mu Xueshi’s earlier declaration and the sincere look in his eyes when he had offered him the Zaoying Pod could be reasonably explained.
Should I feel flattered? Should I consider myself fortunate? In the past, he was unwilling to spare me even a single word.
The Third Prince laughed coldly twice. Of course not. He was not someone who could be moved so easily. When he was fifteen, he had led troops against an invasion from Lubei. After disaster struck, Su Ruhan had sacrificed half his life to carry him out of the encirclement. Stranded in the wilderness, Su Ruhan had even cut open both arms to give the Third Prince blood to drink. Yet even then, the Third Prince had merely smiled faintly and shown no other reaction.
The hand hovering in midair abruptly withdrew. The Third Prince despised the momentary infatuation that had overtaken him. Sinful blood flowed through Mu Xueshi’s veins. If he wished to be forgiven so easily, every drop of blood in his body would first have to be drained away.
It was time to settle certain matters.
Before leaving, the Third Prince changed into white robes, appearing coldly elegant beneath the moonlight. He then fitted the finest silver-thread mask he had personally prepared over Mu Xueshi’s face. Although it resembled an ordinary mask, it adhered perfectly to the skin without revealing the slightest irregularity. Moreover, it could be removed only with sacred water from Lingzi Lake mixed with the pollen of the Rouzhi flowers growing within the Third Prince’s courtyard.
Even if Mu Xueshi dared escape the courtyard and was seen by outsiders, no one would recognize him. He had been given yet another face—one bestowed upon him by the Third Prince for this month alone.
Ever since the Third Prince’s visit several days earlier, Consort Mu’s condition had worsened with each passing day. She faithfully prepared and drank the medicine he had specially sent to treat her chill. At every moment, she felt as though a pair of eyes were watching her from the shadows. Even had the medicine been deadly poison, she would still have forced herself to swallow it.
The oil lamp in Consort Mu’s chamber had been extinguished, leaving the room completely dark. Her eyes swept across every object around her. In her frightened gaze, the misshapen shadows had transformed into hideous monsters that watched her without cease.
The protective talisman beneath her pillow remained in place, yet it was entirely useless. For decades, the face of the person she had once poisoned had appeared in her dreams night after night. Consort Mu suddenly shuddered. Her vision blurred, and she seemed to glimpse a figure.
“Am I hallucinating again?” Consort Mu murmured. Suddenly, a face appeared directly before her—deathly pale, with two protruding eyeballs staring straight into hers with a hollow gaze. Consort Mu’s mouth flew open, but before she could make a sound, she vomited a mouthful of blood and fainted.
The Third Prince tossed aside the maid whose life he had ended with a single palm strike. He then tapped Consort Mu’s shoulder twice, forcibly awakening her.
Consumed by terror, Consort Mu opened her eyes a narrow slit. The dead maid’s face had vanished, replaced by another. Although this face was more familiar to her than any other, it was far more terrifying than that of the corpse.
Consort Mu tumbled from the bed and threw herself at the Third Prince’s feet. Weeping loudly in a hoarse voice, she pleaded, “For the sake of all the years I have called you my son, please grant me death! Truly… after all these years… I have had enough!”
“Whether you have had enough is not for Mother Consort to decide.”
The Third Prince’s eyes appeared unfathomably deep in the darkness. Consort Mu could not make out his expression, but she could feel a chill spreading from her head to her feet.
“However, I never intended to let you live until tomorrow morning.”
At those words, a trace of life finally returned to Consort Mu’s haggard face. She had never imagined that one day she would long so desperately for death. Once, she had been proud, haughty, and unyielding. Forget kneeling to beg for death—even asking her to speak a single conciliatory word would have made her sweep her sleeves and walk away. But now, living beneath another person’s mockery and control was far worse than simply dying.
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