The threads burned slowly. The Third Prince had intended for Mu Xueshi to savor the terror of impending death. Instead, Mu Xueshi used the final moments to pour out everything he had bottled within.
“We’ve only known each other two days… but the first time I saw you, I thought you’d help me. I must have been blind to think you were a good person… In my last life I was pitiful—no one cared about me. I didn’t think it would be the same this time… You didn’t despise me. You pulled me from the wasteland. Let me eat your food… sleep in your bed. I’m a prisoner, but I know… we weren’t on bad terms. Otherwise you wouldn’t treat me like this. I thought you must have your reasons… I thought you would help me… In the end, you’re the one tormenting me… I must be a fool… I even thought I’d come back to see you one day…”
His words dissolved into sobs. By the end, the prince could no longer make them out clearly—only saw tears and snot streaking his face.
Yet every word had been heard. And in them, no trace of deceit could be found.
The Third Prince reminded himself again and again: within these palace walls, there is no such thing as affection.
Brothers turn blades upon brothers. Even his own father had consigned him to this den of corruption, kneeling before him in submission, calling him “Third Prince.” And Mu Xueshi—memory lost or not—would see him only as a stranger. He had never known he possessed an elder brother cast into the palace.
As Mu Xueshi collapsed, he realized with a strange clarity that he truly felt sorrow. Perhaps he had never had a friend. When someone showed him a hint of warmth, he took it as a blessing.
He had not known how desperately he yearned to be accepted.
Pathetic.
Watching the sparks inch toward his lips, Mu Xueshi broke into raw sobs. No need to go back. No one would care. His mother would not even notice her son was gone…
“Xi…” he mumbled faintly.
He had wanted to know the prince’s name—the name of the man who had saved him and was now destroying him.
Before he could finish the word for “hope” xiwang, darkness claimed him.
The last thing he remembered was the spark at his mouth—and the prince asking how he knew that name.
Mu Xueshi was confused. He remembered that Ye Lü Xi was another prince’s name. Or was it a shared name? The questions tangled in his fading mind as despair swallowed him whole.
Just let it end. Don’t wake again. He did not wish to see his own shattered mouth.
The Third Prince grasped the thread just as it reached Mu Xueshi’s collar. His expression wavered between shock and something dangerously close to tenderness.
In this world, aside from his mother—who still remembered that childhood name?
Xi’er…
He had not heard it spoken in years.
Lost in memory, he did not realize that Mu Xueshi believed he had confused him with another prince.
Futile Devices Scans 
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