“I’ve… never been there…” Princess Wenyang replied softly. As she spoke, she cast a sidelong glance at the Third Prince, as if by accident.
The Emperor’s gaze shifted to the Third Prince. In a clear, resounding voice, he asked, “What does my third son think of this?”
He deliberately raised his voice so that all within the grand hall could hear, placing subtle pressure upon the Third Prince—hoping he would act in the interests of the greater court.
“Your son obeys,” the Third Prince answered without hesitation.
The Emperor had not expected such ready compliance. Seeing the obedient expression on his son’s face, he felt both pleased and uneasy. Pleased, because it suggested the Third Prince might harbor interest in Princess Wenyang. Uneasy, because such compliance might conceal deeper motives.
Once they had exited Taihe Hall, the Third Prince turned his gaze toward Princess Wenyang and said, in a tone that allowed no refusal, “Would the Princess care to accompany me for a stroll through my courtyard?”
It was well known that the Third Prince’s private courtyard housed countless rare treasures, and that few were ever permitted entry. Even the Emperor himself could not intrude without permission. To be personally invited was an extraordinary honor.
Naturally, Princess Wenyang was more than willing.
Having gained her silent consent, the Third Prince suddenly drew her into his arms and leapt into the air, carrying her toward his palace. The wind howled past her ears as they flew; exhilaration and fear mingled in her heart.
His face was close—so close.
That cold, austere countenance seemed like a magnet, irresistibly drawing her gaze. For a moment, she found herself staring, transfixed. When she realized it, her cheeks flushed faintly.
The Third Prince did not so much as glance sideways. His arms, wrapped firmly around her, were steady and strong. Princess Wenyang leaned ever so slightly closer, feeling the warmth emanating from his chest.
In the next instant, her eyelids grew heavy.
Though she struggled to keep them open, her vision blurred, then faded.
Behind them followed a retinue of her guards—elite warriors of Lubei. Yet before their very eyes, the Third Prince carried Princess Wenyang straight into his private courtyard.
The guards were barred at the entrance and could do nothing but stand watch.
Not long after entering, the Third Prince unceremoniously tossed Princess Wenyang—like a sack—into the arms of a waiting attendant, then strode swiftly into the inner chambers.
Poor Princess Wenyang, even as she lost consciousness, still wore a blissful smile. Had she known how she was truly treated, one could only imagine her fury.
Qingzhu stood at the doorway and had witnessed everything.
The Third Prince had brought a woman into the courtyard—carried her in his arms, no less. Aside from Young Master Xue, he had never allowed anyone close. Could it be…?
Seeing the Third Prince approach, Qingzhu hastily dispelled his wandering thoughts and bowed.
“How long has he been unconscious?”
“About an hour,” came the reply. “Qingzhu and I only stepped out briefly to fetch some refreshments. When we returned, Young Master Xue had collapsed for no apparent reason.”
“Physician Li, what do you say?” the Third Prince asked, turning to the grave-faced physician.
“Your Highness,” Li replied, bowing low, “this old minister has examined him thoroughly. There are no injuries, his pulse is steady, and there appears to be no ailment… therefore…”
“No ailment? Then why does he not awaken?” The Third Prince’s voice carried a trace of chilling sharpness.
Physician Li dropped to his knees, cold sweat streaming down his face. Ever since Mu Xueshi had entered this courtyard, strange ailments had arisen one after another. Could it be that Heaven intends my ruin…?
The Third Prince drew a quiet breath and carefully lifted Mu Xueshi into his arms.
There were still traces of sweat on Mu Xueshi’s face—evidence of earlier distress. Seeing him now lying lifeless, the Third Prince felt a sharp pain twist in his chest.
“All of you, leave,” he said at last.
Suddenly, Qingya dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Your Highness, it is my fault! I mentioned earlier that Your Highness would be receiving a distinguished guest today… and I spoke of the princess. Young Master Xue must have heard and been distressed—that is why he collapsed…”
As she spoke, Qingzhu’s expression changed drastically. He, too, fell to his knees, trembling.
The room filled with sobs.
The Third Prince’s expression grew colder still. He gently stroked Mu Xueshi’s pale cheek, a flicker of pain passing through his eyes.
Whether their words were true or not, Mu Xueshi had been wronged.
I’m not dead yet… why are they crying like this?
Mu Xueshi suddenly felt as though he had awakened. He could see everything clearly—yet his body would not respond.
He tried to grasp the Third Prince’s hand, to give it a playful squeeze—but only his thoughts moved; his body did not.
A chill shot through him.
He tried to speak—but his lips would not part.
No… not this again…
He could hear the cries around him, yet he could not feel the warmth of the Third Prince’s embrace.
His heart tightened violently.
Only then did he realize—
If he had truly opened his eyes, the Third Prince would have noticed.
And yet nothing had changed.
Had he… not awakened at all?
Then how could he see?
Fear rose within him, but there was no comfort to be found.
“Leave.”
The Third Prince’s voice was low—but carried bone-deep cold.
Qingya and Qingzhu staggered out, their bodies unsteady, as though no longer under their own control.
Looking back at Mu Xueshi, the Third Prince noticed a trace of moisture at the corner of his eye. He leaned down and gently brushed it away with his lips.
“If you are angry with me… then wake and scold me,” he murmured softly at Mu Xueshi’s ear. “Do not… frighten me like this…”
No… I’m not angry… I’m not that greedy…
Mu Xueshi felt a deep ache in his heart.
Why would Heaven not grant him a few more words? Even if he were to die… or leave… should he not be allowed a proper farewell?
In the next moment, the Third Prince gently laid him back upon the bed.
Then he turned and walked out.
His figure gradually receded from Mu Xueshi’s sight.
Don’t go…
Darkness and clarity flickered before Mu Xueshi’s eyes. A crushing fear engulfed him.
As the last trace of the Third Prince’s robes vanished from view, a tearing pain struck him. Instinctively, he lowered his gaze—
And saw that breathtakingly beautiful face.
His heart plunged into an abyss.
At last… the moment had come.
Mu Xueshi remained unconscious for an entire afternoon.
Spiritual masters, famed physicians—no matter how elusive—were all summoned. Yet none could help.
The Third Prince’s heart seemed to fall into an icy abyss.
Though Mu Xueshi had suffered many ailments before, never had he felt such dread.
It was as though something inevitable loomed—something he could sense, yet could neither grasp nor hold.
For the first time, he felt utterly powerless.
Not because he had tried and failed—
But because, from the very beginning, he knew all efforts would be in vain.
“Open your eyes… look at me…”
He repeated the words again and again.
Fragments of the past surfaced—grasshoppers woven from straw, small cloth dolls, bowls of bone broth…
The pain of losing someone dear struck him once more.
He held Mu Xueshi tightly, as though protecting the most precious treasure in the world. His gaze, once clear and sharp, now held only fragility.
“Silver coin… give me the silver coin in your sleeve…”
A faint murmur broke through.
The Third Prince startled awake.
Mu Xueshi’s body was drenched in sweat. His breathing came unevenly, his complexion shifting between pale and flushed, his limbs trembling uncontrollably.
Mu Xueshi himself did not know how he managed to struggle awake.
A silvery glow filled his vision, as if something were calling to him.
He knew—there was no time left to hesitate.
Even if his soul were to scatter, he had to return the true Mu Xueshi to the Third Prince.
“…the silver coin… can save me…”
The Third Prince’s thoughts stirred.
Mu Xueshi had mentioned this before—the silver coin, hidden in his sleeve.
And the only one who had entered this room that day…
Was the impostor.
Whatever that coin might be, he would seize it at any cost.
At this point, he no longer cared for anything else.
The only thing that mattered—
Was giving Mu Xueshi even the slightest chance to live.
After struggling briefly, Mu Xueshi fell still once more, as though nothing had happened at all—like a fleeting illusion.
Realizing he had to leave, the Third Prince set mechanisms around the bed to guard against intruders.
After one last look at Mu Xueshi—who appeared to be peacefully asleep—he hardened his heart and stepped out.
Night deepened.
Princess Wenyang still lay in slumber upon a grand bed.
The Third Prince lifted the curtain and tapped lightly beneath her delicate face. Her eyes fluttered open.
At first, fear flickered within them. But upon recognizing the man before her, that fear turned to surprise—and joy.
“Where… is this?” she asked, sitting up.
“My bedchamber,” the Third Prince replied calmly.
She glanced down at her clothes—intact, undisturbed. Yet confusion lingered.
He answered her unspoken question indifferently, “The Princess must have been weary from the journey. You fell asleep in my arms before we arrived.”
“In your… arms?” Her face flushed. She turned away slightly. “Your Highness is quite bold…”
Before she could say more, she suddenly realized—
Her hand was in his.
Her heart trembled.
And before she could gather her thoughts, she allowed herself to be led out of the courtyard.
Futile Devices Scans 
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