Without even changing her clothes, Princess Wenyang was carried into a sedan chair bound for the Third Prince’s courtyard. Along the way, her thoughts wandered endlessly, conjuring countless possibilities—
The Third Prince will surely apply medicine to me himself… perhaps even attend to my bath… bathe me…
“Ah—!” she murmured under her breath.
Heavens! How shameless am I?
She lightly slapped her cheeks with her small hands, her face flushing like a blooming flower heavy with dew. Biting her lip, she hesitated for a long while before secretly lifting the curtain.
Her head turned this way and that, her eyes blinking repeatedly—
But there was no sign of the Third Prince.
Her heart sank instantly. She hurriedly leaned toward the small window on the other side to peer out—
Still nothing.
Don’t tell me he left ahead of me…
A trace of annoyance rose within her. Yet as she idly glanced outside, she realized they were already nearing his courtyard. Perhaps he had gone ahead to make arrangements for her…
At this thought, her earlier delight quietly returned.
The Third Prince, seeing Sun Ye standing outside with an expression unchanged, finally allowed the tension in his chest to ease. He pushed the door open without a word.
What greeted him was Mu Xueshi, lying there in stillness.
The closer he drew, the more he sensed something amiss in the air. The moment he reached the bedside, his heart tightened abruptly.
Mu Xueshi was utterly different from the past two days. Though still lacking his former liveliness, there was now a fragile, broken air about him. His face was pale as frost, devoid of all color. His lips trembled faintly, and at the corners of his eyes lingered traces of tears not yet dried.
With a swift motion, the Third Prince unsealed his acupoints.
At once, Mu Xueshi sat upright and threw himself into the Third Prince’s arms, choking out, “Save me… save me…”
Even a heart as hardened as the Third Prince’s softened at that embrace. His large, warm hand gently caressed Mu Xueshi’s cheek as he asked softly, “What is it, Xueshi?”
“Let me wake… let me wake… I… don’t want to… think anymore…”
As he spoke, Mu Xueshi raised his hand and struck his own forehead fiercely. His teeth bit through his lip, his eyes shut tight, his expression one of unbearable torment.
In that instant, all the gloom and frustration pent within the Third Prince over the past two days seemed to burst forth. The medicine had clearly taken effect—otherwise Mu Xueshi would not react so violently.
He wrapped an arm around Mu Xueshi’s body, soothing him carefully, his palm moving gently across his back.
“It’s alright… it will pass… it will pass…”
Gradually, the dark visage within Mu Xueshi’s mind began to blur and fade. His struggles ceased. His entire body slackened, as though drained of strength, collapsing fully into the Third Prince’s embrace, motionless.
“His pulse is exceedingly weak. Young Master Xue must be carefully nourished and restored,” said Physician Li in a hoarse voice.
The Third Prince gave a slight nod, dismissing him. He then ordered Qingya to prepare the medicine and personally fed it to Mu Xueshi, spoonful by spoonful.
By the time they returned from Taihe Hall, it was nearly midday. The Third Prince did not even take his meal. Leaning against the bed, he held Mu Xueshi in his arms, tending to him with utmost care, watching every subtle movement.
From blazing noon to the setting sun, he did not once change his posture. Meals were brought and taken away untouched. In his eyes, there remained only the unconscious figure in his embrace.
Meanwhile, Princess Wenyang had bathed and changed into fresh attire. Her hair ornaments shimmered brightly, framing her delicate, rounded face. She had been settled in a separate pavilion—its status akin to a side chamber within the Third Prince’s palace. Compared to the other palatial halls, it was modest, yet still refined and elegant.
She had been waiting all along for the Third Prince to come see her.
Yet from beginning to end, aside from an imperial physician who came to apply medicine, she was left only with the lifeless servants in the room—silent as walking corpses.
“How dull!” she muttered, frowning.
Several times she considered going out herself, but then thought better of it. If she could walk freely so soon, would not her fall have been for nothing?
Thus, she could only sit obediently, waiting for the Third Prince to come of his own accord.
As the sun dipped westward, she dozed off against a long couch. Her head lolled from side to side until it struck the edge of the couch with a dull thud. The pain jolted her awake.
“Damn it!” she cursed.
The servants nearby did not so much as blink, as though they had seen nothing.
Thinking of the maids who had followed her for over a decade, then comparing them to these two, her temper flared.
“Are you blind?! Didn’t you see me hit my head?!” she snapped.
The two maids stepped forward from either side, their expressions calm. After offering a polite bow, the one on the left spoke, “What are Your Highness’s instructions?”
Princess Wenyang had expected them to tremble and kneel, yet their composure only stoked her irritation further. After several hours here, she had already realized these servants were simply lacking discipline—cold as stone, devoid of spirit. If she did not issue commands, they would never step forward to serve.
Her gaze swept the room before settling again upon them. With a soft scoff, she spoke arrogantly:
“You likely do not yet understand my future status. No matter… after all, you are but servants—naturally lacking in wit. Then I shall tell you. I will be the second master of this place. When the Third Prince is absent, everything here will obey my command.”
At last, a flicker of expression appeared on the maids’ faces—yet it was confusion, not comprehension. The Third Prince had merely ordered that this self-proclaimed princess be placed here; he had given no further instructions. If her status were truly so exalted, why would she be lodged in such quarters?
Before they could ponder further, Princess Wenyang’s brows arched sharply.
“Do you even know where you are?!”
Seeing no reaction, she sighed lightly. “No wonder you fail to understand. I’ve heard the Third Prince never allows outsiders into this place. I must be a special case. From now on, you’d best show some sense. If you fail to serve me well, the Third Prince will not spare you…”
“Yes…” the two maids exchanged a glance, utterly perplexed.
For a time, Princess Wenyang ordered them about endlessly—now fanning her, now singing for her, and when boredom struck, even commanding them to fight each other for her amusement, laughing gleefully as she watched.
Another hour passed.
At last, she could endure no more.
“You—go inform the Third Prince,” she said to one maid. “Tell him I am gravely ill and on the verge of death.”
“Yes,” the maid replied, turning away—and secretly rolling her eyes. Never had she encountered someone so unreasonable.
Then Princess Wenyang shouted toward the door, “Are you blind? I need to lie down—come here and help me!”
The servant responsible for personal grooming hurried over at once and assisted her onto the bed.
She closed her eyes—then opened them again moments later.
“You—place a damp cloth on my forehead. It will look more convincing.”
The maid swallowed awkwardly but complied.
When Mu Xueshi awoke, night had already fallen deep.
His eyes opened hazily, and what he saw was the Third Prince’s distinct, slender hand resting around his waist.
The moment the Third Prince saw him awake, his expression shifted. He turned Mu Xueshi to face him directly, studying him intently.
Aside from a trace of fatigue, there was no other change.
That fleeting moment earlier—when Mu Xueshi had thrown himself into his arms—had been like the brief bloom of an epiphyllum, shattering all the Third Prince’s hopes.
“Do you recall anything?” the Third Prince asked, gripping Mu Xueshi’s chin, a final glimmer of expectation in his gaze.
Mu Xueshi gave a faint, desolate smile—like a poisonous flower blooming upon the path to hell.
At last, he understood.
Why the nightmares plagued him. Why he had endured such torment.
All of it—had been orchestrated by the Third Prince.
Cruel indeed. In all the world, only the Third Prince could make him taste hatred so deep, etched into the marrow.
“…Heh. I remember.”
A flicker of unease stirred within the Third Prince, yet he refused to abandon hope.
“What do you remember?”
“My past… unworthy of recall…” Mu Xueshi’s gaze locked onto his as he spoke softly, “Are you satisfied now?”
In that instant, it felt as though the blood in the Third Prince’s veins ran cold and reversed. His grip on Mu Xueshi’s chin tightened, nearly crushing it.
“Our past… is ‘unworthy of recall’ to you?”
Meeting his bloodshot gaze, Mu Xueshi replied coldly:
“In my past… there was never you.”
A single, simple sentence—
Yet to the Third Prince, it struck like ten thousand blades piercing the heart.
So the embrace at midday had meant nothing. It was only the instinct of a man lost in nightmare, grasping blindly for comfort.
A cold laugh escaped him.
His hand shot to Mu Xueshi’s throat, tightening with brutal force. The gentleness of moments ago vanished, replaced by ruthless cruelty.
The pressure grew stronger.
Yet Mu Xueshi’s expression grew ever more serene—almost blissful.
He was telling him, without words—
He would rather die than remain by his side.
Fragments of memory surfaced—
“Xi… we were so good together…”
“If I had to let you go, I couldn’t bear it…”
“Master, thank you for caring for me these days… but I still think of the Third Prince…”
“… ”
The grip tightened further.
The Third Prince could almost hear his own heart tearing apart, inch by inch.
Why is it that what I have relived countless times… you refuse to remember even once?
Mu Xueshi’s face grew ashen, his lips turning violet.
Suddenly, as if struck by realization, the Third Prince released him.
For a long moment, he stared blankly—then pulled Mu Xueshi into his arms.
“I should not have rushed you… I said I would wait…”
His fingers trembled faintly as they brushed Mu Xueshi’s cheek.
Only when color slowly returned to that pale face did he finally exhale in relief.
“Eunuch Tai’an,” he called.
The door opened, and Eunuch Tai’an entered, head bowed, awaiting instruction.
“Prepare another batch of the medicine brewed at noon—double the catalyst.”
Futile Devices Scans 
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