A faint trace of fear flickered within Mu Xueshi’s eyes.
He was truly afraid.
Had it not been for the Third Prince, he would have long since followed Grand Tutor Mu into the netherworld. And yet, the very man before him—this man—not only denied him even the right to die, but insisted on tormenting him in such a cruel fashion.
What exactly do you want me to remember?
Though he spoke not a word, the question was written plainly across his face.
From beginning to end, the Third Prince had been watching him closely. He could tell—Mu Xueshi was avoiding something. Even if he felt shame or reluctance toward the past, such stark terror should not accompany mere recollection.
“What I want you to remember—once you do, you will know,” the Third Prince said coldly, casting the words aside before turning toward the door.
The moment he opened it, he found Eunuch Tai’an standing respectfully outside.
“What is it?” the Third Prince asked, his tone indifferent.
“Just now, a maid came to report that Princess Wenyang has fallen gravely ill in Chun Nuan Pavilion. She is said to be at death’s door.”
“Heh…”
A cold laugh slipped from the Third Prince’s lips, the chill in his eyes deepening.
“Tell her—if she continues playing such tricks here, they may very well come true.”
By the time Eunuch Tai’an recovered, the Third Prince had already swept his sleeve and departed. His pale blue robe vanished around the corridor’s bend, leaving behind only a distant, solitary figure.
“When the medicine is ready, see that Mu Xueshi drinks it,” the Third Prince instructed Su Ruhan.
Su Ruhan paused, confusion flashing across his face. “Your Highness, why not feed him yourself?”
The question struck a hidden wound. A flicker of helplessness passed through the Third Prince’s eyes. His lips moved slightly, yet no words came. Without answering, he turned and walked toward the study.
He no longer wished to sleep in the bedchamber. Night after night, holding a body as cold as ice—such torment was worse than resting upon wooden chairs and tables.
Su Ruhan sheathed his sword and headed toward the pharmacy.
Even from a distance, the peculiar fragrance of the medicine reached him. He inhaled carefully, and a strange glint passed through his gaze.
“Where is the catalyst?” he asked.
The old woman tending the fire pointed toward a heap of discarded items nearby. The paper wrapping tossed there still bore traces of medicinal powder.
Su Ruhan picked it up, scraped off a bit of the fine residue, and carefully stored it in a small vial before slipping it into his sleeve.
Calculating the time, he knew the decoction would not be ready for a while. Unhurried, he stepped out, intending to leave the palace and make inquiries. His instincts told him this was no ordinary medicine—it was best to proceed with caution.
Passing by the Third Prince’s study, he caught sight of the man’s shadow reflected against the window.
Though he had matters to attend to, Su Ruhan found himself standing still, gazing at that silhouette for a long while.
And he could not help but recall the Third Prince beneath the moonlight the previous night—his face twisted in anguish.
“He cannot even remember my name…”
“I abandoned Linhan Palace for him—how can he be so heartless…”
Is the word ‘love’ truly so wounding?
It had brought even this once unassailable man to learn pain… longing… and to reveal a side no one had ever seen.
Meanwhile, the maid sent from Chun Nuan Pavilion returned utterly defeated.
She had thought that, at the very least, reporting would earn her an audience with the Third Prince. Yet she had been dismissed by a mere subordinate of a eunuch. Worse still, they had remarked that the so-called princess hardly seemed as noble as she claimed.
As she walked back, she pondered how to report this to Princess Wenyang. Though small and delicate in appearance, the princess’s temper was anything but mild.
Recalling how she had once been forced to tug ears with another maid for amusement, the girl shivered.
Best to put it gently…
“She’s here! She’s here!”
A guard leaned out from an upper window, spotting the maid below and calling inside.
Princess Wenyang hastily spat out the half-eaten osmanthus cake in her mouth into another maid’s hand, then shut her eyes and collapsed onto the bed, arranging her face into an expression of suffering—awaiting the Third Prince’s tender concern.
Time passed.
There was no movement.
Anxiety crept in.
What if I open my eyes and he’s already standing over me? Won’t that expose everything?
Suddenly, she felt someone wipe her lips.
Her heart stirred.
“Your Highness…” she murmured weakly.
“Princess, it’s me!” the maid’s loud voice rang in her ear.
Princess Wenyang shot upright and slapped the maid across the face.
“Where is the Third Prince?!”
The maid looked aggrieved. “His Highness says he is entangled in important matters and cannot come personally…”
“Important matters?! Important matters?!”
Princess Wenyang fumed, striking the maid’s head repeatedly. “What could be more important than me?! I’m practically dying, and he won’t even come see me?!”
“But… you’re not dying…” another maid muttered.
Princess Wenyang’s eyes widened, as though she would devour her whole.
Sensing danger, the other maid hurried forward to soothe her. “Perhaps His Highness is busy arranging the marriage between you and himself.”
“Hehe… that may well be…”
A smile slowly spread across Princess Wenyang’s lips. She swept her gaze across the room and declared:
“From now on, you will address me as Third Princess Consort. Do you hear?”
“Ah?” The servants’ expressions changed instantly.
“What ‘ah’?!” she snapped. “You must call me that. Those who do will be richly rewarded once I ascend as consort. And not just here—everywhere!”
The servants exchanged troubled glances, clearly unwilling.
Princess Wenyang, cheeks flushed, continued dreamily, “I am tired today… I shall sleep. Tomorrow, I will visit the Third Prince’s chambers—to see how my man toils day and night…”
Before long, Su Ruhan returned from outside, his expression grave as he headed straight for the study.
He knocked lightly.
“Your Highness, I have something to discuss.”
“Enter.”
Pushing the door open, he found the Third Prince standing near the entrance, his expression cold and severe, as though he had been about to leave.
“Your Highness, I had the medicine examined. It would be best to administer it sparingly. Taken in excess, it may leave one in prolonged unconsciousness… even strip away awareness entirely.”
“I know,” the Third Prince cut him off.
Su Ruhan drew a deep breath and ventured cautiously, “Then… in Your Highness’s heart, is that memory more important than Xueshi’s life?”
“Su Ruhan… you have changed,” the Third Prince said abruptly.
Su Ruhan’s expression shifted slightly. After a moment of silence, he replied calmly, “Yes… I have changed. I changed because Your Highness changed.”
“The medicine is ready. Let him drink it,” the Third Prince said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Su Ruhan nodded. Though he hesitated briefly, he eventually turned and left.
Within the quiet chamber, only a lone figure lay upon the bed.
Su Ruhan remembered—once, the Third Prince had never allowed outsiders into his bedchamber.
Now, the one unwilling to enter… had become the Third Prince himself.
Mu Xueshi opened his eyes.
Another unfamiliar face greeted him—sharp brows, bright eyes, bearing a dignified air. Though stern like the Third Prince, he lacked that suffocating chill.
But what did it matter?
Who he was… what he intended… what difference did it make?
Seeing the bowl of medicine in his hand, Mu Xueshi gave a bitter smile.
Another Yama in disguise… come again to claim my life.
Meeting his gaze, Su Ruhan’s movements faltered slightly.
What kind of look was that—so cold, so absolute?
Had he not heard the Third Prince’s account, he might have thought this an entirely different person.
The Mu Xueshi of the past—
The one who knocked on his door at dawn to train martial arts…
The one who hauled buckets of water, begging to learn acupoint techniques…
The one who, even while being beaten, cried out to see the Third Prince…
Could that truly be the same person lying here—so cold that even the air seemed to freeze around him?
The bowl was raised to his lips once more.
Mu Xueshi knew—no matter how he struggled, he would have to drink it.
As though decreed by fate itself—
to endure despair countless times, only to relive it again and again.
Without waiting to be fed, he seized the bowl and drank deeply—gulp after gulp—the medicine infused with double the catalyst.
A mocking thought crossed his mind:
Perhaps if I drink enough… one day the pain will dull into numbness.
Or perhaps Heaven will show mercy just once—allowing me to die here, at the height of agony, in this unfamiliar place.
Su Ruhan felt a chill in his heart. For a moment, he had even considered snatching the bowl away.
But Mu Xueshi’s grip was unyielding, his throat swallowing mechanically. In the brief instant Su Ruhan lost focus, the bowl had already been drained dry.
Afterward, Mu Xueshi lay back slowly, his gaze fixed upon the ceiling—like one awaiting death.
Watching him, Su Ruhan finally understood the Third Prince’s pain.
Only that face remained as captivating as ever. Everything else… had changed beyond recognition.
And yet, this expression—perhaps it suited that face more.
Only—it did not suit the Third Prince’s heart.
“…Do you remember me?” Su Ruhan asked softly, his tone far gentler than before.
Mu Xueshi’s brows knit faintly. His eyes closed, retreating fully into his own world.
Su Ruhan sat beside him, suddenly at a loss—unsure how to treat the person before him.
After a long silence, he rose and walked slowly to the window, gazing out into the night.
He could almost imagine how the Third Prince had struggled in this very room over the past days.
Perhaps… in his place, he too would have been driven to such extremes.
For once one falls into the snare of love—
how much of reason can truly remain?
Futile Devices Scans 
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