Chen Youzai’s soul transfer this time felt as though it took an extremely long while. In the process, it was as if he had passed through countless cycles of reincarnation—he saw the four seasons flash before his eyes in an instant. Meanwhile, he kept drifting through this strange space, until he was nearly swallowed by the currents around him. After a desperate struggle, the pain finally disappeared.
But so did all bodily sensation.
Chen Youzai found himself standing in a barren wilderness. All around him were withered trees and rotting leaves, and he himself wandered like a lonely ghost in this place that felt both unfamiliar and strangely familiar.
And in truth, he really was a wandering ghost.
Lowering his head, he saw nothing—no body at all. Just like the last time when he tried to transfer into Mrs. Chen’s body, he hadn’t immediately entered the body he was supposed to inhabit this time either.
The silver coin was gone. All he could do now was wait for his body to slowly shift into Mu Xueshi’s form. Or perhaps, he didn’t even need to. Since he had only come to see the Third Prince, he could simply leave quietly after seeing him—avoiding misunderstandings and future pain.
But now, even the silver coin had turned invisible. Chen Youzai had no control over his state; he could only drift along like this. And this time felt different from before. Previously, even though his soul hadn’t immediately attached to Mrs. Chen, he could still sense that he was “on the way,” as if some invisible force was guiding him toward his destination.
This time, there was no such pull at all.
He could move freely—wherever his thoughts went, his soul would follow.
He recognized this road. Back when they used to visit the Grand Tutor’s manor, the Third Prince often walked this path with him. Even on the last day he left, he had walked along here.
Only now, there was just one shadow left.
And even that shadow was invisible.
Not far ahead, a horse approached—two figures riding together.
The Third Prince held Mu Xueshi in his arms as they moved along the path at an unhurried pace. Just like before, Mu Xueshi slept soundly, his face buried in the prince’s chest, unreadable. His scent hadn’t changed—whenever the Third Prince shifted slightly, that familiar, delicate fragrance would drift into his senses, and each time, his grip would unconsciously tighten.
Was this fate?
Or just a dream?
The moment Chen Youzai turned his head, he caught sight of the Third Prince’s profile. Time seemed to rewind to two months ago. Back then, the prince had worn the same expression. They had walked this same road, in this same posture, close to each other.
Only now, the person had changed.
Only after seeing the Third Prince and Mu Xueshi together with his own eyes did Chen Youzai truly understand—he was never that person, never had been, and never wanted to be again.
Because now, seeing them together, he finally realized how vast the distance between himself and the Third Prince truly was. Not just the distance between body and soul—but an unbridgeable gap of emotion.
This pain far surpassed the loneliness and sorrow he had felt when he saw the Third Prince strolling with Princess Wenyang. This was utter despair.
If he could, Chen Youzai wished he could truly become a ghost, be reborn quickly, and forget everything that had once been carved so deeply into his heart.
Maybe… it would be better to remain like this, wandering the road forever.
Not returning to Mu Xueshi’s body at all.
Because even if he went back, even if the Third Prince treated him as before—it wouldn’t be because he was Chen Youzai.
He wanted to flee, desperately. But his soul clung to the Third Prince like a shadow.
From afar, it might have been bearable.
But being so close—watching how the prince cherished the person in his arms, completely unaware of the presence behind him—
It was unbearable.
The horse finally stopped beneath a twin tree. At this time of year, it was lush and full, its broad leaves forming a canopy like a great green umbrella, shielding the sunlight.
It was cool beneath the tree.
The Third Prince carefully set Mu Xueshi down. Seeing his lips slightly dry, he went to a nearby spring to fetch water.
Chen Youzai followed instinctively. The prince didn’t use lightness skill, but walked step by step, alert to every sound, quietly ensuring Mu Xueshi’s safety. His steps were steady—just like his heart.
He didn’t even know what he was thinking anymore.
The pain had already passed. Everything he did now was nothing more than unconscious habit. He had never imagined that habits formed over more than ten years could be broken in just two months—
And those two months had been a lie.
He dared not think about Mu Xueshi’s final words. Dared not recall the past few days. He would rather those days had never existed. He would rather Mu Xueshi had died the moment he changed—
At least then, his grief wouldn’t be tainted with hatred.
“Xi…”
Chen Youzai knew he couldn’t make a sound, but when he was only an arm’s length away, he still tried to call out.
No response.
Even when he placed his hand over the Third Prince’s, the prince simply continued reaching for a broad leaf to hold water.
Please… just turn around.
Look at me.
Even if you can’t see me—just a moment of hesitation in your gaze would be enough.
At that moment, Chen Youzai felt utterly pitiful.
As the Third Prince plucked the leaf, his hand suddenly trembled. A sharp ache gripped his heart. He felt as though he had heard or seen something—but when he listened again, there was only the sound of flowing water.
Nothing else.
Just an illusion.
Chen Youzai had already turned back toward Mu Xueshi. He wanted to borrow that body—just for a few seconds.
He didn’t want to speak to the Third Prince anymore. He only wanted to transfer into Mu Xueshi, retrieve the silver coin, and leave forever.
But when he got within a single step—
He couldn’t get any closer.
It was as if an invisible barrier surrounded Mu Xueshi’s body. Every time Chen Youzai approached, a force would push him back a meter.
Why…?
His heart dropped into an icy abyss.
He stared blankly at the peacefully sleeping figure. So quiet. So serene.
He could never take over that body again.
Never disturb him again.
He was nothing more than a nameless ghost.
Chen Youzai almost laughed aloud—laughing at himself for bringing this upon his own head.
A breeze passed.
The Third Prince removed his cloak and gently draped it over Mu Xueshi. One arm pulled him closer, holding him in his embrace.
At that moment, pale blossoms suddenly bloomed across the twin tree’s branches—one after another—before drifting down like falling snow, settling around them.
Like a silent funeral.
The Third Prince looked up. The world seemed drained of color.
He held Mu Xueshi close, unaware that another person leaned against him as well.
Chen Youzai suddenly recalled a poem by Rabindranath Tagore:
“The furthest distance in the world is not between life and death, but when I stand in front of you, yet you don’t know that I love you.”
Now, he felt—
The furthest distance in the world was not between life and death, but when I am right beside you… and you cannot see me.
Chen Youzai knew he could never return. Nor could he leave the Third Prince’s side.
He didn’t want to keep witnessing the past the two of them shared.
But deep down, that attachment to the Third Prince bound him there—like a shadow that could never depart.
For three days straight, the Third Prince neither ate nor drank. He didn’t even tend to his wounds. Every day, he would leave early with Mu Xueshi and return only at sunset.
The servants in the courtyard were all visibly anxious, yet none dared to speak.
Su Ruhan understood.
The prince acted this way out of guilt.
Though he wouldn’t admit it, it was clear—his care for Mu Xueshi had become meticulous, almost obsessive. Ever since he had ordered Mu Xueshi buried alive, he believed he himself had turned him into a living corpse.
And for these three days, Chen Youzai stayed by the prince’s side.
Eating when he ate, resting when he rested.
When the prince held Mu Xueshi, Chen Youzai would quietly hold the prince from behind.
When the prince fed Mu Xueshi, he would simply watch.
At first, it hurt unbearably.
But gradually, he found his place.
And in doing so, he let go of all illusions.
Futile Devices Scans 
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