After returning to the cave, Liehuo and Hanbing completely ignored Su Ruhan’s presence and resumed the unfinished game on the stone board.
This time, Liehuo was utterly distracted. The flat stone piece in his hand became nothing more than a toy to grind between his fingers. He held it for a long while without placing a single move, even letting out a few chuckles to himself.
Hanbing’s expression had already darkened. Hearing that inexplicable laughter, his anger surged, and he overturned his own box of stones.
Only then did Liehuo snap back to his senses. Looking at Hanbing, he asked bluntly, “What’s wrong, little brother? You look terrible.” As he spoke, he reached out to touch Hanbing’s forehead.
Hanbing slapped his hand away immediately, his cold expression unchanged.
This time, Liehuo couldn’t laugh anymore. Panic crept into his face as his fists clenched. “What’s wrong, little brother? When I see you angry, it feels like my heart’s full of thorns. Just tell me what’s going on!”
Hanbing remained silent. Though his expression was icy, there was a trace of calm amusement mixed in—as if he deliberately wanted Liehuo to stew in anxiety.
Liehuo’s face flushed deeper and deeper, his entire being like a blazing inferno. His bloodshot eyes swept across everything in the cave that displeased him—until they locked onto Su Ruhan.
“It must be you—you made my brother unhappy!” Once Hanbing was upset, Liehuo lost all reason, blaming whoever was nearby, completely disregarding Su Ruhan’s status.
Hanbing quickly interjected, “What does this have to do with Alliance Leader Su?”
On the surface, he seemed to be defending Su Ruhan, but in truth, he was protecting Liehuo. Su Ruhan might appear calm and indifferent, but if he truly got angry, injuring Liehuo would be effortless.
“You’re actually speaking up for him?!” Liehuo’s furious gaze shifted back to Hanbing.
Knowing there was no point arguing further, Hanbing turned and entered a smaller adjoining cave.
Liehuo was usually rash and hot-tempered, and when it came to Hanbing, he became completely directionless—like a headless fly crashing everywhere. Getting him to understand what was in Hanbing’s heart was harder than reaching the heavens.
Sure enough, Liehuo didn’t bother arguing with Su Ruhan anymore and hurried after Hanbing. But Hanbing had already sealed the stone door and cast a spell. Liehuo could only glare helplessly from outside.
At that moment, the Third Prince walked in. He saw Su Ruhan resting on a stone seat, while nearby Liehuo was pounding furiously on the solid stone door, shouting loudly without caring who came or went.
“Your Highness, you should return first. As for expressing gratitude, I’ll handle it,” Su Ruhan said, opening his eyes.
The Third Prince looked at him in silence for a moment before saying quietly, “When you return to the courtyard, come find me.”
Su Ruhan nodded, watching the prince’s cold, sharp silhouette disappear at the entrance. He knew exactly what the prince wanted to ask. He had never intended to hide his identity—it was merely to avoid unnecessary trouble. The prince had likely already guessed something, and Su Ruhan had long been prepared.
Through a small crack in the cave, Su Ruhan caught sight of Mu Xueshi tied to a horse. A faint smile curved his lips.
Liehuo, exhausted from pounding, slumped by the stone door, his face ashen. The spirited, domineering man from earlier seemed like an entirely different person.
Hanbing opened the door and stood there silently, looking at him. Much of his anger had already dissipated.
Seeing Hanbing emerge, Su Ruhan stepped forward and cupped his fists. “This time, I have you two to thank.”
Liehuo glanced at Hanbing and calmed down, his voice filled with helplessness. “Little brother, if something’s bothering you, just say it. Don’t keep it bottled up.”
“Get up,” Hanbing ordered.
Liehuo immediately sprang to his feet. The pallor vanished from his face, replaced by a healthy flush. His already handsome features now looked even more striking.
Seeing him like this, Hanbing’s lips curved slightly into a faint smile.
Su Ruhan was completely left out, but fortunately, his patience was exceptional. Even being ignored like this, he stood calmly as if nothing had happened.
After the brothers’ playful bickering, it was Hanbing who finally spoke to Su Ruhan.
“Has the Third Prince already left?”
“Yes. His Highness asked me to thank you on his behalf.”
Hanbing had wanted to ask why Su Ruhan was serving the Third Prince, but realizing it was none of his business, he let it go.
After bidding farewell, Su Ruhan didn’t return to the palace immediately but rode toward the marketplace instead.
The Third Prince exited the cave and mounted his horse without even sparing Mu Xueshi a glance. To him, it was as if the person draped over the horse was nothing more than a sack of grain or a captured animal—whether he was comfortable or not didn’t matter in the slightest.
Mu Xueshi, eyes red, secretly glanced at the prince several times, only to be forced back by that cold, cutting gaze. Before leaving, he had wanted to call out “Master” to Su Ruhan, but fearing he might not acknowledge him either, he only cast him a few pitiful looks before lowering his head and staring blankly at the ground.
The road was uneven in places, making the ride even more unbearable. The jolting pressed against his chest and abdomen until he could barely breathe. Several heavy bumps forced muffled groans from him.
At a turn, the horse stepped on a stone, causing a violent jolt. Mu Xueshi’s foot accidentally struck the Third Prince’s leg. The prince wore a pristine white robe, now marked with a glaring stain.
Before Mu Xueshi could apologize, the prince’s whip lashed down across his back.
The strike was merciless, tearing his outer robe and leaving a burning pain beneath.
Mu Xueshi cried out softly, not daring to scream. He could only grit his teeth as tears rolled down from his large, beautiful eyes.
After silently sobbing for a long while, he still instinctively looked toward the Third Prince. The prince’s face remained expressionless, as if the whip had merely landed in the wrong place by accident.
It felt as though his heart was being fried in boiling oil.
“You… blame me… for killing him…?” Mu Xueshi asked with difficulty.
“Yes.” The Third Prince answered without hesitation, his face as cold as ice.
“You wish I were dead… so he could come back?”
“Yes.”
“…I knew… I knew it was like this…”
He hated himself for asking. Knowing it in his heart wouldn’t have hurt this much—but hearing it from the prince’s lips felt like a thousand arrows piercing his chest.
Yet he had no right to complain. Everything was caused by him. The pain he had brought the Third Prince made the hatred entirely justified.
The more he thought about it, the more unbearable it became. Several times he opened his mouth to speak—whether to apologize or say something else—but no words came out.
Watching Mu Xueshi’s expressions and hearing his misplaced words, the Third Prince grew even more irritated. At this point, he didn’t even understand what the prince was angry about or what he truly hated. He had once thought Mu Xueshi’s change of heart meant something, had missed him to the point of agony—but now, standing before him, Mu Xueshi completely misunderstood everything.
When they returned to Qinyi Courtyard, the servants were all secretly shocked to see Mu Xueshi tied to the horse like that. Just days ago, the Third Prince had treated him like a treasure, always carrying him in his arms. Who would have thought things would fall this low so quickly?
Passing by the prince’s chambers, Mu Xueshi let out a breath of relief. Finally, they had arrived. Though his heart ached, his body still felt everything—the journey had nearly killed him.
But instead of stopping there, the prince turned the horse and headed toward Chun Nuan Pavilion.
Gritting his teeth, Mu Xueshi forced himself to endure. He didn’t know what kind of place Chun Nuan Pavilion was or who lived there. He could only remain draped over the horse as the prince rode on.
Princess Wenyang sat by the window, staring blankly into the distance. After days of shouting, her voice had gone hoarse, and exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Unable to leave or see the Third Prince, she had even lost the will to dress up. Her long hair fell loosely over her shoulders, her half-lidded eyes giving her a hazy, delicate beauty.
Suddenly, a maid spotted the Third Prince approaching on horseback and became wildly excited. Though she didn’t care much about the princess’s situation, hearing her ask countless times each day why the prince hadn’t come had worn her down.
Before she could speak, Princess Wenyang rushed past her, hurried onto the bed, and ordered the servants to tidy everything—straighten the bedding, remove the leftover fruit, clean up the room.
By the time the prince arrived, she appeared weak and bedridden.
The Third Prince drew his sword and cut the ropes binding Mu Xueshi. Pale and exhausted, Mu Xueshi didn’t even have the strength to dismount properly, slipping and falling to the ground without receiving any help.
Clutching his stomach, he followed the prince into Chun Nuan Pavilion. Having lived in the prince’s courtyard for so long, he recognized the rank of this residence—it was far superior to most. He didn’t know if he was meant to stay here, but compared to Linhan Palace, it was already a luxury.
The maids and guards bowed. The Third Prince glanced at them indifferently. “Where is Princess Wenyang?”
“Reporting to Your Highness, the princess… is unwell… and has been bedridden…”
“Not at all…”
Before the maid could finish, Princess Wenyang appeared, weak and frail. “Princess Wenyang greets Your Highness. Please don’t listen to the servants’ nonsense—I am quite well. I’ve merely… missed Your Highness these past days…”
She even shed a few convincing tears.
Mu Xueshi slowly lowered his hand from his stomach, looking at her familiar face. His emotions were indescribable. He had no right to feel jealous anymore—regardless of her presence, he had already lost any chance of regaining the prince’s favor.
After crying for a while, Princess Wenyang noticed him. She looked him up and down before turning back to the prince.
“Your Highness, this person is…?”
Before the prince could answer, a maid whispered, “Princess, that is Young Master Xue.”
So, you refused the road to heaven and instead chose the gate to hell…
A vicious glint flashed in Princess Wenyang’s eyes, sending a chill through even the nearby guards.
The Third Prince said calmly, “He will be staying here. And you—you’ll return to my chambers with me.”
Princess Wenyang nearly screamed with joy, but a quick-thinking maid tugged her sleeve, reminding her she was supposed to be ill. She swallowed her excitement, managing only a weak “Mm.”
Though her face looked frail and shy, inside she was overjoyed.
How the tides have turned… she thought, eyeing Mu Xueshi. No matter how favored you were, you’re still just a man. How could you compare to someone like me? Once I gain favor, you won’t even have a place to stand…
Futile Devices Scans 
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