The only thing I rembered was the pain—sharp and venomous, as if a snake had uncoiled in my abdon and struck from the inside.
“Careful, he’s not my bro—!”
I never finished the sentence. My vision blackened, and I went down like a felled tree.
I didn’t know how long I was out.
A draft brushed past. The paper window rustled faintly. Light spilled in through the gap in the curtain, soft and cool like poured glass.
I pried my eyes open with effort—and saw what looked like a “beauty-by-lamplight” painting co to life.
Lian sat by the window, cheek propped on his palm, lashes lowered as if dozing. The lamplight swayed across his face, half-shadowed, half-bright, turning those clean features into carved jade.
His collar was slightly loose, revealing a sliver of pale skin down from the collarbone. The overall look was like a rare crane kept in a gilded aviary—arrogant even in sleep.
If not for the empty bowl beside him ruining the composition, I might have thought I’d wandered into soone’s spring-dream tableau by mistake.
A thin film of brown dicine clung to the bottom of the bowl.
dicine…
A jolt of fear snapped through .
dicine? Eldest brother?
I shot upright so abruptly the mattress creaked.
“What—why isn’t my stomach hurting anymore?”
I pressed a hand to my abdon. No pain. Not even a twinge. Just a strange, hollow lightness.
Before I could think further, Lian stirred with a soft, quick sound.
His lashes trembled. His eyes cleared from drowsy to razor-sharp in an instant. In that lamplight, his gaze was unnervingly bright, like a cold spring—yet burning underneath.
He took one look at . Shock flashed, then anger.
“You were poisoned by Monthly Crimson—why didn’t you tell ? Were you planning to die right in front of ?”
Tsk.
My “beauty-by-lamplight” scene was ruined just like that.
I burrowed back into the blankets, blinked pitifully, and put on my best weak little-thing act.
“Oh co on, I just… wasn’t thinking. It hurt like hell earlier. Luckily you saved . What dicine did you give ? Worked like magic.”
Lian bit his lip. His expression mixed anger with helplessness.
“It wasn’t . It was your elder brother. He brought the monthly suppressant for Monthly Crimson.”
I froze.
“My eldest brother was really here?!”
“He was.” Lian’s tone cooled. “Dropped off the dicine and left. Seed in a hurry.”
Relief washed over . But the image from monts before I fainted resurfaced—the twisted, puppet-like silhouette at the door. My heart jumped.
“Are you sure it was him? Not… so fake?”
“You’re clearly still delirious.”
A familiar, irritating drawl ca from behind the curtain.
I looked up—Hua sauntered out, robe half-open, yawning as if he’d just woken from a nap in a brothel attic.
“If it wasn’t your brother, who else?” He flicked open his folding fan lazily. “You didn’t see his face. Man looked like he was about to breathe fire. If the sect master hadn’t stopped him, he’d have swallowed us whole. As if we were the ones who poisoned you. I swear, the way he glared, you’d think we owed him ten taels.”
He paused, gaze sharpening.
“Though—really, little Gong, sothing this serious and you didn’t tell our sect master? No wonder you were nosing around for Monthly Crimson’s recipe back at West Altar. Turns out you already—”
Sensing he was about to sermonize, I cut him off imdiately.
“Ow, ow, my head hurts—terribly—so sleepy—feel like passing out—”
Lian reached over and touched my forehead, frowning.
“Your brother said the suppressant can’t cure you, but it eases the pain. Since you took the dose, why does your head hurt?”
Hua raised his fan, about to smack , but Lian blocked him without even looking.
“He’s faking it,” Hua muttered. “Sect master—”
“That’s enough.” Lian’s voice carried an exhausted restraint.
That slight softness in his tone surprised , ward even—and perhaps because the pain had faded, or because I knew my brother was safe, or simply because both Lian and Hua were here…
I relaxed.
And actually fell asleep.
—
When I woke again, the rhythmic clatter of wheels filled my ears.
I blinked groggily. Morning light seeped into the carriage; everything swayed gently. I was leaning on sothing soft.
I looked down.
Not a pillow.
Lian’s lap.
I stared for a long second—then sprang upright like a startled cat.
“W-wait—why was I lying there?!”
Lian had been resting with his eyes closed. Startled awake, he steadied with one hand.
“Don’t move. You’ll hurt yourself. You were unconscious an entire day. You only woke just now.”
“Where… are we?”
“Out of the city.” His voice was cool. “Heading north.”
“Huh?” I hadn’t processed it when Hua’s voice floated in from outside, cheerful as ever:
“Little Gong, you sure slept well. If you’d stayed out any longer, I’d have tied you to the saddle and dragged you along.”
I lifted the curtain—Hua was driving the cart, hair sticking up like a shrub, a stalk of grass in his mouth, smug as a rooster.
“Hua, you actually volunteered to drive?”
“Please, I was forced.” He jerked his chin at the wagon. “Look at this craftsmanship, this woodgrain, these wheels. I bought the whole set—horse and cart—for thirty taels. Thirty! I didn’t spend that much even when I bought spices!”
I blinked.
“Thirty taels? You got swindled.”
“That’s because the sect master wanted sothing comfortable for your fragile little body. Told not to haggle. Otherwise I’d have stuffed you in a sack and tied you to the saddle.”
Lian huffed coldly from inside, tapping the carriage rail with a single finger.
“Say one more word and you can run alongside the horse.”
Hua froze, instantly smiling like a kicked dog.
“Right, right, not another word. Sect master wise. Sect master hardworking.”
I snorted—then smothered it imdiately when Lian angled his head, eyes sweeping toward like a blade.
The look translated to:
Laugh again and you’re out feeding the horses.
I cleared my throat. “Ah… yes. Nice cart. Very stable. Heh.”
Lian ignored that and said flatly, “You seem recovered. Good. Now tell us—what exactly is going on?”
A cold thud echoed in my chest.
Trouble.
His stare cut right through .
“What happened?”
He was too serious. Which only made more guilty.
What happened? What could I say? My life was tied to that old fox, the Eighth Prince. He’d threatened my brother and , forced us to search for the Blood Lotus relic under the banner of “national stability.”
As if that made it noble. We were nothing but pawns. If we disobeyed, he’d withhold the antidote to Monthly Crimson—one attack every month, not lethal at first, but agonizing enough to wish for death.
How could I tell them that?
If Lian and Hua heard it outright, they’d think I was secretly in league with the enemy.
And the Eighth Prince… his cruelty ran deeper than we knew. This wasn’t only about and my brother surviving.
My mind spun.
If only the system were useful for once—could help escape this lodrama.
System, I whispered internally, can’t you do sothing practical? Let exit the main storyline? Trigger a branch jump?
[Request detected. System response: Main quest cannot be exited. Please continue surviving.]
“…Thanks so much.”
[Detected sarcasm. Reminder: karmic retribution system active.]
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
I snapped back to awareness. Lian’s brows had already tightened.
“Focus,” he said. “Answer .”
I forced a weak smile. “Well… it’s not that big a deal…”
His eyes sharpened. “Are you dodging?”
“Of course not. I was just thinking—maybe all these troubles along the way are heaven’s way of telling us—”
“Telling you what?”
“Telling to stop talking.” I finished instantly.
Silence.
Even Hua in front probably felt the air freeze.
I tried to seize the mont to steer the topic elsewhere—when the carriage lurched violently with a sharp, dragging screech.
The whole wagon jolted to a stop.
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