Dan Yuan and Xi Liu stood closely on either side of the watchtower, not leaving even a step of distance.
Seeing the situation unfold, they both stepped forward—one subtly blocking the way, the other softly and gently asking a question—to separate Yu Lin’an from Su Lingxi.
The wind at this time of year, whether in the early morning or deep night, still carried the heat of summer.
Just a touch on the eyelids could easily bring out a thin layer of sweat, mixed with a stinging burn.
Su Lingxi expressionlessly raised her hand to wipe the skin below the brow bone at the corner of her eye, trying to erase the lingering sensation from where another person’s fingers had pressed earlier.
Her gaze pierced straight through the ruins of the Forbidden Temple, now collapsed under swordlight.
She caught sight of a rune passing through Ye Zhuxu’s shoulder, embedding into his flesh and bones.
A brilliant red bloomed and soaked into the black sleeve, then quickly flowed down his wrist like a small stream, dripping.
He pressed the wound and met her gaze.
His eyes lifted slightly, pain mixed with a hint of surprise, and a smirk that seemed both mocking and amused—as if to say, “I gave you a chance. Why here?”
A miss.
Indeed, it shouldn’t have been just there.
Seeing the unreadable expression on her face and her silence, Xi Liu didn’t dare interrupt.
But the matter was urgent, so she leaned in and whispered, “My lady, His Majesty summons you to the palace.”
Su Lingxi forced down a surge of burning emotions, closed her eyes briefly, and when she spoke, her voice was slightly hoarse. “Understood.”
Things had escalated to this degree—something she hadn’t foreseen.
But there was no need to say more now.
She bypassed Yu Lin’an and descended the watchtower.
Seeing this, Yu Lin’an’s mind swirled with question marks.
Heaven knows, he really just came to watch the commotion.
In his head, the worst-case scenario was Su Lingxi fighting some monster—he never imagined he’d stumble into something this absurd.
If he had known, he definitely wouldn’t have come alone.
He should’ve dragged Sang Chu along at the very least.
Yu Lin’an sighed to the heavens and resignedly ran down the watchtower, straight into the shattered ruins of the Forbidden Temple.
At the fourth quarter of the Xu hour (around 9:45 PM), Su Lingxi entered the palace.
A palace maid approached to light her way, the glazed lantern casting a clear, steady glow that paused at the doors of Mingzhang Hall.
No one spoke.
Unusually, even this woman—who hadn’t inquired about the Emperor’s health or whereabouts lately—carried an unusually heavy air.
The long-serving maid who usually attended to Xue Hui couldn’t help glancing at Xi Liu, who pursed her lips in a silent warning: Don’t speak.
“My lady,” the maid said softly at the hall’s threshold, lowering her eyes.
“His Majesty is waiting for you.”
Su Lingxi stepped into Mingzhang Hall.
Mingzhang was the Emperor’s bedchamber, with five sections symbolizing imperial supremacy.
The eaves and ornate brackets were lined with beast figures on the roof ridge, and beneath them hung wind chimes shaped like startled birds.
Inside, the hall’s beams were made of nanmu wood, the floor paved with golden bricks—majestic and austere.
A cool curtain of pearl beads was lifted ahead of her by the maid, leading all the way to the imperial study and the Emperor’s desk.
The desk was neatly stacked with memorials and bamboo scrolls.
Inkstones, rice paper, and calligraphy samples were placed to the side.
A figure hunched over the desk, writing in silence.
The hall was so still, not even a sound could be heard.
Su Lingxi lowered her gaze, bowed with hands clasped.
“Greetings, Your Majesty.”
Xue Hui put down the brush.
Immediately, a maid stepped forward to support her arm and brought a wide chair.
She said, “Teacher.”
Xue Hui had been on the throne for over three years.
Her demeanor, voice, appearance, and even clothing preferences had all shifted dramatically from her time as a princess.
She now wore a bright yellow upper robe with clearly embroidered coiling dragons along the collar, and a dark red gauze skirt with dense script stitched into the fabric.
In the first two years, she would purse her lips unconsciously to appear more dignified, fearing she wouldn’t command enough authority.
But now, her expressions had hardened by habit.
Though her features were delicate, a single glance carried natural authority.
This “Teacher” was no longer spoken with hesitation.
“Your Majesty summoned me so late—what is the matter?”
Su Lingxi sat in the Grand Tutor’s chair.
Though she hadn’t entered the Forbidden Temple, she felt as if her palms and fingers were soaked in warm, sticky blood.
She couldn’t stop herself from frowning.
“There is no urgent matter in the palace. Please be at ease, Teacher.”
Xue Hui and her brother Xue Huai resembled their mother more—gentle and beautiful features—but once on the throne, that softness was completely overshadowed by the emperor’s crown and dragon robes.
She looked at Su Lingxi and said, “I sensed the movement of the State-Stabilizing Seal.”
“It’s been a long time since you last fought someone, Teacher.”
They sat across from each other at the imperial desk, both with poised, upright posture.
Their presence was equally composed.
This was the student Su Lingxi had personally trained—teaching her how to suppress tears and fear, how to walk calmly from the princess’s residence to the imperial court.
So, when Su Lingxi saw inquiry in those eyes, her first reaction wasn’t wariness—but pride.
“There was some friction with that side,” Su Lingxi said. “It won’t affect relations between Floating Jade and the mortal world. Your Majesty needn’t worry.”
When Su Lingxi acted, Xue Hui had no doubt in her.
Since the demon broke through the Heavenly Pillar, her Imperial Mentor had rarely attended morning court.
Their meetings had grown less frequent, and minor matters had been transferred from the Tutor’s desk to the imperial one.
This was a sign of relinquishing power.
She had no interest in it anyway.
But Xue Hui was more concerned about other matters.
After a moment of thought, she asked gently, “Earlier today, palace servants reported that preparations were being made for Zhang Jin to leave the palace. Does Teacher intend for him to depart soon?”
“Yes.”
Su Lingxi raised her brows slightly, already knowing what Xue Hui truly wanted to ask tonight, using the seal’s disturbance as a pretense.
“Bringing him here wouldn’t change your mind. He couldn’t persuade you—if anything, you’d use me to shut him up. Useless like this, what’s the point of keeping him here as some sort of temple idol?”
Her sarcastic tone eased the previously tense atmosphere.
Xue Hui’s eyes curved slightly in amusement.
“By next spring, there’ll be no need for Teacher to speak. I will naturally issue the decree for a grand selection. But now—monsters roam freely, the whole country is on edge—it’s not the right time.”
“A ruler who places the state above all else—that’s a good thing.”
Su Lingxi offered rare praise.
Xue Hui’s gaze softened.
She was twenty-nine now.
Her life had been almost equally split into two halves.
The first fourteen years were spent as a carefree princess, the apple of the royal eye.
Then, at fourteen, her father died, the royal family collapsed, and chaos engulfed the land.
She and her brother went into exile, hunted by rebels, poisoned by servants, with daily bloodshed and screams.
Until they were brought to Floating Jade.
There, she met Su Lingxi.
Back then, she wasn’t emperor, and Su Lingxi wasn’t her teacher.
They were friends.
Su Lingxi had many strange friends—some flew in from the sky, others surfaced from underground, and some even rode in on fish.
They’d wave to her from outside the courtyard pool, calling her name with cupped hands.
Su Lingxi would pluck fruit from the tree and toss it without looking.
A moment later, a surprised yelp would always follow.
Once the guests were gone, Su Lingxi would climb back onto the tree in the courtyard.
She liked resting or chatting with her head against the trunk.
But resting that way, she couldn’t see their faces—so she’d lie flat on the branch and talk.
If Xue Hui timidly looked up, Su Lingxi would hop down and ask, “Wanna go up?”
Xue Hui, pampered for years, had ridden palanquins and carriages—but never climbed a tree.
She froze, didn’t refuse, and instinctively asked, “How?”
Su Lingxi glanced at her and said naturally, “I’ll carry you.”
Fifteen-year-old Xue Hui gaped, eyes wide.
She didn’t quite understand what “I’ll carry you up” meant.
But in the next moment, Su Lingxi supported her back with one hand, slid the other under her knees, and lifted her in one swift motion.
Before she could react, her body felt light—she was already up in the tree.
She quickly grabbed the nearest branch.
Su Lingxi stood one-legged on a slim branch like it was nothing, leaned over, and unhooked the ornament on Xue Hui’s hairpin.
Then she smoothed out Xue Hui’s beautiful gauze skirt like flower petals, letting it drape down to her ankles…
Xue Huai didn’t join their conversations, but he often came out to drink his medicine.
He was heavily poisoned.
When the poison flared up, he would vomit, convulse, twitch, and faint.
He lacked energy all year round, with ashen lips and hollowed eyes.
Back then, they were all still young.
Drinking so much medicine was bound to be bitter, and long silences inevitably bred loneliness.
As time went on, Xue Huai began spending more and more time in the courtyard.
Su Lingxi usually came during the day and left at night.
After they became familiar, seeing Xue Huai suffering in the wind, she would sometimes ask if he wanted to join her up in the tree to listen.
Xue Hui was startled, unable to imagine her imperial brother being carried up a tree by Su Lingxi.
But before she could object in panic, Su Lingxi herself said:
“But I can only lift you up. My beloved has a sharp nose—if he smells the medicine, he’ll ask me about it and get sulky.”
In the end, Xue Huai still went up the tree—carried by his shoulders by Su Lingxi.
They all knew who the “beloved” Su Lingxi referred to was.
She was young, but knew deeply how to love.
Everyone in the world, regardless of gender, knew who held the place by her side.
They had also seen Ye Zhuxu before.
He would sometimes appear, quietly standing outside the pond, without giving any signal or saying a word, yet Su Lingxi would always sense his arrival immediately.
One time, she had leaves covering her face as she napped, but suddenly sat up, still dazed, and instinctively stepped on a certain point on the treetop and floated off.
Xue Huai and Xue Hui hid in the tree, secretly watching her “beloved.”
Yu Lin’an often complained outside that her “beloved” was thorny and violent, hitting people in the water mirror without care, sometimes nearly killing them.
But the first time the siblings met Ye Zhuxu, they thought he was extremely gentle.
Perhaps it was only in front of Su Lingxi.
He wore a pure black long silk robe that trailed on the ground.
When Su Lingxi burrowed into his arms, he would cover her entirely with his sleeves, revealing only her round, smiling face.
Later, Xue Hui understood that this was the posture of someone treasuring his most precious possession, filled with possessiveness.
But at the time, all she noticed were his sharp eyes, and how breathtaking he looked when he lightly shrugged his shoulders and smiled.