It’s important to wipe off sweat quickly in cold weather, or you’ll get sick.
Lin Ting hurriedly used a handkerchief to wipe Duan Xinning’s sweat: “Did you have a nightmare?”
“I dreamed that you…” Duan Xinning had just woken up, her voice hoarse.
Halfway through, her voice broke into a sob, “I dreamed that you were gone.”
Hearing her choked-up voice, Lin Ting asked in confusion, “Where could I possibly go?”
Very quickly, Lin Ting realized that by “gone,” Duan Xinning meant “dead.”
She said bluntly, “I get it. You mean you dreamed I died, right?”
Duan Xinning, afraid the spirits might hear, immediately covered Lin Ting’s mouth, her eyes still red:
“You can’t just say that word.”
She was still shaken from the dream and shouldn’t have said it out loud.
Even in modern times, some people avoid mentioning the word “death,” let alone in ancient times.
But Lin Ting wanted to prepare them.
Even if she couldn’t tell or hint that she’d resurrect after death, she could use the chance to talk about death.
Zhilan agreed with her young lady and shook her head at Lin Ting:
“Third Miss is right, you shouldn’t say that.”
She comforted Duan Xinning, “Third Miss, dreams are the opposite of reality. Young Madam will be fine.”
Lin Ting pulled Duan Xinning’s hand down.
“Life and death are fate, there’s no need to take it too seriously.”
That said, she cherished her own life very much—she only wanted to use those words to advise Duan Xinning not to be too heartbroken when she eventually died.
Duan Xinning was still caught up in the dream, anxious and clinging to Lin Ting’s hand.
Lin Ting wanted Duan Xinning to talk about the dream, not bottle it up and scare herself, so she said, “How did I die in your dream?”
Duan Xinning refused to say.
Lin Ting didn’t push her so she only said: “Tell me when you’re ready.”
***
Before dark, the carriages reached the official post station.
Lin Ting was the first to get out.
As soon as she did, she saw Duan Ling.
Rainwater nearby formed a curtain, and Duan Ling stood in front, holding a blood-red oil-paper umbrella, not letting the Imperial Guard hold it for him.
In the rainy haze, things were hard to make out, but Duan Ling’s crimson daily robe was striking, making him easy to spot at a glance.
Lin Ting looked back at Duan Xinning and saw Zhilan helping her down, with an Imperial Guard holding an umbrella for them.
Lin Ting took the umbrella from the Imperial Guard with one hand and lifted her skirt with the other as she walked toward Duan Ling.
Duan Ling turned his head to look at her.
Lin Ting wore no makeup, her brows and eyes lively, silk ribbons and long hair falling in front of her.
Her orange waist-length skirt fluttered, and the embroidered shoes beneath were just visible as she stepped through the rain.
His gaze finally settled on the oil-paper umbrella in Lin Ting’s hand.
She liked to use things that matched her clothes for the day—the umbrella was orange, too.
Duan Ling blinked slowly.
The distance between them grew shorter.
Lin Ting walked up to Duan Ling, lifted her head, and signaled with her eyes for him to close his umbrella and step under hers.
Duan Ling’s striking face was even more dazzling in the dim light, his lips red and teeth white, as if he’d stepped out of a painting.
He looked at Lin Ting, and gradually, his eyes curved with a smile.
He stepped under her bright orange umbrella and closed his own blood-red one.
Treading Snow Mud Sect had just lifted the carriage curtain and saw this scene, then averted his eyes and entered the post station.
The Crown Prince sat in the first carriage.
He got out later than Duan Ling but earlier than Lin Ting, yet he didn’t go inside right away.
Instead, he stood not far away, staring at them.
Lin Ting noticed and looked over.
But she realized he wasn’t looking at them—he was looking at Duan Xinning behind them.
The Crown Prince’s gaze seemed to fall on Duan Xinning’s slightly rounded waist.
She was more than three months pregnant, so her belly was starting to show.
Anyone sharp-eyed could tell.
Lin Ting quietly shifted to block Duan Xinning from view.
Only then did the Crown Prince glance at Lin Ting, withdraw his gaze, and stride into the post station.
The Crown Prince knew Duan Xinning had come to Ancheng, but not why.
Her second brother Duan Ling was an Imperial Guard commander—it was easy for him to keep things hidden.
After all, the entire court was under the surveillance of the Imperial Guard, including the Crown Prince himself.
Thinking of this, a hint of dissatisfaction flashed across his brow, but he quickly composed himself, speaking with the post station staff without using his status to pressure them, yet still maintaining his bearing.
Lin Ting glanced at the Crown Prince’s back.
She remembered the Crown Princess had once invited Duan Xinning to the Eastern Palace.
Was it because of the Crown Prince?
The original novel never mentioned any entanglement between the Crown Prince and Duan Xinning.
Well, the original was a rather short restricted story, and a lot of things were left undeveloped—the focus was on the main couple.
Duan Ling followed Lin Ting’s gaze and saw the Crown Prince too: “What’s wrong?”
Lin Ting asked in a voice only the two of them could hear, “Does the Crown Prince know Lingyun?”
After all, the Crown Prince wouldn’t necessarily recognize every official’s female relatives.
Duan Ling: “He knows Lingyun.”
“Do they have any dealings?” Duan Xinning had never mentioned the Crown Prince to her.
Duan Ling brushed aside the silk ribbon that had blown onto Lin Ting’s face, took her hand, and straightened the umbrella and said: “Lingyun has no dealings with him.”
Lin Ting suspected the Crown Prince had feelings for Duan Xinning.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have looked at her belly with such a complicated expression, and the Crown Princess wouldn’t have cared so much about her marriage.
“Leyun, Second Brother. Why aren’t you going inside?” Duan Xinning called to them.
Lin Ting pulled Duan Ling inside.
The post station manager had already prepared rooms for them.
When they entered, he led them upstairs.
Lin Ting and Duan Ling shared a room, Duan Xinning was next door, and the Crown Prince was across the hall.
Lin Ting had barely put down her luggage when a Yizu came to deliver their evening meal.
When she opened the door, she saw another thin figure passing by in the distance, back turned toward her.
He wore plain clothes and had a waist tag, looking like another Yizu, probably delivering food to someone else.
The Yizu delivering their meal saw Lin Ting blocking the door and quietly reminded her, “Miss? It’s cold—eat while the meal is still hot.”
Lin Ting stepped aside to let the Yizu in.
After the Yizu put down the meal and left, she touched her now-flat belly and picked up the bamboo chopsticks to eat, afraid she’d eat too quickly.
She finished everything, but first put some dishes into Duan Ling’s bowl.
Duan Ling ate unhurriedly.
Lin Ting, her beautiful face wolfing down food, asked, “At the pace we’re going today, how many more days will it take to get back to Jingcheng?”
“Ten or so days.”
Traveling by land was much slower than by water.
Lin Ting couldn’t wait to go home and see her mother, Li Jingqiu.
“Good.” In ten days, she should still be alive—they’d be able to meet.
After dinner, Lin Ting left the room to stroll around the post station and digest.
She couldn’t sit still and dragged Duan Ling along.
Although Duan Ling had fulfilled his promise this morning to “remove the Nanli Poison after leaving Ancheng,” and they no longer had the poison in their bodies, so it was fine to be apart, Lin Ting was already used to bringing him everywhere.
It was still raining outside.
She walked a lap and stopped under the eaves to watch the rain.
Duan Ling glanced sideways at her.
Lin Ting suddenly squinted at the scene ahead.
Treading Snow Mud Sect stood in the rain with a pale blue oil-paper umbrella, expressionless.
A Yizu seemed to have annoyed him, and he looked ready to beat the man to death, dragging the Yizu into a secluded stable.
When they disappeared from view, she tugged Duan Ling’s sleeve: “Did you see that? The Factory Supervisor dragged a Yizu into the stable.”
Duan Ling was indifferent: “I saw. Do you want to help that Yizu?”
Lin Ting felt cold and pulled her hand back into her sleeve and said: “It’s not that I want to help, I just want to know what happened.”
She knew her limits—unless it was for family or close friends, she rarely risked offending others for strangers.
One had to look out for their own safety first.
Duan Ling gave a soft “Mm” and said, “I’ll have someone find out what happened later.”
Lin Ting was about to turn back inside when she suddenly felt dizzy and on the verge of collapsing.
She immediately grabbed Duan Ling, not wanting to fall flat on her face, and blurted out, “Hold me.”
She didn’t even need to say it—Duan Ling caught her in time: “Are you feeling unwell?”
Lin Ting opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but not a single word came out.
Her eyes closed, and she lost consciousness.
When she woke again, Lin Ting was lying on the bed in her room, with Duan Ling standing by her side.
There was also an old physician in the room, who held her wrist through a handkerchief, taking her pulse.
The old physician’s face was grave.
When he saw Lin Ting awaken, he asked, “Miss, did you feel any discomfort before?”
Lin Ting’s heart skipped—could this be the illness the system mentioned, coming so suddenly?
She nervously looked at Duan Ling, but asked the physician, “No. Doctor, what’s wrong with me?”
The old physician could tell Lin Ting was young, not yet twenty, and felt it was a pity.
He glanced at Duan Ling, then at her, sighed, hesitated, and finally said, “Miss, you… you have an incurable disease.”
Duan Ling seemed not to have heard clearly.
He looked up and asked: “What did you say?”