Jiang Suifeng watched helplessly as Quan Rui left, feeling momentarily at a loss.
Usually, she was the easiest to coax—he had no idea what had gotten into her today.
Although a sense of unease lingered, he couldn’t pinpoint the source, so he cursed under his breath and returned to his own courtyard.
As for Quan Heng, after Quan Rui left, she felt suddenly exhausted and fell into a deep sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
She didn’t know how long had passed—perhaps it was already midnight—when she awoke feeling sticky all over, terribly uncomfortable. Groaning, she opened her eyes.
To her shock, she saw someone sitting at her bedside.
The room was too dark to see clearly. She thought it was an intruder and almost screamed.
But in the next moment, she was pulled tightly into someone’s embrace.
Only after catching the familiar scent of the person before her did she relax completely.
“Ah Zheng, why are you here? It’s the middle of the night. Aren’t you sleeping?”
The person didn’t respond—he simply buried his face into the crook of her neck and hugged her even tighter.
Quan Heng tried to pull away, but then she felt something damp on her shoulder—as if he were crying.
Startled, she quickly asked, “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you?”
At her words, Ah Zheng lifted his head and looked at her seriously. “You bullied me. In this world, only you… can hurt me.”
At that moment, moonlight spilled into the room through the window, illuminating it. She looked up and saw that Ah Zheng’s eyes were bloodshot from crying, so red they were almost frightening.
“When you hurt yourself, you’re hurting me too. Do you understand that?”
Quan Heng was momentarily speechless, her breath caught as his voice trembled.
“Since dusk, you’ve been burning up again. Only just now has the fever broken. I was terrified you’d end up like that time at the manor, never waking up again. If you left me, what would I do?”
So that’s what happened. No wonder she felt sticky—she’d sweat through her fever.
It was true: the pond earlier had been icy cold. She’d shivered when she jumped in, but had been too focused on saving someone to notice.
Looking at Ah Zheng’s grief-stricken face, countless memories came rushing back to Quan Heng.
She remembered how, after falling ill at Bai Xue Manor months ago, she would often wake in the night and find Ah Zheng sitting at her bedside—every single time, startling her.
She had thought he was just overly anxious and that it would pass with time.
But now, he was still like this.
If this bad habit had never changed, she wondered whether he’d had a proper night’s sleep in all that time.
Her heart ached. She reached out to wipe his tears and softly said, “It’s alright now. I’m fine, the fever’s gone. It’s not serious. You can rest easy and go sleep.”
But Ah Zheng didn’t respond. Instead, he said coldly, “Why did you save him?”
Quan Heng was stunned. Her fever had just broken, and her mind was still foggy. It took her a moment to register what he meant.
Seeing her silence, Ah Zheng grew more agitated and pressed again:
“I’m asking you—why did you save that wretched Sixth Prince?!”
As he spoke, his eyes were blood-red, veins bulging at his neck. He looked utterly terrifying.
Startled by his appearance, Quan Heng dared not speak.
Seeing her confused expression, something snapped in Ah Zheng. He suddenly climbed onto the bed and pinned Quan Heng beneath him.
“You have no blood ties to him. Why would you risk your life to save him? Do you know that if you hadn’t come back today, I would’ve gone mad?!”
Looking at the crazed look in his eyes, Quan Heng didn’t doubt his words for a second.
But even though his face was twisted with rage, in the blink of an eye, tears began to fall, landing on her cheek.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She knew his fury was just a front—his true nature was fragile beneath it all.
Faced with him like this, she couldn’t say a single harsh word.
“Because that child looked like you.”
At that, the man froze.
In an instant, all his hostility melted away. He went from a snarling tiger to a docile kitten.
Quan Heng raised a hand and cupped his face.
“That child looked so much like you—just like how you were as a boy. Faced with that face, I couldn’t bear to let him die.”
“If I hadn’t saved him, I might’ve regretted it for the rest of my life.”
Ah Zheng’s tears flowed even more.
Drop by drop, they fell onto her body. But Quan Heng didn’t push him away. She simply wrapped her arms around him, letting him cry in silence.
In that moment, his head ached terribly, and a flood of memories surged in his mind.
The Sixth Prince’s face emerged in his memory.
So it was true—he really wasn’t Shen Zhengyu. He was Wen Zheng.
He wasn’t a scholar, but a blood-soaked demon.
So many times, Ah Heng had wished his hands would stay clean, that he could be as pure as the bright moon and gentle wind.
But he hadn’t been that person for a long time. Long before he met her, he had already walked through mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.
In this life, his hands could never be clean again.
He was afraid—terrified that if Ah Heng one day learned the truth, she would loathe him and leave him. That was something he could never accept.
And yet, even now, he had to maintain the act—flawless and airtight—so he could deceive the world.
He didn’t want to be the crown prince anymore. He just wanted to stay by her side.
Returning to the present, Wen Zheng clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug deep into his palms, but he didn’t even notice.
If he hadn’t been avoiding trouble by refusing to go to the palace, Ah Heng wouldn’t have been hurt.
“Ah Heng, I keep failing you—again and again. Do you resent me?”
Quan Heng patted his back gently, trying to soothe him. “How could I? You’ve already done so much. Besides, we’re friends. It’s not right for only you to give—I should give too. I should protect you as well.”
But something in her words seemed to trigger him again.
He sat up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto her.
“Ah Heng, in your eyes… are we just ordinary friends?”
Hearing that, Quan Heng felt awkward. Her eyes widened, and she turned her face away. “…Of course not just that. We’re close friends—we grew up together…”
Her voice grew softer and softer, increasingly guilty, until only she could hear it. “…We’re not just ordinary friends.”
The next second, she felt her world spin—he had pulled her into a tight embrace.
A wet kiss fell on her lips.
Ah Zheng seemed furious—his strength was rough. He bumped into her lips several times but wouldn’t let go.
The pain brought a metallic taste to her mouth. Frowning, Quan Heng tried to push him away, but she was too weak—it was useless.
By the time the kiss ended, her eyes were brimming with tears, and they spilled over with a blink.
Seeing that he had made her cry, he was filled with guilt and kissed away her tears again and again.
“I’m sorry, Ah Heng… I lost control just now…”
Quan Heng understood, but she still felt wronged, so she didn’t respond.
“I just feel so useless. If I could, I’d lock you up so you’d never go out again, never get hurt again.”
Hearing that, she was shocked at first, but soon broke into a teary laugh.
She thought he sounded adorably silly.
Locking someone up—that was something only that d*mned Crown Prince would do.
As for Ah Zheng, she believed in him. He would never do something like that.
“Alright, alright. I forgive you for what happened today. Don’t be mad anymore, okay?”
She gently pried open his clenched fingers and placed her hand in his palm.
“I know you’re scared. I promise—I won’t recklessly risk my life again, alright? Let’s not joke like this again.”
Wen Zheng hummed softly and held her close again. “Okay, no more jokes.”
Though he said that, only he knew—
That wasn’t a joke at all.
This life he had now—it felt like a dream that could shatter at any moment. If locking her up meant preventing all future danger… he would do it.
Earlier, when he asked if they were just ordinary friends, she rambled on and on.
But all Wen Zheng heard was: “We grew up together.”
In that instant, his rage nearly overwhelmed him—it felt like his heart was burning.
Yes, it was only because he had been mistaken for her childhood friend that he was able to stay by her side. And he had no intention of ever revealing the truth.
But if the feelings between the two of them had only arisen because of that Shen Zhengyu, then just thinking about it was enough to burn away all his reason.
No matter how one looked at it, it would be better to keep her locked up.
And yet, at this moment, looking into her damp eyes, he truly couldn’t bear to do it.
She was such a good person—kind and brave.
She should be like a bird flying freely, not a flower withering away in captivity because of him.
Forget it. As long as she’s happy, then all the pain—he would bear it alone.
***
The next morning, before Quan Heng had even fully woken, Ziyun came in to say that Quan Rui was already sitting in the courtyard.
Rubbing her eyes, Quan Heng got up to wash.
She had sweated through the night and felt sticky all over. Only after taking a bath did she feel refreshed again.
By the time all was done, half an hour had passed. But when they met, Quan Rui showed not the slightest hint of impatience.
Seeing Quan Heng give a weak cough or two, she even looked slightly worried.
“Older sister, are you alright? Didn’t the imperial physician say there was nothing serious yesterday? Why are you sick now?”
Quan Heng took a sip of warm water to soothe her throat and finally felt a bit better.
“It’s nothing. I just had a fever last night. It’s gone now—don’t worry. But what about you? Did something urgent bring you here?”
As soon as she finished speaking, she noticed Quan Rui seemed nervous, her hands twisting the hem of her clothes unconsciously. After a moment of silence, she finally gathered the courage to speak.
“Older sister, I left too hastily yesterday and didn’t get a chance to tell you a lot of things.”
Lowering her head, she continued, “I wanted to apologize… These past few days, I’ve harbored resentment toward you and caused you distress. I’m sorry.”
