He didn't know the truth. All he knew was that she was dead. He had heard the blade strike her flesh. In the blink of an eye, she had been separated from him by the veil of life and death.
It was dark. His head throbbed, every inch of his body aching, but it was nothing compared to the agony in his heart. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.
Suddenly, a cool touch on his forehead. Through the mist, a figure approached. Black night gear, a dark gold hairpin in her hair.
"Ling Yan," he whispered.
She didn't answer. She stopped ten paces away, staring at him.
He tried to go to her, but no matter how much he walked, the distance remained the same. The mist thickened, swallowing her whole. The ground vanished beneath his feet.
He ran toward her. Suddenly, he was falling.
"Ah!" He gasped, his eyes snapping open.
Bright sunlight pierced his vision. He shielded his eyes, blinking.
A familiar room. His own bedchamber. He sat up, rubbing his temples. His strength had returned. The internal energy that had been sealed in his dantian was flowing freely again.
But what use was it now?
He let his hand fall, his head bowed in despair.
In his peripheral vision, a shadow crossed the threshold.
A slender figure. Hair tied back with a dark gold hairpin.
He froze. He didn't dare look. The silhouette was too familiar. He couldn't bear the disappointment if it wasn't her.
"You're awake?"
The voice was like a silver bell—her voice, but brighter, laced with a smile he hadn't heard in so long.
Impossible. His hand clenched into a fist on the bedsheet, trembling. Is it her? Or is this just a dream?
"I brought your medicine." She stood a few feet away, hesitating. "I'll put it on the table."
Clink. The bowl touched the wood. She stepped back.
"Don't go." He launched himself from the bed, pulling her into his arms. Even if it was a dream, he had to hold her one last time.
She stiffened, letting him crush her against him.
He buried his face in her neck, murmuring over and over, "I'm sorry, Ling Yan. I'm so sorry."
His warmth seeped into her skin, melting the ice in her heart. Her hand hesitated, then rested on his waist.
"I don't blame you." Her voice was soft, ethereal as a dream.
"I thought three days was enough. I thought my brother wouldn't be so heartless." His voice broke with a sob. "I watched you die. All my skill, all my power, and I couldn't save the woman I love."
"Because the night you returned, the Fifth Prince had your food drugged to sap your strength," she whispered against his chest. "It wasn't your fault."
"No. You wouldn't forgive me. I know you hated me. Why else… why else wouldn't you look up at me at the end?" He shuddered, holding her tighter. "But you couldn't let me go, could you? So you came back to me in a dream."
"This isn't a dream." She pushed against his chest, creating a small space between them. "Feiyan, I'm back. I'm really back."
He stared at her, confused. He looked around the room, then at his hand on her shoulder.
Shock gave way to disbelief, then, slowly, to a joy that broke over his face like the sun breaking through clouds. He pulled her close again, burying his face in her hair.
"You're back. Ling Yan, you're really back."
She had never seen him lose control like this. She let him hold her, whispering her name like a prayer.
Finally, he calmed. He led her to the bed and sat her down, keeping his arm around her waist, refusing to let go.
She looked into his dark eyes. Only her reflection was there.
"It was the Princess Consort," she said softly. "She saved me."
Three days ago, in the heavenly prison.
Ling Yan sat on the straw, resigned to her fate, toying with the gold hairpin.
Footsteps. The cell door opened. A pair of black boots appeared.
She looked up. Murong Jin, dressed in black, pulled the veil from her face.
"We meet again." Murong Jin sat on the floor opposite her.
"Princess Consort? What are you doing here?" Ling Yan looked back down at the pin.
"What do you think?" Murong Jin smiled, as if they were chatting in a tea house, not a dungeon.
"I did as you asked. I am grateful for what you did for my master. But you shouldn't be here. Please leave."
"I came to save your life."
Ling Yan sneered. "Do I still have some use to you?"
"Of course." Murong Jin answered frankly. "And this time, I need you to do something of life and death importance."
"I am already a dead woman. I cannot help you." Ling Yan tucked the pin into her sleeve and stood. "Please leave."
Murong Jin stood as well. "It concerns Xue Feiyan."
Ling Yan froze. She whirled around, her eyes filled with killing intent. Her hand tightened on the hairpin.
Murong Jin ignored the threat. "If you die, Xue Feiyan might live, but he will be dead inside."
"He is a man. He will survive."
"You overestimate his strength. He lost his mother young. He grew up with you. You are his treasure. His heart cannot take another loss. If you are gone, how will he walk the path alone?"
Ling Yan's nails dug into her palms. But what use was this? How could she drag him into danger again for her sake?
"He has Lady Deng." She forced her voice to be steady.
"Deng Qinyu?" Murong Jin laughed. "If he truly cared for her, would Deng Qinyao have betrayed him? Ling Yan, you know best how he feels about you. Curing your cough was all for what happens in three days."
Three days? The execution? Ling Yan looked at her, confused.
Murong Jin smiled and opened her hand. A pill lay on her palm.
"What is this?"
"Take it. On the day, I will swap you out and send you back to the Seventh Prince's residence."
Ling Yan thought for a moment, then understood. "So that I wouldn't cough. So that I wouldn't make a sound on the scaffold."
"I couldn't find a condemned prisoner with a cough like yours."
Xue Feiyan listened, his brow furrowed, then slowly relaxing. He sighed.
"And here I thought you hated me so much you wouldn't even look at me." He feigned a hurt tone. "I nearly died for you, and you kept it from me."
She lowered her head, twisting her fingers. "I'm sorry. Can you… not blame me?"
She still took every word he said so seriously. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.
"Silly girl. You're safe. I'm too happy to blame you."
"Really?" She looked up, her eyes shining.
"Really." He wasn't smiling now. Murong Jin was right. Without Ling Yan, he was already dead.