The mad princess forces love upon him, and the aloof imperial advisor trembles every night.

Si Chen asked no more questions. He pointed his fingers like a sword and touched the cinnabar scar between her brows, channeling a cool and gentle spiritual energy into it, attempting to soothe her rampaging internal energy. However, the moment his spiritual energy entered, it was as if he had flipped a switch—

Chu Qingyue suddenly opened her eyes!

"Ugh—!" She finally let out a suppressed roar, which was low and broken by the silencing spell, but it still carried a heart-wrenching pain.

She abruptly broke free from his grasp, grabbed his wrist with her own, and dug her nails deep into his flesh, drawing blood. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with confusion and madness, tears streaming down her face, yet still tinged with hatred.

Si Chen stared, stunned, at those eyes. He let her pinch him, not struggling. He raised his other hand, hesitated for a moment, and finally gently covered her tear-stained, cold cheek. His fingertips carefully wiped away the traces mixed with blood and tears.

"Chu Qingyue." His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a sigh he himself didn't even realize, "Hate can't save you."

Chu Qingyue seemed to have heard clearly, yet also seemed not to have.

She just stared intently into his eyes, which were so close to hers. After a few breaths, she suddenly let go, and fell backward as if all her strength had left her, crashing to the ground with the rattling of the chains.

She lay there, gazing at the stars twinkling in the sky, gasping for breath, tears silently streaming down her face, settling into her disheveled black hair.

Si Chen withdrew his hand. The bloodstains on his wrist, which she had pinched, would not heal on their own and remained there, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

He stared at her silently for a long time. His gaze moved from her tear-streaked eyelashes to her pale lips, then to her thin chest, and finally to her limp wrists.

Finally, he raised his hand and pointed in the air. Then, he untied the black iron chain on one of her wrists and lifted the silencing spell.

"Speak," he commanded.

Chu Qingyue coughed as she propped herself up, her voice hoarse and broken: "...Release the Spirit Sealing Seal."

"Impossible." The refusal was firm and left no room for negotiation.

"At least that lets me move," she said, pointing to the chain on her other wrist. "It lets me move a little. Hanging like this, I can't even meditate or regulate my breathing. Do you really want to see my meridians shatter and I die on this platform?"

Si Chen looked at her pale and haggard face. The crimson in her eyes was slightly dimmed by the tears, but it still burned stubbornly.

Finally, he flicked his sleeve. The other black iron chain fell to the ground, leaving only the chain on his foot.

Chu Qingyue staggered to her feet, moving her stiff wrists and ankles.

She still wore those pale gold rune shackles, her killing techniques were forbidden, but at least she could move freely, albeit with the sound of chains.

"Thank you," she said in a hoarse voice, her tone lacking sincerity.

Si Chen turned and walked back to the prayer mat, sat down cross-legged again, and closed his eyes. "Just this once."

His voice returned to its indifferent tone: "If you dare to attack me again, or attempt to harm yourself or destroy the formation, the chains will be doubled, and your silence will be permanent."

Chu Qingyue did not respond.

She walked to the edge of the observatory, leaned against the cold railing, and gazed down at the slumbering imperial city. The night breeze ruffled her long, disheveled hair, and her red dress resembled a tattered battle flag under the starlight. After a long while, she suddenly spoke softly, her voice as fleeting as smoke:

"Si Chen, have you ever seen the starry sky above the Northern Sea?"

Si Chen didn't open his eyes: "I've met you before."

"The stars there are brighter than here," she murmured. "And much colder too. Lying on the dunes, looking at those stars, I often think..."

She paused, her voice becoming even softer and more ethereal:

"If only I had drowned in that icy pool back then. If only I hadn't fought back when those bandits ambushed me on the way to the marriage alliance. If only I had died cleanly and decisively in some assassination attempt, some conspiracy, or some severe cold and famine in the Northern Sea... that would have been good."

She paused, then turned to look at him.

"But I didn't die. I survived. Carrying a body covered in blood that can never be washed away, dragging this broken body, I crawled back from the deepest part of hell, step by step."

She laughed, a pale and poignant laugh.

"So don't talk to me about 'quiet' or 'non-competition.' I've fought for seven years, with my life, with my blood, with my dignity and everything I could, to earn this chance to crawl back alive. And now you want me to give up?"

She scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm: "Si Chen, it's too late."

Si Chen kept his eyes closed, his long eyelashes casting tranquil shadows beneath them. "There are many ways to live," he said slowly, "not just revenge."

"Then tell me, how should I live?" Chu Qingyue walked back to him, looking down at him as he meditated. "Like Chu Qingyao, seemingly innocent and carefree on the surface, but ruthless and treacherous behind his back? Like Chu Xuanche, impotent and furious, only knowing how to use despicable and vile methods? Or like Chu Xuanjing, with a gentle and refined exterior, but inside he's full of calculations and scheming, even putting a price tag on his own flesh and blood?"

She crouched down, looking him in the eye, her gaze intense:

"Si Chen, tell me, in such a filthy and rotten palace, in such a cold and ruthless world, how can I, Chu Qingyue—a 'princess' whose mother was born of humble birth and died young, who was sent by the emperor to marry a foreign ruler, who was hunted down by her brothers and sisters, and who was treated as a pawn by everyone—live so as not to let down the life I have struggled for these seven years and crawled back from hell?"

Si Chen finally opened his eyes. His azure eyes looked at her quietly, reflecting her agitated and pale face.

Their eyes met for a long time. Suddenly, he reached out and gently touched her heart with his fingertips.

"Here," he said.

"Ask here. Set aside hatred, set aside resentment, set aside all the blood debts, conspiracies, schemes, and injustices inflicted upon you... Chu Qingyue, deep down, what do you still want?"

Chu Qingyue was stunned. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The spot on her chest where his fingertips had touched felt slightly hot.

Too many things are buried there: the warm embrace of his mother when he was young, the near-death experience in the icy pool, the lonely gaze in the northern sandstorm, the life-and-death battles on the way back to the capital...

Furthermore, at the palace banquet, when he raised his eyes to testify, his own fiery red dress was reflected in his glassy gray eyes.

What do you want?

She wished time could turn back, that her mother were still alive, gently stroking her hair. She wished that day at the icy pool had never happened. She wished that the seven years in the Northern Underworld were just a nightmare that had dragged on for far too long. She wished that the imperial city had never been so cold, that people's hearts had never been so treacherous.

I want... the person before me isn't the aloof, emotionless, and desireless Imperial Advisor, nor the cold guardian of the laws of Heaven, but rather...

She abruptly stepped back, breaking free of his fingers, a look of embarrassment and panic flashing across her face.

"I don't know." She turned her face away, her voice dry. "I don't remember anymore. Putting aside hatred and resentment, what else could I want?"

Si Chen withdrew his hand and closed his eyes again.

"Then take your time to think it over." His voice was calm. "You have plenty of time on this observatory. A year, ten years, a hundred years... until you figure it out."