The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

The snow-covered gauze danced lightly in the night breeze, and the icicles hanging from the eaves reflected the clear light, gilding everything around them with a thin layer of silver.

"Ah Liang".

Tang Xixue held his arm, her voice soft and husky, yet still carrying the composure of a princess unperturbed by storms:

"Take me back to the bedroom. I...I was tricked by that flirtatious butterfly."

Mu Liang looked down at her.

Her cheeks were flushed with an unnatural rosy hue, and her eyes were watery and hazy, like plums soaked in wine, not yet ripe, but already three-tenths drunk.

He dared not look any longer.

He glanced at it once, then looked away.

He pulled her out of the pool.

The movements were extremely light, like scooping up a handful of shattered moonlight, or holding up a snowflake that was about to fall.

He quickly unfolded the cotton cloth beside him and wrapped her up completely from head to toe.

Not even a single strand of hair was visible.

Then, he picked her up and strode towards the bedroom.

"Take him down," he whispered to the Hidden Dragon Guards waiting in the shadows.

Originally, since His Highness was taking a bath, the Hidden Dragon Guards were all highly skilled, and it was not advisable for them to get too close. That's why they all withdrew to avoid suspicion.

Unexpectedly, this gave that madman an opportunity!

He deserves to die!

"Keep alive."

Tang Xixue leaned against Mu Liang's chest, her voice growing lower and hoarse, yet carrying a chilling clarity:

"The young master of Dream City, a bargaining chip delivered to our door—why not refuse it?"

"Yes."

Mu Liang responded softly, giving Hua Rongshi, who was still unconscious, a vicious glare.

I wish I could grind that shameless madman to dust!

So the royal guards, who were far away on the outskirts and dared not approach the Crown Prince when his Peach Blossom Gu flared up, felt like their sky had fallen.

Their young master has actually been captured by Chen Yao's Hidden Dragon Guard!

"Quickly—quickly go find His Highness Prince Beichen to rescue them."

"Now, our Crown Prince is not only a lamb to the slaughter, but his reputation is also in jeopardy."

"Losing both wife and army. A terrible fate!"

"..."

As dusk fell, I dared not look down at the snow on Tangxi Creek.

He simply quickened his pace.

Tang Xixue closed her eyes and let him carry her through the winding corridor.

Consciousness floated and sank in the lingering fragrance of peach blossoms.

She was truly impressed.

The most absurd thing the transmigrated woman who once possessed her body did was climb into the bed of this Prince of the Dreamy Flower City late at night.

At that time, she was simply wrapped in a blanket and thrown downstairs without any mercy.

Now look what's happened.

Hua Rongshi climbed directly into her bathtub.

A hug in return for a hug.

The cycle of cause and effect, retribution is unhappy.

She slightly lifted her eyelids and glanced in the direction of the bathtub.

Separated by layers of gauze curtains and corridors, naturally nothing could be seen.

But she still gently ground her back molars.

When you are in full bloom, you are like a butterfly in full bloom.

The previous criticism that he was a womanizer was somewhat unjust, based on hearsay.

After tonight—

He truly deserves the reputation of being a playboy.

The corridor was deep and secluded, bathed in silvery moonlight.

Mu Liang carried her through the winding corridor, taking each step very steadily, as if afraid of bumping her even slightly.

His heart was beating so fast that it felt unfamiliar to him.

But his face remained cold and stern, showing no emotion whatsoever.

Only he knew that his palms were already marked with deep, bloody welts from his fingernails.

As she turned the corner of the corridor, Mu Liang's steps suddenly stopped.

Ahead, a crimson figure was breaking through the darkness of the night.

Feng Zhuo wore a bright red dress, made of a new material this year.

The Empress Dowager always said that the red dress suited Ah Xue.

Therefore, he was always dressed in red.

Just to be a better match for her.

He held a sandalwood gift box in his arms, the surface of which was carved with auspicious cloud patterns with intertwined necks, a design he had searched through three shops to find.

The red fox fur glove in the box was made, cut, and sewn by him personally.

He doesn't know how to do needlework.

The first needle pierced the fingertip, and beads of blood seeped onto the fur.

He wiped it with a handkerchief for half the night, but it wasn't clean, so he changed to a different piece of leather and started over.

I stayed up several nights in a row.

It finally happened tonight.

He held it as if it were a dissected heart, filled with joy, and walked with a brisk pace.

He sent spies from the Zhenbei Marquis's residence to find out that she was living in the Jingye Xuelu (Mirror Night Snow Lodge).

Tang Xixue had instructed that he should be welcomed whenever he came.

When Li Shuang saw that it was him, she didn't even bother with formalities, and simply smiled and stepped aside to lead him inside.

then.

He saw Mu Liang.

I saw the figure in white in the arms of Mu Liang.

Her eyes were closed, her brows slightly furrowed, like a snowflake falling into someone else's palm.

Feng Zhuo stood by the threshold.

Three steps.

There were only three steps between him and her.

Three steps away, Mu Liang held her in his arms, her hair scent lingering on his robes, her entire weight resting in his embrace.

Within three steps, he held a box, his fingertips still bearing the seven freshly scabbed marks from the needle pricks he had received the night before.

"Snap—"

The sandalwood box slipped from his suddenly weakened fingers.

It crashed to the ground.

The box lid was slammed open.

The red fox's handbag rolled out and lay askew on the cold stone bricks, its fur still fluffy and soft, with fine, dense stitches.

He sewed it by candlelight, squinting, counting his heartbeats stitch by stitch.

He hurriedly squatted down.

The movement was too hasty, and the back of his knee hit the floor tile with a dull thud.

He lowered his head to pick up the hand sanitizer, the box lid, and the shattered pieces of his disheveled state, pieces he dared not let anyone see.

They were childhood sweethearts.

Ah Xue.

So you're choosing Mu Liang, not me?

Feng Zhuo squatted there, his back hunched, like a branch that had been broken by the wind but was stubbornly refusing to fall.

He didn't dare to look up.

He dared not let anyone see his wet eyes at that moment.

Is he really that unlikable to her?

When he was eight years old, she fell from the apricot tree into his arms, her clothes catching on the brass buckle of his wristband, and her hair was covered with fallen petals.

He carried her back, and she nestled on his back, laughing softly, her warm breath tickling his ear: "Ranzhi, you're so good to me."

Just this one sentence.

He was happy all winter long.

That year, the snow fell thick, and he walked to Lintai every day through knee-deep snow, not feeling cold even when his boots were soaked.

A fire burned in her heart—she said he was good.

That's what she said.

At the age of fifteen, he went on his first expedition.

She waved from the city tower, her flowing red sleeves billowing in the wind like a small banner raised just for him.

He rode his horse a long way.

I couldn't help but turn around.

She's still here.

As dusk settled, the figure on the city wall blurred into a tiny speck of light.

But he knew she was watching him.

She became his only refuge during the countless lulls in his battles thereafter.

He thought that his Ah Xue liked him.

It's okay if it's not that kind of liking.

He can wait.

But on the day he returned to the capital in triumph, he stood outside the palace waiting for imperial decrees and saw her figure passing by at the other end of the corridor in the distance.

She walked past him.

I didn't look at him.

Like passing by an ordinary tree or an unnamed stone.

"Ah Xue".

He couldn't help but call out.

She stopped in her tracks and turned her head slightly: "Who are you?"

In that instant, he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

They all say that Ah Xue is just sick.

She said that after she fell ill, she forgot many people and many things.

He believed it.

He kept telling himself—that was Ah Xue, she was just sick, she had just temporarily forgotten him.

He can wait.

But he couldn't fool his own heart.

That unfamiliar woman had Ah Xue's features.

But when she looked at him, her eyes were full of calculation.

The clear, innocent smile beneath the apricot tree that year is gone.

There was no light shining for him when he was seen off from the city gate.

That's not his Ah Xue.

No.

But he dared not say those words aloud.

He likes Xue so much.

I love it so much that I'd rather deceive myself; I love it so much that I'd suppress the fire that's been burning in my chest for over a decade and turn it to ashes.

He said to himself: It's my fault.

It's because I didn't do a good enough job that she forgot about me.

He dared not even think about that thought—

If that wasn't Ah Xue.

Where will his Ah Xue go?

In those years, he lived like a wandering soul.

He trained his troops by day and held the crimson tassel of the sword she had once given him by night.

He dared not gamble.

He was afraid he had made the wrong bet, afraid that she would really disappear from this world completely, afraid that he would never see this stranger in Ah Xue's body again.

When the sword pierced through, he suddenly felt it was very light.

The sword cut through his flesh, slicing diagonally across the left side of his heart, blood gushing out and wetting her fingertips.

He looked down at the new scar on his chest.

Suddenly he laughed.

That's not his Ah Xue.

His Ah Xue has really disappeared.

This realization settled in my mind, and there was no unexpected collapse.

He just felt empty.

A liking for over ten years.

She extinguished the fire that had burned since her youth with her own hands.

No, what was extinguished was not the fire in his heart, but his light, his glimmer of hope.

Then, there is the Hall of Eternal Life.

The bath was filled with misty steam. She stood by the pool, her wet hair clinging to her cheeks, just like the disheveled yet beautiful look she had when he caught her after the apricot blossom rain that year.

She looked at him.

The space in my eyes is no longer empty.

Brilliant as a galaxy, clear as the first time we met.

There were tears he couldn't hide, tears he had waited twelve years for—

"Burn it."

She called to him.

Just that one sound.

The clump of ashes he had forcibly extinguished suddenly burst into flames, spreading like wildfire.

He knows.

He knew this might just be another illusion, that she might revert to that unfamiliar, indifferent shell in the next moment, and that he might just be indulging in wishful thinking and drinking poison to quench his thirst.

But he still couldn't help it.

I couldn't help but burn with passion for her.

I couldn't help but offer my battered heart to her once again.

He likes Xue so much.

He loved her so much that he didn't care about the cost, he loved her so much that he didn't care about the future, he loved her so much that even if she only called him "Ranzhi" for a fleeting moment, he would be willing to go through fire and water and die ten thousand times.

Couldn't he be liked by her even in the slightest way?

Just a little bit is fine.

At that moment, he squatted there, picking up the broken pieces and putting them back into the box one by one.

His fingers trembled violently, and the red fox's fur was covered with the fine sweat that seeped from his palms.

The night breeze swept through the hall, brushing against his empty back.

I beg you—the bright moon hangs high in the sky.

Let's take a look at him too.