After being reborn, the aloof prime minister was once again forced by a tyrant.

Ye Qi was the first to notice something was wrong. He was the commander of the Shadow Guards, responsible for guarding Tingxue Pavilion. Although His Majesty had ordered that no one was allowed to enter or leave, he would peek through the crack in the door every day.

What he saw terrified him—Xie Qinglan lay beside the bed, half the mattress soaked in blood, a gruesome gash on one wrist, blood still gushing out. A small pool of dark red blood trickled down the floor, winding along the cracks in the blue bricks. He flung open the door, tearing off a piece of his robe to bandage the wound, and screamed hoarsely, "Summon the imperial physician! Summon the imperial physician quickly!"

When the news reached the Imperial Study, Xiao Jingyuan was reviewing memorials. The little eunuch who delivered the message scrambled in, but before he could finish speaking, the vermilion pen in Xiao Jingyuan's hand snapped in two. Without asking any questions, he rushed towards Tingxue Pavilion.

The Tingxue Pavilion was brightly lit. The imperial physicians had been dragged out of bed and were gathered around the bed, their clothes disheveled.

When Xiao Jingyuan rushed into the palace, he saw a bed half-soaked in blood and Xie Qinglan's deathly pale face. His legs went weak for a moment.

"Save him." His voice trembled violently. "If you can't save him, I will make you all pay with your lives."

That night, all the imperial physicians of the Imperial Medical Academy knelt outside Tingxue Pavilion and held a joint consultation overnight.

They worked until the wee hours of the morning to stop the bleeding, administer acupuncture, and pour medicine into the wound.

Xie Qinglan lost too much blood and remained unconscious for three whole days.

For the past three days, Xiao Jingyuan has neither attended court nor left Tingxuexuan.

He personally fed Xie Qinglan her medicine—the medicine dripped down her lips, and he wiped it clean little by little with a handkerchief. He personally wiped Xie Qinglan's body—the warm handkerchief wiped across the man's thin back, his fingers trembling slightly, and then he wiped even more gently.

He held Xie Qinglan's icy fingers and warmed them in his palm. The hand was so cold that he couldn't warm it up no matter how hard he tried, so he lowered his head and pressed the hand against his face.

Tears stained Xie Qinglan's hands; the few tears he shed in both his lives were all because of Xie Qinglan.

On the second night, Gao An brought in a bowl of ginseng soup and advised, "Your Majesty, you haven't slept for two days. You should at least get some rest."

"No need," Xiao Jingyuan's voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible. "I'll stay here with him."

Gao An opened his mouth but said nothing. He placed the ginseng soup on the table and left. Xiao Jingyuan didn't drink it. He sat by the bed, looking at Xie Qinglan's closed eyes, and suddenly spoke, his voice so low that only he could hear it.

"You really don't want to live anymore," he said. "Is it because I kept you in the palace? Is it because I wouldn't let you return to Nanyue? I'll let you go, okay? Wake up, I'll let you go. As long as you're alive, you can go anywhere."

He lowered his head, his forehead resting on Xie Qinglan's cold hand, his shoulders trembling slightly. "But why did you have to die? Why do you always have to die?"

On the evening of the third day, Xie Qinglan woke up.

When he opened his eyes, the first person he saw was not the imperial physician, but Xiao Jingyuan.

The man sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. His face was haggard, as if he had aged ten years overnight, with bloodshot eyes and pale lips.

When Xiao Jingyuan realized he was awake, he was stunned for a moment, then suddenly released his hand and stood up.

The expression on that face changed rapidly in a split second—from ecstasy to restraint, from restraint to panic, from panic to indifference. It was as if, in the blink of an eye, he had put himself back into that cold mask.

"You're awake." His voice regained its usual businesslike indifference. "The imperial physician said you lost too much blood and need to rest. I've ordered everything in Tingxue Pavilion to be replaced; there won't be anything there that could harm you."

Xie Qinglan looked at him. He had been waiting for this person for more than twenty days, and the first words he received were not "Are you in pain?" or "Why?", but such a cold, impersonal question, as if he were handling a matter of state affairs.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say that he cut his wrists not to kill himself, but to see him. But Xiao Jingyuan didn't give him a chance to speak.

"If you seek death again," Xiao Jingyuan turned away, his voice as cold as the ice of a winter day in the north, "I will lead my army to flatten Mount Heng. I will make your king and your people pay the price for your death."

Xie Qinglan's mind, which had just regained consciousness, hadn't even had time to process what was happening when she was stunned by those words.

"You should focus on recovering from your injuries. If I find you trying to kill yourself again—" He turned around, his voice as cold as ice, "I mean what I say."

he's gone.

He strode out of Tingxuexuan without looking back.

Xie Qinglan lay on the bed, watching his figure disappear outside the door, and slowly closed her eyes.

He wasn't listening to me.

He simply wouldn't listen.

Xie Qinglan gripped the blanket tightly, her nose stinging with a soreness.

He thought, what kind of bullshit rebirth is this?

In his past life, Xiao Jingyuan clung to him to death and spoiled him rotten. In this life, Xiao Jingyuan is fierce to him and doesn't even want to look at him twice.

He's already like this—he's even cut his own wrist—

Xiao Jingyuan still refused to stay any longer.

Xie Qinglan bit her lip, swallowing back the sour taste.

But he couldn't resist.

After everyone in the room had left, after the door had closed again, and after all the surroundings were finally quiet enough that he was the only one left—

He covered his face with the blanket and cried silently.

Outside.

Xiao Jingyuan leaned against the wall, looking up at the sky.

He heard it.

That suppressed, faint sound, like the whimper of a small animal.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms.

He was crying.

He must hate me.

They must hate this cage to the core, hate the days I kept them confined, and hate not being able to return to Nanyue.

He cut his wrists not for any other reason than to leave this place.

I want to go back to Nanyue.

Xiao Jingyuan closed his eyes.

He knew he should let go.

But he couldn't do it.

I couldn't do it in the last life, and I still can't do it in this life.

This was all he could do: lock him up here, using the worst possible method to keep him here.

Even if he hates himself.

All he wants is for himself to live well.

He loosened his clenched fist, which had turned white, and turned to walk towards Chang Le Palace. As soon as he arrived at the entrance of Chang Le Palace, he saw Pei Yuning come out to greet him.

"Your Majesty," she bowed, her eyes filled with gentle worry, "I heard that Prime Minister Xie had an accident. Your Majesty has been keeping vigil by his side these past few days, and you must be exhausted. I've prepared a stew of snow frog and bird's nest; Your Majesty, please have some."

Xiao Jingyuan nodded slightly but did not reply. He sat down behind the desk in the side hall, spread out a stack of folded papers, picked up a vermilion brush and put it down again.

Pei Yuning brought in the bird's nest soup, gently placed the porcelain bowl on the corner of the table, and didn't urge him. She just stood there quietly, like a shadow.

After a long silence, she spoke softly, her tone hesitant and tentative: "Your Majesty, I heard... that Prime Minister Xie committed suicide?"

Xiao Jingyuan paused, holding the vermilion pen, but did not answer.

Pei Yuning sighed, her voice even softer: "Brother Qinglan has always been very stubborn, and no one can change his mind once he's made up his mind. If he wants to return to Nanyue, Your Majesty might as well... let him go back? That way, he won't suffer in the palace every day, and Your Majesty won't have to worry about him."

Xiao Jingyuan put down his vermilion brush, his voice calm: "I cannot let him go."

It wasn't just because he couldn't bear to part with him; it was also because Pei Nanchi and those who wanted him dead were in Nanyue. Letting him go back would be like sending him back to the wolves' den. But he couldn't tell anyone this; if Xie Qinglan knew, he would be even more heartbroken.

"He is currently emotionally unstable. Since he is closest to you, you should go and visit him tomorrow to comfort him."

Pei Yuning's jade-like hands, hidden beneath her robes, clenched tightly, her fingertips digging into her palms, but her face showed no sign of distress as she obediently agreed.

After Xiao Jingyuan left, her personal maid, Lan Zan, approached and asked in a low voice, "Your Highness, what did His Majesty say?"

"He won't let go." Pei Yuning sat down in front of her vanity, picked up an eyebrow pencil and drew on the tail of her eyebrow. Her tone was as indifferent as if she were talking about the weather. "That guy from Tingxuexuan is incredibly tough. The Entangling Silk didn't kill him, and he didn't even die from cutting his wrists."

Lan Zan cautiously observed her expression: "Your Highness, is there... anything else we need to do?"

Pei Yuning put down her eyebrow pencil, examined herself in the bronze mirror for a moment, and smiled slightly: "No rush. The longer His Majesty keeps him locked up, the more he will hate him. I know him too well; His Majesty can never melt his heart."

She picked up a comb and slowly combed through the ends of her hair, her face reflected in the bronze mirror. Gentle and dignified, like a crabapple blossom kept in seclusion.