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

Xie Qinglan sat alone for a very long time, until dusk was approaching.

He slowly stood up, walked to the table, and picked up the Cold Moon Sword.

The sword was icy cold, and as it touched his palm, the chill spread from his fingertips to his entire body.

He gripped the hilt and drew the sword from its sheath—the blade was as white as frost, its cold light gleaming, reflecting half of his pale face. The blade was as thin as a cicada's wing, faintly exuding a chilling killing intent.

This is a real treasured sword.

Xie Qinglan gathered his inner strength—his dantian was full of true qi, his meridians were unobstructed, and his martial arts had been fully restored.

He sheathed "Cold Moon," held it in his hand, and strode toward the palace gate.

The door was locked from the outside; it was a heavy wooden door with a heavy iron lock hanging on it.

But if he wanted to leave, the locked door couldn't stop him, nor could the guards and shadow guards outside.

He could have simply walked away.

But he was not willing to give up.

He wanted to go to Xiao Jingyuan in person to get an answer.

He raised his foot, put all his strength into it, and kicked the door.

"boom--"

The wooden door, frame and all, flew off and crashed onto the blue brick ground in the courtyard, kicking up a cloud of dust. The iron lock snapped and bounced far away, clattering and rolling to the corner of the wall.

The two armored guards outside the courtyard were startled by this sudden turn of events and hurriedly drew their swords. But before their blades were even fully drawn, they saw the person standing inside the door—

Xie Qinglan held a long sword in one hand and had the other behind his back. His moon-white brocade robe fluttered in the wind, and his eyes were filled with a cold killing intent.

"Get out of the way."

The two guards exchanged a glance, neither daring to move.

"Prime Minister, His Majesty has issued an order—"

I said move aside.

Xie Qinglan didn't give them a chance to continue speaking. He drew his sword and strode out of the courtyard gate, his pale figure flashing past the vermilion palace walls as fast as the wind.

The guards hurriedly gave chase, but dared not lay a hand on him—they all knew that this man was someone His Majesty held dear, and even if he were imprisoned, locked up, or forbidden to do anything, no one would dare to actually harm a hair on his head. They could only follow at a distance, running and shouting for help to report to His Majesty.

Xie Qinglan passed through one palace gate after another.

His lightness skill was already superb, and now, with his inner strength fully unleashed, his figure moved so fast that he was just a blur. The guards along the way only saw a flash of moonlight, and before they could even see his face clearly, he was already gone.

The Imperial Study.

Xiao Jingyuan was sitting behind his desk reviewing memorials when he suddenly heard a commotion outside—the sound of swords being drawn, the hurried footsteps of imperial guards, and a eunuch shouting in a shrill voice, "Stop him! Stop him—"

He suddenly raised his head.

The palace door was kicked open from the outside.

A night breeze swept in, causing the candlelight in the hall to flicker. In the flickering candlelight, a figure in moonlight stepped across the threshold, holding a long sword with a dark scabbard—it was the "Cold Moon" he had just given away.

Xie Qinglan stood in the center of the hall, exuding a chilling murderous aura. His wrists were still wrapped in gauze, and his clothes were covered with dust kicked up when he kicked the door, but his back was straight, like a long sword drawn from its sheath.

The palace guards quickly surrounded Xie Qinglan, swords drawn. But not one dared to step forward—they all knew who he was, and they all knew His Majesty's feelings for him. To harm him would mean certain death for them.

Xiao Jingyuan stood up and stared at him blankly.

His gaze fell on the sword in Xie Qinglan's hand, on the man's pale face, and on those eyes burning with rage.

"Qinglan, you—"

Xie Qinglan didn't wait for him to finish speaking.

He drew his sword from its sheath, the sound of "Cold Moon" being drawn was clear and melodious like a dragon's roar, a flash of cold light, and the tip of the sword was pointed directly at Xiao Jingyuan's throat.

Only three inches apart.

A chilling sword aura rushed towards him, causing the stray hairs at Xiao Jingyuan's temples to flutter slightly.

All the guards in the hall raised their swords in unison, but Xiao Jingyuan raised his hand, signaling them not to move.

He stood there, staring at the sword tip pointing at his throat, and at Xie Qinglan's eyes, which were as cold as ice.

"You want to kill me?" His voice was very soft, as if he were asking about something that had nothing to do with him.

Xie Qinglan did not answer.

His hand was steady, and the tip of the sword did not tremble at all.

"Your Majesty has bestowed upon me a precious sword, and I have come to express my gratitude," Xie Qinglan said, his tone flat and devoid of emotion. "May I ask Your Majesty—what is the meaning behind bestowing this sword?"

Xiao Jingyuan opened his mouth, but his mind went blank. He only wanted to give him a good sword; he didn't understand why Xie Qinglan had come to question him with a sword in hand.

Xie Qinglan waited, waiting for his explanation, waiting for his comfort, but he received nothing. Xiao Jingyuan frowned and said nothing.

"Are you forcing me?" Xie Qinglan's voice trembled slightly.

"Alright." Xie Qinglan took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, her tone still indifferent. "I'll grant your wish."

The blade flipped instantly, a flash of cold light, and it slashed straight towards Xie Qinglan's neck.

In that instant, Xiao Jingyuan's mind went blank; he could see and hear nothing. His body moved faster than his mind—he reached out and grabbed the blade that was slicing towards Xie Qinglan's throat.

"Cold Moon" cut through iron like mud; the sound of the blade slicing into flesh was dull and short, like something being torn apart. Blood gushed from between Xiao Jingyuan's fingers, bright red and scalding hot, splashing onto Xie Qinglan's moon-white brocade robe like red plum blossoms blooming in the snow.

The sword stopped.

It was only half an inch away from Xie Qinglan's throat.

Xiao Jingyuan gripped the sword blade, his fingers tightening, blood flowing from his palm down the blade, dripping onto the gold bricks of the imperial study.

He couldn't feel any pain.

His eyes were fixed on Xie Qinglan—only that pale, paper-white face, those eyes flooded with tears, the person who had almost died in front of him again.

His hands were trembling, his body was shaking; what he had just witnessed had truly terrified him. He had almost, so very almost, lost Xie Qinglan forever once again.

"You..." Xiao Jingyuan's voice trembled violently, as if it were being squeezed out of his chest, "You're going to die again...you're going to die in front of me again..."

He snatched the sword and threw it away violently. "Cold Moon" flew out and embedded itself in a palace pillar, its blade humming.

Then he scooped Xie Qinglan up in his arms.

The person in his arms was as light as a withered leaf, trembling all over, but he didn't struggle. He just stared at Xiao Jingyuan with his bloodshot eyes, his gaze filled with hatred, resentment, grievance, and so many unspeakable things.

The guards looked at each other, then made way for each other.

Xiao Jingyuan carried Xie Qinglan and strode out of the imperial study.

The night wind blew into the corridor, making the iron gates on the eaves clang loudly.

Xiao Jingyuan's dragon robe was soaked with blood. He walked quickly and hurriedly, carrying Xie Qinglan into the bedchamber and kicking the door shut.

He placed the person on the dragon bed.

The hall was dark, with only a single lamp burning dimly in the corner, casting the shadows of the two people on the wall, overlapping like an unsolvable knot.

Xiao Jingyuan stood by the bed, looking down at Xie Qinglan.

Blood was still flowing from his hand, droplets of blood dripping onto the dark blanket, indistinct. But he didn't bandage it, nor did he even glance at his wound.

He just kept looking at Xie Qinglan, and Xie Qinglan was looking at him too.

Xie Qinglan looked at him calmly and asked in a very soft voice:

"Xiao Jingyuan".

"Why did you save me?"

His voice was calm, but beneath that calm lay a turmoil of grievances that had been brewing for far too long, and questions that had been suppressed for over a month.

He had just held the sword to his own neck, and Xiao Jingyuan had caught the blade with his bare hands. Blood was still dripping from that hand, and the blood was still warm on his clothes.

Xie Qinglan was certain—Xiao Jingyuan didn't want him to die.

If you still care—then why do you keep avoiding me?

Xiao Jingyuan did not answer. He quietly looked at Xie Qinglan for a while. This person was still the same, indifferent and always treated him with this calm, almost cold attitude.

He suddenly laughed, but it was a bitter laugh.

He gave up completely.

She gave up the careful attempts to please him, the anxious probing, and all thoughts of making Xie Qinglan happy.

Since nothing we do is right, and since he only wants to die, let's just hurt each other.

Let him hate me, that's fine. At least if he hates me, he'll think about killing me and won't think about suicide anymore.

"Xie Qinglan, I can't do anything with you anymore." He spoke, his voice hoarse, as if it were being slowly ground out from his chest.

He looked down at his hand, which was still bleeding. Blood trickled down between his fingers, dripping onto the brocade quilt, drop by drop.

"You don't want my kindness." He raised his head, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, but he gritted his teeth, holding back the tears that were about to spill. His voice suddenly became very soft, so soft that it sounded like he was talking to himself, "Then hate me. Hate me like you did in your past life. At least that way—you won't die."

He leaned down and pinched Xie Qinglan's chin, but his fingers were trembling.

"Hate me. Find a way to kill me." He paused, a faint, bitter smile curving his lips. "Don't admit defeat again in this life. I'll be waiting for you."