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

The lights in Tingxuexuan were already off.

Xie Qinglan didn't sleep soundly. These days he had gotten used to falling asleep in silence. Tingxuexuan was particularly quiet, so quiet that only the rustling of crabapple leaves outside the window and the occasional distant sound of the night watchman's drum could be heard.

The moonlight was lovely tonight, filtering through the window and casting dappled patterns on the tent ceiling. He groggily turned over, burying his face in the pillow, his consciousness about to sink into a deeper dream—

"Bang--!"

The courtyard gate was kicked open from the outside, and the wooden door slammed against the courtyard wall with a loud bang, making the windowpanes rattle.

Xie Qinglan suddenly opened her eyes.

Before he could even get up, the door to the main hall was flung open. This time it wasn't kicked, but rather he slammed into it—the door bolt wasn't in, and the wooden door was pushed open with brute force. A dark figure stumbled in, knocking over the flower stand by the door, and the sound of a porcelain basin shattering was particularly jarring in the dead of night.

The smell of alcohol was overwhelming.

The strong, pungent smell of alcohol, mixed with the coolness of the night dew, instantly filled the entire hall.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, you cannot go in—Lord Xie has already retired for the night—Your Majesty!"

Gao An's voice came from the courtyard gate, urgent and panicked. His footsteps followed him to the palace gate, but the man pushed him away and slammed the door shut with a "bang".

The door was bolted shut. Gao An knocked on the door twice from the outside and called out "Your Majesty" twice, but there was no response from inside.

Xiao Jingyuan leaned against the door, panting heavily.

His hair ornament was askew, a few stray hairs clung to his forehead and cheeks, and the front of his dark dragon robe was wide open, revealing his pale undergarment and a section of his collarbone. His face was flushed red, his eyes were bloodshot, his pupils were unfocused, and he exuded a strong, intoxicating smell of alcohol.

He was still carrying a half-empty jar of wine in his hand, the jar's mouth tilted, the wine spilling all the way from the Imperial Study to Tingxue Pavilion, winding along the palace path he had walked in a wet line.

Xie Qinglan sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only an outer robe, her dark hair loose behind her shoulders. She was still sleepy, and there was a hint of displeasure in her eyes at being disturbed.

"Why has Your Majesty come?" His voice was slightly hoarse, with a nasal tone from just waking up; it wasn't cold, but it wasn't exactly gentle either.

Xiao Jingyuan leaned against the door, his hazy eyes scanning the hall for a long time before finally finding the figure on the bed.

He stared at Xie Qinglan for a long time, his gaze unfocused yet intense, as if he had finally managed to make out her from his blurry vision.

Then the corners of his mouth curved slightly, looking silly, as if he were laughing, but also as if he was about to cry.

"I can't sleep." His voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded, and indistinct.

Xie Qinglan glanced at him, her tone indifferent: "Your Majesty, unable to sleep, comes to disturb my peaceful dreams?"

Xiao Jingyuan didn't reply. He slowly slid down against the door and sat on the ground, the half-empty jar of wine in his hand lying askew to the side, the liquid gushing out and seeping into the cracks of the blue bricks.

He lowered his head, looking at his wet clothes, and remained silent for a long time. So long that Xie Qinglan thought he was about to fall asleep, that he suddenly raised his head.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, falling on his face. Xie Qinglan saw clearly—his eyes were red, brimming with tears, which swirled in his eyes before finally overflowing and rolling down his cheeks.

He cried.

Without a sound, without any warning, tears began to flow silently. Tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping onto his open shirt and his clenched fists.

"Qinglan," he spoke, his voice broken and incoherent, "I've come to apologize."

Xie Qinglan's fingers curled slightly on the quilt, but she didn't say anything.

Xiao Jingyuan tried to stand up by supporting himself on the door panel, but his legs were too weak. He tried twice but couldn't stand up, so he simply abandoned all pretense of dignity and crawled towards Xie Qinglan using both hands and feet.

His knees slammed against the gold bricks with a dull thud, and the hem of his dragon robe trailed on the ground, stained with wine and dust, making him look far more disheveled than an emperor.

He crawled to the edge of the bed, reached out, and carefully grasped the hem of Xie Qinglan's clothes hanging over the edge of the bed. He gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white, as if he were grasping something that might disappear at any moment.

"I shouldn't have slammed the door last night." He looked up at Xie Qinglan with teary eyes, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

"I shouldn't have been jealous, shouldn't have lost my temper with you, shouldn't have slammed the door and left. You invited me in for tea, you invited me in willingly, and yet... I'm such a bastard."

Xie Qinglan lowered her eyes and looked at the hand that was clutching the hem of her clothes. The old scars from when she blocked the sword were still visible on that hand.

"I will never dare to do it again." Xiao Jingyuan's speech grew faster and more urgent, as if he were in a hurry, afraid that Xie Qinglan wouldn't listen to the end. "I will never slam doors again, I will never lose my temper with you again, I will never be jealous for no reason. Whatever you say goes. If you say Shen Hanzhou should come back, I will let him come back. I will listen to whatever you say—"

"Get up first," Xie Qinglan interrupted him.

Xiao Jingyuan shook his head, the movement quick and forceful, scattering stray hairs across his face, but he didn't care.

"I won't get up. If you don't forgive me, I won't get up."

Xie Qinglan took a deep breath: "Get up first, then we can talk."

"I won't get up." Xiao Jingyuan buried his face in Xie Qinglan's knees, his forehead against his knees, his shoulders trembling violently.

His voice was muffled by the fabric of his clothes, indistinct yet each word carried a burning heat, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for you in my past life, and I'm still sorry for you in this life. I shouldn't have forced you in my past life, shouldn't have locked you in the Lan Yue Pavilion, shouldn't have threatened you with Pei Yuning and the fate of the Southern Yue Kingdom—I'm good for nothing, I only know how to rob, only know how to lock people up..."

He was trembling all over from crying, his hands gripping Xie Qinglan's clothes tightly, like a drowning person grabbing the last piece of driftwood.

"You don't know, after you died in my past life, I held you and cried for three days and three nights. I thought to myself, I might as well die too, then I can go find you."

His voice grew increasingly fragmented and hoarse, until it was almost a breathy sound squeezed out of his throat.

"But I didn't die. Ling Feng knocked me unconscious and took your body. When I woke up, your coffin was already sealed, and I didn't even get to see you one last time."

Xie Qinglan's breath hitched for a moment. His fingers slowly clenched inside his sleeve, his nails digging into his palms, causing a slight pain.

"I often think about it now. If things hadn't started that way, if I hadn't forced you through the window on your first day in Beishuo—if I had approached you like a gentleman, pursued you, and treated you well—would you hate me less? Would you have smiled at me occasionally?"

Xiao Jingyuan raised his head and looked at Xie Qinglan with tears streaming down his face.

The moonlight fell on his face, illuminating his bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face. He huddled at Xie Qinglan's knees, looking extremely pitiful.

"But I've messed up my life again." His voice was so soft it seemed like it would dissipate with a breeze. "I locked you in Tingxuexuan, I treated you like that on the dragon bed, I forced myself on you. How is this any different from my past life? I've inherited that dog emperor's wickedness, I'm just like him—"

"Xiao Jingyuan." Xie Qinglan suddenly spoke, her voice not loud, but it stopped Xiao Jingyuan's crying abruptly.

"You're not like him." Xie Qinglan looked at him, her tone still calm and unhurried, but something trembled slightly in her clear, cold eyes. "You're not like your father. You're just... a little stupid."

Xiao Jingyuan was stunned.

He stared blankly at Xie Qinglan, tears still on his face, his mouth slightly open, looking like a big dog soaked by the rain, bewildered and incredulous at his master.

"You...you don't hate me anymore?"

Xie Qinglan did not answer the question. He reached out, hesitated for a moment, and finally placed his hand on Xiao Jingyuan's head. He gently combed through the few stray strands of hair with his fingers, the movement neither gentle nor perfunctory.

"Get up," he said. "The ground is cold."

Xiao Jingyuan didn't move. He knelt on the ground, burying his face in Xie Qinglan's knees, his forehead against his knees, like a young animal that had finally found its den, curled up in the safest corner, refusing to come out.

"I won't get up." His voice was muffled, thick with nasal congestion and a sob. "I'll hold you a little longer."

Xie Qinglan's hand stopped on the top of his head, neither moving nor withdrawing.

Xiao Jingyuan knelt by the bed, hugged Xie Qinglan's legs, buried his face in his knees, and cried for a full hour.

For an hour, he spoke intermittently, incoherently, and without coherence—sometimes apologizing, sometimes talking about his past life, sometimes about the crabapple tree, sometimes about the sword, and sometimes just repeatedly chanting the name "Qinglan," as if just saying that name made him feel better.

Xie Qinglan didn't interrupt him again. He simply sat quietly by the bed, occasionally running his fingers lightly through Xiao Jingyuan's hair, and sometimes wiping away the tear stains on his face with his thumb. The movements were very light, as light as the night breeze blowing through the petals of a crabapple tree.

As Xiao Jingyuan cried, his voice gradually faded. It wasn't that he stopped, but that he was exhausted from crying and his voice became hoarse, leaving him only able to make indistinct breathy sounds.

But he still refused to get up, burying his face in Xie Qinglan's knees, wrapping his arms around Xie Qinglan's legs, and hanging his whole body on Xie Qinglan, like a big dog clinging to its owner's lap.

"Qinglan," he called out in a muffled voice.

"Um."

"You're so soft."

Xie Qinglan's fingers paused for a moment: "...You're at it again."