A tingling current shot up from the kissed skin, igniting in his mind with a deafening roar—like a raging sea of fire—leaving only the cool, moist trace on his cheek.
Yu Lingxin sat frozen, flushed red, unable to snap out of it for a long time.
When he looked up again, Jiang Nong had already averted her gaze, fiddling with the token in her hands, looking rather pleased with it.
So what did Jiang Nong mean by that?
Was she just tossing out such words to toy with him?
Because she liked this token?
But Jiang Nong had kissed him! She kissed him voluntarily.
In Yu Lingxin’s mind, Chao Ning was a harbinger of misfortune. Whenever he appeared, nothing good followed—he always brought discord between them. Their fates must be incompatible, a curse upon their marriage.
Jiang Nong had been killed twice because of him—yet she still treasured him like a jewel. Yu Lingxin had only killed him once, and that was already being merciful for Jiang Nong’s sake.
Yu Lingxin came back to his senses. Being kissed by Jiang Nong made him even more restless—he wanted more.
“Chao Ning—”
“What?” Jiang Nong finally looked up at him.
Yu Lingxin nearly blurted out something impulsive, but swallowed the words at the last moment. He said flatly: “Nothing.” The death in her previous life already kept her awake at night—why bring up things she didn’t even know?
Jiang Nong had a feeling Yu Lingxin knew many things she didn’t—but kept them hidden from her.
Just like her poisoning in the previous life. Yu Lingxin knew it was her aunt, yet he had stayed silent all along.
Even though he knew she’d always believed it was his poison, he still waited until she discovered the truth herself before revealing it wasn’t him—and even then, he never named the real culprit.
There was something about him that said: You misunderstand me, and only I know the truth. It’s painful, but I won’t speak—you have to discover it yourself.
Yu Lingxin had changed so much in his previous life, but in this one thing, Jiang Nong could still see a trace of that obedient, pitiful Yu Lingxin from before.
But if he wouldn’t speak, how was she supposed to find out?
Yu Lingxin talked a lot about useless things, but when it came to matters of real importance, he clammed up like a sealed gourd. Jiang Nong mentally reviewed everything he’d ever said.
Too much talk. Too much chatter. Nothing useful.
Only a few days ago, in the snow, when they’d argued and he’d truly lost his temper, he’d blurted out some disjointed things.
—That she would die in Dang with Chao Ning. That Chao Ning had dragged her down.
In her previous life, she had dragged Chao Ning down—so how did it count as Chao Ning dragging her down? Yu Lingxin was simply unreasonable.
Jiang Nong couldn’t figure it out. She thought until her head ached.
Perhaps it was because she’d been thinking too much during the day. That night, she had the dream again.
This time, the scene was clearer than before—Chao Ning was in it.
In a sea of crimson flames, before a beam crushed him, Chao Ning pushed her and someone else out. The other person she was pushed out with rushed back into the inferno—and the building collapsed, swallowing them both.
The pursuers closed in. She jumped from the city wall once more.
Then—darkness, silence. She saw Yu Lingxin wiping his longsword.
Jiang Nong already knew what would happen. She tried to stop him but couldn’t make a sound. She could only watch as Yu Lingxin coldly laid the blade against his throat—blood sprayed three feet. This time, she even felt the warmth of his blood. She tried to cover his wound, but couldn’t reach him.
Yu Lingxin’s eyes stayed open in death.
Jiang Nong sat up, gasping for air. She raised her hand and realized her whole face was wet with tears.
Yu Lingxin had woken her.
He wiped the tears from her face: “How old are you—still crying from dreams?” He pulled her into his arms, smoothed her hair, rubbed her back, his voice still gravelly from sleep: “It’s okay, it’s okay. Chao Ning is fine. Stop crying.”
Yu Lingxin thought she’d been scared by what happened to Chao Ning during the day.
Jiang Nong reached up in the darkness, feeling for his face—eyes, brows, nose, lips—then found his neck, intact, no blood. She pressed her hand over where the wound had been in the dream, leaning against his chest, her tears falling.
She hadn’t expected it herself—even though Chao Ning had been buried in the flames too, what cut her deepest was the sight of Yu Lingxin’s unseeing eyes.
She sniffled and wiped her tears on his chest: “I dreamed you slit your own throat.”
She wanted to tell him—it wasn’t because of Chao Ning. It was because of him.
She thought he’d say she never wished him well. She didn’t expect him to fall silent.
The candle in the bedchamber had burned out. In the pitch darkness, she couldn’t read his expression.
All she felt was him taking a deep breath, holding her more gently, patting her back: “It didn’t happen. Even if everyone else died, I’d live on. Sleep.”
Jiang Nong paused, feeling there was some truth to his words. After a long moment, she nodded, grabbed his collar, and wiped the remaining tears from her face on it.
It was terrifyingly quiet—only the soft rhythm of breathing and heartbeats. Jiang Nong said she couldn’t sleep.
Perhaps the stillness of the night made thoughts more tender and sluggish. Their bodies, pressed close, had absorbed each other’s warmth. Yu Lingxin didn’t say anything sarcastic—his hand still rested on her back. After thinking for a while, he said: “Then I’ll sing for you.”
“Did you ever sing to Xiaoman to put her to sleep?”
“She didn’t need me to. Who’s like you—waking up crying from nightmares in the middle of the night? Why can’t you dream of something good about me?”
Hearing him speak like that, Jiang Nong felt more at ease. For a moment, she’d thought someone had possessed him.
Yu Lingxin seemed to be thinking about what to sing. Jiang Nong was actually looking forward to it—it would be the first time she’d heard him sing. Even if it was terrible, she’d give him a little encouragement.
Yu Lingxin sang “White-Headed Song.”
“White as the snow on the mountains, bright as the moon among the clouds—hearing that you have two hearts, I’ve come to part with you…”
His voice was cool and husky, ethereal as cold mist, like silvered snow under moonlight. The tune wasn’t quite on key, but his voice was so beautiful it still sounded pleasing.
Jiang Nong listened for a while, then thought something was off and stopped him.
“Stop, stop, stop—what do you mean by singing that?”
Yu Lingxin’s expression didn’t flicker: “Just sang whatever came to mind.”
“Then what do you mean by changing the lyrics?”
This poem was written by Zhuo Wenjun to Sima Xiangru, after he rose to power and wanted to take a maiden from Maoling as a concubine. Zhuo Wenjun reproached him for his change of heart and declared she would leave him.
Singing this to her in the middle of the night—what did that mean?
Changing “hearing that you have two hearts” to “hearing that you have two hearts”—changing only that one character—what did that mean?
“I didn’t. It was unintentional—I just thought it sounded smoother.” Yu Lingxin stroked her hair.
“Don’t tell me you’re not subtly accusing me again? I’ve never met a man as petty as you.” The fact that she’d abandoned Yu Lingxin in her previous life—he’d held onto it for two lifetimes and still hadn’t let it go.
Yu Lingxin was doing it on purpose. He changed the subject: “If you don’t like it, I’ll switch.”
“There is someone I think of, across the great southern sea…”
“You’re doing it again! Changing the lyrics again!” Jiang Nong punched him. This time, he was singing her a song about a man’s infidelity and a woman’s resolve.
“Can you stop singing these lovesick laments?” She was at a loss.
Jiang Nong had told him eight hundred times—she and Chao Ning were siblings. The last time Chao Ning came, Yu Lingxin had crushed a cup and thrown sarcastic jabs at him. Now, with Chao Ning coming again, he was singing mournful poetry in the middle of the night.
“Then I’ll switch again.”
“Going up the mountain to gather herbs, coming down to meet my former wife…” — Jiang Nong cut him off before he could finish.
“What kind of books did you read in Xi? Why do you only remember these so well?”
Yu Lingxin had been singing for a while—and truthfully, Jiang Nong really wanted to hit him, but the terror from that dream had also faded.
Yu Lingxin lowered his head, buried it in the curve of her neck, and chuckled softly. After a long moment, he murmured against her ear: “Wrong. I’ll sing ‘Gathering Kudzu’—’A day without seeing you is like three years.’”
If that were the measure, then in their previous life, they’d been apart for one thousand three hundred and fourteen years before finally meeting again. To Yu Lingxin, it must have felt that long.
Jiang Nong actually felt a little shy. She rolled around in his arms several times—Yu Lingxin nearly lost his grip and had to pull her back repeatedly. Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms.
She was asleep—but Yu Lingxin couldn’t sleep.
He stayed awake, reaching out in the darkness to touch the corner of her eye. A lingering warmth of tears still remained. His throat bobbed. He bent his head and kissed her moist lips.
“Don’t remember any more, Jiang Nong.”
He took her hand and pressed it against his slowly beating heart.
As long as you weep for my death, then I will never make you grieve again. Whatever you want, I can give you. Whether in this life or any before, it was always my choice—as long as it could change your fate.
So don’t dream of more. I don’t want you to be sad.
All of Yu Lingxin’s frustration—over Chao Ning’s coming, over Jiang Nong’s suspicion of him on Chao Ning’s account—was swept away that night. He even felt he could greet Chao Ning with magnanimity and joy. An ex-husband—just an ex-husband. Jiang Nong cried because of me after all.
But when Wei Xiao sent word that Chao Ning had recovered and would soon arrive in Fengye, and he caught a glimpse of Jiang Nong’s cheerful expression—he couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
He lounged lazily on the couch, humming a tune softly.
“His injuries weren’t that serious—why did he take so long to heal?” Jiang Nong asked casually, which made Wei Xiao falter: “Perhaps… something detained him.”
Jiang Nong gestured for him to withdraw. She went to put away the letter, already passing by Yu Lingxin—when she heard that familiar tune. She stepped back, frowned, and threw the letter at him: “Yu Lingxin, if I hear you singing those resentful things again, you can sleep outside.”
Was this ever going to end? Did he have to remind her every moment that she was the heartbreaker?
Yu Lingxin refused to admit it, spreading his hands: “I wasn’t—I was just humming. You’re overthinking.”
Jiang Nong pinched his mouth shut and warned: “No more. No more.”
Yu Lingxin laughed and bit her fingertip. She gave his face a light slap—but he only laughed harder.
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