For Zhan Xinjia, her master has always been a very important family member.

In her memory, her master was always engrossed in a book, lying weakly on the couch by the window, his hair piled up, his eyebrows lowered, like a pure lotus in a summer pond, gentle and serene.

When I was a child, whenever I secretly glanced at my teacher while practicing calligraphy, he would purse his lips and give me a helpless smile.

"Are you tired? Paper, come here."

Then, she could happily stay by her master's side, climb onto the soft couch, and affectionately rest her head on her master's lap, coaxing him to tell her about the bizarre and wonderful stories of another world.

My master can do more than just tell stories.

She can make sweet milk tea, sew pretty little dresses for her, tell her fun stories to coax her, teach her simpler ways to do math, and tell her that Zhi'er is the cutest child in the world.

At that time, Zhan Xinjia, bewildered, rested her head on her master's shoulder, looked up blankly, and felt somewhat embarrassed.

"But A-Yue said she's the cutest child in the world."

The master covered his lips with a handkerchief and smiled.

"She is of course the best in her family's eyes, but in Master's eyes, our Zhi'er is the cutest little girl."

My master said that family is about unconditional favoritism.

So even though she was slow at learning arithmetic, even though her handwriting was still ugly after practicing for a long time, and even though she often went out to cause trouble, her master would always just smile and wave at her.

"What are you standing there for? Come here."

When she was gazed at by those gentle eyes, she always felt an endless surge of courage, as if she could do whatever she wanted, that any mistake would be forgiven, and that anything she did would be tolerated.

The master said, "It's alright, Zhi'er can do whatever she's interested in. If she makes a mistake, it's on me."

Then one day, those eyes suddenly drooped listlessly, dark and unfathomable, filled with the pain of struggle and despair.

Master's voice sounded so unfamiliar, hoarse.

"Whether you believe it or not, Paper, I never actually intended to hurt you."

Upon hearing those words in the mine, Zhan Xinjia felt no hatred or anger, only a vague recollection of a similar, earth-shattering snowfall when he was seven years old.

The master pulled her up from the snow, patted the snow off her, wrapped her in a fox fur coat, and carried her all the way home.

On the way, her master gently patted her back.

"Okay, it's alright now."

Those hands had wiped her sweat, held her hand and taught her to write stroke by stroke, and gently touched her hair countless times... In the end, those hands gripped a sharp weapon that could take her life.

Then aim at her.

Zhan Xinjia felt that she was also a very strange person.

Compared to the fear of death, compared to the pain of betrayal, compared to the confusion of living in a lie...

At that moment, what came to her mind was a lively and bustling scene from a spring day when her master led her to the opera house to listen to a play. The air was filled with the fragrance of clothes and the sight of people standing on tiptoe, looking around, the noise of the crowd, and the cheers of the whole audience.

She still remembers that at the time, "Xue Xiangling" was singing the "Zhu Lou" scene from "Suo Lin Nang" on stage.

"In an instant, all seven emotions were obliterated, and I understood the bitterness and sorrow, my clothes soaked with tears."

I thought that wealth and honor were destined for me, but who knew that life's fortunes could change in an instant.

Back then, I used to be spoiled and willful, and even now, I don't remember the past.

This was also a lesson from God, teaching me to let go of lingering resentment, to refrain from petulance, to reform myself, to change my temperament, to stop clinging to the past, to turn back from the sea of ​​suffering, and to realize the cause of my suffering early on…”

As the curtain fell on the stage, it began to yellow and fade, becoming dilapidated and ruined in the blink of an eye. The audience members in the seats disappeared one by one like phantoms, until finally, only she remained standing in the ruins, staring blankly.

She began running and searching through the empty pear orchard, but not knowing where the exit was, she could only wander aimlessly.

It's like being trapped in a lonely nightmare from which she can't wake up. No matter how much she struggles or cries out, she can't return to reality. Everyone else has quietly left, but she is still trapped in her old dream.

Faintly, I seemed to hear Yan Yuyao's voice.

"She still has a fever. Once the fever goes down, she should be fine. If it doesn't go down, it will be troublesome... Let's see if she can wake up on her own. I'll go and get a few more doses of medicine."

The sound gradually faded, becoming increasingly indistinct.

Just as Zhan Xinjia was squatting in the corner of the stage, hugging her knees and looking lost, an orange cat slowly stretched and walked gracefully from the shadows, leaping into her arms.

Those golden vertical pupils were slightly narrowed, as if they were smiling.

"You're awake! You seemed to be having a nightmare, saying all sorts of nonsense like how painful and scary it was. But we're just kittens! Let's go eat some dried fish together!!"

Accumulating good deeds?!

Zhan Xinjia suddenly woke up with a start and sat up—

Pain, it hurt everywhere, especially her knees, which made her groan a few times. She collapsed back onto the bed, covered in cold sweat and feeling weak.

I lifted the blanket and peeked over; sure enough, there were bandages wrapped around his legs.

Looking around, she found herself lying in a separate tent with a brazier burning inside. The warmth dispelled the chill and made the entire room cozy and comfortable.

Outside the tent, everything was pure white, a vast expanse of snow. The bright light made her eyes uncomfortable, and she had to squint for a while to feel better.

Zhan Xinjia originally thought that her throat must be very dry after being unconscious for so long, but strangely, her throat felt moist and didn't hurt at all. She could even taste a sweet honey flavor when she smacked her lips.

Not only that, her hair also seemed to have been cleaned and combed again, without that sticky and messy feeling.

I haven't felt this comfortable in a long time.

Zhan Xinjia simply lay back down in the soft, warm quilt, rubbed her face against the pillow, and sighed, "I'll just be lazy for a little while longer."

However, her nap was interrupted before she could even get into it. Qiaoqiao came in carrying a basin of water, and when she saw Zhan Xinjia huddled obediently in the blankets with her eyes open, she exclaimed with delight.

"Ah Zhi, you're awake! Doctor Yu's medicine really worked."

Zhan Xinjia: "..."

Zhan Xinjia: "Uh... questioning Yan's old prescription, understanding Yan's old prescription, and taking Yan's old prescription."

"By the way, Qiaoqiao, how long was I unconscious? Did anything happen in between? Where is the old Chinese medicine doctor? I need to speak with him."

“You’ve been unconscious for almost a month now, which has scared us all to death. A hawk once delivered a message to you, but you weren’t awake, so we put it away for you. Doctor Yu should be taking care of Miss Cui right now. Miss Cui injured her back and is still recovering.”

"letter?"

It must have been sent when the wild geese returned from the capital. Could it be something important? Upon reading the letter, Jiaxin felt suspicious.

"Give it to me."

Unfold the letter, and lightning strikes at the opening!

"He set off for Canghan a few days ago. It's not that your brother isn't helping you, it's that Father Emperor has agreed. Be careful."

Holy crap, this...this...Yan Huishi is such a piece of junk!!!

I gave you my whole heart, and you pissed on me!

When Yan Hui mentioned "him," Zhan Xinjia could guess with a snap of his fingers: how could the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace be unable to handle such a small matter?

Wait, no, Qiaoqiao said she received the letter more than half a month ago. Considering the time it takes for the eagle to fly over, that means more than a month has passed since the wild geese returned and the letter was written.

More than a month, doesn't that mean...?

With a flicker of light and shadow, the curtains were suddenly lifted, bringing in a room filled with the faint scent of ink and wash painting, carrying the scent of snow.

The young man was dressed in a light blue robe with wide sleeves and a front opening. He was impeccably dressed and had a solemn and dignified demeanor. He exuded a sense of indifference and detachment, as if he were a cold piece of white porcelain, someone who could only be admired from afar.

Like jade and precious stones, renowned and respected.

His pale, thin face had a pair of deep, dark phoenix eyes that looked down at him with an intense sense of oppression.

His features were sharp and clear, his gaze extremely cold.

His voice was clear and deep, with an ambiguous upward lilt at the end.

"What, you don't want to see me?"