A sense of powerlessness quietly gripped Xin Jiuwei. She could recuperate in the warm pavilion of the prince's mansion and be under his protection, while her relatives and the people she cared about had to fight bloody battles in the distant northern border and struggle to survive in the undercurrents of the capital.

“Your Highness…” She raised her head and looked into Xiao Xun’s deep eyes, which seemed to contain an endless abyss. “Qi Huaiyu… what do you plan to do with him?” This was not just about the fate of an enemy, but also about the direction of the subsequent storm and… the obsession in her heart that she urgently needed to resolve.

Xiao Xun's gaze sharpened, like a cold blade drawn from its sheath, slicing through the brief peace in the warm pavilion. He remained silent for a moment, a silence that carried immense weight. Finally, he spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but carrying a resolute decisiveness that seemed to freeze a thousand miles:

"His crimes are too numerous to count. He framed loyal officials, poisoned a prince, and wreaked havoc in the capital. Each and every one of these crimes warrants the extermination of his entire family."

"However, his life is yours."

Xiao Xun's gaze was fixed on Xin Jiuwei. His eyes were no longer those of a condescending judgment, but rather a heavy entrustment, a fulfillment of the vow to "fellow travelers".

"Once you recover, you can end it all yourself."

“This scoundrel does not deserve to die under the law and the axe. He only deserves to pay for his life in your hands, for the old lady, for yourself, and for all those who died unjustly because of him.”

"You shall end it yourself."

These six words, like a thunderclap, exploded in Xin Jiuwei's ears! They shook her to her core, her fingertips instantly turning icy cold! She abruptly raised her head, meeting Xiao Xun's unfathomable eyes. There was no probing, no pity, only a profound stillness like millennia-old ice, yet seemingly burning with silent karmic fire. He had, in an almost cruelly solemn manner, handed her the power of revenge, the ultimate destination of her deep-seated hatred.

This is not a gift, but a responsibility, the heaviest trust and contract between "fellow travelers".

A surge of icy yet scalding air rushed to Xin Jiuwei's head, making her blood seem to freeze, then surge wildly again. Before her eyes, Qi Huaiyu's狰狞扭扭 (zhengning - a phrase implying a狰狞 but ultimately meaningless, distorted, and ferocious expression) face seemed to reappear, along with her aunt's pale, unconscious face, and the dark blue dagger plunged into Xiao Xun's heart… All the hatred, all the humiliation, all the fear, roared and boiled within her chest like ignited volcanic lava!

She gripped the blanket covering her knees tightly, her knuckles turning bluish-white from the force, her body trembling slightly. Not out of fear, but because the overwhelming hatred, accumulated over two lifetimes, was finally finding an outlet!

"Okay." Xin Jiuwei's voice was soft, yet carried a resolute coldness, like a blade tempered with ice, echoing clearly in the silent, warm room. This single word exhausted all her strength and carried all her determination.

Xiao Xun gazed intently at her, at the icy flame that ignited in her eyes, a flame capable of destroying everything, at the unusual blush that rose on her pale face from excitement. He spoke no more, only nodded slightly, as if completing an important ritual. The air in the warm pavilion seemed to freeze, a heavy killing intent and an obsession with revenge silently permeating the space.

Just then, extremely light yet hurried footsteps sounded outside the warm pavilion, stopping at the doorway with suppressed tension. You Ye's voice came through the door, tinged with barely perceptible tension: "Your Highness, an urgent report from the Marquis of Zhongyong's residence!"

Xin Jiuwei's heart sank! Aunt?!

Xiao Xun frowned slightly and said in a deep voice, "Go in."

You Ye pushed open the door and entered, his face grave. He didn't even have time to bow before saying urgently, "Your Highness, Miss Xin! Imperial Physician Lin just sent someone from the Marquis of Zhongyong's residence to deliver a message: the old lady... has woken up! Moreover, she is lucid and can speak!"

"What?!" Xin Jiuwei suddenly stood up. The huge surprise instantly dispelled the cold hatred she had just felt. A sharp pain shot through her chest, making her vision go black and her body sway.

"Miss!" Xin Kui exclaimed and rushed forward to help her up.

Xiao Xun moved even faster, stepping forward to firmly support Xin Jiuwei's arm. His hand was large and strong, with a slightly cool temperature and an undeniable sense of support.

"Really?!" Xiao Xun's gaze shot sharply at You Ye, his voice carrying a hint of urgent confirmation.

“Absolutely true! The messenger was a trusted confidant of Judge Lin. He said that the old lady fully regained consciousness about 15 minutes ago, recognized Princess Zhao, and even asked... asked about Miss Xin’s safety!” You Ye spoke quickly, his face filled with excitement.

Overwhelmed by joy, like a warm tide, she was instantly engulfed by happiness. She gripped Xiao Xun's hand, which was supporting her arm, as if it were her only lifeline. Hot tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice choked with emotion: "Aunt... Aunt is awake! She... she asked about me!"

Xiao Xun could clearly feel the trembling in her fingertips and the immense joy of having regained what she had lost. He looked down into her tearful eyes, which were filled with pure, unadulterated filial piety, a stark contrast to the cold killing intent that had emanated from them just moments before. He tightened his grip on her arm slightly and said in a deep voice, "Prepare the carriage! To the Marquis of Zhongyong's residence!"

"Your Highness, your health..." You Ye said with some concern. Xiao Xun himself was also recovering from serious injuries and his strength had not yet returned.

“It’s alright.” Xiao Xun interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Go now!”

The Marquis of Zhongyong's residence was shrouded in an atmosphere of cautious joy, as if the family had survived a calamity. The servants walked with a light step, but still dared not make a sound.

The light in the old lady's bedroom was soft. Princess Zhao was sitting by the bed, carefully feeding her mother ginseng soup with a silver spoon. The old lady leaned against thick pillows, her face still pale and haggard, so thin she was almost unrecognizable, but her once cloudy eyes now shone with a clear light, still weak, yet full of tenderness and love.

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