Xi Linghao looked at her, the last glimmer of light in his eyes fading, leaving only boundless weariness and a trace of relief. He waved his hand: "Go... I... am tired..."

A simple blue-curtained carriage, escorted by a small squad of silent guards and the cold wind of drizzle, drove away from the prison-like Xiling Palace and headed towards a remote royal villa on the outskirts of the capital.

Inside the carriage, Madam Lin huddled in a corner, her eyes vacant. She would sometimes laugh hysterically, sometimes let out a piercing scream, her hands flailing wildly in the air: "I am the Empress! You lowly servants! Get out! Get out! My son is the Crown Prince! The future Emperor! Haha...haha..." At times, she would lunge at the carriage window, pounding on it frantically: "Let me out! I want to see His Majesty! I want to kill that bitch Xi Lingyuan! Kill Xiao Chengkang!"

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, please calm down!" Xi Yu hugged her tightly, tears streaming down her face, trying her best to stop her from hurting herself. Several bloody scratches were left on her body by Lin Shi, but she still protected her fiercely.

Xi Lingche sat opposite her, watching his once elegant and cunning mother become this insane state. His heart ached, and his handsome face was streaked with tears and pain. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms.

“Mother...don’t be afraid...Che’er is here...Che’er will take you away...we’ll go to the estate...it’s quiet there...there are mountains and rivers...Che’er will paint a picture for you…” His voice choked as he repeated comforting words over and over, trying to bring his mother back to her senses.

The carriage bumped along as it arrived at the villa. It was a quiet and simple courtyard, far from the hustle and bustle of the world. Lin was placed in a sunny room, still acting erratically, not recognizing anyone, not eating properly, spending half the day talking nonsense, or sitting blankly all day.

Xi Lingche dismissed most of the palace servants who had "escorted" her, leaving only Xi Yu and a mute servant. He personally took care of everything, staying by his mother's side every day. Xi Yu stayed by her side constantly, patiently feeding her water and food, wiping her body, and soothing her agitation like coaxing a child.

Days passed. Far from the intrigues and power struggles of the palace, in this small world with only her son and a loyal maid, Lin's madness miraculously began to subside. Her manic episodes became less frequent, and her moments of lucidity increased.

One afternoon, sunlight streamed through the window. Madam Lin leaned against the soft couch by the window, while Xi Lingche sat on a small stool beside her, intently drawing a portrait of her. Xi Yu quietly embroidered nearby.

Lin's gaze was no longer empty. She looked at her son's focused profile, at the image gradually taking shape in his writing—a self with an inescapable melancholy in his brows, but no longer ferocious. Her eyes held a complex expression. After a long while, her chapped lips moved slightly, uttering a hoarse, weak sound: "Che'er..."

Xi Lingche paused abruptly, pen in hand, and looked up in surprise: "Mother? You...you recognize me?"

Lin did not answer, but simply closed her eyes wearily, a single, cloudy tear sliding down her cheek. She reached out, her withered fingers gently touching the back of Xi Lingche's hand resting on the edge of the bed. The movement was extremely slight, yet it carried a belated, clumsy apology and a sense of dependence.

Xi Lingche's tears welled up instantly. He grasped his mother's cold hand in return, his voice choked with emotion, "Mother...it's alright...it's all over...from now on...only we...and Sister Xiyu will be with you...we'll be quiet...okay?"

Xi Yu silently wept beside her, gripping the embroidery frame in her hands even tighter. Outside the window, the cold wind still blew, but in this small courtyard, a faint warmth, as if a survivor of a catastrophe, was struggling to grow.