Who is it?

Who did this?

Shen Jintang clenched her fists slightly.

It's been a long time since I've felt this kind of feeling of being framed and slandered.

"Master, how is it?" Xing Hui, who was guarding outside, immediately stepped forward and asked with concern as soon as he saw Shen Jintang come out.

Shen Jintang simply shook his head, the gloom in his eyes even darker than the sky.

Seeing this, Xinghui didn't ask any more questions. He silently opened the oil-paper umbrella and protected her as she walked towards the carriage.

The rain was heavy, large raindrops pounding on the bluestone slabs, splashing up murky sprays. Shen Jintang's skirt was quickly soaked through, clinging heavily to her ankles. The sound of the carriage wheels rolling over the puddles mingled with the sound of the rain, sounding particularly muffled.

When we returned to the Princess's residence, the lanterns under the eaves swayed in the wind and rain, casting flickering shadows.

As Shen Jintang stepped into the inner courtyard, she could see a figure reflected on the window paper of Gu Zhixing's room from afar.

She paused, and when she pushed the door open, she brought in a gust of damp, cold air.

"Squeak—"

The door creaked softly.

Shen Jintang walked in and scanned the room.

Gu Zhixing did indeed wake up.

He sat on the edge of the bed wearing only a thin undergarment, his messy black hair cascading over his shoulders, his hands clenched so tightly that he felt no pain as his nails dug into his flesh.

Hearing the noise, he slowly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, like a trapped beast that had been trapped all night.

Shen Jintang's eyes flickered slightly. She had never been good at comforting people, and at this moment she felt that all words were pale and powerless.

She silently walked up to Gu Zhixing and reached out to brush aside the strand of hair on his forehead that was damp with cold sweat.

This action seemed to have shattered something.

Gu Zhixing suddenly reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her rain-scented clothes.

Shen Jintang felt him trembling all over, like a small boat that had finally found harbor in a storm.

She gently stroked the back of his neck, her fingertips touching a patch of cool skin.

"I'm here."

She finally spoke, her voice even gentler than I had imagined.

The sound of rain outside the window gradually subsided, and the candlelight cast the shadows of the two people on the wall, blending into a blurry mass.

Gu Zhixing tightened his arms around her, his warm breath seeping through the fabric and soothing her heart.

Shen Jintang gazed at the overlapping figures in the bronze mirror, his eyes darkening slightly as if he were thinking of something.

The candle flame popped, and Gu Zhixing finally raised his head.

His eyes were still red at the corners, but he had regained some clarity, like a little dog that had been rained on trying to confirm the presence of its owner.

Shen Jintang rubbed the dark circles under his eyes with her thumb and heard him say hoarsely, "Don't go."

"Okay." She answered readily, turned around, took the outer robe from the rack, and draped it over his shoulders. "I'll stay with you."

Night was falling, but the rain continued.

The rain outside the window gradually changed from a downpour to a fine, continuous drizzle, tapping on the green tiles under the eaves with a soft, rustling sound, like countless fingertips gently tapping on time.

The candlelight flickered all night, finally burning out its last drop of wax as dawn broke, turning into a wisp of smoke and dissipating into the damp air.

Shen Jintang sat on the edge of the bed, quietly watching over Gu Zhixing.

His breathing was heavy but unsteady, and his brows furrowed occasionally, as if he were still struggling in a dream.

She reached out and tucked the blanket around him, her fingertips touching his slightly cool skin, and her heart tightened slightly.

The night was as dark as ink, gradually diluted by the morning light.

Outside the window, a pale line gradually appeared on the gray sky, like silk that had been washed and faded by the rain.

In the distance came the sound of a night watchman striking his clapper, echoing dully through the empty street, one strike after another, like a silent countdown.

Gu Zhixing woke up just before dawn.

He opened his eyes, his pupils were pitch black, there was no confusion as when he first woke up, only a deathly stillness of clarity.

Shen Jintang watched him slowly sit up, his back straight as if carved by a knife, not even a trace of dejection showing.

"It's dawn," he said in a low voice, hoarse yet unusually calm.

Shen Jintang didn't respond, but just watched him get up, watched him change his clothes, and watched the precision of his fingers as he tied his hair, which was almost cold.

His features in the mirror were still handsome, but the light in his eyes seemed to have been extinguished, leaving only a bottomless darkness.

She suddenly remembered a long time ago, when Gu Zhixing leaned on her shoulder after getting drunk, laughing wildly and arrogantly, and said, "Shen Jintang, the kind of person I hate most in this life is someone who pretends to be something they're not."

But now, he has worn himself down to this state.

As dawn broke, the air after the rain still carried a damp chill.

Shen Jintang stood under the corridor, watching Gu Zhixing walk out of the house, and for a moment she was in a daze.

He changed into a dark brocade robe, the jade belt around his waist tightly fastened, his usual lazy and casual demeanor completely gone. His features were still handsome, but his eyes seemed to be covered with a thin layer of ice, cold and calm. Even the way he raised his hand to adjust his cuffs was slower than usual, as if every inch of his strength was carefully considered.

Shen Jintang looked at him, her throat tightening slightly.

This version of Gu Zhixing is both strange and familiar.

He seemed to have lost all his youthful arrogance overnight, leaving only a sharp and composed demeanor.

But she knew what she had to pay for this growth.

Let's go.

He spoke, his voice low and unreadable.

Shen Jintang didn't say anything, but simply followed him into the carriage.

Inside the carriage, she couldn't help but glance at him, only to see that he was just looking down, his slender fingers gently stroking the little dog jade pendant that Ye Qingzhou had given him before, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

She instinctively reached out, and her fingertips had barely touched the back of his hand when he grabbed hers.

His palms were warm, but no longer had the fiery passion characteristic of a young man; instead, they were calm and restrained.

"I'm fine." He looked up at her, a slight smile even playing on his lips, but his eyes remained unfathomable. "I'll be alright."

Shen Jintang's heart skipped a beat.

"I still need to avenge Ye Qingzhou." He spoke calmly, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary.

But it was precisely this calm that made Shen Jintang's fingertips feel slightly cold.

She knows Gu Zhixing too well.

She wouldn't worry so much if he were angry, if he were yelling, if he were hysterical.

But ironically, the calmer and more restrained he was, the more it seemed as if he was suppressing something powerful enough to destroy everything.

The carriage slowly made its way to the palace gate, and the morning light shone through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating his sharply defined profile.

Looking at him, Shen Jintang suddenly felt that the once spirited young man might have really died last night.