"If you dare to give up..."
"When I return to the capital, I will immediately marry eighteen imperial consorts and indulge in nightly revelry, completely forgetting about you!"
Zi Xi's eyes suddenly welled up with tears, which streamed down her face without warning. She leaned close to him and spoke through gritted teeth in a fierce tone.
"Did you hear me? I said I want to take eighteen concubines..."
Tears fell and landed on the cold back of his hand, leaving a small wet patch.
Perhaps it was the sheer terror of her threat that brought about this miraculous stimulation.
Ling Siran's eyelashes trembled very slightly.
His fingers, which had been clenched tightly, curled up almost imperceptibly.
Ling Siran's consciousness was sometimes clear and sometimes blurred.
He felt as if he had returned to that hall where he was ridiculed by everyone and felt isolated and helpless.
Just as he was about to be completely swallowed by darkness, a voice cleaved open his heavy head.
"...Immediately marry eighteen royal consorts and indulge in nightly revelry, completely forgetting about you!"
That voice... it's His Highness!
His fierce tone bordered on unreasonable.
It's His Highness! His Highness has arrived!
But this is a dangerous border military camp!
A strong, sour feeling ignited his dazed body.
Ling Siran wanted to open his eyes, to tell her it was dangerous here, and to ask her to leave.
But even with all his might, he could only make his fingers curl up very slightly.
Immediately afterwards, he felt a drop of scalding liquid fall onto the back of his cold hand.
Are they tears?
Your Highness's tears!
For him?
What merit or ability does he possess!
This realization was more impactful than any antidote, like a warm current forcefully flowing into his almost frozen blood and heart.
He can't die!
How could he die? If he dies, does Your Highness really intend to...?
No, absolutely not!
His will to survive had never been stronger than it was at that moment; he fought desperately against the toxins raging in his body.
In a daze, he felt someone pry open his chapped lips and slowly pour in the bitter yet vital medicine.
Wherever the medicinal liquid passed, it dispelled the chilling cold that had been lingering in his body.
A warm power began to rapidly repair his limbs and bones.
After an unknown amount of time, my heavy eyelids finally felt a faint ray of light.
Ling Siran opened his eyes very slowly and with great difficulty.
His vision was blurry at first, and after a moment of adjustment, his eyes moved very slowly before his gaze fixed.
Beside his bed, a crimson figure lay sprawled, seemingly asleep from extreme exhaustion.
Her head was resting on her crossed arms, her face turned to the side, a few strands of her dark hair obscuring part of her features.
But Ling Siran recognized her at a glance; she was his princess.
Her skirt even had several torn marks, her hair was a little loose, and a few strands of hair fell down beside her cheeks.
He looked travel-worn and his haggard appearance was hard to hide.
It wasn't a dream; His Highness actually came.
They traveled thousands of miles, disregarding their own safety, to come to this war-torn front.
It was for him.
Ling Siran felt as if his heart had been violently struck by something.
It was a bittersweet, scalding sensation, yet filled with an indescribable ecstasy.
He moved his chapped lips as if to call out to her, but only managed to utter a weak, hoarse whisper.
But this slight movement instantly startled Zi Xi, who was already a light sleeper.
She suddenly looked up and met his open, light brown eyes, her gaze instantly filled with immense surprise.
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