While others bustled about, engaged in welcoming deities and attending lantern festivals, Lu Zhixing chose the shadowy confines of his manor's secret chamber. There, he interrogated a captured Southern Yue native. He held a rust-covered torture instrument, a sudden wave of weariness washing over him. "You still refuse to speak even under such torment? What kind of forbidden technique did Helian Yi use on you?"

The Southern Yue captive, bound and barely breathing, had been brutally treated. His eyes had been gouged out, and his body was a canvas of wounds. His flesh was torn and broken, hands pierced by iron spikes, the bone starkly visible beneath the shredded skin. Seeing the man's continued defiance, Lu Zhixing tossed the instrument aside. "Someone, fetch a physician. Treat him, and when he's healed, continue the interrogation. If he still refuses to talk, show no mercy. Dump his corpse in the mass grave for the dogs."

Since his return from the outskirts of the city, Lu Zhixing hadn't slept soundly. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that old woman astride his back, yanking the iron chain locked around his neck, boasting to the surrounding Southern Yue people, "See! This is the precious son of the Li Dynasty's Prince. Now, isn't he beneath me?" Her face, a landscape of wrinkles and folds, radiated triumph. The raucous laughter of the onlookers and the chilling gaze from behind Helian Yi's mask were a recurring nightmare. He had thought he would gradually forget, but Helian Yi's reappearance had dragged him back into the abyss.

Lu Zhixing blamed the Southern Yue people for his ordeal. He showed them no mercy, subjecting them to the same humiliation he had endured at the hands of Helian Yi. Through the thick walls, the joyous sounds of reunion and celebration filtered into the chamber. Lu Zhixing looked up, a strained smile twisting his lips. "Shi An, I have everything, yet I find no joy. Everyone fears me, but why does no one care for me?" No one cared for him, which was why a single sesame cake from Shen Xinghuai had remained etched in his memory for years.

Shi An, Lu Zhixing's childhood attendant and close confidant, hesitated before responding, "Young Master, you changed after the Southern Yue incident. You used to be humble and kind, unable to harm even a stray animal." Shi An recognized the moment Lu Zhixing began to transform, becoming increasingly twisted and obsessive. 

After discovering the boy was Shen Xinghuai, Lu Zhixing vowed to possess him. If not for Shi An's intervention, he would have likely taken Shen Xinghuai by force as his consort. "Young Master, you remain fixated on the past. The Southern Yue are stirring again. General Zheng is returning with his troops. After the New Year, there will be war. Once you've confronted your enemy, try to let go of the past."

Lu Zhixing's mother, unable to bear the pain of childbirth, had succumbed to despair shortly after his birth. As the legitimate heir, Prince Yu held him to exacting standards. From a young age, he was taught to prioritize the honor of the family, never bringing shame upon it. Even upon his return from Southern Yue, his father's first reaction was not relief, but condemnation. 

He berated Lu Zhixing for lacking the courage to take his own life and for daring to return in disgrace. Before Southern Yue, Lu Zhixing had been a gentle, sensitive youth, yearning for affection. Witnessing others marry, he would gaze with envy. "Shi An, if not for my ailment, I would have married too, wouldn't I? If I had the chance, I would give that person the best of everything. I wouldn't let them suffer the pain of childbirth…" Though much time had passed, Shi An remembered those words vividly.

"No one can make me let go. Enough of that. Go to the Shen residence and summon Shen Ruoyu. Tell her to meet me at the Pear Garden in half an hour." Despite wearing the warmest and finest robes, Lu Zhixing felt a chilling cold. He stumbled out of the chamber, heedless of the blood staining his pristine clothing.

While others grappled with their own anxieties, Shen Ruoyu was happily pasting window decorations with Qi Long. She held Qi Long's hand. "Qi Long, which one do you like better? The one with the auspicious clouds or the one with the crabapple blossoms?"

Qi Long squeezed Shen Ruoyu's hand back. "The one with the auspicious clouds is beautiful. Thank you, Sister Shen, for letting me come over. I'm so happy! You wouldn't believe it, but my brother has been in a foul mood lately. I've been so worried." 

Qi Ziyi had been perpetually sullen, even praying fervently while burning incense, "I beseech the Bodhisattva to drive a wedge between my uncle and that woman…" Qi Long thought her brother was no match for Sister Shen's younger brother. Sister Shen's brother was kind and caring, unlike her own ill-tempered brother, who was always ready to explode.

"Don't mind him. If you're ever bullied, come to me. Sister Shen will defend you. I've prepared some sweets over there. Would you like to try some?" 

If anyone was in a foul mood, it was arguably Shen Ruoyu herself. Lu Zhixing had been using the antidote as leverage, forcing her to accompany him to tea and theatre. And then there was Rong Yan, refusing to break off the engagement and constantly visiting the Shen residence, even more frequently than she had visited his.

Qi Long looped her arm through Shen Ruoyu's. 

"Sister Shen, you're the best! I'll let you in on a secret. My brother said Uncle will never break off the engagement and that he's determined to marry you." 

Shen Ruoyu's affection for Rong Yan was practically public knowledge. Qi Long expected her to be pleased, but the words were a blow. No annulment? How inconsiderate. It seemed widowhood was the only escape.

Xiao Chun rushed in from the gate, breathless. "Miss… the Young Master has sent someone to fetch you. He requests your presence at the Pear Garden to watch a play." 

Him again? Lu Zhixing's frequent summons were becoming tiresome. Shen Ruoyu couldn't fathom his intentions but found it all increasingly irritating. However, a thought struck her—this could be a new opportunity. Rong Yan hadn't given her nothing; at least she'd learned from him that murder didn't always require a blade.