Long Xuanmo waved his hand, and Mo Yun and Mo Lei bowed their heads as they exited, closing the door behind them. They exchanged a glance then quickly departed.

In the room, Long Xuanmo slowly opened his eyes, revealing eyes dark as pitch, devoid of any light, yet burning with an intense flame, like ghostly fires in the netherworld, fierce and icy cold.

Meanwhile, Yang Mengchen and Hang Qingming had spent the entire day enjoying themselves at Fairy Lake. After dinner, they strolled around the snack street and planned to visit Martyr Temple the next day before they returned to the Yang family estate.

Looking at Yang Mengchen focused on her painting by the desk, eyes tender, corners of her lips upturned in a happy smile, as Hang Qingming's look and smile slowly took shape on the paper, Hai Tang's eyes filled with worry, "Miss?"

"I know what you want to say," Yang Mengchen continued to paint with attention to detail: "Don't worry, I'm well aware."

Hai Tang fell silent, busying herself grinding ink and preparing pigments at her side.

At the Auspicious Tavern.

Hang Qingming was savoring his tea with elegance, clad in white robes pure as snow, hair as dark as ink, with slightly arched eyebrows, and eyes brimming with a mirthful light, as if he had stepped right out of a painting.

His attendant on the left, with joy on his face, said, "We finally have some leads, it wasn't in vain that the young master took so much trouble to investigate for so long."

The attendant on the right nodded in agreement.

Hang Qingming didn't speak, merely gazing out at the cold moon through the window, his eyebrows tinged with nostalgia and melancholy, but also steadfast determination.

The left attendant respectfully handed over a piece of paper to Hang Qingming, "Here is the biography of Ms. Yang for the young master to review."

Setting down his teacup, Hang Qingming took it and glanced over the document, his eyebrows gradually knitting together, his gaze deep as ink.

"Young master, is there something amiss?"

"She said that her medical skill was taught by her master and uncle, but the records indicate her master was an old Taoist priest, not that person."

"Does the young master mean, she has deceived everyone with lies?"

"Continue the investigation; I want to know everything about her, no matter how trivial!"

"Yes, young master!" the two attendants responded respectfully.

Crumpling the paper into tiny pieces with some force, Hang Qingming watched the white fragments drift slowly from his fingers, his gaze becoming gentle and deep, with a touch of tenderness he wasn't aware of, as if envisioning those clear and lucid eyes of hers.

That night, some slept peacefully, while others stayed awake.

In the following month, Yang Mengchen put aside all her affairs to accompany Hang Qingming in his travels and leisure through Qinghe Prefecture. They scaled heights to take in the views, sailed on lakes, composed poetry and painted, or played the zither and the flute... their days were exceedingly pleasant and cheerful.

That day, around the hour of Xu (roughly 8 p.m.), Yang Mengchen returned to her estate after parting ways with Hang Qingming.

Upon entering the house, she saw Long Xuanmo sitting by the table. A mere month apart, he seemed to have become much more haggard and thin. Even the light purple brocade robe that used to fit him well now hung loose. Yang Mengchen's expression faltered, and she gestured for Hai Tang and Lv Luo to leave.

She then walked slowly to sit opposite Long Xuanmo, poured herself a cup of tea, took a sip, and then asked, "What brings you here, Prince?"

"Can't I come if there's no matter?" Long Xuanmo gazed deeply at Yang Mengchen, his eyes brimming with complex emotions.

Yang Mengchen's hand, holding the teacup, paused, and she lowered her eyes, biting her lip in silence.

Long Xuanmo forced a smile on his lips, but it was filled with bitterness and self-mockery, "Ah Jiu, Father is preparing to decree my marriage to the Grand Scholar Su's granddaughter by his eldest son."

"Congratulations, Prince," Yang Mengchen looked up and smiled lightly, "The Prince is of age and indeed it is time to marry. I've heard from Old Hai that the Su family has been scholastic for generations, that Grand Scholar Su himself is a great scholar, and that Ms. Su is gentle and dignified, educated and sensible. You and Ms. Su are a match of equals, truly a marriage made in heaven..."

"Stop it, Ah Jiu!" Long Xuanmo suddenly interrupted Yang Mengchen.

At his words, Yang Mengchen closed her lips, silently looking at Long Xuanmo, who also stared back at her. Their gazes locked, neither of them spoke.

For a moment, the room was filled with a stagnant and oppressive atmosphere.

After a while, Long Xuanmo spoke with difficulty, "Do you truly wish for me to marry someone else?"

"Yes!"

"Have you ever had a place for me in your heart, even just a little?"

"No!"

"Truly not?"

"No!"

Long Xuanmo didn't ask further, knowing it was pointless. He just looked at Yang Mengchen, his eyes filled with desolation, self-mockery, and intense sorrow that pained her eyes and tore at her heart. But the words had been said, and it was best to make a clean break rather than prolong the pain with delay.

"Prince, I understand your feelings, but you and I are from two different worlds, like two parallel lines that will never cross. From the beginning, I've seen you as a partner, and it will be the same in the future. So I ask you, Prince, to conduct yourself with dignity and spare me any further trouble!"

"Conduct myself with dignity? Ha ha ha ha!" Long Xuanmo laughed bitterly, his laughter saturated with desolation and loneliness. He soon ceased his hysterical laughter and threw a piece of paper in front of Yang Mengchen: "Is it because of him that you refuse me?"

Yang Mengchen cast her eyes down to see the content on the paper: Hang Qingming, true name Meng Jingqi, Crown Prince of Qing'an.

"You said your roots are here, that your family is here, that you would never leave your homeland and your relatives. I believed it, but it was all lies! In reality, you've been waiting for him!" More than five years of companionship and waiting turned out to be a joke, especially during this past month, as he watched them together every day, Long Xuanmo's feelings were evident.

Understanding that Long Xuanmo had misunderstood, perhaps it was for the best. At least Long Xuanmo would give up and marry Ms. Su without further delay, not opposed to the Emperor's wishes, even to the point of confrontation. Yang Mengchen pressed her lips together and remained silent, effectively acknowledging it.

Seeing this, Long Xuanmo's eyes filled with pain and regret, turning cold and scornful, "I thought you were different from other women, but it turns out you're just better at hiding it."

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