Zhao Mian suddenly froze.

He recognized these eyes, and even more so, those two teardrop moles beneath them. Most beauties had one beauty mark at the corner of their eye, but Wei Zhenfeng had two identical ones, precisely in the middle beneath each eye. They were too unique, so unique that one glance would make them unforgettable for a lifetime.

It was precisely because of his exceptionally striking appearance that the Young Prince of Beiyuan always had to disguise himself whenever he didn’t want to reveal his identity.

These two moles wouldn’t appear on Li Er’s face. Li Er’s skin wasn’t this fair, and his features weren’t this bold and handsome; the aggression that surfaced when he was angered was like a knife, sharp and cold.

The youth standing in the water before him was practically an enlarged version of the Young Prince of Beiyuan from six years ago.

So, this was eighteen-year-old Wei Zhenfeng? The Young Prince of Beiyuan hadn’t gone awry, nor had he been tanned dark?

Since reuniting with Wei Zhenfeng, Zhao Mian had once wondered what the Young Prince of Beiyuan would look like if he continued to grow from his twelve-year-old appearance.

Today, he had his answer.

It was an even better answer than he had imagined.

Zhao Mian’s eyes were wide open, his mind in disarray, even forgetting his present life-or-death situation.

In a daze, he said, “Wei Zhenfeng?”

This was also the first time he had ever called him by name.

The young man’s expression showed no signs of softening. He stood in the hot spring, the water reaching just his chest. Half of his long hair was submerged, the other half floated on the surface, his clothes clinging to his body. He didn’t possess the muscular build of a military soldier, nor was he as slender and frail as an indoor scholar. Instead, he was lean and perfectly proportioned. Though already tall, his physique constantly conveyed to others that he was only eighteen.

Wei Zhenfeng hadn’t lied to him; his complexion was indeed not as fair as Zhao Mian’s, but it definitely had nothing to do with “dark-skinned.” For a youth who spent his days traveling and risking his life on the battlefield, his face bore not a single blemish.

How did Wei Zhenfeng manage that? Didn’t he say he wasn’t carrying the remedy for disguises with him?

Even with Zhao Mian’s chaotic and unsettled mind, the answer seemed glaringly obvious.

—It was the hot spring’s medicinal water.

Zhao Mian suddenly recalled Wei Zhenfeng’s words from earlier that day: “I’ve made a new discovery.” So this was it.

It turned out Wei Zhenfeng had already realized the hot spring water could dissolve disguises.

Why hadn’t he told him earlier if he had found out? If he had known Wei Zhenfeng’s disguise could be removed, how could things have escalated to this point?!

If Wei Zhenfeng had been traveling with his real face all along, why would Zhao Mian have agonized so much?!

Bastard.

Beast!

The acceptance of his impending death that had settled in moments ago was suddenly engulfed by a surge of inexplicable fury. Just as Zhao Mian was about to demand an explanation, a faint sting spread across his chest, as if bitten by an insect.

He tried to steady himself, but the pain intensified rapidly, escalating to the sensation of being gnawed at within mere breaths. Zhao Mian’s brows furrowed, his hands clutching at his chest as a thin trickle of blood escaped the corner of his lips. “Nngh—”

A streak of crimson spread, blurred on the water’s surface, staining the bright moon in the sky.

The full moon hung high in the sky; the fifteenth day had arrived.

The male and female Gu worms, after lying in wait for so long, were finally about to take effect.

Zhao Mian’s forehead beaded with cold sweat from the pain as he struggled to lift his head and look at Wei Zhenfeng. The young man’s face was just as pale as his, his lips tinged with blood, intensifying the eerie, bloodthirsty aura of the twin teardrop moles beneath his eyes.

Despite suffering the same bone-deep, heart-gnawing pain, Wei Zhenfeng did not appear overly disheveled. He raised a hand to wipe the blood from his lips, glancing at it casually, his movements incredibly practiced, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

Wei Zhenfeng had the antidote. Wei Zhenfeng wouldn’t die. Only he would die.

It hurt. It hurt so much that he could barely stand, ten times worse than the pain he’d endured in the reed marshes. His vision blurred from the torment, the figure of the young man before him gradually fading into indistinct shapes.

Blood continuously spilled from Zhao Mian’s lips as he instinctively called the youth’s name: “Wei… Zhenfeng…”

Why wasn’t Wei Zhenfeng taking the antidote? Was he trying to humiliate him, making him suffer and die in agony while clutching a faint hope?

How… how could he be so cruel…

Finally, Wei Zhenfeng moved. Before Zhao Mian’s eyes, he took out the antidote Zhao Mian had yearned for, holding it in his palm.

Zhao Mian felt as if he had been pierced. His pure white robe was stained with blood, mingling with the warm spring water, incongruously forming a beautiful scene, like an ink-wash painting.

This was Zhao Mian’s favorite color—one that spoke of nobility and extravagance.

Wei Zhenfeng looked at him, and recalled the Crown Prince who had been even more dazzling than the sunset in the reed marsh that day.

The breathtaking youth, an ephemeral sight in this world, was now withering before his eyes—vibrant yet deathly pale, like a peony discarded in a vast snow, struggling to bloom with its last vestiges of brilliance.

He should ignore him. Someone who had intended to kill him would only bring endless trouble if allowed to live. Emperor Yuan wanted to conquer the three kingdoms and unite the world. Even if Nanjing was their ally now, there might come a day when they would turn against each other.

There was no reason for him to show mercy to the Crown Prince of Nanjing.

Those who kill must be prepared to be killed. He had countless reasons to abandon Zhao Mian.

And yet…

He had spent half a month in Shangjing, the capital of Nanjing, but aside from the obligatory apology forced upon him by his father and mother, he had little interaction with the ever-dignified, silver-tongued Crown Prince of Nanjing. On the contrary, he had found himself more in tune with the Crown Prince’s younger brother.

On the day of their departure, the Crown Prince had been tasked with seeing them off at the city gates. His bright yellow dragon robes billowed in the wind, dazzling bright under the sun.

The Crown Prince, whose every move captivated everyone, stood before him, his eyes solely only on him: “May Your Highness’ path be smooth and without worry, and may all your wishes be granted. May this be the start of your renown, and may we gaze upon each other from the heights of success.”

Even though he knew the Crown Prince was merely fulfilling his duty, reciting the polite words of host and guest, he couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t bother with the refined phrases expected of him to thank the Crown Prince—despite the officials beside him frantically signaling for him to observe proper decorum—and simply said, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

He had once thought they might be friends.

Wei Zhenfeng’s eyes darkened, and he clenched his hand with force. The antidote turned into powder in his palm and scattered with a gust of wind.

Zhao Mian’s eyes widened in disbelief: “You… have you gone mad?”

“If you want to die, don’t drag me with you.” Wei Zhenfeng coldly ordered, “Come here.”

Zhao Mian stood frozen, as if under a spell, his legs refusing to obey. 

He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He could only watch as the young man created ripples, walking towards him step by step.

When they were just one step apart, Wei Zhenfeng suddenly lunged forward.

Zhao Mian’s back unexpectedly slammed hard against the stone wall, the splashing water blurring his vision. The pain of the Gu’s awakening combined with the impact on his back, and he couldn’t help but let out a muffled groan. Then, a hand seized his chin effortlessly, trapping him completely.

“Look closely,” Wei Zhenfeng turned his face toward him, forcing their eyes to meet. “Now, may I have you?”

Zhao Mian struggled to focus on the young man before him—his sharp nose, the arch of his brow, so domineering, so unyielding, devoid of even the slightest trace of respect or propriety toward him.

His lips parted. He wanted to ask Wei Zhenfeng what this attitude was. Did he think his good looks excused such insolence?

He wanted to tell him to get lost.

But his mind was in chaos, too scattered to form a single word.

In his blurred vision, those two mesmerizing teardrop moles beneath the eyes drew closer and closer, impossibly near.

Pressed against the stone wall of the hot spring, Zhao Mian felt Wei Zhenfeng lower his head, his long lashes brushing against the bridge of his nose before his blood-stained lips sealed over his own.

The world suddenly fell silent. The sound of wind, water, and the crackling campfire all vanished. Between heaven and earth, only his and Wei Zhenfeng’s heartbeats remained.

The taste of blood gradually spread between their lips and teeth. Zhao Mian kept his eyes open, watching as Wei Zhenfeng closed his just before their mouths touched.

Wei Zhenfeng’s expression remained cold, but in that moment, a hint of youthful awkwardness flickered across his brow.

Why was this happening? Zhao Mian wondered blankly.

Why didn’t Wei Zhenfeng take the antidote himself? Why was he kissing him?

Was Wei Zhenfeng… saving him?

The kiss, if it could even be called one, ended swiftly. Wei Zhenfeng straightened up, meeting Zhao Mian’s wide eyes. His expression became subtle and complex, tinged with a hint of confused bewilderment, as if he himself wasn’t sure what he had just experienced.

He wanted to stop and think, but the raging Gu poison wouldn’t allow him.

Another wave of excruciating pain struck. The Gu poison in both their bodies seemed to have sensed each other’s presence. A brief, superficial touch couldn’t satisfy them; they wildly tormented their hosts, demanding for more.

Zhao Mian’s voice trembled with pain, his hands clutching desperately at Wei Zhenfeng’s chest. “It hurts….”

​​He couldn’t fathom how they could possibly go through with this while enduring such agony.

At least, he couldn’t do it. But could Wei Zhenfeng?

Wei Zhenfeng soon gave him an answer.

The young man leaned in once more and kissed him.

Water splashed, mist swirled—chaos reigned, devoid of any order.

Wei Zhenfeng’s claim that he was “not very good at it” was false; he was completely clueless.

Zhao Mian felt Wei Zhenfeng grasp his shoulders, forcing him to turn around and face away. Now pressed against the edge of the pool, he could no longer see the young man’s face, only the campfire he had lit himself beside the hot spring, its flames flickering like tattered red cloth against the quiet night.  

At some point, the agonizing pain from the dual Gu’s effects had faded, replaced by another indescribable torment. Zhao Mian, who had read extensively for over a decade, couldn’t find a single sentence, or even a single word, to describe his current feelings.

He thought he might pass out; he even wished he could. But the male and female Gu forced him to stay conscious, so conscious that he could vividly feel everything happening.

He bit down hard on his lip, afraid that if he spoke, he would reveal his weakness.  

He absolutely refused to beg Wei Zhenfeng for mercy or show any sign of vulnerability.  

But Wei Zhenfeng wouldn’t let him off.

“You wanted to kill me, didn’t you, Your Highness?”

Wei Zhenfeng, behind him, scoffed into his ear. His voice was no longer the clear tone of a youth but deeper, almost like a grown man’s, dripped with mockery as he spoke close to Zhao Mian’s ear. “Look at you now. How are you going to kill me?”

Though his words were still taunting, the icy edge from before had softened. Zhao Mian could even detect a hint of excitement in his tone.  

Strangely, it seemed that from the moment they began neutralizing the Gu, Wei Zhenfeng’s anger had cooled significantly.  

Zhao Mian clung to his pride, still acting imperious even as he was trapped and tormented in the other’s arms, every bit the sovereign ruler. “Shut your mouth and just… focus on what you’re doing.

Wei Zhenfeng chuckled: “Then tell me, what exactly am I doing right now?”  

Zhao Mian clenched his eyes shut, refusing to utter a sound. He was like a tiger brought low, preyed upon by dogs; arguing further with Wei Zhenfeng now would be utterly foolish. He needed to conserve his energy. Later… later, he would make sure Wei Zhenfeng spent the rest of his life regretting his insolence.  

“What, too scared to look? I remember there’s a mirror in your room. Should I take you there?”  

Zhao Mian nearly ground his teeth to dust. “…You wouldn’t dare.”  

After their recent clashes, Wei Zhenfeng knew exactly how to strike at the Crown Prince’s pride. His cruel words hit Zhao Mian where it hurt most: “I think I would.” 

Zhao Mian immediately panicked. He knew Wei Zhenfeng meant it.  

Wei Zhenfeng felt the person in his arms suddenly stiffen. Part of him wondered if he was pushing too hard, but another, more ruthless part of him relished it. He lifted Zhao Mian as if to carry him out of the pool.  

Immense fear swept away Zhao Mian’s last shred of stubbornness. He desperately clung to Wei Zhenfeng’s arm, blurting out his true feelings: “Wait! Wei Zhenfeng, I… I didn’t truly mean to kill you,” His words came haltingly, laced with a grievance he didn’t even realize he felt, “I don’t want you to die by my hand. I want, I want to live with you… Wei Zhenfeng, I wasn’t going to kill you.”

Wei Zhenfeng’s side slowly quieted down, and the water around them calmed. 

The sounds of the night returned—the wind, the crackling fire. hao Mian seized the brief respite, unable to stop himself from continuing, “I didn’t even steal your antidote, and I didn’t push you away… I didn’t lie to you.”

“Nice words,” Wei Zhenfeng scoffed. “Or was it just that you couldn’t push me away?” 

His tone was no longer cold, almost back to his usual self. Having seen the other side of him, Zhao Mian realized just how approachable this Wei Zhenfeng was by comparison. “I really couldn’t…”  

Wei Zhenfeng pressed, “If I hadn’t removed my disguise, would you have killed me?” He sneered. “After all, you’re the Crown Prince who can’t even eat when you see an ugly man.”

After a pause, Zhao Mian shook his head slightly in the young man’s arms. “No. I wouldn’t have killed you. Not even the dark-skinned you.”  

Wei Zhenfeng raised an eyebrow and asked again, “Then what about me with fair skin?”

Zhao Mian didn’t understand what Wei Zhenfeng meant and didn’t answer his question for a moment. Wei Zhenfeng tried his trick again: “Is the spring water very hot? I see you’re sweating a lot. Maybe we should go back inside…”

Hidden in the hot spring, Zhao Mian could still pretend to be an ostrich and deceive himself, believing that all of this was all for the sake of neutralizing the Gu. But if he had to see himself like this in the mirror… he couldn’t bear it. He truly couldn’t bear it.  

“No, just stay here.” Zhao Mian was angry and in pain, and even more unwilling, tears almost spilling from his eyes. But he was cornered, so he had no choice but to say, “You… you’ve grown so much taller than six years ago. That’s good. I don’t dislike you. I see you’re able to eat…”

Author’s Note:

*《Sending Scholar Wei Da Chong to the Imperial Examinations》