Xie Lian’s heart sank deeper and deeper; it was going to sink to the very bottom of the earth.
“That man was screaming ‘help,’ ‘robbery,’ ‘thief.’ Was a thief chasing him? And was that thief…Your Highness?!”
“My heavens! Your Highness… You would actually do something like this?!”
Their comments nearly made Xie Lian faint on the spot. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally croaked out, “I…”
He wanted to say something, but his words were stuck in his throat and wouldn’t come out. The heavenly officials’ expressions were mixed. A moment later, one of them patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry, Your Highness. We understand.”
The pats weren’t hard at all, but Xie Lian almost lost his balance from them. He tried again to speak. “I—”
The heavenly official laughed out loud. “You’re only doing this because you’ve got it really hard. It’s understandable. Don’t you worry, we won’t tell anyone.”
That was exactly why it was so hard for him to say a word. And once the other party brought it up first, Xie Lian had no idea what more he could say.
A long moment later, Xie Lian mumbled, “…All right, thank you. Then I’m…I’m going to head back now. Heading back.”
He wasn’t sure how he left either. When he finally came back to himself again, he was standing on another empty mountain road. The cold winter night’s breeze had snapped him out of it.
Only then did Xie Lian finally realize the full horror of what had just happened.
He was Xie Lian, the Crown Prince of Xianle—and now a thief?!
How had it come to this?!
Xie Lian was filled with regret. He must’ve been utterly mad to consider robbery, and now things had spiraled out of control. Why was he so unlucky that he’d get caught red-handed even though he hadn’t even done anything?!
He had never encountered anything like this in his former life, so he was at a complete loss as to what he should do. He was burning up from head to toe, his mind completely muddled, and he hid his face in his hands. If only time could flow backward—he was even willing to sacrifice his bountiful health and cultivation in exchange for that alone.
As he wandered, lost in the depths of his distress, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a blurry white silhouette in the corner of his eye.
Startled, Xie Lian’s head shot up. “Who goes there?!”
The figure had vanished the instant he looked. Cold sweat drenched him once more. Although he hadn’t seen the man’s face, Xie Lian could’ve sworn he had been wearing a mask!
Yet there was no trace of anyone when he scanned his surroundings, and Xie Lian couldn’t help but suspect that the figure he had seen was nothing but a hallucination born from his panic. Whether that was true or not, he didn’t dare to stay there any longer and hurried down the mountain.
By the time Xie Lian returned, Feng Xin had been waiting for him for nearly the entire day. The moment he saw him he exclaimed, “Your Highness, where did you run off to? What idea did you come up with?”
Xie Lian didn’t dare tell him; he couldn’t tell anyone, especially Feng Xin. He couldn’t even imagine what Feng Xin—who believed so faithfully in Xie Lian’s utmost virtue—would think if he found out. He could only hope that the incident would be forever buried in his heart and rotted in his stomach.
Thus, Xie Lian replied ambiguously. “Nothing.”
Feng Xin was dumbfounded. “Huh? Then why were you gone for so long?”
Xie Lian’s mind was numb. “Don’t ask again. I didn’t do anything.”
Feng Xin found this incredibly strange, but no matter how he questioned, Xie Lian refused to answer. As a servant, it wasn’t his place to push, so he could only ask in a whisper, “Do we still go busk tomorrow?”
“I’m not going out anymore,” Xie Lian replied.
His mind had been thrown into complete chaos, and his head was filled with impossible worries. What if he bumped into that middle-aged man? What if he was wanted all over the city?
Feng Xin noticed that he looked off. “Are you tired? Then why don’t you stay in, Your Highness? I’ll go myself. You just focus on training.”
He didn’t know that Xie Lian also couldn’t bring himself to train and cultivate.
Xie Lian had been focused on cultivation at first because that was the only chance they had to return to the Upper Court. But now he was terrified of the prospect of returning there—even though those junior officials had said they wouldn’t tell anyone, would they really? Had the affair already reached the ears of everyone in the Upper Court?
When he considered that possibility, Xie Lian couldn’t breathe. There was no way he could endure being tainted by such a stain, pointed at by the Upper and Lower Courts alike—even by the whole Mortal Realm!
Heavily exhausted, Xie Lian passed out, but his slumber was unsettled. He tossed back and forth, assailed by unknown nightmares. By the time he startled awake and looked outside the window, the skies were already dark.
Feng Xin wasn’t around—he must’ve gone out to busk on his own and hadn’t yet returned. From the room next to him, he heard the king and queen speaking in hushed voices, and a few quiet coughs.
Xie Lian lay on the floor. Now that he was awake, he couldn’t help but keep thinking about how his parents would react if word of the incident really got around and they found out. How shocked would they be? The king might stomp his feet in outrage, sputtering blood as he yelled that he was the shame of Xianle. The queen wouldn’t yell at him, but she would certainly be extremely anguished by her beloved child and the embarrassment he had brought them.
As his mind dwelled on this, Xie Lian began to have trouble breathing again. He needed to find somewhere where he could be alone and calm himself, so he rolled off the straw mat and dashed outside. He ran blindly for dozens of kilometers with the frigid winds blowing at his face.
He didn’t dare stop anywhere near other people—he always felt like they were staring at him and judging him for how unsightly he looked. He ran until he came upon a graveyard without a single soul present, and his midnight flight finally came to a stop.
That night was colder than the night before, and only after he arrived here did Xie Lian notice that his cheeks and hands were practically frozen stiff. His whole body was shivering, though that wasn’t just from the cold—it was also from terror. Xie Lian hugged his arms unconsciously and puffed out a few mouthfuls of hot air. As his eyes swept across the graveyard, he spotted two jugs of liquor that had been offered at a tombstone.
It seemed the owner of this tombstone used to be a lover of drink, so others brought them liquor when they came to sweep their grave. Xie Lian crouched at the tombstone. He had never drunk alcohol before, but he had heard people say that it could warm the body and help one forget. After a moment’s hesitation, he abruptly reached for a jug, yanked out the stopper, and started pouring the contents down his throat.
This was a large jug of cheap liquor, nothing fancy, and the taste was pungent and strong. Xie Lian chugged a few large mouthfuls and choked on it, breaking into coughs—however, he did seem to feel a bit warmer. Xie Lian wiped at his cheeks and sat on the ground hugging the jug, then continued to chug the liquor in large mouthfuls.
In his daze, he thought he saw a small ball of haunting ghost fire come flying over from nowhere. It circled around him, twirling about and looking quite anxious. Xie Lian was focused entirely on drinking and didn’t react at all. The ball of ghost fire appeared to be trying to get closer to him with all its might, but it was nothing but hollow flames—it passed right through his body every time it came near, forever unable to actually touch him.
One jug down and Xie Lian was already tipsy and groggy, his eyelids slack with drink. When he saw the ghost fire darting here and there, he found it rather pitiful but also rather funny. He couldn’t help but sputter a laugh as he rested his arm on the edge of the liquor jug.
