Yang Wan struggled with an endless dream for a long time, constantly dreaming of her graduation defense and Deng Ying’s execution ground. These scenes were all incomplete, without endings. Previously, she had found stability in understanding endings. This wasn’t some heroic “living towards death” philosophy—after all, she hadn’t wanted to place herself within such grand narratives then.
She had simply chosen to observe this period—one that was originally unrelated to her and impossible for her to change—under the premise of accepting historical materialism.
History has never had gaps, but human relationships were full of emotional fissures.
These fissures blocked her known endings, eventually weaving into a net that trapped her, throwing her into chaos before finally returning her to the tangible hospital bed.
She finally opened her eyes.
The room was filled with thick medicinal smells.
She tried to cough, and the medicine vapor rose from her stomach to her nose, making her whole body shudder from the bitterness.
The room was empty, the bed curtains half-drawn, with a stool beside the bed holding a plate of peeled oranges.
Yang Wan’s mouth was unbearably bitter, so she lifted her covers, propped herself up, and reached for an orange segment.
“Wan-wan, don’t eat that.”
These four gentle words startled the orange segment from Yang Wan’s hand.
The speaker stood before the bed, raising the half-drawn curtain while saying, “Zi Xi bought those. I just ate one earlier—they’re sour.”
Yang Wan looked up at him. He wore plain gray-blue robes with a waist sash and flowing sleeves. His hair was tied back with her hair ribbon, loosely bound behind him, making him look as if he too was recovering from illness.
“Wan-wan, would you like some water?”
Yang Wan shook her head dazedly. “What… what day is it?”
Deng Ying answered, “The fifth day of the ninth month.”
“The fifth… You weren’t executed by lingchi… you… you survived.”
As she spoke, she instinctively gripped Deng Ying’s wrist.
Though she touched his wounds, he quietly endured it, using his other hand to brush away Yang Wan’s loose hair from her ear, saying softly, “Yes, I wasn’t executed by lingchi. I survived.”
“So… I won again?”
Deng Ying nodded, “Yes, Wan-wan won again.”
After speaking, he couldn’t help but hiss in pain. Yang Wan looked down and finally realized she was tightly gripping his injured wrist.
“I…”
She quickly released her grip and scolded him through tears, “Why didn’t you say it hurt?”
Deng Ying smiled without speaking.
Nearby, He Yu approached with a medicine bowl, saying with a smile, “Now Miss knows to tell Minister to cry out in pain. Earlier when you were confused, who knows how badly you gripped Minister’s hands.”
Yang Wan asked, “What happened to me?”
He Yu didn’t answer, just smiled and nodded toward Deng Ying’s arm.
“Roll up your sleeve, let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
“Roll it up quickly.”
Deng Ying raised his arm, letting the loose sleeve fall naturally. The bruises on his arm indeed didn’t look like old wounds.
Yang Wan looked at He Yu in surprise. “I did that?”
He Yu handed the bowl to Deng Ying, responding, “Of course it was you. These past few days while you were ill, Minister has been caring for you. During the day was one thing, but at night when we wanted to give the Minister a break, you wouldn’t allow it. You kept Minister sitting on that stool by your bed night after night. Minister is also recovering, yet you’ve worn him out so much that he’s been irregular with taking his own medicine.”
She finished speaking and covered her mouth with a laugh.
Yang Wan said, “Now that you’ve entered Yangxin Hall, you’ve taken on quite the scolding tone.”
He Yu replied, “I wouldn’t dare. His Majesty is waiting for my report. Miss, are you still feeling unwell? His Majesty has arranged for Imperial Physicians Zhang and He to attend to Chengqian Palace. If you’re not feeling well, we can summon them.”
After speaking, she bowed to them both and withdrew.
Deng Ying stood up, intending to close the window behind Yang Wan, but heard her say, “Come back.”
Deng Ying stopped in his tracks, and before he could say anything, Yang Wan said, “Sit and drink your medicine.”
“Oh, alright.”
He quickly moved the oranges from the stool and sat down, picking up the medicine He Yu had brought, and drinking it sip by sip.
After finishing, he casually picked up an orange segment and chewed it despite the sourness.
“Deng Ying.”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you sit here like a fool at night instead of leaving?”
Deng Ying held the orange peel and said, “You wouldn’t let me leave, how could I go?”
Yang Wan said, “You didn’t want to leave me either, right?”
“Yes.”
Deng Ying placed his hand on his knee. “I wanted so desperately to live.”