As Yu Lingxi alighted from the carriage, she deliberately looked back but didn’t see the stumbling figure with the umbrella.
The snow-covered street extended darkly into the distance, and she couldn’t tell whether she felt relieved or heavy-hearted.
After standing for a while, she instructed the coachman: “Clean the blood stains in the carriage thoroughly and replace the bedding with new ones. Don’t let anyone notice anything unusual.”
Just as she entered the main gate, she saw Madam Yu coming toward her with an anxious face, worrying: “Suisui, why are you back so late? I heard there was a fire on Yongning Street. Were you frightened?”
“I’m fine, Mother. I just took a bit of a detour,” Yu Lingxi couldn’t help but smile as she basked in the bright lights of the Yu residence and the warm, reassuring hand of her mother. “You shouldn’t be exposed to the wind. Please go back to your room and rest.”
At the hour of Hai (9-11 PM), the snow stopped.
Yu Lingxi came out from her bath, wrapping her cloak around herself and holding a hand warmer, yet still feeling bone-chilling cold.
She couldn’t help but think of the young man’s figure left behind the carriage.
Could his internal injuries have worsened, causing him to collapse on the way?
But that would be his fault!
Yu Lingxi lay on her bed, turned over, and thought: I’ve already been as kind as possible to him.
The north wind howled, rattling the window panels, and commotion came from outside the courtyard.
Yu Lingxi, who hadn’t been asleep for long, was awakened by the noise. She rubbed her temples and asked the outer room: “What’s the commotion about?”
The night maid entered, drowsy-eyed with a candle, and reported: “Miss, a beggar has come to the door, and the guards are trying to send him elsewhere.”
A beggar?
Wait…
A subtle thought flashed through her mind, and Yu Lingxi simply got out of bed, grabbed a cloak from the wooden rack, and put it on, saying quietly: “Bring a light. I want to go out for a moment.”
In the bitter cold, Yu Lingxi walked hurriedly. The servant followed crookedly with the lamp, constantly saying: “Miss, it’s cold and slippery. Please slow down!”
Yu Lingxi seemed not to notice and ordered someone to open the side door.
Just as she stepped out, she froze.
On the stone steps outside the door was a familiar red plum paper umbrella, and beside it, a black-clothed young man curled up with his arms wrapped around himself in the corner’s shadow.
Frost flowers had formed on his eyelashes, and his pale complexion nearly blended with the ice and snow on the ground, showing no signs of life.
The guard at the door hesitated: “Miss, this person can’t be woken up no matter what. He’s probably frozen to death. It’s unlucky…”
Yu Lingxi raised her hand, stopping the guard’s words.
No matter who died, it wouldn’t be Ning Yin.
Because three years later, this man would become the nightmare of the Imperial City.
She crouched down, her black hair softly cascading from her shoulders, and reached out to check Ning Yin’s breathing.
Just as her index finger approached Ning Yin’s handsome nose tip, she saw him open his eyes, his dark gaze falling on her, flashing with a trace of shallow amazement.
Though weak, he was indeed still alive.
As their eyes met, a furry creature emerged from his arms, trembling as it let out a “meow.”
Yu Lingxi followed his gaze and saw that it was a dirty, injured little stray cat that he had been holding in his arms, using what little body heat he had to keep it warm…
Yu Lingxi’s emotions became complex, her thoughts uncontrollably pulled back to her distant previous life.
She remembered that in her previous life, Ning Yin had kept a wolf-dog that he would take hunting every time.
Once, after returning from an autumn hunt, the wolf-dog had fought with some wild beast, been severely injured, and lay on the ground barely breathing, appearing very painful.
Ning Yin had walked over and gently stroked his beloved dog’s head.
Just when Yu Lingxi thought Ning Yin would do everything possible to save the wolf-dog, she heard a soft crack. Without hesitation, he had crushed the wolf-dog’s neck bone.
The poor dog hadn’t even had time to whimper.
Yu Lingxi found it terrifying and incomprehensible, and asked with trembling breath: “Didn’t Your Highness love this hunting dog the most? How could you bear to…”
Ning Yin closed the hunting dog’s eyes and leisurely wiped his fingers, saying: “It couldn’t survive anyway. Prolonging its life would only cause more suffering.”
Despite knowing Ning Yin’s twisted mind and lack of reverence for life, Yu Lingxi still couldn’t hide her compassion.
Being so weak and sickly herself, living each day carrying the wishes of deceased relatives, she was essentially no different from that injured hunting dog.
Many times she wanted to ask Ning Yin why he didn’t kill her—useless and frail as she was—just as he had killed his dying hunting dog.
This question remained unanswered until her actual death.
Now, seeing all this before her, Yu Lingxi vaguely began to understand.
The madman who could coldheartedly kill his beloved dog had once desperately tried to protect a stray cat.
Yu Lingxi, shrouded in a layer of warm orange-gold lamplight, pressed her lips together and asked: “Was it for this cat that you couldn’t keep up with my carriage?”
Ning Yin lowered his eyes, silently acknowledging it.
Yu Lingxi was speechless for a long while. She walked two steps inward, then stopped again.
Without turning around, she ordered the guard: “Carry this person in for me!”
From an angle she couldn’t see, the pale lips of the young man curved slightly upward.