Qi Yan's complexion was exceptionally ghastly. His lips trembled, and his eyelashes fluttered unsteadily. Xiao Shao took a step forward. "What's wrong?"

He turned sideways, revealing the words on the envelope. The two large characters for "Last Letter" were reflected in Qi Yan's pitch-black pupils. He subconsciously took two steps back, then gripped the bed frame, leaned over, and unexpectedly threw up a mouthful of blood.

The blood was pitch-black and thick, stagnant blood that had been congested for days.

Xiao Shao froze for a moment, then immediately let out a sigh of relief. "You've finally spat it out."

Earlier, when the imperial physician took his pulse, he said that Qi Yan's mind was too heavily burdened, and all the stagnant blood was pressing on his heart. It would be best to spit it out, otherwise, as the years passed, his body would only worsen day by day. The imperial physician had thought of many methods but couldn't make him release this pent-up breath. Now, by a stroke of luck, he had actually spat it out.

Xiao Shao took a handkerchief, intending to wipe the blood from the corners of his lips. However, as soon as he approached, the large characters on the envelope glared brightly before Qi Yan's eyes. Qi Yan's fingers gripped the bed frame so tightly that his fingertips turned blue with congestion. For a moment, only those two words remained in his eyes; everything else distorted into irregular blocks of color. Certain scenes kept flashing before his eyes, turning into a bloody past. Finally, he batted away Xiao Shao's hand, leaned against the edge of the bed, and began to dry heave.

There had been continuous turmoil over the past few days, and he had been running a dizzying fever. He hadn't eaten much to begin with, so he couldn't throw anything up. He could only half-support himself. Then, his arm gave out, and he nearly tumbled to the floor.

Xiao Shao blanked. Being right next to him, when Qi Yan fell toward him, he steadied him with one arm, pressing the person into his embrace to prevent him from tumbling further, and frowned, "What's wrong? You were perfectly fine..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Xiao Shao's gaze shifted downward and landed on the "Last Letter" in his hand.

He hastily tore open the envelope, tossed his own calligraphy into the charcoal basin to burn it clean, and then took out the letter, handing it to Qi Yan. "A letter from home that your sister asked me to bring to you. Want to take a look?"

But Qi Yan stared at the letter without reaching out to take it. He was dizzy and disoriented, as if he had fallen into a nightmare again, avoiding the letter like it was a venomous snake or scorpion.

When Xiao Shao reached out, he hastily dodged backward, wanting to put distance between himself and the letter. But because Xiao Shao was right behind him, leaving him with no way out, he pressed desperately into his embrace. As their skin pressed together, he nearly knocked Xiao Shao onto the bed.

Xiao Shao held him with one arm to steady his body. His warm palm rubbed the back of Qi Yan's head and neck, like comforting an uneasy animal. "No, no, I was just teasing you. It's really a letter from home. Should I read it to you?"

He unfolded the letter and read slowly, "To my dear brother, my youngest sister and I have been staying in the Jiaofangsi for several months now. The supervisor is of a gentle disposition and has taken great care of the three of us. We lack neither food nor drink in the quarters, and our hairpins, skirts, and silks are no different from those in our own manor. You need not worry..."

Xiao Shao's tone was calm as he slowly relayed the contents of the letter. This was indeed just an ordinary letter from home. Lady Qi even reported only the good news and not the bad, deliberately concealing the grievances and hardships she had suffered, only picking out the good things to say. She chattered on about her daily life in the Jiaofangsi, saying that she taught her two younger sisters how to read and write, talking about which sister was naughty and which sister was naturally intelligent... All in all, there were no bad tidings.

Qi Yan slowly calmed down.

Xiao Shao touched the skin on the back of his neck and felt a handful of ice-cold sweat. He then pulled over the blanket, wrapping the person into a warm cocoon, before finally stuffing the letter over. "Here, see for yourself."

Qi Yan lowered his eyes and took it, reading ten lines at a glance. The contents of the letter were exactly as Xiao Shao had said, and the phrasing and strokes were also the ones his sister was accustomed to using. He finally breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed inside the blanket.

Only then did he notice his current predicament.

Qi Yan's back was pressed against Xiao Shao, leaning into his embrace. Xiao Shao was slightly taller than Qi Yan, and his chin rested right on top of Qi Yan's head. Thus, it formed a semi-enclosing hug.

...Very warm, very comfortable, but highly inappropriate.

Extremely inappropriate!

Qi Yan froze, his cheeks burning like fire, the skin behind his ears redder than when he was running a fever. He struggled slightly, wanting to break free from this awkward situation, but Xiao Shao wordlessly held him tighter. He pressed Qi Yan into his arms, narrowing his eyes slightly as he leaned closer. "Something's not right. Why were you so scared?"

Xiao Shao had a system quest and knew that something was going to happen to Lady Qi and that she would leave behind a last letter. But how did Qi Yan know?

It was true that he held a last letter in his hand, but a normal person's reaction would be to first ask who wrote it, and only after learning that it was a suicide note left by a loved one would they be consumed by grief. Who would vomit blood right away without even knowing who wrote it? Moreover, Xiao Shao's wild cursive calligraphy was flamboyant and bold, possessing the heroic spirit to swallow mountains and drink the moon; it was worlds apart from Lady Qi's graceful and elegant handwriting. For Qi Yan to misidentify even this could only mean he had a premonition early on that something would happen to his sister.

But how could he have predicted it?

Xiao Shao was reborn and didn't even know about these things, whereas Qi Yan had been in the imperial prison for a long time. He was picked away by Xiao Shao right after being released and had entirely lost contact with the outside world. How did he know?

Xiao Shao asked, "You knew something was going to happen to your sister. How did you know?"

"..."

Xiao Shao possessed considerable strength. Held tightly by him, Qi Yan had no room to struggle. Half-lying helplessly in Xiao Shao's arms, he wanted to look up, but couldn't see Xiao Shao's eyes. He could only see the sharp, beautiful lines of the other's jawbone. So, he swallowed his anger, lowered his eyes, and stopped talking.

Xiao Shao raised his eyebrow. "Is this your reaction when your master asks a question? Little Tanhua Qi, the prison in my manor is no inferior to the Eastern Depot. Believe it or not, if I throw you in there, I could pry your mouth open in an hour?"

Despite what he said, his actions weren't the least bit merciless. He held onto both the person and the blanket firmly, not loosening his grip at all. His body temperature was scalding hot, causing a thin layer of sweat to break out on Qi Yan's back.

"..."

Xiao Shao scoffed and raised his eyebrow, "You're really not going to say? Fine, let's see who can outlast the other."

Qi Yan: "..."

With Xiao Shao's temper, if Qi Yan didn't give him a satisfactory answer, he really would keep stalling. But Qi Yan pursed his lips slightly, genuinely not knowing how to speak of it.

Xiao Shao: "Fine. I went to see your sister and youngest sister today and found a place for them to stay. I originally wanted to take you to see them tomorrow, but looking at you like this, you must not want to go."

With that, he tossed the blanket roll containing Qi Yan onto the bed, stood up leisurely, and patted some non-existent dust off his knees, looking as if he were about to leave.

"Wait, don't!" Qi Yan hurriedly reached out and grabbed his trousers.

He was still bound by the blanket lying on the bed, having only managed to free one hand. He half-propped himself up into a crawling posture. His long, sweat-drenched hair cascaded down. Paired with his pale complexion, raven-feather-like eyebrows, and the blush spreading across his cheeks from his illness—even though he clearly had a light and peaceful appearance, in Xiao Shao's eyes, he looked like a bewitching ghost that had crawled out of the sea.

Qi Yan lowered his eyes, avoiding Xiao Shao's gaze. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "I dreamt it."

Xiao Shao: "Dreamt it?"

Qi Yan: "...Ever since my family met with disaster, I've been having dreams on and off. I just happened to dream about my sister."

Sometimes he dreamt of the execution ground at Caishikou, his father's severed head rolling out from beneath the guillotine, blood spraying all over the ground. Sometimes he dreamt of the white silk hanging from the rafters of their home, his mother's toes swaying beneath the roof, back and forth, like a painted puppet controlled in a shadow play. Sometimes he dreamt of himself, dreaming of the long bench at the palace gates, the punishing official reading the edict, the bowl-thick execution staves, the pitch-black rods having scraped against God knows how many layers of skin, their color so dark and rich they gleamed...

He also dreamt of Xie Guanghong tossing the last letter in his face, pointing at a mound of mangled flesh and blood, telling him that it was his sister.

But there was no need to bring these things up and tell Xiao Shao. Qi Yan merely lowered his eyes: "I just happened to dream that something happened to my sister, and she handed me a last letter. That's why I lost my composure."

Xiao Shao: "...Just happened to dream it?"

He found it bizarre in his heart.

If Xiao Shao hadn't rushed over, Lady Qi might have genuinely written a last letter, and Qi Yan just happened to dream of it. Could there be such a coincidence?

Xiao Shao had also heard legends about "precognition" and "dream divination". He originally didn't believe in these supernatural tales of gods and ghosts, but having been reborn and followed around by a system that was neither human nor ghost, he couldn't help but believe it.

Xiao Shao asked, "You said you've been having dreams on and off since the disaster struck. Over such a long period of time, besides dreaming of your sister, what else have you dreamt of?"

"..."

Silence.

When he didn't answer, Xiao Shao continued with good temper: "Then have you dreamt of me?"

When Xiao Shao ascended the throne in his past life, Qi Yan had already requested to go to Fuyou Temple. Not long after his ascension, Qi Yan died inside. They didn't have much interaction in their past life, but Xiao Shao just wanted to know if Qi Yan had dreamt of him.

"..."

An even deeper silence.

Xiao Shao was genuinely curious. He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned closer, the tip of his nose nearly touching Qi Yan's forehead: "Have you? Have you?"

Qi Yan had already backed up against the wall, leaving him with nowhere to hide. Not knowing where he got the courage from, he actually raised his hand and gave Xiao Shao a push. After pushing the person away from him, he replied dryly, "No."

"No?"

It was expected, but Xiao Shao inexplicably felt dissatisfied. However, throwing a fit over the strange reason of "not being in a mortal enemy's precognitive dream" was too absurd, so he didn't press further and simply pulled away. "Alright then."

By now, the night was deep, and the bell for the second watch had already struck. A servant brought over medicine, which Qi Yan drank clean. Xiao Shao then withdrew to leave, lowering the curtains at the head of Qi Yan's bed. "Rest well and recharge your energy. Nurse your complexion so you look a bit better. Tomorrow afternoon, I'll take you to see your sister."

Qi Yan nodded in agreement.

The curtains blocked the line of sight from the outside. The lights in the room were extinguished one by one, the footsteps faded into the distance, and Xiao Shao left.

The room fell quiet.

In the dead of winter, there weren't even the sounds of cicadas or birds; the silence was terrifying.

The effects of the medicine spread, and his eyelids gradually grew heavy, but Qi Yan was unwilling to close his eyes.

Because as long as he closed his eyes, the nightmares would shadow him, following relentlessly. Those dreams were so real, every scene feeling immersive. Qi Yan could even smell the foul stench of rotting flesh and blood, and scent the raw coldness of the prison's iron rust. It was as if these weren't dreams at all, but things that had truly, genuinely happened.

He didn't want to stay in the dream for even a moment.

But humans ultimately find it hard to resist physiological reactions. After struggling until the third watch, drowsiness surged up. Qi Yan uncontrollably closed his eyes, and the moment he shut them, he plunged into a dream.

The palace gates. Heavy snow.

The bright yellow glazed tiles and vermilion palace walls were entirely concealed beneath the pure white snow. He seemed to have been punished by someone to kneel. His knees were submerged in the snow, pressing against the blue bricks. They quickly lost sensation, leaving only an agonizing, bone-deep pain. In his daze, he caught the scent of something.

It wasn't a foul stench, nor was it iron rust. It was a calming, gentle scent, somewhat familiar.

In his daze, Qi Yan thought that it seemed to be the scent on Xiao Shao's body.

Xiao Shao was an imperial prince. He personally didn't care about his clothes and grooming, but his attire followed etiquette. Servants perfumed his clothes daily. Medicinal herbs such as wild ginger, angelica, and spikenard were crushed one by one, made into sachets, and placed into his wardrobe. By the time the clothes were taken out, they naturally carried a detached and peaceful fragrance. Over time, it became Xiao Shao's unique scent.

Qi Yan frowned as he searched for it, and finally buried his face into the blanket.

Xiao Shao had embraced this blanket, so the scent here was the richest.

What Qi Yan didn't say was that all his previous dreams had come true one by one. Whether it was the confiscation of their estate, the hangings, the imprisonment, bearing the punishments, or anything else, everything was identical to the dreams. The divergence from the dreams began when Xiao Shao took him away.

Xiao Shao took him away. There was no kneeling punishment, no reprimand. He met his teacher, had his capping ceremony and received his courtesy name, and his sister didn't die either.

In all of Qi Yan's nightmares, Xiao Shao had never once appeared. The confiscation of the Qi family estate had nothing to do with him, the caning and kneeling punishment at the palace gates had nothing to do with him. Yet in reality, Xiao Shao appeared frequently. His arrival completely disrupted the rhythm of the nightmares. He was like a marker, distinguishing the gap between dreams and reality, a separator in this endless torment. The presence of Xiao Shao's scent meant that this was merely a dream.

Thus, he gradually settled down. The towering palace gates turned into a prince's manor with burning braziers, the heavy snow turned into a warm cotton blanket, and the painful kneeling posture turned into a comfortable lying position. Qi Yan's furrowed brows relaxed, and his breathing gradually grew steady.

He fell asleep.