“I do. Isn’t it hate?” I mimicked Shui Ruohan’s light, breezy tone.
“You know exactly how to provoke me,” Liu Yu released my hand and swept away.
Watching Liu Yu’s retreating back, I dropped my guard and slid weakly from the chair, collapsing on the floor.
“The floor is dirty,” Shui Ruohan said softly, crouching before me and setting down his medicine box.
“My foot is fine.”
“I understand,” he slowly rolled up my pant leg, having me bend my leg, and took out cotton to gently wipe, comforting me with a light laugh, “It’s really nothing.”
I stared at Shui Ruohan in surprise. What he meant by “nothing” was clearly not about the foot injury. Looking at his thin yet kind face, my tears began to flow uncontrollably.
“Moreover, listening to his words, I felt as if I were listening to a love story and was moved, yet without that heart-piercing pain.” I said honestly, thinking shouldn’t one be devastated upon hearing about the death of a loved one? Why don’t I feel that way?
“Your memory hasn’t fully recovered yet, which is good, sparing you much suffering.” Shui Ruohan said faintly, then as if suddenly remembering something, turned directly towards me, “Last night, I overheard the guards’ conversation. The leader of the assassins is very likely to be Night Lock… though we all saw him fall into the lake amidst a sea of fire at the time.”
“No wonder he said I was the person deepest in his heart.” I suddenly realized, but the silver mask’s playful gaze at the time didn’t seem like it was looking at a loved one.
Shui Ruohan’s eyes gained a hint of heaviness, staring straight outside the door. A plain-clothed figure stood under an evergreen tree, casting a complex glance at us before leaving.
“I can’t even believe that I betrayed the Prince three times.” Shui Ruohan muttered to himself, looking at the evergreen tree, “From the moment he saved me, my life was no longer my own. I once thought I would never betray him.”
“Betrayal?” I listened, feeling somewhat confused.
