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Since Song Feiwan fell off the cliff, Xiao Yu had not sent anyone to investigate her so-called past. The Emperor had summoned renowned doctors from across the land to the capital, intending to treat both the Crown Princess and the Consort of the Prince of Chen.
Now, miraculously, the Crown Princess's condition had improved. However, the Consort of the Prince of Chen no longer had any opportunity to understand the poison.
Xiao Yu had changed his previous attitude towards doctors and met with each one of them, expressing his demands. He had suffered a severe head injury and forgotten some things; he wanted to remember.
During this time, the doctors showcased their skills, and Xiao Yu cooperated fully. After treatment, his symptoms of disappearing during the full moon had indeed weakened, yet he still could not recall anything about Song Feiwan.
Even Zhuo Da sensed something was amiss. If the two truly had feelings for each other, how could there be not a single trace left behind?
After a brief hesitation, Zhuo Da dismissed the thought of reminding Xiao Yu. It was like pulling away the last straw from a drowning man; it could lead to terrifying consequences. Moreover, if they could cure the full moon somnambulism, that would be a good thing.
Zhuo Da stood outside the door, watching the gray sky as snowflakes drifted down, sincerely hoping that Xiao Yu would come out soon.
Inside the room, Xiao Yu sat alone under the oil lamp, his face flickering with the candlelight. Still that sharp-featured face, resembling a celestial being descended to earth; yet deep within his dark and profound eyes lay nothing but burnt-out ashes.
He picked up a brush and began to write. After what felt like an eternity, just as dawn was about to break, he finally closed his eyes and fell into a shallow sleep.
The scenes in his dreams were oppressive, blurry, and swaying. He saw himself desperately chasing after Song Feiwan; she remained before him, plummeting down the cliff!
Suddenly! Xiao Yu jolted awake, gasping for breath as pain gripped his heart, and his throat tightened. He stared blankly ahead, raising his hand instinctively to touch his chest.
In his lapel, neatly folded, lay Song Feiwan's farewell letter. For over two months, he had not opened it to read. Yet every word felt like a sharp blade, cutting into his eyes, impossible to forget. It was as if the vast and empty Chen Wangfu would remain untouched by his presence, allowing him to avoid confronting the painful reality of her absence.
Song Feiwan, why were you so foolish? And why so cruel?
Days passed one after another, but he remained forever trapped in that cold autumn day when she left. On a snowy morning, unbeknownst to anyone, the man of high status felt the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes.
In the afternoon, Rong Jiayi stood outside a small medical clinic, holding a horse with one hand. The clinic had no signboard, but he had heard from his subordinates that it was called "Zao Kang," meaning "Wishing for a speedy recovery." It was indeed a good name.
Rong Jiayi felt no discomfort; he simply harbored a selfish desire to see the woman whose back reminded him of Song Feiwan.
Footsteps approached from afar, and with a creak, the door of the clinic swung open. A woman holding a dustpan sensed something and looked up.
Unlike the capital city, Wujin City saw snow quickly melting away. The damp chill in the air penetrated through people's cotton clothing, seeping into their bones.
As her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, their gazes collided in mid-air. The familiar sensation made Rong Jiayi's eyes widen in surprise; blood surged through his veins in an instant.
In stark contrast, Song Feiwan nearly jumped in fright at the sight of him, almost dropping her dustpan! Her mind raced with thoughts: Why is he here? Did Xiao Yu send him to find me? Has he recognized me? Is there anything wrong with my scar?
Rong Jiayi swallowed hard; he didn't even notice when the reins in his hand had loosened.
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