Chapter 2: Reunion at the Time of Blossoms (2)

At this moment, Wu Rui’an had shed all traces of youthful naivety. His once-pristine face was now marked by bloodshot eyes and stubble shadowing his jawline. Strands of unwashed hair clung to his shoulders, coated in dust, as if he hadn’t bathed in days…

The two were so close that Di Jiang could feel the warmth of his breath. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she felt a tinge of awkwardness. “Why are you back already? Weren’t you supposed to arrive in Taiping Prefecture with the main army in half a month?”

“Do I really need to explain?” Rui’an chuckled, pulling her into a tight embrace. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Because I missed you. So I rushed back as fast as I could. The one sitting in the golden chariot out there now is my deputy.”

Startled by his sudden action, Di Jiang tried to pull away.

“Don’t move. Just let me hold you for a while,” Rui’an murmured. His voice was hypnotic—soft like a whisper, yet firm like a command.

Di Jiang’s heart inexplicably tightened, and she struggled even more to break free.

Then, hearing the exhaustion in his voice, he added, “I’m so tired. Please, just let me hold you for a little while. Just a moment.”

Rui’an’s body gently pressed against hers. Di Jiang pushed him twice but realized her efforts were futile. After a brief pause, seeing that he didn’t overstep any boundaries, she finally relaxed, allowing him to hold her. She justified it to herself as a reward for his dedication to protecting the nation.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she caught the scent of dust on his collar—a scent that belonged to soldiers of the borderlands. Beneath it, she could sense the strength of iron wills, the endless expanse of desert sands, and the clouds and moons that had accompanied him on his eight-thousand-mile journey. And beyond all that, she sensed his heart.

He had come straight to her from the frontlines, not even taking the time to change out of his armor. The man who once obsessed over appearances had clearly changed during these three years apart.

Amused by the irony, Di Jiang allowed him to hold her, losing track of time. Eventually, his voice broke the silence, filled with disappointment and fatigue: “Why aren’t you hugging me back?”

Di Jiang raised her eyes, her tone cool and measured. “That’s an amusing question, Your Highness. I am neither a maiden smitten with you nor a concubine who adores you. Nor will I ever become one. Why add unnecessary complications to our lives?”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because…” Di Jiang paused, then stated firmly, “I know myself.”

“You don’t understand,” Rui’an insisted stubbornly. “Love is unpredictable. If you’re afraid of commitment, then forget about forever—just let me have this moment. Give me a chance to pursue you. Let me try. What harm could it do?”

Di Jiang shook her head. “When the night-blooming cereus fades, what remains is only the memory of its fleeting beauty. How does the beholder cope afterward? Won’t they be left with lifelong regrets and sorrow?”

Rui’an didn’t fully grasp her meaning, assuming her words stemmed from his past indiscretions. He replied earnestly, “Even if the cereus wilts quickly, the fragrance it leaves behind lingers eternally, unforgettable for a lifetime. But rest assured—I won’t be like that ephemeral flower. I’ll stay by your side forever. For you, I’d do anything.”

“But I don’t want you to remember me,” Di Jiang said, gently pushing him away. She smiled faintly and continued, “You should remain the charming prince you are, lofty and carefree. As for me—who I am or what I look like—it’s best if you never give it another thought.”

“But you’re already engraved in my heart—right here, at the very center!” Rui’an protested.

Di Jiang made a “shh” gesture, smiling softly. With deliberate slowness, she said, “But at the center of my heart, it has never been you.”

“Then who is it?” Rui’an demanded urgently. “Zhong Xu?”

Di Jiang’s expression darkened. She shook her head. “It’s my late husband.”

“…” Rui’an fell silent. He had believed that as long as he became exceptional enough, he could win her affection. Yet he now realized her heart already belonged to someone else—someone incomparable to him.

If it had been Zhong Xu, he might have considered becoming a Taoist monk himself. He was confident in his abilities; after a few years of cultivation, surely he could reach the pinnacle of spiritual mastery. But to learn that the person occupying her heart… was a dead man?

He had investigated, even asked Yao Yao, but no one had heard of her late husband. He’d assumed she was deflecting or making excuses. To find out that such a person truly existed…

Deflated, Rui’an collapsed onto the edge of the bed, utterly drained. “Tell me about him,” he pleaded. “I want to hear your story—the story of you and your late husband.”

Di Jiang hesitated briefly, surprised by his request. Then, reasoning that telling him a story might finally sever his attachment, she decided it wouldn’t hurt. Lowering her eyelashes, her expression grew somber. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Rui’an interrupted, “Never mind. Forget I asked. Knowing would only bring more trouble.”

With that, he rose to leave.

But Di Jiang stopped him, rising to grab his wrist. Smiling faintly, she asked, “Your Highness, do you know about mantises?”

“Mantises?” Rui’an looked perplexed.

Di Jiang nodded. “After mating, a hungry female mantis slowly devours the male, letting him die in a mix of ecstasy and agony.”

“Is… is that so…” Rui’an’s face darkened, and he forced a laugh. “What a fascinating tale. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Di Jiang shook her head. “This isn’t a tale. I am that kind of mantis—the kind that devours her mate.”

As she spoke, a sinister grin spread across her face. Gradually, a shadow began to form on the wall. It grew larger and larger, and where Di Jiang’s hands were positioned, two enormous scythe-like blades appeared.

Rui’an’s face paled as he stared at her. By now, her compound eyes protruded, her head triangular—she had transformed into a massive green mantis. Towering above him, she glared down with a fearsome visage.

“Ahh—” Rui’an screamed, collapsing onto the floor. In the next instant, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted.

Yao Yao, who had been eavesdropping from the stairwell, rushed in, alarmed. “Master, what happened? Why… why did you turn into that?”

“It’s fine. He just got scared unconscious,” Di Jiang replied calmly, reverting to her human form. “Take him back to the royal residence.”

“This man is Prince Rui’an?!” Yao Yao gasped, having peeked earlier without recognizing him. Now, seeing their intimacy moments ago and his current state, she was overwhelmed with questions.

“What is His Highness doing here? Why did you scare him?” she pressed.

“I was merely joking with him. He lacked propriety and kept overstepping boundaries. This was a lesson—to ensure he doesn’t visit our Jian Su Clinic again.”

“You…!”

“What ‘you’? Don’t forget whose maid you are. Stop siding with outsiders! Go!” Di Jiang shooed them both out, closed the doors, and climbed back into bed.

After Rui’an left, the room was left with only a solitary lamp. Its flickering flame cast shadows across Di Jiang’s face, veiling her in an unshakable mist.

Had Rui’an still been present, he would have seen her loneliness—a vast, suffocating darkness akin to an endless ocean. She wasn’t lost in it; rather, she suffered deeply, tormented by the weight of memories she desperately wanted to forget—the cries buried deep within her soul.

She knew she couldn’t bear the weight of anyone’s emotions—not someone like her. People like her didn’t deserve others’ affections.

Especially not from someone as extraordinary as Rui’an.

She absolutely couldn’t let him fall victim to her.

________________________________________

The next day at noon, just as Di Jiang opened her door, the opposite room also swung open. Out stumbled Rui’an, disoriented, dressed in loose clothing.

Di Jiang noticed his unbuttoned robe exposing his chest, revealing scars crisscrossing his pale skin. She was taken aback. She had assumed that during these three years, he had lived comfortably in the military. But the marks on his body—marks she couldn’t see before—told a different story. These were the gifts of war, the baptism of iron-willed men reshaped through unimaginable trials.

He had truly become a man worthy of admiration.

“Doctor Di… why am I here?” Rui’an blinked at her, clearly confused about the date and his whereabouts.

At that moment, Yao Yao ascended the stairs and explained, “Your Highness was exhausted from days of travel and fainted on Master’s bed. So she let you sleep in my room while I shared with Shuxiang for the night.”

“I see…” Rui’an rubbed his temples, still struggling to piece together fragmented memories. Something important seemed missing from last night—he distinctly remembered seeing a monstrous green mantis brandishing scythes…

Di Jiang stifled a laugh. Softly, she asked, “Your Highness looks unwell. Did you have a nightmare?”

“Oh! Yes! I must have been dreaming!” Rui’an exclaimed, snapping out of his daze. He stepped forward and grabbed her hand, grinning. “Seeing you first thing in the morning makes me so happy.”

“Does it?” Di Jiang pulled her hand away, feigning bashfulness. Her cheeks reddened as she stammered, “Your Highness, your attire… I…”

Rui’an glanced down, realizing his clothes had been stripped off sometime during the night, leaving him clad only in a translucent undergarment. Flustered, he stammered, “I’ll go get dressed right away! Wait for me!”

With that, he dashed back into his room.

Di Jiang and Yao Yao exchanged a glance before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

Inside, Rui’an listened to their mirth, his face alternating between red and white. Defeated, he slumped onto the bed, clutching his forehead and sighing repeatedly.

The relentless journey had left him utterly fatigued. He had intended to surprise Di Jiang, only for it to turn into a terrifying ordeal. His current state left him mortified, lamenting the collapse of his once-glorious image overnight.

Shaking the sand-covered garments, Rui’an sent clouds of dust swirling into the air. Under the sunlight, the room’s atmosphere turned murky.

Yet, despite the conditions, he didn’t even flinch. Compared to the harsh environment of the desert camps, this was luxury. The experiences of the past three years had thoroughly purged him of his princely indulgences.