The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

This is no ordinary balm.

The jade box contained a healing elixir made from the essence of the icy plum blossoms from the snowy peaks, supplemented with several rare medicinal herbs.

The cream is smooth and translucent, exuding a refreshing, cool fragrance of winter plum blossoms, yet it gradually softens and moisturizes the skin upon contact.

Tang Xixue's fingertips did not stop, moving away from his swollen hand and tracing the lines of the boy's thin arm to find the hidden bruises.

Her movements were delicate and focused, as if she were handling a fragile treasure.

Those slightly cool fingertips seemed to possess some kind of strange magic.

Wherever it passed, the burning, dull pain on the skin, like charcoal embers covered by the first snow, miraculously melted and subsided, replaced by a warm, bone-chilling soothing sensation that seeped into the very flesh.

However, a completely different, deeper burning sensation was suddenly awakened with each seemingly insignificant touch of her fingertips.

From beneath every inch of skin touched, it surged and spread rapidly along the blood vessels.

This heat was not as sharp as the pain, but it was more turbulent and more hidden, almost burning through the calm he was trying so hard to maintain, turning his reason into a hazy blank.

My breathing became disordered without my realizing it, and my heart pounded like a rapid drumbeat, booming in my ears.

The wound is still clearly painful.

But her hand, the faint, lingering fragrance of cold plum blossoms she brought as she approached, the soft shadow cast by her eyelashes when she lowered her eyes…

All of this, however, intertwined into another, even more domineering flame, which silently engulfed him.

From skin to bone marrow, from limbs to the depths of the soul, everything is being roasted and trembling between this contradictory ice and fire, burning hot as if branded with a hot iron.

In a daze, he even had a strange feeling—

The healing power flowing from her fingertips may have extended beyond just these raw, torn wounds.

His heart, which had been frozen alone on countless cold nights and forced into a hard shell by countless silent humiliations, seemed to be warmed and ironed little by little by this warm and focused touch with great patience.

From the frozen cracks, a faint but real light and warmth seeped into the desolate depths that had never been seen before.

Even outside the palace, in the marketplace and the imperial court, the rumors about Princess Jing were unbearable, and the gossip portrayed her as willful, absurd, and ruthless.

But in Pei Yanchuan's vision, which was now filled with tears, there was only her.

Only this girl, bending down to treat his wounds, her brows furrowed with genuine pity, was the only one in this cold world willing to stay for him, the only one willing to use her fingertips to warmly brush away the frost and snow from his body... a ray of light.

It wasn't like this before.

No matter what kind of bullying and humiliation he suffers, no matter how many open or hidden wounds he inflicts, he is always the only one who bears them.

In a secluded corner where no one could see him, he washed away the bloodstains with cold well water and clumsily bandaged himself in front of a blurry bronze mirror. His only companions were the howling north wind outside the window and the loneliness and despair that devoured everything in the long night.

But this time, someone saw it.

Someone used such a delicate and gentle method to pull him out of the mud and cold, and wipe away his disheveled state.

"How..."

Tang Xixue suddenly stopped moving.

Her gaze fell on the corner of his tightly closed eyes—

There, a perfectly round, glistening teardrop, without warning, broke free from the constraints of her eyelashes and slid down, silently disappearing into the snow-white carpet beneath her, leaving a dark, damp stain.

"Did you cry?"

Her voice suddenly softened, as if afraid of disturbing something.

"Did I use too much force and hurt you?"

She immediately withdrew her strength slightly, her fingertips brushing the wound almost as lightly as feathers.

"Then I'll be gentler, okay?"

She even leaned down slightly, getting close to the skin on the back of his hand that was still red and swollen after the ointment had been applied, and with her cherry lips slightly parted, she breathed on it very gently and slowly.

The warm breath, softer than fingertips, brushed over the sensitive wound, bringing a subtle yet distinct tingling sensation that shot straight to the heart.

The more gently she moved, the more softly she asked, and the more carefully she acted, almost protectively.

The torrent of emotions in Pei Yanchuan's heart, a mixture of long-suppressed grievances, the unease of sudden tenderness, and a deeper, more profound bitterness, surged out of control and burst forth.

"Your Highness didn't..." he choked, his voice broken and incoherent, "didn't hurt me..."

Tears betrayed his words, large drops gushing from his eyes.

At first, the tears slid silently down her cheeks, but soon they joined together, and a faint, suppressed sob escaped from her throat.

He bit his lower lip hard, tasting a slightly metallic sweetness, trying to stop this shameful outpouring of weakness, but the tears seemed to have their own will, surging endlessly.

How ridiculous.

Even during those days when no one cared or cherished him, he was able to swallow all the bitterness alone, maintaining his fragile self-esteem and silent strength.

But once you touch this warmth and care that you never dared to hope for, all the defenses you've painstakingly built up, all the feigned indifference, crumble and collapse in an instant.

"Yes or no……"

"Did someone bully you?"

Tang Xixue stopped all her movements and stared at his slightly trembling shoulders and his damp, clinging eyelashes.

The sound was like the finest ice silk gliding through the silent air, carrying a gentle inquiry.

"How exactly did those clothes get wet?"

"...No, no." Pei Yanchuan shook his head vigorously, burying his face deeper into the blanket, his voice muffled and hoarse, almost unable to form coherent sentences, "No one...bullied me."

I can't say.

Those people were high-ranking officials for generations, from powerful and influential families with deep-rooted connections and numerous branches.

He was already useless for failing to be a shield to protect His Highness, so how could he let himself become a spear pointing at her, or a burden dragging her down?

He can't say.

Tang Xixue stared at him quietly for a few seconds.

The gentle, tender tears that had just welled up in her eyes gradually settled, and a cold, sharp glint rose from the depths of her clear eyes, like an undercurrent beneath the ice.

She didn't press further, but slowly straightened up, her gaze shifting to a shadowy spot within the inner hall, her voice carrying an undeniable authority:

"Ah Liang".

"Your subordinate is here."

Mu Liang's figure emerged from the night like ink, appearing silently three steps to her side, kneeling on one knee and bowing his head in obedience.

"check."

Just one word, yet it landed with a resounding impact, carrying immense weight.

"Yes."

Without any unnecessary movements or questions, Mu Liang accepted the order and his figure slid backward like a ghost, disappearing into the shadows of the hall in the blink of an eye, as if he had never appeared.

But a silent, cold command had already been transmitted swiftly through the Hidden Dragon Guard's unique, secret channels, like a whirlwind in the dark night.

Pei Yanchuan was shocked and suddenly looked up at her with tearful eyes.

She actually went to such lengths for him?

It turns out that in this vast world, there really are people who would bend down to examine the wounds of such a small being as him, who would frown at his unspoken pain, and who would feel sorry for his grievances that he could not tell outsiders...

They spared no effort to pursue the truth.

This feeling of being firmly sheltered under someone's wings and cherished so dearly was so unfamiliar that it made him feel flustered, yet it was also so intense and burning that it made him choke up.

"Your Highness, there's no need... for such a grand fuss..." His voice trembled violently, thick with a nasal tone, "I... am but an insignificant speck of dust, truly... not worth it..."

"Ying Lin, don't underestimate yourself!"

Tang Xixue interrupted softly, her tone as gentle as a spring breeze melting snow when she addressed him by his courtesy name.

She sat back down on the edge of the couch, her gaze clear and sharp like fresh snow reflecting the morning light, looking directly into his tear-filled eyes:

"In my eyes—you are a star in the sky."

Pei Yanchuan's pupils suddenly contracted, and his breathing stopped.

But she did not stop; her voice, like pearls falling onto a plate, continued to flow, carrying an inspiring power:

"Why should something as precious as scales and armor need to be constantly dazzling?"

"Its value lies in its ability to withstand the sharpness of the world's blades, in its ability to conceal its brilliance and wait for its time, and in its ability to remain steadfast even when the world is turned upside down and the winds of change are turbulent, while the winds of change will eventually come."

Her gaze seemed to pierce through his current dishevelment and vulnerability, revealing a glorious future that even he himself had not yet clearly seen.

"This body is like a river or the sea, encompassing a myriad of possibilities. How can a temporary, deep abyss confine a dragon? Soaring through the heavens and dominating the winds and clouds is but... a matter of a day or two."

She leaned slightly forward, her final words transforming into a soft yet weighty prophecy that settled in his heart:

"I firmly believe that one day your light will illuminate the entire land and the world, reaching every corner of the earth."

At that moment, Pei Yanchuan felt as if all was silent around him.

All other sounds in the world faded away, leaving only her ethereal voice echoing deep within my soul.

Immediately following was a tremor far more deafening than silence.

That was the sound of the ice wall he had built up through a lifetime of loneliness and forbearance collapsing under the impact of a warm current.

The frost peeled away, and the ice shards flew up, reflecting a dazzling light, triggering a grand avalanche in his inner world.

A frozen soul, kissed by the first ray of sunlight piercing through the clouds, trembled and managed to sprout a tiny, pale golden bud.

No one knows.

In the cracks of what he thought was an invincible armor, a flower unexpectedly bloomed at that moment.

So small, so soft, it seemed utterly vulnerable.

But those unfolding petals were scalding hot, and every delicate vein seemed to overflow with an almost overflowing flow—

A vast, silent joy.

Yes.

He is Pei Yinglin.

Many years ago, when my father put down his pen and gazed at the moon, he uttered those words with a smile and anticipation, brimming with pride:

"Rivers flow from all directions, giving rise to winds and clouds. My son, this scale, is born to soar to the highest heavens."

He is the most glorious stroke in the genealogy of the Pei clan of Beichuan—that dragon scale that should have hung high in the heavens, reflecting the vast mountains and rivers.

Born into a wealthy and powerful family, he was surrounded by luxury and learned poetry, literature, and etiquette from a young age. Yet, he harbored ambitions to cleanse the world and govern the nation.

This body, so pure and proud, was originally the sharp edge forged by the winds and clouds of the nine heavens.

Yet, it is trapped in shallow waters, its sharpness hidden in a box.

Dragon scales covered in dust, light locked in the cold abyss.

So the light that was destined to illuminate the world had no choice but to turn around and take root in the deepest darkness.

Every trial and suppression in the world is a difficult struggle between adversity and rough sand.

Every wound that falls on the body becomes a dark prison where light is forced to lie dormant.

The sharpness and edge that were repeatedly folded and crushed by fate were not worn away in the unseen depths of the abyss. Instead, they were tempered inch by inch, becoming more refined and dazzling, and finally becoming an unparalleled cold blade hidden in its sheath.

He was waiting.

Silently and patiently, we await that inevitable moment.

Using one's own soul and sharpness as fuel, along with all the ills and shackles of this era, throw them into the inevitable raging fire, burning it to the heavens and the earth, leaving nothing but pure glass.

"Your Highness."

He suddenly looked up, his face still wet with tears, but his eyes were no longer confused; instead, they reflected a clear and bright light, like the light after a snowfall.

"I'm in the abyss..."

"I caught a glimpse of snow."

And you—are that first snow falling from the ends of the sky, willing to use your pure whiteness to soak into all my dark undertones and cover all my desolate scars.