Di Ronghua’s face stiffened. “Do you think I want to meddle in your affairs?”
“Then don’t,” came the reply.
The man’s dark gaze locked onto her, veiled with a thin layer of gloom that made it impossible to read him. “You casually mentioned me to Su Miao—I can chalk that up to a whim. You barged in here without a care—I’ll assume you were tricked and got mad about it. But if this goes any further… Ronghua, I might really misunderstand.”
Di Ronghua’s expression twisted for a moment. “What exactly do you want, Xiao Hanjin? If you don’t want me to leave, just say it. What’s the point of using your life to deceive me like this?”
To be precise, it wasn’t entirely deception—he hadn’t lied. Her imperial brother had indeed given him the medicine.
But he hadn’t taken it.
These past days, he could’ve spared himself the pain, yet he chose to torment himself. Was this man insane?
Xiao Hanjin tugged at his lips. “I’m not stopping you from leaving.”
True, he wasn’t.
Su Miao’s arrival was an accident—nobody could’ve predicted it.
But this answer unsettled her far more than if he’d forcibly kept her.
Di Ronghua bit her lip slightly. “Are you…”
Was he punishing himself?
Did he think this could atone for the hurt she’d suffered?
Had he never intended to take the medicine from the start?
Her gaze grew complicated. “Where’s the medicine?”
Xiao Hanjin paused, then looked away, his face blank. “Even if we set aside what happened back then, even if you feel guilty about the Manyue Flower, your brother giving me the medicine has nothing to do with you anymore. We’re even.”
“Xiao Hanjin!”
Di Ronghua’s voice rose in anger. “Get the medicine out now.”
He glanced at her, brow furrowing slightly. “Ronghua, enough. I’ll take it after you leave. You can go back to Beixi now. I’ll have someone send the Manyue Flower to Xiliang with you. If you don’t leave soon, don’t blame me for changing my mind.”
She thought she really should go.
If she didn’t, it wouldn’t just be him changing his mind—she might waver too.
But looking at his handsome yet frail, pale face, a sudden buzzing pain erupted in her head, spreading an intense discomfort through her limbs and bones. It was like when she’d first woken from a coma—that long-forgotten numbness and agony.
Even if she didn’t want to love him anymore, the love once etched into her very marrow, once unearthed from its buried grave, couldn’t be shaken off.
“…Xiao Hanjin.”
A suppressed breath escaped her chest, and she spoke slowly. “Jiangjiang wouldn’t want a half-dead father, and I certainly don’t want a husband who’ll soon be a corpse.”
His pupils shrank.
Di Ronghua met his gaze, unflinching, enunciating each word. “Do you understand me?”
Xiao Hanjin shook his head almost instinctively.
She smirked, mocking. “Looks like it’s not just your body failing—your brain’s going too.”
He jolted slightly, his pupils contracting further.
He might’ve… understood.
Even if he’d doubted at first, after that line, he couldn’t not.
*Husband.*
His eyes darkened, deep and heavy like spilled ink, emotions restrained yet on the verge of breaking free. Words reached his lips but shifted. “You don’t need to do this. I never meant… to burden you.”
But she didn’t want to burden herself anymore either.
Di Ronghua’s gaze softened. “Take the medicine.”
“…I threw it away.”
Her eyelid twitched violently. “What did you say?”
Seeing the shock and fury flood her face, Xiao Hanjin instantly pulled her into his arms by the waist. “I’ll find it—right now. Don’t be mad, okay?”
