Here’s the translation from Chinese to English (UK) with “—” replaced by commas:
—
Di Ronghua’s fingertips trembled, her palm faintly clenched into a fist, she lowered her gaze, only able to see the man’s drooping eyelids and thick lashes, completely concealing the emotions in his eyes, yet somehow exuding a dim, desolate air.
“Xiao Hanjin.”
The three words had barely fallen, before she could even react, her arm was suddenly seized and pulled upward.
Di Ronghua was thus forced by him to embrace him.
“There, I’ve forgiven you.” Xiao Hanjin murmured low, “Don’t speak, I don’t want to hear it.”
“…”
This wasn’t the first time he’d done this, each time blatantly pretending she cared about him when he clearly knew it was false, turning it into undeniable self-deception.
Di Ronghua’s pupils contracted slightly, her fingertips unconsciously brushing over the dark hair spilling across his shoulders. But her touch was so light, imperceptible even to herself, that it went unnoticed.
“…Have you taken your medicine?”
The man raised his eyes, his inky depths fixing on her, “Will you feed it to me?”
Di Ronghua frowned, the man quickly added, “Not yet, it’ll be brought in soon, I can’t lift my hand, you feed me.”
If he couldn’t lift his hand, how had he just raised hers to hug him?!
Di Ronghua couldn’t be bothered to call out his flimsy lie, saying expressionlessly, “How’s your father doing?”
Xiao Hanjin’s face darkened a bit, “He’s the same as before, I can’t kill him.”
“Aren’t you afraid he’ll send someone to assassinate you again?”
“If there’s a next time…” He suddenly fixed his gaze, staring intently into her eyes, “Will you keep it from me again?”
Di Ronghua thought he’d deflect or deceive himself as usual.
But he didn’t.
He just kept looking at her, not even blinking once.
Meeting his probing, intense stare, she remained silent for a long time, so long that Xiao Hanjin thought she wouldn’t speak, until her aloof voice finally sounded, “Next time, do you think he’d let me know about it again?”
Xiao Hanjin tugged at his lips.
Maybe not?
After all, his father’s intent wasn’t just to wound his body with the assassination, but to carve out his heart too, wasn’t it?
Di Ronghua knowing yet not telling, Di Ronghua hoping he’d die, that fact alone was like a thousand arrows piercing through him.
…
The matter seemed to pass just like that.
Xiao Hanjin never brought it up again, as he’d said, he’d forgiven her, no, more precisely, it wasn’t forgiveness, but compared to keeping her by his side, everything else seemed less significant.
Let alone her merely standing by as an onlooker, even if she’d killed him herself, he wouldn’t blame her or drive her away for it.
Only…
Di Ronghua noticed he’d become very clingy.
No, excessively clingy.
For instance, when he was reviewing memorials, he’d insist on dragging her along, “Ronghua, my wound hurts, come grind ink for me.”
“When your wound doesn’t hurt, do you grind the ink yourself instead of having eunuchs or maids do it?”
“I don’t like others around when I’m reviewing memorials.”
“Then perfect, I’ll step out.”
“You’re not an outsider, you’re mine.”
“…”
Or when she was reading a storybook in her free time, he’d stare at her for ages, then suddenly say, “Your Highness, it seems my wound’s split open again, come change my dressing.”
