Fragrant, rich ointment splattered from the fallen box, dotting the floor like scattered stars, but Bai Qingqing noticed none of it. She gripped her own hand tightly, instinctively.

The words—they were too familiar. So familiar that her body answered before her mind could.

That burn once made her too ashamed to show her hand. She’d tried everything, but nothing could erase it; it became a knot in her heart.

Every time the Princess Consort made things difficult for her, every time she felt helpless and aggrieved, Fu Yi would somehow turn up with a jar of ointment like this, as if he'd gone to great lengths to find it. Back then, she’d believed he cared for her, that he just didn’t know how to express it. He remembered her. He had her in his heart. And so no matter how wronged she felt, she would tell herself to endure it. Endure it, and it would pass...

But now, there was no burn on her hand at all.

Bai Qingqing looked at Fu Yi. Her teeth chattered faintly. She saw him start to move and, panicked, stumbled back several steps, crashing into the back of a chair without even noticing the pain.

In Fu Yi’s eyes, it was as though a thousand springs surged. “Qingqing…”

Bai Qingqing’s fingers dug into her palm as she forced down the absurdity and shock threatening to erupt. “I’m not close with Young Master Fu. You shouldn’t address me so!”

She clung to that one truth: deny everything. As long as she denied it, what just happened could be dismissed as coincidence. She and Fu Yi had nothing to do with each other!

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But Fu Yi’s heart had already settled. Just as he had suspected—she was still the same Qingqing.

Joy erupted in him, wild and fierce. A thousand things he wanted to say surged to the tip of his tongue, but when he met her guarded, frostbitten gaze, the words all died in his throat.

Bai Qingqing was no longer the same woman. She had died once and come back. Now, though she had regained most of herself, her eyes still brimmed with vigilance. “I have other matters to attend to. I cannot entertain you. Young Master Fu, please leave.”

Her expression made it clear she saw Fu Yi as nothing more than a stranger. A sharp pain pierced his chest. “Qingqing, it’s me. I’ve come back, too.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. Young Master Fu and I are not acquainted. I ask you to show some respect.”

Her face was cold as she moved to see him out. Fu Yi stepped forward, blocking her path. “I know you resent me, hate me—it was my negligence, my carelessness that led to your unjust death. It was my fault. After you were gone, I lived in torment worse than death…”

“If you keep spouting nonsense, I’ll have someone throw you out!”

Bai Qingqing didn’t want to hear another word. Her beautiful face was drawn tight with fury—a look Fu Yi had never seen on her before.

When she turned away without hesitation, Fu Yi blurted, “Don’t you want to know what happened to the Bai family after you were gone?”

She froze. In her apricot eyes, pain surged like a tide. Her soft lips were bitten so hard they bled.

Slowly, she turned back. Fu Yi saw the vivid red on her lips and was instantly filled with remorse. This—this must be the deepest nightmare buried in her heart, and he had stabbed right into it.

He rushed to apologize. “I—I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I panicked…”

He shut his eyes for a moment, then, before Bai Qingqing could even speak, he began to recount what had become of the Bai family in their previous life.

The entire Bai household was thrown into prison, causing a great uproar in court. Treason was a crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations. No one dared to plead on their behalf.

Later, it was said that the Commander of the Embroidered Guards stumbled upon a strange clue that delayed the case. But somehow, word of Bai Qingqing’s death reached the prison. Her mother fainted from grief and never recovered. Not long after, she died of illness behind bars.