Mu Yunhe realized that ever since returning from Wenquan Town, Bai Fanlu had changed. In fact, this change had already begun to manifest during their stay in Wenquan Town.

Initially, Mu Yunhe thought it was due to Bai Fanlu’s discomfort, which he was too embarrassed to mention. After all, it was indeed his own fault, having caused Bai Fanlu to be bedridden for two consecutive days. Except for the first time when Bai Fanlu woke up and allowed him to apply medicine, he had since refused Mu Yunhe’s help, insisting that he leave the room whenever it was time for the treatment.

Mu Yunhe could understand this—Bai Fanlu was always shy, and it had already taken a lot for him to be so proactive that one time. However, as time went on, Mu Yunhe began to realize it wasn’t that simple.

During the day, things seemed normal. In the Wangfu, Bai Fanlu would quietly spend his time painting, rarely leaving the residence. Mu Yunhe, who was naturally idle and did not need to attend court frequently, would spend his time reading military texts and martial arts manuals or practicing martial arts.

When Bai Fanlu wasn’t painting, Mu Yunhe would voluntarily read to him, sometimes from the medical books he had brought back from the Lu family ancestral home, or from the Mu family’s military strategy texts. Although Mu Yunhe had learned these strategies by heart from a young age, he had become more carefree after the unfortunate incident with General Mu, gradually neglecting his studies. Now, revisiting these texts, his innate talent allowed him to grasp the concepts easily and provide insightful commentary.

“You’re actually suited to lead an army into battle,” Bai Fanlu once remarked.

“I think so too,” Mu Yunhe replied, “But leading an army requires months, if not years. I don’t want to be away from home for that long now.”

Bai Fanlu knew what he was implying and quickly changed the subject back to the military texts.

These types of conversations were common, but there was nothing particularly unusual about them. After all, both were men, and their emotions were not as delicate as those of women. Affection didn’t necessarily mean clinging to each other. However, at night, the sense of distance between them became more apparent.

Although they still shared the same bed every night, with Mu Yunhe holding Bai Fanlu as they slept, he inexplicably felt that Bai Fanlu was often distracted, not fully present. Even when they were intimate, although Bai Fanlu didn’t outright refuse, there was an unmistakable, subconscious resistance that no amount of pretending could hide.

Mu Yunhe noticed this and naturally did not force Bai Fanlu into anything. He thought it might be because he had been too demanding that night, leaving a bad impression, so he was willing to give Bai Fanlu time to adjust and recover.

Thus, since returning from Wenquan, they maintained a respectful but distant relationship for half a month, which was even less natural than when they were traveling in Jiangnan.

Mu Yunhe made several attempts to probe, but each time, Bai Fanlu’s responses were along the lines of “Nothing’s wrong,” “I’m just feeling a bit unwell, but I’ll be fine after some rest,” or “I just finished a painting, but it feels like something’s missing. Can you take a look?”

In short, Bai Fanlu’s behavior was flawless, but Mu Yunhe couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Perhaps it was the insecurity that comes with newly reciprocated feelings, but Mu Yunhe couldn’t help but feel that Bai Fanlu didn’t care about him as much anymore. This led him to wonder if Bai Fanlu had only been with him because of the prophecy. However, he couldn’t forget Bai Fanlu’s words—he wouldn’t do all this for someone he didn’t care about.

Moreover, Mu Yunhe firmly believed that Bai Fanlu wasn’t the type to be so casual; he truly cared about him.

After much contemplation, Mu Yunhe was convinced that Bai Fanlu was troubled by something he was unwilling to share with him. Mu Yunhe thus found himself in the same predicament as most men after getting married, needing to guess his wife’s thoughts and figure out how to address them to make her smile.

One day, in the courtyard, Mu Yunhe casually remarked, “If it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to wear women’s clothing in Xianxue Courtyard anymore. Except for Liu Xin and my mother, I won’t let anyone else in.”

Bai Fanlu, who was holding a brush, didn’t stop, shook his head indifferently, and said, “It doesn’t matter. I’m not uncomfortable. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Mu Yunhe was taken aback. He hadn’t meant to hit a nerve.

First attempt: failed.

Another day, in the same courtyard.

Mu Yunhe held up a large golden carp and waved it in front of Bai Fanlu, water droplets splashing from its tail.

Bai Fanlu, smelling the fishy odor, asked, “What’s that?”

“I caught it in the river east of the city. I’m thinking of digging a pond to keep it. How about I take you fishing?”

Bai Fanlu had just painted a picture of koi playing in the water the day before and didn’t expect Mu Yunhe to plan on keeping fish at home because of it.

He merely raised an eyebrow and replied, “If you want to keep it, keep it. I won’t go fishing. If I’m going to sit, I’d rather paint.”

Second attempt: another failure.

Yet another day, this time not in the courtyard.

Mu Yunhe took Bai Fanlu to a small inn. Although Lingbo Pavilion in Hengchang County was renowned for its fine cuisine, it was often frequented by troublemaking sons of the nobility. Knowing that Bai Fanlu wouldn’t like such a scene, Mu Yunhe brought him to this small inn on the outskirts of the city. He said that after eating Wangfu’s food for so long, it was time to give him a change of taste.

The inn even had a troupe performing opera. The two of them rented a private room, enjoying some snacks while listening to the opera. The dishes on the table were carefully selected, none of them overly sweet.

Mu Yunhe saw that Bai Fanlu seemed to enjoy the meal, occasionally smiling at the opera, and thought he had finally done something right, feeling a bit elated.

“Lin Qiu, actually, I never told you that I know you don’t like sweet food, and it’s not just because of that time at Lingbo Pavilion.”

Bai Fanlu tilted his head slightly. “Why?”

“I once dreamed of eating with you…”

Bai Fanlu’s expression shifted slightly, his smile slowly fading. Unfortunately, Mu Yunhe hadn’t noticed and continued, “I vaguely remember it was at a place called ‘Ziyue Inn’ in Wanhua City.”

Wanhua City? Ziyue Inn?

Bai Fanlu remembered that when he first arrived, the little beggar he saved from Zhi Yu’s mouth, Yun Zhan, had told him to find a place of refuge there.

Bai Fanlu didn’t know about that place, nor was it mentioned in the book, but from Yun Zhan’s words, he could tell it held special significance.

“What kind of place is it?” Bai Fanlu asked.

Unaware of anything unusual, Mu Yunhe, thinking he had finally piqued Bai Fanlu’s interest, was encouraged and recalled, “On the surface, it’s just an ordinary inn, but the owner is particularly kind, taking in many children.”

“Was Yun Zhan one of those children in your dream?”

“Yeah!” Mu Yunhe clapped his hands. “It seems Lin Qiu, you’ve dreamed of it too.”

Bai Fanlu lightly bit his lip and shook his head. “I haven’t had that dream; I just guessed.”

“Uh…” Mu Yunhe paused, then smiled. “Then let me tell you about it. In the dream, Yun Zhan, or rather I, met you in the pear garden, and you sent me to that inn.”

“One day, you came to visit me there. I was too foolish to know what you liked to eat, so I made you some sugar cakes I had just learned to make. But you…”

Mu Yunhe laughed heartily. “Your expression was priceless, like you didn’t want to hurt my feelings but couldn’t eat it. Your face was so scrunched up!”

“But you still looked beautiful.” Mu Yunhe reached out to pinch Bai Fanlu’s face.

As soon as he touched him, Bai Fanlu quickly dodged.

“…” Mu Yunhe’s hand froze mid-air, stunned.

After a moment’s hesitation, Bai Fanlu said, “There are other people around, be mindful.”

But there was no one else in their private room. Everyone outside was eating, drinking, or listening to the opera. No one was idle enough to peek through the curtain at them, and even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to see anything clearly.

Mu Yunhe awkwardly withdrew his hand, unsure of how to diffuse the situation. His earlier joy felt as though it had been doused with cold water, leaving even someone as usually carefree and cheerful as him at a loss.

Bai Fanlu, suddenly feeling weak, put down his chopsticks and softly said, “I’m sorry, I… I’m full.”

Why was he apologizing? Was it because he had dodged earlier?

Bai Fanlu wasn’t sure. He just felt a tightness in his chest, a pressing need for some sort of release. He stood up. “You go ahead and eat. I’m going for a walk over there.”

He was referring to the beauty rail on the second floor, which faced Hengchang’s moat. Mu Yunhe had mentioned earlier that it was a good spot for sightseeing.

“Lin Qiu!”

Mu Yunhe sensed something was wrong and grabbed Bai Fanlu’s arm, only to be shaken off.

He hadn’t used much force, but Bai Fanlu’s reaction was uncharacteristically intense, far from a playful jest.

“…Lin Qiu, did I say something wrong? Are you mad at me? Don’t be angry. I’m sorry.”

Mu Yunhe stubbornly grabbed Bai Fanlu’s hand, afraid he would leave.

Even though it was Bai Fanlu who was being unreasonable, he apologized first.

Bai Fanlu’s hand was held tightly, and the warmth in his palm made him feel a wave of helplessness. After a moment, he laughed and said, “You didn’t do anything wrong, so why are you apologizing?”

“…”

“I’m not so easily angered. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then why…” Mu Yunhe scrutinized Bai Fanlu’s face closely; he didn’t seem fine.

Bai Fanlu forced a smile. “I just felt a bit stifled and wanted some fresh air.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

Bai Fanlu wanted to say it wasn’t necessary, but he feared Mu Yunhe would overthink it, so he nodded. “Alright.”

So the two of them stood by the beauty rail on the second floor for a while, then returned to eat and listen to the opera. Everything seemed the same, but in reality, it wasn’t.

This third attempt, intended to set the mood, had backfired.

However, Bai Fanlu’s sudden emotional outburst and unusual, intense reaction made Mu Yunhe certain that Bai Fanlu was hiding something from him.

That night, when they went to bed, Bai Fanlu said, “It’s summer now, and it’s a bit hot, so you…”

Mu Yunhe almost immediately understood Bai Fanlu’s meaning. After a moment of silence, he released his hold on him and turned his back.

This was the first time they had ever slept back-to-back since they started sharing a bed.

Bai Fanlu sighed softly, but the sense of suffocating tightness in his chest only grew stronger. He had been thinking about some things these past few days, but they were matters he couldn’t explain to Mu Yunhe.

Since that day’s dream, Bai Fanlu realized the relationship between Qi Zhao and Mo Jiu Li, and Yun Zhan and the original host.

They were connected across past and present lives, and this connection existed in Yun Zhan’s soul memory.

Originally, Bai Fanlu believed that Yun Zhan had no romantic feelings for the original host and that it was only after he transmigrated into the book that they had that shared past, a story unique to them.

But ever since entering this world, Bai Fanlu had a vague sense that Yun Zhan and the original host were tied together, though he subconsciously suppressed this possibility, choosing to ignore it when it was still just a guess.

However, a series of increasingly vivid dreams, the promise between the two about the next life, and the past between the young Yun Zhan and the original host in Mu Yunhe’s dream had shattered Bai Fanlu’s last shred of resolve and fantasy.

It turned out that Yun Zhan did have feelings for the original host, and these feelings began in their past lives, buried deep within him.

Even though he had lost his memory and his body was outside, the soul within the chessboard world, Mu Yunhe, still remembered that person, retaining fragments of those memories.

Whether it was the “pear flower,” “A Zhan,” or the jade pendant symbolizing the vow of “one life, one couple,” all belonged to the past between Yun Zhan and the original host.

They had nothing to do with the current Bai Fanlu.

Bai Fanlu, who had been misled by the original book since he transmigrated, finally realized that the biggest joke and the deepest pit in the original story were right here.

Yun Zhan wasn’t indifferent and heartless toward the original host as the book portrayed. Instead, Bai Fanlu had unknowingly become a stand-in for the original host.

The same body but different souls—at best, he could be considered a high-level stand-in; at worst, by the order of appearance, he was just an intruder in their relationship, a third party taking the place of the original host.

Since discovering this fact, Bai Fanlu had been trapped in a cycle of conflict and torment, completely unsure of how to accept Mu Yunhe’s affection.

It wasn’t until tonight that he finally had a vague understanding.

He hadn’t fallen too deep yet; there was still time. He wasn’t that heartbroken. He could still gradually distance himself from Mu Yunhe, sever his own longing, and return to the position he was meant to occupy.

The position of a transmigrator helping the protagonist along the storyline.

When the story reached its end, he would return this body to the original host, giving them a happy ending.

Bai Fanlu thought he shouldn’t be too upset.

But at this moment, with Mu Yunhe’s back turned to him, Bai Fanlu clenched his hand near his mouth, his throat inexplicably tight, feeling as if a knife had been driven into his heart.

He couldn’t help but think of Mu Yunhe’s dream, of those children, of Yun Zhan, who had been one of them, eager to show off his newly learned skills by making food for the original host.

Bai Fanlu could almost picture the young Yun Zhan’s hopeful face in his mind, and at that moment, he felt a near-overwhelming sense of despair.

There seemed to be nothing more humiliating and terrifying than being told that the memories vividly clear in your mind belonged to someone else.

Bai Fanlu had always been confident that he wouldn’t develop inner demons and certainly wouldn’t turn dark.

But now, he felt that if he were standing on the edge of an endless abyss filled with burning red lotus karmic fire, he might just lose his mind.

The anguish of being trapped by emotions, something he once scoffed at, turned out to feel like this.

In the past, he had sighed at the original host’s lack of willpower, but now he only wanted to mock himself. If he were the original host, he would likely have fallen even harder.

But he wasn’t the original host—he was just a transmigrator.

How unfortunate that he wasn’t…

So it was time to wake up.

Bai Fanlu buried his head in the quilt, silently making up his mind, forcing himself not to pay attention to the person behind him, allowing the gap between them to widen.

But with the way they were living together day and night, the coming year was bound to be difficult.

Bai Fanlu smiled bitterly. He was ready to start acting, but unexpectedly, what he thought would be a difficult situation was quickly resolved, as if the heavens took pity on him.

Their conversation from earlier turned out to be prophetic. Mu Yunhe really was going to lead an army into battle, and this time, it would be a long and uncertain journey.