If this were before, the moment Lian opened his mouth, I would have jumped up and waited on him hand and foot.

  But this time, I decided to try a different route—stop playing by the old rules.

  I steeled myself, squeezed my eyes shut, and flopped back onto the bed with exaggerated abandon. For good measure, I even started snoring—loud, thunderous snores, the kind that could shake roof beams.

  “……”

  The air went terrifyingly still. I could practically hear him clenching his fist.

  But the beating I’d braced for never came.

  After a long while, there was only a quiet sigh—low, restrained, carrying a complexity I couldn’t quite place.

  Someone gently stripped off my filthy clothes. Cool fingers, precise and efficient, without the slightest lingering touch. Then the blanket was pulled up, covering my chest.

  Footsteps faded.

  With a soft click, the door closed.

  The room fell utterly silent.

  I’d still been about thirty percent drunk—but that scared the rest of it clean out of me. I bolted upright, fully alert, and immediately summoned the system.

  “…Did that actually work?” I whispered. “Was this really the result of going off-script? Is not following the pattern really the key to winning?”

  The system responded with its usual icy restraint, flashing a single line before my eyes:

  Notice: This outcome involved probabilistic factors and is not a stable trigger. Please do not rely on it.

  The surge of triumph that had just reached my throat died on the spot.

  “…Great.”

  I stared at the empty doorway, my heart still hammering, then blurted out after a long pause,

  “System. Be honest—what if I just… right now… randomly turn around and call off the engagement?”

  Warning: This action will trigger a high-risk branch. Consequences are unpredictable. Possible outcomes include: Affection reset to zero; faction hostility; narrative collapse; readers abandoning the story mid-chapter. Please choose carefully.

  “…”

  That line hit me square in the face. I burrowed back under the covers, muttering curses.

  “Fine, fine. Same old song. Not backing out. Not backing out. Let’s keep myself alive first.”

  Then another thought struck me.

  The military token mattered. And that purple jade was still tucked inside my sleeve. I needed to hand it off to my elder brother—at the very least, get this hot potato off my chest before something went wrong. If I sneezed one day and sent it flying, and the whole room scrambled to grab it, that would be the end of me.

  But where was my brother, anyway?

  Click.

  The window lattice trembled slightly, as if nudged open by an invisible hand—just a finger’s width. Cold air slipped in through the crack, the candle flame sputtered into a trembling sprout, and my scalp exploded.

  “A—a ghost—!”

  A hand suddenly reached in from outside and clamped over my mouth.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Shh. It’s me.”

  The familiar low voice nearly made me pass out on the spot.

  In the wavering lamplight, Nangong Bo appeared with his hair blown wild by the night wind, half his body hanging on the windowsill. His cloak was dusted with roof grime. He looked exactly like a night owl who’d botched his cultivation.

  I struggled and muffled a few protests before he finally let go.

  I sat up, clutching my chest. “Brother! What kind of ghostly entrance technique is this? Why are you climbing walls in the middle of the night?”

  “To avoid attention.” He scowled as he slipped inside, landing without a sound. He latched the window shut and brushed dust from his elbow. “There are patrols outside. The front door’s no good.”

  I sniffed once. Then again. I frowned.

  “Why do you smell like… roof tiles and fermented tofu?”

  “I stepped on a tofu barrel climbing the wall and twisted my ankle,” he said flatly. “Enough chatter. Where’s the jade?”

  Right. Business.

  I hurriedly dug it out from the innermost hidden pocket of my undershirt, right over my heart. I’d wrapped it in three layers of cloth like a newborn chick afraid of catching cold. I handed it over with both hands, practically begging him to take it.

  “Brother. Please. You keep it. You’re steady.”

  He reached out—then paused midair. His gaze flicked toward the door, then toward the window. Abruptly, he pulled his hand back.

  “No.”

  “What?!”

  “You’re nominally engaged to that cult leader now,” he said in a low voice, sharp as a blade. “The jade staying on you makes the most sense. If I take it, I’ll stand out. The Eighth Prince’s people are watching me more closely than they’re watching you.”

  My heart skipped. “But with this thing on me, I can’t sleep.”

  “I’ll teach you a method.”

  He flipped up my outer robe, deftly tore open an inner seam. “Wrap the jade in three layers of soft cloth. Stitch it flat against the inside of your undershirt. Add a thin leather layer on top. Don’t bounce when you walk. Don’t sleep face-down. And when you use the latrine—don’t drop it.”

  “That last one was aimed at who, exactly?” I asked faintly.

  “You,” he replied without hesitation.

  Resigned, I did as told—wrapping, stitching, pricking my fingers three times before barely securing it. Nangong Bo watched with the expression of a man witnessing iron that refused to become steel. In the end, he took over, finishing the last stitches cleanly and slipping in a nearly invisible marker thread.

  “Remember these three stitch points,” he said quietly. “If someone swaps it out, I’ll know at a glance.”

  I nodded frantically, finally feeling a bit more at ease. Then another thought surfaced.

  “By the way, brother… how did you know I was in this room tonight—”

  Footsteps approached outside, stopping right at the door.

  We exchanged a look. I was about to dive under the bed when he grabbed me, shoved me behind the screen, and in three steps was back at the window. Click—the latch popped. He was once again half a night owl.

  “Who is it?” I called, lowering my voice.

  “Sir, your chamber pot—” the waiter drawled lazily.

  I exhaled hard. “No need! Go!”

  The footsteps retreated.

  A faint scuffle sounded at the window, and Nangong Bo flipped back in, patting his chest. “That was close.”

  I stared at him. “Your entry-and-exit method is more mystical than my system.”

  He ignored me. “Don’t move tonight. Prefect Li has changed his security layout three times, and the prince’s agents are tightening their net. This ‘engagement’ is a leash—but in the short term, it also shields you. Tomorrow I’ll check the apothecaries and see if there’s a way to suppress the Monthly Crimson. You stay by the Blood Lotus Cult Leader. Don’t wander.”

  At the words Monthly Crimson, my stomach twisted. “There’s really a cure?”

  “Maybe only pain suppression,” he said bluntly. “But as long as you’re alive, there’s room to turn the board.”

  I nodded so hard my chin nearly fell off. Then, softly: “And if I back out of the engagement—”

  “Don’t,” he snapped, shooting me a look that nailed me in place.

  I shrank back, silently reporting to the system: See? He’s worse than you.

  Notice: Please do not attempt the ‘engagement annulment’ branch. Current worldline stability: 41%.

  …That number did not inspire confidence.

  Nangong Bo adjusted my collar one last time. “Remember this too: tonight, I was never here. If anyone asks—you slept like the dead.”

  “And you?”

  “I never appeared.”

  By the time he had finished speaking, he was already at the window. As he slipped out into the night, his voice drifted back, barely audible:

  “Protect the jade. Protect yourself.”

  “Got it—”

  Before I could finish, he was gone—drawn into the darkness like smoke.

  I stared at the window frame. The candle flickered again. That earlier click felt like an illusion.

  Then the system quietly added another line:

  Side quest ‘Brothers’ Midnight Talk’ completion: 100%. Notice: Do not grow blindly optimistic due to short-term success.

  I wrapped myself up tightly in the blanket, burrito-style, and muttered,

  “Who’s being blindly optimistic? I’m cautious enough to be the turtle in the monastery hand-washing pond.”

  As I spoke, the warmth stitched against my chest rose and fell with my breathing. I pressed a hand there—and suddenly felt like laughing.

  No wonder my brother came and went like a ghost.

  Tonight’s perfectly timed entrance really did put my soul back where it belonged.