In the 12th year of Dà'ān Hào Yuán, at the Yunze Ruijing Prince's Court, a sudden imperial decree shattered the five-year tranquility. Just moments before, the Ruijing Court had been peaceful and serene—now it had become a battlefield of warring deities. Shouts of grief, screams, moans, and the sharp clashing of weapons rose and fell throughout the blood-soaked courtyard, echoing until the eastern sky first revealed a silver hue, when the sounds gradually faded and silence finally settled. Throughout the capital city of Anguo, the Imperial Guard patrolled the streets, city gates were sealed, and homes were searched thoroughly from dusk till dawn—ordinary citizens lived in constant fear, silent and hesitant to speak. In contrast, beyond the city, on the snow-covered mountains, the landscape was still and serene. The cold wind swept through the forests, carrying a sharp, biting chill, and a damp, piercing cold permeated the air. During winter, when heavy snowfall blanketed the mountains and forests, usually deserted, a slender figure stumbled forward through the light snow. With every labored step, deep and varied bloodstains were left behind on the snow, along with scattered drops of blood trailing behind. The small hands, frostbitten and red, clutched tightly at the pale silk robe around her chest. Her young face was half-hidden beneath the blood, only her round, clear eyes remained—glistening, yet growing increasingly dim and anxious. Suddenly, she stumbled, her slender body caught by the tree roots jutting out from the ground. Her small frame wavered, her hands trembling and clutching wildly, yet she could not steady herself as her strength nearly gave out. Her frail form rolled like a snowball across the snow, leaving a crooked trail of blood, until it finally came to rest against a nearby tree stump. A sharp pain surged from her back—her body, once so accustomed to comfort and ease, could no longer bear it, and she fainted. "Wanwan, stay with Xie Yue sister in the room. Father will be right back." "Wanwan, Mother will step out and return shortly. Please stay in the room and wait for me." "By my royal grace, I am here. Whoever dares harm the Princess—let them feel my pulse, and if they still wish to press on, I shall take my own life. See how well they fulfill my father’s instructions!" "Wanwan, hurry! With me here, they shall not dare to harm you." …The familiar voice echoed continuously in the darkness, rising and falling in rhythm with the sharp, piercing sounds of blades slicing through flesh. She lifted her hands, grasping randomly, trying to catch the source of the voice. Her cold fingertips seemed to touch something—cool and soft—and instinctively, she tightened her grip, fingers clenching tightly. With difficulty, her closed eyes parted. Before her lay a snowy, soft damask fabric. Her gaze naturally traced upward along the fabric, landing on a pair of striking eyes—deep, like black jade, unfamiliar yet clear and still, as calm and undisturbed as the heavenly pool atop this mountain peak. He was gazing at her, his brows slightly furrowed, yet his face remained utterly still. "S—s—save me…" Almost without thinking, she spoke, her voice breaking. From the combined effects of severe injuries, heavy blood loss, and a long night of fleeing, her strength had nearly been drained. Her throat was dry, and she could barely force out a sound. He did not respond, not even a flicker in his gaze. The soft fabric beneath her palm merely shifted slightly, as if it wished to slip from her fingers. When the fabric brushed her palm, she instinctively tightened her grip, channeling nearly all her strength into her hands, her veins standing out on her forearms. "Save me, please..." Her dry voice, now unconsciously tinged with tears, glistened in the eyes fixed upon him—tears dancing at the edges, yet not spilling over. Her wide, open eyes carried a quiet plea, a subtle sense of urgency, and genuine pain—she truly ached, truly feared. At last, he moved. He slowly bent down, the elegant silk of his robe settling over her soiled little hands. His gaze lingered only on her face before shifting to her back. The calm gaze stirred slightly when it met the glaring crimson on Xue Yi's robe, and her hand unconsciously covered the damp area, applying pressure and gently pushing outward. With a sharp, crisp sound, the fabric of her dress was torn apart, revealing a stark, diagonal gash from her left shoulder to her right hip. Her pale back was mottled with blood, the edges of the wound already clotting and fused with the fabric, yet still oozing blood at the site. "Y-ou..." He suddenly turned to her, as if about to speak, but she had already lost her strength, her head lolling weakly to one side, her consciousness swept away by darkness. When she awoke again, it was two days later, in an unknown cave. Outside, the sound of snow pressing down on branches, the steady wind, and the crackling of dry branches burning within the cave—everything else was utterly silent. This unusual stillness made her heart tremble subtly. She turned over to sit up, but her shoulders were gently pressed down by a single hand. "Stay still." A stranger's voice rose gently and clearly, pleasant as a spring stream flowing over a cold ravine—clear, fresh, and slightly resonant with a quiet depth. Though she was lightly pressed against the bed, the sudden movement of rising had stirred her back injuries, sending a steady, burning pain through her. There was also a faint, creeping sensation, like ants crawling, a fine, itchy numbness that made her instinctively reach out to scratch it, only to have her hand stopped midway by another. "Wait," he said calmly. "Pain...," she replied, frowning, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her voice, once soft and delicate, now carried a subtle undercurrent of quiet frustration and unawareness. "It'll be fine in two days," he said simply, gently guiding her hand back down. She looked up, and as her gaze met his still, calm, unchanging black eyes, memories from the moment before she fainted surged back. She felt a little embarrassed, withdrawing her hand and lowering her eyes. "Thank you!" Her voice remained dry and a bit hoarse, her brows furrowed with the pain in her back—truly painful, yet she dared not voice it again. He glanced at her, said nothing, merely looked out toward the entrance of the cave, "The snow has blocked the mountain for the past few days. We can't go further. Let's stay here and recover in peace." Having spoken, he rose as if to leave—almost instinctively—her hand reached out and grasped his, her fingers tracing a mark across his palm, almost pressing into the flesh. His figure paused slightly, then turned toward her, "I'm only going to fetch some food. I'll be back shortly." Her grip on his hand grew tighter as a result, yet she simply stared at him, her bright eyes glistening with unshed tears—though she made a conscious effort to conceal her growing anxiety. He furrowed his brows, gazing at her for a long while, as though understanding the concerns hidden within her heart, "I won't abandon you." His voice remained calm and composed, yet somehow it brought a quiet sense of reassurance. She blushed slightly and offered him a gentle smile, then quietly withdrew her hand. He gave a subtle lift of the corner of his lips, forming a soft, almost smiling curve. He indeed did not abandon her as he had said, staying with her day after day inside the cave, changing her bandages, yet speaking little. He never asked her who she was or how she had been injured, and she, in turn, dared not inquire as to who he was, why he had appeared on the empty mountain that day, or why he had come to save her—she was already deeply grateful. On ordinary days, he sat in meditation practicing his arts, while she remained silent and lost in thought, unable to think of anything. The continuous snow and wind finally ceased, and when the first rays of sunlight broke through the snow, her injuries had healed considerably. His skill as a healer was truly exceptional, and through days of close companionship, she had come to feel it deeply. "I'll go gather some herbs," he would say each afternoon, and then quietly depart. This time, however, when he returned, he was accompanied by a young woman—her features and age nearly identical to his—someone who seemed as if she had stepped straight out of a painting. "Are you the young girl who was injured?" he asked. You look so young, probably younger than me by several years. Just call me ZiMo sister, okay? By the way, what's your name?" As soon as the girl entered, she gathered around, bent down to her level, smiling warmly while introducing herself and gently pressing her cool cheeks. Her eyes were crinkled with warmth. AnziMo's enthusiasm made her a little nervous and out of her comfort zone. After a moment of hesitation, she finally stammered out her name, "Su... Su Wan." "Su Wan? You are..." AnziMo seemed genuinely surprised, her voice slightly raised, but was gently interrupted by AnziYuan's calm tone. "AnziMo, take this mountain chicken outside and wash it." He glanced toward the wild chicken still struggling near the entrance. AnziMo, interrupted by AnziYuan, forgot to ask further questions. She stood up and moved closer to AnziYuan, pouting slightly. "Bro, why do I have to go?" "Here, you're the only one who's really idle." An Zi yuan responded calmly, his voice though quiet differed from his usual gentle tone—this quietness carried a subtle fondness, reflecting the close bond between the siblings. Her eyes, filled with admiration, naturally turned toward An Zi mo. An Zi mo had pouted slightly, gently releasing her hand and, with a reluctant heart, took hold of the wild mountain chicken. As she stepped away, she gave her a playful wink and nod, saying, "Little sister, stay right here and wait for me to return. I'll have Zi yuan brother roast the chicken for you later." After her voice faded with the distance, the chamber fell once again into quiet. An Zi yuan did not look at Su Wan, his breath now steady and his body relaxed as he sat in meditation, focusing on healing his injuries. Su Wan quietly turned her gaze to the opening where An Zi mo had disappeared, refraining from speaking, simply sitting in silent contemplation as she usually did. Whenever he remained silent, she too chose to stay still, not daring to disturb him. An ZiMo returned quickly, but not with a clean mountain chicken in hand. He came rushing back, breathless, already speaking in a disordered rush as soon as he reached the cave entrance, “Brother, Su Wan—quick! They’re searching the mountains!” Su Wan paled and immediately rose. An ZiYuan swiftly extinguished the fire inside the cave, then hurried toward her, taking her hand in one hand and turning to An ZiMo with a firm voice, “Go!” Yet it was still too late. Watching the steadily gathering ranks of imperial soldiers forming along the only path down the mountain. Though young, Su Wan had come to understand what had happened after several days of constant travel and flight. She quietly withdrew her hand from An ZiYuan’s grasp, lowered her eyes, and softly said, “You go first. Thank you, big brother.” Her hand, however, was midway held by An ZiYuan, who gently pushed her close to An ZiMo. “ZiMo, take her and go first!” His voice remained calm, without any sign of panic, yet carried a quiet, unyielding determination. "But..." An ZiMo furrowed her brow, seemingly disagreeing with An ZiYuan's decision. An ZiYuan glanced at her. "Listen!" "Oh!" She sighed, pursing her lips, then pulled Su Wan along, heading toward the mountain. Su Wan hesitated slightly. "Brother..." Her words trailed off as An ZiMo cut her off sharply. "If you don't stay here, he won't have any trouble. In fact, you'll only become a burden." Though the words weren't particularly pleasant, they were true—An ZiMo herself was not skilled in martial arts, so staying behind would indeed be a hindrance. "Since your life was saved by my brother, he won't allow that life to fall into someone else's hands. Moreover, there are bodyguards close to my brother—they won't be able to harm him." Noticing that her tone had been slightly stiff earlier, An ZiMo softened her voice, yet remained firm in pulling her hand, steadily making their way upward. Su Wan, hearing this, had no choice but to follow, and as the path down the mountain was now blocked, they were forced to climb upward. A growing number of dark-robed figures, each wearing a qilin mask, had gathered around An Zi yuan by now, fighting off waves of eunuch guards who surged forward like ants. Though the dark-robed figures moved with agility, their numbers were vastly outnumbered, and the eunuch guards were determined to capture Su Wan and bring her back—only a brief journey from here to the summit. Despite An Zi yuan's vigorous resistance, he could not prevent the eunuch forces from advancing in successive waves up the mountain. The hand tightly gripped by An Zimao slowly tried to withdraw, yet before it could move, An Zimao firmly held it in place, "Don't think of any tricks—just stay put and observe." An Zimao nodded, pulling Su Wan back a small step, only to find that the stone beneath their feet, weathered over the years, had already loosened. With just this slight movement, the already unstable balance of the rock shifted. A deep rumble echoed, followed by the crashing of a massive boulder. An Zimao pulled Su Wan, attempting to leap upward with light footwork. But with her skills still developing, she only managed to avoid the rolling boulder and, in a moment of urgency, both of them grasped the protrusions on the rock wall, steadying their falling bodies. Yet their feet hung in the air, swaying precariously on the cliff where the wind swept strongly. The stone she was holding began to loosen, as if it would soon detach. An Zi yuan had already turned to catch the moment the great stone groaned and crashed. As his eyes met the two figures who had suddenly fallen, his expression changed abruptly. Without hesitation, his long sword swept through the air in a long, fluid arc, and with a calm command, "Xuan Yi Wei!" He used the momentum from the sword's thrust to step free from the breach, rolled to the edge of the cliff, and planted the blade firmly into the ground with one hand, gripping the hilt firmly in the other. With the free hand, he swiftly extended it toward the two figures. She was slightly taken aback, and he seemed to pause as well, gazing at her with a complex expression, yet his hand still swiftly and firmly reached out to An Zizi. "Wait a moment!" An Zizi's hand had already settled on his, but the words were directed to Su Wan. She smiled gently, a sense of relief washing over her, and felt a touch of embarrassment at her own instinctive reaction—Zizi had only ended up in this situation because she had come to save her, and yet, at that very moment, she too had instinctively reached out to him. With one hand supporting his body as it slid downward, and the other reaching to save someone, he simply could not free a third hand to assist another. After all, who wouldn't prioritize the person they've shared so many years of daily life with? The sudden fall and the feeling of being suspended below had reopened the wounds on her still-healing back, sending sharp pain through her. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her face pale as the endless snow, her hands gripping the rocky outcrops now weak and trembling, barely able to hold on. Even the shifting stones beneath her made it impossible for her to move her fingers. An Ziyou was quickly pulled up by An Ziyuan's firm grasp. As soon as she loosened her grip on the rock, the sudden imbalance of gravity caused the stone block that Su Wan had been holding to crash off with a resounding sound. "Thank you!" Before her body plunged downward, she could only manage a smile of gratitude—thank him for giving her a few more days of life. "Su Wan!" ... Without realizing it, she pushed her foot against the ground, and An Ziyuan suddenly jolted awake from his deep dream. His eyes slowly opened, and though the room was dark, the scene before him was clearly visible under the moonlight—the familiar balustrade, the familiar bed curtains—his own room. All of it had been memories from ten years ago. How could he have suddenly recalled it now? Ten years had passed since he had rescued that little girl by chance. Perhaps she had already settled into a regular household, living a quiet, peaceful life. A slight curve formed at the corners of her thin lips in the darkness. She reached out her hand to the thin blanket, intending to pull it aside and get up to drink a cup of tea. As her fingertips touched the fabric, Who dared to visit his room at night—the girl hidden in the shadows—was still the very first!