After a long while, he finally released her, with a touch of care and caution. He gently brushed her face, his voice slightly husky, "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry—I lost my composure a moment ago." Yun Rao remained somewhat dazed, simply gazing at him, "What happened to me?" A sense of struggle and complexity stirred in his eyes—there was joy, yet it was overshadowed by deeper contradiction. He didn't answer her directly, merely continuing to caress her cheek softly, "I've arranged for someone to bring you another bowl of porridge." Yun Rao bit her lower lip, lowered her gaze, and asked instead, "What's wrong with you?" He shook his head, his long fingers passing through her hair, gently stroking her head, his voice a little softer, "Nothing. You've been feeling a bit weak lately—just need to strengthen yourself a bit more." Yun Rao nodded quietly, murmuring "Hmm," and then said no more. Yan Jing, the Emperor, only held her hand, his eyes slightly lowered, concealing all the emotions within his eyelids. Cui Xi quickly brought over the hawthorn juice and porridge. Emperor Yanjing personally fed Yun Rao the porridge, and at first she was quite uncomfortable, but as he persisted, even setting his imperial dignity aside, Yun Rao eventually blushed and allowed him to feed her. Her body was so weak that shortly after finishing the porridge, she fell into a deep sleep. Emperor Yanjing remained seated by the bedside, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face—her beautifully serene features seemed utterly still, her breathing smooth and even, as if she were completely at rest. Such a delicate frame, yet already carrying his child. The softness in his black eyes naturally deepened, and the emotions of touching, wonder, and concern intertwined within them, finally settling into a long, quiet sigh. He reached out his hand, gently pressing his palm against her face, the warmth and softness beneath his fingertips lingering deeply. "Yun Rao," he murmured, his thin lips parting slightly as he leaned down and lightly kissed her lips, lingering a little longer, as if reluctant to let go. "Yun Rao." Just softly calling her name at her lips, his voice low and hoarse, thick with complex,难以borne emotions—desiring to draw near, to clearly tell her that he was An Ziyuan, not the Emperor Yan Jing, yet afraid of her decisive departure that day. He had always been wary of her, always on guard; though that day, he had managed to evade her medicine thanks to his inner resolve and the power of the Qilin bracelet, he hadn't truly forgotten her. But if she gave him medicine again, would he be able to escape it once more? Even now, after more than a month, that profound, bone-deep sense of despair remained etched in his memory. Though she was right before him, within reach, he could only watch helplessly as she stepped away step by step—perhaps even, upon waking, would no longer remember her at all, while she had already been gone. She had truly resolved to make him forget her, and only because she had already lost hope in both him and in her own life, had she left so decisively and firmly. As the medicinal effects eroded his mind, he fought fiercely against them, eyes open, watching her silhouette gradually recede, stepping slowly out through the door until she vanished entirely. Then, all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of despair—a feeling he had never known in the twenty-some years of his life. That helplessness, that deep-seated sorrow, was so profound it left him powerless, merely watching her walk completely out of his life, never to return. "Anziyuan, are you truly in love with me, or are you just thinking you are? I also want to love you, but I don't think I'll live much longer, and I'm afraid to love you. No matter when, I will always be the one you eventually let go of—ten years ago, just as much as now. I can understand that, yet I still feel hurt." "Since I lost my home at the age of ten, I've always been the one who's been left behind—left by you, left by Xiao Run. Though neither of you has any responsibility toward me, I still wish that, when I can no longer hold on, there would be someone who willingly lets me lean on them." "I know I'm just dreaming again. I'm truly happy now, as I go. I'm just sorry—I've disrupted your life. If I could start over, or if I could remember my past before I even reached out to you, perhaps I wouldn't have bothered you at all. If we meet again in a future life, I hope we never cross paths once more." … Fragments surged and collided violently within his mind, reaching out to him with blood-streaked hands, eyes clear and filled with fear, pleading in a voice choked with tears, “Save me, please… Save me…” A quiet, relieved smile touched his lips after a moment of stillness—then, as time passed, the gentle, radiant beauty of her face, the sharp, piercing sound of the sword cutting through flesh, the wide-eyed, bewildered gaze… All the scattered pieces, like torn fabric, tore at his consciousness with force, gradually stitching themselves together into memories tied to her. For those fifteen days, he had searched for her feverishly, consumed by an unprecedented anxiety and fear, dreading that when he finally found her, all that would remain would be a solitary, empty tomb. An Zi yuan wasn't sure whether he should be grateful that Emperor Yan Jing had been attacked. Had it not been for the sudden assassination, he would never have entered the imperial palace, nor would he have unexpectedly met Yun Rao in the imperial garden. At first sight, he had almost been unable to hold back and pressed her entirely against his chest, seeking to confirm her very presence and vitality. Yet he managed to restrain himself, telling himself in her cautious, probing gaze that he must not rush things. For these days, he had been testing various remedies under the guise of Emperor Yan Jing, but Yun Rao's condition had shown no signs of improvement—on the contrary, she had grown increasingly frail. He had never managed a single night of undisturbed sleep, and now, she was pregnant. He sent for the flat physician to take another pulse reading of Yun Rao. Her pulse had always been weak, and at that moment he could almost not detect it at all—now, even the joyful pulse was so faint it seemed nearly absent, requiring careful pressure to feel it clearly. Over these days, he and the flat physician had taken her pulse every day, yet never noticed that she was already pregnant. It was only today, when she felt nauseous and wanted something sour, that he began to suspect it. His hand, unconsciously, reached through the quilt to her still flat abdomen—there, there it was, already carrying their child. His child, her child... Simply thinking of that child, still forming, warmed and softened him in a way he couldn't name. What a beautiful child—so much like her, so much like him. "Congratulations, Your Majesty," the flat physician said, rising to bow and offer his congratulations, once again interrupting the disorder of An Ziyuan's thoughts. "The Consort has been pregnant for over a month now." "Having said that, she couldn't help but furrow her brows again, feeling something was still off—the Emperor had only begun visiting the Lady Yue in the past half-month, yet he now seemed to be six weeks pregnant. An Zi-yuan glanced at her, concerned about waking Yun Rao, and gently urged her to go to the outer chamber, adding, "The news of the Lady's pregnancy must remain private; for now, do not inform Lady Yue." "Understood." Having spent years in the imperial court, the senior physician was well-versed in such matters, and there was no sign of the Emperor blaming Lady Yue. It must have been during one of those midnight visits to the Moonlight Palace that this had happened. "In your opinion, will the Lady be able to bear this condition now?" An Zi-yuan asked. The physician furrowed his two thick, snow-white brows. "The toxin within the Lady has already penetrated her bones; her condition is extremely frail—she may not be able to endure it." "So…" An Zi-yuan looked at him intently, his gaze sharp and penetrating. The flat physician lowered his voice, speaking with a touch of caution, "In the physician's opinion, while the fetus is still forming, it would be better to remove it promptly. The imperial consort's current condition is truly unsuitable for carrying a pregnancy. Even if she manages to give birth to a healthy child later, her health may well prove too frail to recover."