The cold steel of Zhi Ming's sword pierces my chest, yet his eyes hold no victory—only pain. "Now you know how it feels to be betrayed by the one you love most," he snarls, though his voice wavers. Blood soaks my robes as he withdraws the blade. I collapse to my knees, gasping for breath as the battlefield spins around me.

"I should kill you," he says, towering over me with sword still dripping my blood. His hand trembles. "Why didn't you just let me die?"

I look up at him through the haze of pain, our history flashing between us—secret nights in his chambers, whispered promises, political schemes that ultimately destroyed us both. "Because I love you," I whisper, the truth escaping before I can stop it.

His expression crumbles for a moment before hardening again. "Then you'll regret those words. Guards! Take him to my palace." He sheathes his sword with a decisive click. "I want him alive—and suffering."

Rough hands grab me, hauling me to my feet. As I'm dragged away, I glimpse Fang Ye fighting desperately against Tianquan soldiers, his eyes meeting mine with horror. Zhi Ming watches me with a mixture of loathing and something I can't quite identify—perhaps the same twisted love still burning in my own chest.

In Zhi Ming's opulent prison chamber later that night, I wake to find him standing beside my bed, moonlight illuminating his conflicted face. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead with surprising tenderness before his expression hardens.

"You belong to me now," he says quietly, "body and soul."