For seven full days, the carriage wheels had rumbled over the gravel road. Ye Xuan leaned against the inner wall of the carriage, a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his lips.
His eyes were half-lidded, seemingly resting, but he had already gone over the entire chain of events in his mind several times.
This time, he intended to use Spirit Hall's hand to fake his death and escape.
He had already coordinated with Qian Renxue, while Snake Lance Douluo lay hidden behind them, waiting only for the perfect moment.
At the thought of Meng Yiran, the corner of Ye Xuan's mouth curved into a barely visible smile.
After spending these days together, he naturally understood that the girl's heart had begun to waver between him and Tang San.
From her initial wariness and distance, to her later dependence and trust, and now the tenderness she could no longer hide whenever she looked at him, he had gradually become the irreplaceable white moonlight in her heart.
And Tang San, though nominally her boyfriend, had always been separated from her by an indescribable barrier.
Ye Xuan disdained stealing someone else's woman in front of them.
But secretly fanning the flames and letting Tang San taste the bitterness of wanting something he could not have—that was rather entertaining.
Besides, this staged death was not only a way for him to get away, but also the perfect chance to completely occupy Meng Yiran's heart.
As long as he "died" before her eyes—and died protecting her—Tang San would never truly enter her heart for the rest of his life.
"Brother Xuan Ye, what are you thinking about?" a soft voice came from beside him, her eyes full of concern.
"This journey has been so bumpy. You don't look very well."
Ye Xuan raised his eyes,