Lin Yuanjin suddenly opened her eyes, gasping as she sat up.

Her thin clothes were soaked slightly damp, disheveled hair falling loosely along her shoulders, the darkness seeping with chill as it climbed onto the bed.

She raised a hand to support her forehead, touching a palmful of cold sweat, and looked around in confusion. Through the window, the sky appeared dim, as if it was still before dawn, while she herself lay safely on the bed.

Again.

Lin Yuanjin lowered her eyes quietly, her gaze shifting from the desolate night to her own empty palm.

Over the past half month, this was not the first time she had woken from a dream at the same moment.

Ever since half a month ago, when the Crown Prince forced her to act out a scene of conjugal affection in bed, Lin Yuanjin had not seen the Crown Prince in person again.

That afternoon, when she fell asleep, she had a very long dream.

After that, most of the nightmares dissipated with the appearance of one person, and only then did she truly fall into peaceful sleep.

The dream itself was not important.

What was strange was that Lin Yuanjin clearly remembered she had fallen asleep by the window, and when she awoke from the dream, it was the same dim pre-dawn like today, yet at that time she had been lying on the bed with her clothes neat.

From her probing, those who attended her all thought she had woken up and moved to the bed herself.

Only Lin Yuanjin vaguely felt that it was not so, yet she did not dare to think further. Once she began to think, she would involuntarily fall into a faint sense of loss and self-disgust.

The pre-dawn before even the rooster’s crow was especially quiet, and especially easy for one to let their thoughts wander.

Just as Lin Yuanjin now could no longer distinguish whether her complicated feelings were affection, or a stubborn thought of self-preservation born from having no one to rely on.

Lin Yuanjin wanted to see him, yet feared seeing him.

Now it had been more than half a month since that night’s illusory dream. In numbness, she had gradually grown accustomed to life in the Crown Prince’s residence.

Of course, this was largely thanks to the Crown Prince still being in his recovery period.

Because the Crown Prince did not indulge in women, he had not visited the rear courtyard for several months. When those three selected attendants came to pay their respects, they had asked in veiled terms, but Lin Yuanjin had all blurred it over with the excuse of being busy with affairs.

Lin Yuanjin knew she could no longer fall asleep. Habitually, she hugged herself, looking toward the window, sitting quietly in stillness until dawn.

By the time familiar pacing footsteps appeared at the door, bright morning light had already climbed in along the edge of the window. A new day arrived, and Lin Yuanjin’s emotions also eased somewhat.

Nanny Zhang gently opened the door and walked in, followed by several maids carrying utensils, preparing to wash and dress Lin Yuanjin. Coming to the bedside and seeing that Lin Yuanjin was already awake, she was surprised. “Did Your Highness sleep well last night?”

“Thinking about the journey, I opened my eyes early,” Lin Yuanjin lifted her face, allowing the maid to press a warm cloth against it.

It was the season of crisp autumn air. The Emperor led the princes, consorts, and even civil and military officials to the autumn mountain hunting grounds. The journey alone would take more than seven days.

“Your Highness has never traveled far before. Now things are different from the past; what should be yours will naturally all be yours.” Nanny Zhang smiled meaningfully, teasing, “Now that His Highness the Crown Prince’s health has greatly improved, you newlyweds—this autumn hunt is just the time for your relationship to grow sweet and close.”

“…Nanny speaks truly.” Lin Yuanjin paused slightly, a flawless smile hanging on her fair face, her brows and eyes gently curved, the quiet depths of her gaze unseen.

In this half month, she had not seen the Crown Prince with her own eyes even once.

If the Crown Prince truly was safe and sound, Lin Yuanjin might hope that some unavoidable accident would occur at the hunting grounds. Though she could not lend a hand in any real way, she would offer her greatest support in spirit.

Thinking this, Lin Yuanjin could not help but laugh softly. Nanny Zhang, who had finished dressing her and was leading her outside, asked a question, and she lightly replied, “It’s nothing.”

She was only letting her thoughts run wild.

The Crown Prince still could not die.

Nanny Zhang did not take it to heart either, only saying with concern, “There is tea and food in the carriage. If you feel unwell, call someone at once. Do not endure it just because His Highness the Crown Prince is there.”

Lin Yuanjin’s steps halted, and she lifted her eyes to ask, “His Highness will be riding in the same carriage as me?”

“The procession is vast, and with many people, disturbances are inevitable. His Majesty has instructed that everything be kept as simple as possible along the way,” Nanny Zhang explained. “With you and His Highness together, it will also be less likely for others to bump into you.”

Lin Yuanjin curved her lips, as if pleased at heart.

She would rather be bumped into by others.

Anyone looking to stir trouble would still have to mind the dignity of the imperial family. If things truly escalated, she would not be the one to suffer.

But to face, all the way, that Crown Prince who put on an act of deep affection, self-righteously believing he would grant her a child—Lin Yuanjin would only sincerely wish for him to fall from his horse and be trampled once by its hooves.

The Emperor was still too soft-hearted. After that round of beatings, striking someone with weak kidneys, it had not even left him bedridden for a hundred days?

Lin Yuanjin had not slept well last night, and learning this bad news early in the morning inevitably left her restless and irritable.

So be it. Once she boarded the carriage, she would feign fatigue and doze off. In any case, because of what happened when she entered the palace half a month ago, the Crown Prince had grown tired of her and did not even wish to keep up appearances.

With little interest, Lin Yuanjin followed Nanny Zhang to the carriage, watching as the coachman lifted the curtain with a pole. She stepped onto the stool and climbed up.

She had just raised a polite smile, not even lifting her head, gathering her skirt as she prepared to bow to the Crown Prince seated inside the carriage, when she heard a light, indifferent voice of a youth from behind the curtain, “No need. Come in.”

The voice was clear and cool like spring water in a secluded stream, lightly brushing past her ear.

Lin Yuanjin suddenly lost her voice, her whole body as if frozen in place. She abruptly lifted her eyes, her gaze filled with hope and disbelief as she followed the sound.

Gentle morning light spilled into the carriage, swaying shadows of trees adorning the young man’s noble face. The eyes he raised were clearly calm, yet seemed to hold shimmering light.

The loose black everyday robe made his figure appear even more slender, a section of jade-like neck exposed above. In his pale hand, he held a book, and before him a pot of tea was brewing.

“Your Highness.” Lin Yuanjin could not help but smile. Though already married, she was like an unmarried young girl who had not seen the one she loved for a long time, unable to restrain herself for a moment.

“Crown Princess.” Cui Yiyu nodded. On his usually indifferent face, a rare trace of helplessness appeared as a smile. His gaze quietly swept over the people behind her, and he extended a hand toward her.

As the Crown Princess, there was nothing improper in Lin Yuanjin’s demeanor. It was only natural to feel some joy after not seeing her husband for half a month. Yet Cui Yiyu clearly saw the overly obvious change in her before and after.

More than once, Cui Yiyu had been troubled by his own overly keen perception because of her.

Her eyes were like stars fallen within them, warm light wrapping around her hair, every strand steeped in joy.

What Lin Yuanjin was happy about was not seeing her husband again, but him.

Yet she hurriedly bent her waist and entered the carriage, but did not take Cui Yiyu’s hand. Instead, she restrained herself and sat directly opposite him, her smile reserved.

As if there were invisible chains binding her.

The carriage curtain fell with Lin Yuanjin’s entrance, blocking out the daylight outside. With a few shouted commands, the carriage began to move.

“Half a month without seeing Your Highness, this concubine has missed you greatly,” Lin Yuanjin said softly, as if carefully choosing her words. “The nights are long and dreams many; I often see Your Highness in them. Now that Your Highness has recovered, this concubine can finally be at ease.”

Before, she had been on edge, afraid that the Crown Prince’s health would recover and he would act on impulse. Now that she saw Cui Yiyu, she truly let out a long breath of relief.

She sincerely wished that the Crown Prince would remain physically weak for the rest of his life.

No matter what, for this autumn hunt, Lin Yuanjin could finally set her mind at ease.

As if recalling something, a trace of discomfort flashed across Cui Yiyu’s brows and eyes for a moment. He quickly lowered his gaze to conceal it, reaching out to adjust the tea set, and said softly, “Autumn Mountain is a royal hunting ground. Most of the animals raised there are mild in temperament, but they are not without danger. Crown Princess should be more careful.”

What was more, as a place where accidents frequently occurred, the most dangerous thing in the hunting grounds had never been the animals.

Thinking of this, Cui Yiyu’s eyes deepened slightly.

Noticing that Lin Yuanjin did not respond, Cui Yiyu looked over in confusion, only to suddenly meet her gaze—so trusting it bordered on staking everything on it. His pupils trembled.

“Your Highness will protect me.” Lin Yuanjin smiled brightly, her voice intimate and certain, as if the burden on her shoulders had lightened, and she gained a bit of the liveliness that should belong to her age.

Her reflection appeared in Cui Yiyu’s clear eyes, and he did not move for a long while.

She did not know that Cui Yiyu had watched her slowly walk out of the residence.

The young girl’s back was straight, her steps steady. Surrounded as she walked forward, she seemed like a model of etiquette stepped out from a painting of court ladies. The smile in her eyes, the curve of her lips—everything was orderly and precise.

If not for him, Lin Yuanjin would have been a flawless Crown Princess.

“Naturally,” Cui Yiyu replied calmly. His fingers moved slightly as he gently pushed the teacup, now at just the right temperature.

Whether in his current identity as the Crown Prince, or as the Crown Prince’s shadow guard, protecting the Crown Princess was only natural.

Yet unexpectedly, Lin Yuanjin placed her hand against the teacup but did not lift it to drink. Instead, she dipped her index finger into the tea and began writing on the wooden table.

Droplets gathered at her fingertip, forming smooth lines that shaped into four characters.

—Where is the Crown Prince.

Cui Yiyu stared fixedly at this question, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.

Writing with tea was clever—even if paper and brush were burned, traces would still remain.

In principle, he should not reveal the Crown Prince’s whereabouts. But if it came down to it, he should not even have allowed the Crown Princess to discover the existence of him as a substitute.

If the Crown Prince learned that Lin Yuanjin already knew the difference between the real and the false Crown Prince, both their lives would likely be forfeit.

To some extent, he and the Crown Princess were people riding the same boat.

This question was like a key—whether he answered or not would reveal his stance.

Cui Yiyu hesitated, because he did not know what would happen after he answered.

Would this be good for the Crown Princess?

His dark eyes carried confusion. Rarely did he hesitate like this; because of the uncertainty, he was, for once, caught in contemplation.

After writing the words, Lin Yuanjin withdrew her hand. If Cui Yiyu did not answer, the tea would evaporate after a while from the nearby brazier.

She was not forcing him to answer, only simply wanting to say a few words with Cui Yiyu.

If they did not speak, just sitting quietly like this was also good.

Occasionally, voices of conversation drifted from outside the carriage. Even the nearby guards did not dare approach to overhear the conversation between the Crown Prince and his consort.

Yet even without guards eavesdropping, there were other shadow guards hidden in the dark, watching them at all times.

Just as Lin Yuanjin thought Cui Yiyu would not move, he slowly raised his hand. The wide sleeve slipped slightly, revealing his pale wrist bones, and his fingertip touched the tea, quickly writing a single character—

“Residence.”

After writing it, Cui Yiyu lifted his eyes to look at Lin Yuanjin. The moment their gazes met, his wrist trembled involuntarily.

In that instant, it felt as though an electric current shot through his wrist. This kind of hidden exchange, carried out behind others’ backs, carried the implication of secret intimacy, forcing him to withdraw his hand.

Yet he had still answered.

Cui Yiyu’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a trace of indulgent weariness following. Thinking of Lin Yuanjin’s restraint when she entered the carriage, he ultimately chose to hand over the choice.

He trusted the Crown Princess.

“Then Your Highness will be with this concubine for these seven days?” After knowing the answer, Lin Yuanjin’s voice grew lighter. Her fingers did not stop; without hesitation, she wrote a single character.

When Cui Yiyu saw it, his breath hitched. His gaze seemed to be burned, heat spreading to the corners of his eyes and the tips of his ears, turning them red. From his jaw to his neck, his body tensed visibly. He tried to suppress the discomfort coursing through him, yet could not escape it.

Too close.

Inside the enclosed carriage, seated across the table, the young man and woman could hear each rise and fall of the other’s breath clearly. Any closer, and they would be able to hear each other’s heartbeat.

Cui Yiyu’s gaze flickered. He could only lower his eyes, forcing himself to look at the character on the table—so simple, yet at this moment unbearably explicit—

“Act.”

What to act, both of them understood.

The young man gave a low response. A single short word, yet it seemed steeped in countless emotions.

“Mm.”