Liu Ji’s low moan, so real it was indistinguishable from truth, made one’s ears go numb.

Hearing that unbearable sound, Wenren Lin indeed paused slightly in his steps.

Zhao Yen, after all, was not truly a man, and was exceedingly ignorant of matters between husband and wife. Being too close, she also feared Liu Ji might perceive something amiss.

She tried, without revealing anything on her face, to exert strength and regain control. Who would have thought that just as she stretched out her hand, Liu Ji seized her wrist in one grasp and pressed it down.

Zhao Yen’s eyes widened: This elder sister, is her hand strength truly so great!

Outside, it was utterly quiet, but she knew Wenren Lin had not left.

Sure enough, after only a moment’s pause, Wenren Lin leisurely stepped inside, lifted his robe, and sat at the small table in the inner room, even with a touch of elegance pouring himself a cup of tea, tasting it carefully.

With the bed-curtain dim and heavy, Wenren Lin’s silhouette became vague and hazy, his emotions indistinguishable.

Even so, Zhao Yen could still feel Wenren Lin’s gaze passing through the curtain, directed at her, soundless and breathless, yet chilling her whole body.

Zhao Yen was on the verge of tears: He… why does he still not leave?

Liu Ji also furrowed her brows, her face cold as she pinched out a lingeringly tender tone, performing ever more deeply: “Sovereign Prince is standing here, how can His Highness do his business?”

“……”

Zhao Yen’s scalp tingled at the sound, truly without the face to imagine what expression Wenren Lin might have.

The silhouette seated outside was unmoving as a mountain, only the faint clink of cup returning to the table was heard, unusually clear in the still bedchamber.

“This prince remembers, those who seduce and bewitch their lord are to be punished by the ultimate penalty.”

Wenren Lin’s voice, calm and without waves, floated lightly over.

Zhao Yen’s whole body stiffened.

She knew Wenren Lin was not speaking with intent to frighten. He truly was capable of doing it.

Zhao Yen shook her head at Liu Ji, who held faint anger, signaling her to endure.

When Liu Ji released her restraining hand, she gathered up the loose robe, braced herself slightly, and said hoarsely: “Gu indeed has no hobby of being watched by others. Now the night is already deep. Sovereign Prince, return to your manor and rest. Whatever matter there is, let it be spoken tomorrow.”

“This prince is merely somewhat curious.”

Wenren Lin, with the lowest and most magnetic voice, spoke the most wanton words: “Crown Prince was still too ill to rise from bed during the day, yet at night has the energy to seek pleasure with a woman. It can be called a medical miracle, enough to astonish.”

Zhao Yen’s body went cold, her hands stiff, and as her strength gave way she nearly fell, involuntarily letting out a muffled groan.

That muffled groan, hidden behind the curtain, was indescribably suggestive, provoking wandering thoughts.

Zhao Yen quickly bit her lip, and simply decided to follow through with the mistake, gritting her teeth as she answered: “Eating and sex are human nature, the ordinary feelings of people. This is not the proper time for idle talk. If the Grand Preceptor does not leave, Gu will truly be unable to go on.”

Wenren Lin laughed. The play of light and shadow divided his expression into blurred uncertainty, even his laughter becoming unfathomable.

With an understanding look, he picked out a bottle from Immortal Physician Sun’s medicine chest. His hand, bones extremely beautiful, held the unknown jade bottle, toying with it carefully.

“Crown Prince may continue doing what a Crown Prince does. Merely spare one hand, and let Immortal Physician Sun take the pulse.”

Listen to how ferocious these words are!

Zhao Yen’s cheeks grew hot, her throat strained: “Gu’s head illness is already nearly healed, why make a fuss over nothing, troubling the Immortal Physician?”

“Healed?”

“Ye—yes.”

Wenren Lin gave no comment, but shifted the topic: “Then, can the Crown Prince come to Chongwen Hall tomorrow to attend the lecture?”

Zhao Yen gnashed her teeth, so anxious her eyes nearly reddened. At this moment, she only wished Wenren Lin would leave as quickly as possible.

Thus she obediently nodded: “I will come.”

Having achieved his purpose, Wenren Lin finally gave a satisfied “Mm,” raised his hand to smooth his sleeve robe, and stood up.

He took two steps, then halted again: “By the way.”

At once Zhao Yen’s breath caught in her throat.

Wenren Lin turned his head slightly, placing the medicine bottle in his hand on the table: “Remember to take this, it is good for the Crown Prince’s body.”

His long fingers tapped the medicine bottle, and this time he truly left.

Only after that tall, straight figure had departed, the palace doors shut, and even the sound of footsteps completely vanished, did Zhao Yen collapse her back, wrapping her chilled body tightly in the bedding.

Liu Ji merely leaned on the bed looking at her, as if studying, yet Zhao Yen truly had no strength to guess what she might be thinking.

Fortunately, Liu Ji quickly turned her gaze away. With slight roughness, she tugged off the obstructing long skirt as she descended the bed, picked up the medicine bottle left by Prince Su, sniffed it, and then furrowed her brows.

Seeing her expression grave, Zhao Yen poked her head from behind the curtain, her body tightly wrapped within, and nervously asked: “What is this? Is it poison?”

Liu Ji said with distaste: “Xiaoyao Pill.”

“What pill?” Zhao Yen did not understand.

Liu Ji glanced at her, then rephrased: “A tonic to warm the yang and supplement the kidneys.”

“……”

This time Zhao Yen understood. The round she had managed to win back, in the end she still lost the defense.

……

Steam misted in the cleansing chamber. Zhao Yen hugged her knees, sitting on the edge of the bath pool, half her face submerged in the water, only her fine nose and rippling eyes exposed, letting the swaying waves wash away the lingering fear and weariness of her body.

In the entire day, only in this moment could she shed her disguise and return to herself.

Back at Huayang Traveling Palace, there had been no lack of mountain springs and wild streams, and at the back hill they had even built a natural hot spring retreat in accord with the land. In idle hours, she would often bring her close palace maids to soak for a while, her days passing naturally carefree, unrestrained—unlike now, always parrying and countering, every step with heart suspended…

Realizing she was beginning to yearn for past stability, Zhao Yen stood and shook her head, her gaze once more settling into calm determination.

When she changed clothes and returned to the bedchamber, Liu Ji was already gone.

Yawning, Zhao Yen reclined askew on the bed to rest. After waiting two quarters of an hour, she still did not see Liuying.

Ordinarily, at night, she would dismiss the palace attendants and come, lamp in hand, to repeatedly check whether Zhao Yen’s chest binding was tied tightly, before she would leave.

Now it was already midnight. Zhao Yen no longer waited, but pulled her clothes and bedding close and gradually closed her eyes.

Suddenly a thought flashed in her mind—she sensed something was wrong, and abruptly rose to throw on a robe.

Summoning the palace maid on night duty outside, Zhao Yen asked: “Where is Liuying?”

The palace maid replied: “This servant just saw Elder Sister Liuying coming out of the kitchens, heading toward Cheng’en Hall.”

Cheng’en Hall—that was Liu Ji’s residence.

Zhao Yen’s heart tightened. She then asked: “Has there been any envoy in the palace?”

The palace maid hurriedly nodded: “Scholar Zhang of Kunning Palace came. At that time Your Highness was bathing, Elder Sister Liuying said it was nothing of importance, no need to disturb Your Highness, and received her herself.”

Zhao Yen showed no expression. After the palace maid withdrew, she hastily seized the fox-fur cloak from the great lacquered clothes rack, wrapped it around her, lifted a lantern, and went out of the hall.

The long corridor wound and turned, lights trailing in a serpentine line. Liuying, carrying a tray, passed through the courtyard.

Likely preoccupied, she actually failed to notice Zhao Yen standing under the corridor.

“Liuying.”

Zhao Yen called to her softly, “So late, where are you going?”

Liuying’s shoulders trembled; when she lifted her head she could not hide her shock and panic.

She quickly lowered her head again, standing in place and speaking in a low voice: “Liu Ji helped Your Highness out of a predicament, this servant is taking some wine and food to her.”

Zhao Yen glanced toward the still-lit Cheng’en Hall, and asked: “Is it Mother’s order?”

The subtle fluctuations of expression on Liuying’s face did not escape Zhao Yen’s eyes.

Her heart understood, and she guessed her mother’s intention.

Liu Ji had spent half a year in daily contact with Elder Brother, knowing his habits and even his body thoroughly. She was the greatest unforeseen change in this “substitution” plan.

Mother would absolutely not allow such a change to exist.

If at first it had sufficed to simply send Liu Ji out of the palace, then after tonight’s sudden intrusion by Prince Su, with Liu Ji having close contact with the “Crown Prince,” she could not be allowed to live.

After all, to the decisive and unfeeling Empress, only the dead would never reveal secrets.

The desolate cold wind lifted her robe. Zhao Yen lowered her gaze, half-tied hair falling in a strand behind her ear, the bandage on her forehead outlining a few traces of mournful frailty.

She had no right to blame her mother’s coldness, for the road they walked was itself blades and thorns, paved with white bones.

She only felt somewhat saddened.

Elder Brother probably truly cherished Liu Ji greatly, to allow her to address him directly by name, to grant her a token of passage for self-defense. If he knew for what reason Liu Ji would die tonight, likely… he would shed sorrowful tears beneath the Nine Springs.

In silence, Liuying’s head lowered further, her thin shoulder blades jutting from her back, the fingers holding the tray blanching.

“I know you are obeying Mother’s order, thinking for the greater good. I do not mean to blame you.”

Zhao Yen fixed her gaze, those eyes identical to the late Crown Prince’s tinged with the weight of night. “Put the things down. I will personally deliver them to her.”

Liuying pressed her lips tightly, not moving.

Zhao Yen’s lips curved faintly, showing a smile that was not truly a smile: “Rest assured, I know the proper measure.”

Cheng’en Hall was arranged with grandeur and tidiness, books filling the room, and on the wall even hung an ivory-carved bow, not much like a woman’s inner chamber.

By the window a gauze lamp was left lit. Liu Ji, hand resting on the armrest, one leg bent as she sat behind the desk, turned her head, gazing outside at the cold waning moon hanging on the treetop, her posture free and unrestrained, as though waiting for someone.

Liuying slowed her movements, setting the wine and food on the desk, yet Liu Ji’s gaze never shifted in the least.

The warm light cast on her profile, her nose high and lips red, her earlobes clean without any piercing as most women had. Her figure was not plump, nor did it have graceful curves. For a moment Zhao Yen suddenly felt, if Liu Ji removed the powder and dressed as a man, she would surely be more handsome and dazzling than herself.

Zhao Yen also had no pierced ears.

According to the customs of Great Xuan, on the day a girl turned fifteen and came of age, a female elder of the clan would personally pierce her ears and place earrings on her, signifying she could be married.

Zhao Yen had never accepted it: to pierce ears meant to marry and bear children—how was that different from livestock being priced for sale, branded with the mark that it could leave the pen?

Fortunately, in Huayang Traveling Palace there were scarcely any who remembered her birthday, so naturally she was spared the pain of ear-piercing. The only one who remembered her birthday, crossing mountains and rivers to come, was her foolish elder brother, Zhao Yan…

And now, she could not even protect the woman in her brother’s chamber.

Zhao Yen motioned Liuying to withdraw.

Liuying hesitated, lips parting as if to speak, then after a pause chose obedience, bending her knees in a bow. Holding the tray, she quietly stepped out, closed the hall door, and stood guard outside.

Zhao Yen pressed down her voice, gathering her robe as she kneeled opposite Liu Ji, and offered a gentle salute: “For tonight’s matter, Gu must thank you for your righteous aid in extricating me.”

Only then did Liu Ji turn her face toward her. Her pupils, under the lamplight, showed an exceedingly shallow amber color.

Her gaze was as unrestrained as her person, direct, without the slightest concealment. Just as Zhao Yen, carrying the bearing of the “Crown Prince,” was pondering how to continue the thread of words, Liu Ji suddenly let out a short laugh.

“I know—you are not truly the Crown Prince.” This was the first sentence she spoke.

Zhao Yen’s heart was suddenly seized tight, every hair on her body standing on end.

Cold wind blew in from the window shutters, the moonlight scattering shadows of withered branches across the ground.

“Where is Zhao Yan?” Liu Ji spoke once more in words that shocked.

Seeing the young figure before her remain silent, Liu Ji furrowed her brows, as though having arrived at an answer, her slender fingers curling slightly.

“How… did he die?”

Her voice was far hoarser, as though pressing down rage.

Zhao Yen stared unblinking at Liu Ji, the fox-fur collar at her chin quivering faintly under the night wind by the window.

Those who survived in the palace mostly had minds like honeycombs. Zhao Yen knew well, and was not about to be caught by a single probe into confessing outright.

“What is Liu Ji speaking of? Gu does not understand.”

Her expression did not change, only showing the Crown Prince’s signature smile.

……

Beneath the palace gates, the carriage stood still, two lanterns casting a span of warm light.

Wenren Lin stood within that light, cupping his hands toward the aged elder within the carriage: “Tonight to stir so many, troubling Mister to accompany this prince in this venture.”

“You must know, this old man came not for the Eastern Palace, but for you.”

Immortal Physician Sun’s brows and beard hung long, yet his spirit was vigorous as he said, “If you were to die, how could this old man face General Wenren beneath the Nine Springs?”

Wenren Lin straightened, smiling faintly: “This prince is not worth troubling Elder Sir. One fallen into purgatory—he can no longer be saved.”

Immortal Physician Sun shook his head with a sigh. The carriage soon left the palace gates, the waning moon hanging askew over the western tower.

Prince Su walked slowly along the palace road, his crimson official robe soaked by the night into a dark purple, golden hooks and jade belt, noble and composed.

Zhang Cang followed from a distance, his belly already full of doubts.

“Did not His Highness suspect the Eastern Palace of being unusual?”

Unable to restrain himself, he nudged the Cai Tian beside him with an elbow, whispering, “Such a fine chance tonight, and we simply walked away?”

Just as he spoke, a cat black as oil leapt lightly down from the wall beside the passage, its small steps treading upon the frost, familiarly circling Wenren Lin in search of food.

Cai Tian let out a sigh, lifted his chin toward that man and cat: “Do you know how cats hunt? After seizing prey, they are in no hurry to swallow it down, but press its tail beneath their paw, toying with it within their grasp, proceeding slowly step by step.”

Zhang Cang’s face was utterly blank: “And what does this have to do with His Highness?”

Cai Tian looked at his colleague as if at rotten wood, and said steadily: “For His Highness, what is interesting is not the result, but savoring the process of arranging the net and drawing it closed. To rush headlong in pursuit of success is to set oneself aflame.”

Zhang Cang recalled just now His Highness’s words: “One fallen into purgatory—he can no longer be saved.”

What had His Highness experienced in the past, that in the prime of his youth he would utter such cold-hearted words?

“Meow~”

The black cat, having gotten its dried meat, rubbed against Wenren Lin’s palm in satisfaction.

Wenren Lin lowered his gaze to stroke it gently, his profile picturesque, his long shadow cast upon the palace wall—beneath the moonlight, robed in red, elegant beyond compare.