In the Hall of Cheng’en, another undercurrent was already surging.

“What is Concubine Liu saying, how is it that I cannot understand?”

Zhao Yen’s expression did not change, as she revealed the Crown Prince’s signature smile.

“When a person wishes to evade a question, they will often cast forth another question to cover it up. To not answer and instead counter-question—such a person has either had their sore spot struck, or else they harbor a guilty conscience.”

Concubine Liu rested one hand upon the table and said: “You need not worry that I am scheming to trick you. Without ten parts of certainty, I would not dare pierce through this layer of window paper.”

At this, the autumn-water-like smile in Zhao Yen’s eyes grew fainter.

The Prince Su’s night visit had unintentionally dragged Concubine Liu into this; she had long foreseen such an outcome.

“But people whose appearances are so alike are not easy to find. Even the ‘shadow’ who died in place of the Crown Prince, neither in looks nor in figure could be as similar as you are. Without a tie of bloodline, one could not take up such a role.”

As she spoke, Concubine Liu leaned forward slightly, “I guess you come from a thousand li beyond the southwestern direction.”

Southwest—one thousand li from the capital—was precisely the location of the Huayang Palace.

Zhao Yen remained silent, candlelight flickering in her eyes.

She had still underestimated the one who shared the bedchamber with her elder brother; her keen intelligence far exceeded that of ordinary people.

She had placed all her effort into dealing with the Prince Su, never thinking she would stumble at the hands of an inconspicuous concubine…

No, was Concubine Liu truly only a canary trapped within the inner court?

After but a moment’s contemplation, Zhao Yen made her decision. Since the other had already revealed her “blade,” she had no need to hide.

Though Concubine Liu pressed sharply, there was not the slightest hostility. The truly frightening ones were those like Wenren Lin, who faced others with a smile yet hid a knife in the sleeve.

Thinking thus, she instead felt at ease, and raised her hand to lower the red-lacquered support rod propping the window shutter.

The shutter fell, and within the whistling north wind, a realm of tranquil seclusion was cut off.

Outside, Liuying, hearing the sound, turned her head, only to see the shadows of Concubine Liu and the Crown Prince facing one another, dimly indistinct, with no way to hear what was being said.

She hesitated for a moment, but in the end did not step inside to disturb them.

Within the hall, silence was such that a pin dropping could be heard.

Zhao Yen rested the red-lacquered support rod across her knees; the timidity upon her face had vanished, replaced by a softness and indolence.

Concubine Liu’s words could not be taken lightly. Since she could discern the flaw, perhaps others could as well—she must clarify where the leak lay.

“I do not understand where it was that I revealed myself.”

Zhao Yen carefully recollected, reflecting aloud, “Was it that my attitude toward you was not warm enough, or that I exposed something upon the bed?”

Concubine Liu laughed.

“Your Highness may rest assured, you have disguised yourself very well; if it were another, they would certainly not see through the guise. The only reason I could perceive the difference was merely because I was lucky enough to benefit from… a secret I once privately agreed upon with His Highness the Crown Prince.”

Concubine Liu lifted the wine pot Liuying had brought, and unreservedly poured herself a cup of wine.

“This secret, not even Liuying knows, much less you, this counterfeit.”

Zhao Yen focused her gaze: “What secret?”

Since it was a secret, how could Concubine Liu be willing to reveal it so easily?

“Actually, ever since the return journey, I faintly guessed it would be such an ending.”

Concubine Liu gave a cold sneer, whether in anger or in mockery it was hard to tell. Gripping the wine cup, she muttered to herself, “I said long ago, Zhao Yan would sooner or later bring about his own death.”

Having said this, it was as though she had made some decision; before Zhao Yen’s eyes she raised the wine and tilted her head back to drink.

Zhao Yen seized her wrist in one grasp.

The wine sloshed and spilled, reflecting in Concubine Liu’s astonished eyes.

“What ‘ending’? What ‘bring about his own death’?”

Zhao Yen pressed her lips together, her chest heaving as she said, “Concubine Liu, just what do you know?”

A moment of deathly stillness.

The overturned wine ran down along the edge of the table, dripping in patters, seeping into the patterned mat beneath to form darkened stains.

The air was saturated with the thick reek of wine, and on careful sniffing, one could even detect a faint trace of bitterness difficult to discern.

Zhao Yen unconsciously tightened her grip on Concubine Liu’s knuckles, her voice steady: “Did the Crown Prince encounter something? Tell me.”

Concubine Liu’s expression was complicated; she only said: “Your Highness ought to let me drink down this cup of wine.”

Zhao Yen’s tone pressed heavier: “Tell me!”

The little Highness before her was as slender and fine as the Crown Prince, appearing frail, yet in those beautiful peach-blossom eyes shone a stubborn tenacity utterly different from the Crown Prince’s.

Concubine Liu’s eyes shifted through several changes, at last she turned her head aside, drawing her hand from Zhao Yen’s grasp.

“My relationship with the Crown Prince is not as you imagine.”

She said, “I lost a bet with him, and so kept my promise to remain by his side. He provided me a place of shelter; I resolved troubles for him. To speak plainly, it was more like a relationship of mutual need.”

That indeed sounded like Zhao Yan’s way.

Elder Brother appeared weak and incapable, yet he had a skill most enviable—whatever gamble he played, he would always win.

Every time he saw the other side lose miserably, he would still gently and politely say a single phrase: “I concede.”

Zhao Yen had lost to him many times, and when angered she would shamelessly play the rogue, scolding him for bullying her. Zhao Yan would only gaze at her with eyes bent in a smile, a doting smile—clearly a pale and fragile smile, yet as warm and gentle as the spring breeze.

Thinking back now, that jumble of bickering memories had already become among her few sweet ones from before the age of nine.

Zhao Yen pulled herself out of her thoughts: “So, you pretended to vie with Liuying out of jealousy—was it from that time that you began to suspect me?”

Concubine Liu tacitly admitted it, and continued: “When we went to the Summer Retreat Villa, he found some clumsy excuse to send me away. I was somewhat suspicious, yet did not think deeply. Not until later, when I heard certain rumors of the Eastern Palace behind closed doors, did my unease grow heavier. I hurriedly finished trifling matters and returned, only to find all the attendants and guards of the Eastern Palace replaced by unfamiliar faces. Only then was my suspicion confirmed.”

“Only that much?”

Zhao Yen half-believed, half-doubted, going straight to the point: “The matter you and the Crown Prince agreed upon—what exactly was it?”

Concubine Liu looked at Zhao Yen for a long while, then suddenly smiled: “I was fooling you. If I had not said so, how would you have shielded me from the Empress’s poisoned wine?”

Zhao Yen also smiled, declaring with certainty: “This sentence of yours is the one that is fooling me.”

At these words, Concubine Liu’s smile paused, and within her eyes that usually held a careless playfulness, a few parts of earnestness appeared.

“You just now, did you truly intend to drink down the poison wine?”

Zhao Yen furrowed her brows. “What secret is it that you and Zhao Yan hide, to have made you ready with the resolve to face death?”

“Since it is a secret, why should I tell you?”

Concubine Liu rested her arm upon her raised knee, mocking herself as she said, “In any case, I cannot live past tonight. If I do not carry the secret into the grave, how could the Empress be at ease?”

Zhao Yen knew she would not speak out the whole truth. A clever person would never cast all their chips onto the table; there must always be a card hidden for oneself.

“You will not die,” Zhao Yen said.

Not only would she not die, she must be well protected, and everything must remain no different than before her elder brother’s death.

Her gaze was limpid; with only a moment’s thought she made her decision: “I can make use of you.”

“You?”

Concubine Liu looked her up and down, disbelief written across her face.

Even the Crown Prince Zhao Yan could not accomplish what she claimed; what right had this counterfeit, as fragile as morning dew, to utter such wild words?

Zhao Yen did not give much explanation. After a moment of focus, her eyes turned toward the chessboard set upon the desk to the side. “The Swallow-tail Formation that Left Chancellor Lord Li taught the Crown Prince—do you know it?”

“Ah?”

The change of topic was so sudden that Concubine Liu was startled, and nodded without thinking.

…

As the long night neared its end, a faint arc of white emerged upon the indigo horizon.

The wick of the candle collapsed, issuing faint crackling sounds. Zhao Yen, who had slumped upon the desk, suddenly woke with a start. Still bleary, she said: “I have thought of it.”

The chess piece in her hand pressed heavily onto the board, sending forth a crisp sound of jade against stone.

Concubine Liu, sprawled carelessly upon the couch in sound sleep, gave a jolt, opened her eyes and sat up, astonished. “Don’t tell me you have been working through chess manuals here all night?”

Zhao Yen, pleased, surveyed the game before her, but said nothing with a smile.

She stretched her sore, numbed shoulders; the blue-white light reflected upon the paper window, casting her slender form into a dark silhouette. For a moment, one could not distinguish whether it was a refined young man or an elegant young maiden.

Remembering something important, Zhao Yen’s movement of rubbing her shoulder halted, and she thought to herself—bad.

She hastily straightened her robe and rose; from sleeping slumped upon the desk, her whole body was stiff and aching, making her frown and draw sharp breaths. She walked several steps toward the palace doors, then turned back, gathered her sleeves, and bowed toward Concubine Liu, who was seated with her legs propped upon the couch.

“Thank you for keeping my secret, and thank you also for the chess you taught me.”

Straightening, her eyes shone especially bright within the murky darkness. “I will do all I can to protect you.”

Just as Elder Brother had treated her.