Having spoken, before she could observe what expression Concubine Liu wore, she smiled faintly, pushed open the door, and stepped into that dark and chill clarity.

Concubine Liu rose from the couch, walked to the window, and tilted her head as she studied the crisscross of black and white pieces upon the board.

The final move of white had been played with great skill—the Swallow-tail Formation had formed, like golden flood-dragons with sharp shears piercing through the encirclement of black, reversing defeat into victory.

A strand of thin morning light streamed through the crack of the window, falling upon that final white stone, refracting a dazzling brilliance.

Concubine Liu raised her finger to gently stroke that radiant final stone, closing her eyes to murmur: “In the end, I still came one step too late, Zhao Yan.”

Zhao Yen exited the inner court, and sure enough saw standing before the sleeping palace one of the close-serving palace women of Kunning Palace.

Li Fu stood bowed in waiting, her face anxious, as though wanting to speak yet hesitating.

Zhao Yen’s heart gave a sudden thud. She quickened her pace up the steps and pushed open the doors of the sleeping hall.

Inside, the hall was ablaze with candlelight. Empress Wei, clad in a phoenix robe, sat upright upon her own couch, and beside her knelt Liuying, lips pale white.

The doors shut once more behind her. Zhao Yen went forward, gave a man’s salute, and said with composure: “This son pays respects to Mother Empress. At this hour, with wind and frost so heavy, why did Mother Empress come here without sending someone to give notice?”

She deliberately imitated Zhao Yan’s expression and bearing as she spoke, yet this little artifice could not escape the eyes of Empress Wei.

But this time the Empress showed no softening. Without change of countenance she said: “So you still know to return, Crown Prince?”

That address of “Crown Prince,” hoarse with restrained anger, was a reminder of Zhao Yen’s present identity.

“Pouring out the poison wine was my decision alone; I bear the responsibility alone. It has nothing to do with Liuying.”

Zhao Yen looked toward Liuying and said softly, “You, as palace maid of the Crown Prince, what fault is there in obeying the Crown Prince’s command? Rise.”

Liuying, still kneeling, did not move, only shook her head lightly toward her mistress.

Zhao Yen pressed her lips into a line, and simply lifted her robe and knelt beside her.

“Concubine Liu has already seen through my true identity.”

Before the astonishment of the Empress and Liuying could recover, her words turned, light yet resolute: “But, Mother Empress, I wish to keep Concubine Liu.”

Empress Wei’s phoenix eyes were stern as she asked: “Do you know what you are saying? The present situation is already like walking on thin ice; to keep this person is to leave endless troubles!”

“I understand the worries in Mother Empress’s heart, but I do not agree with Mother Empress’s method. Preserving the greater picture is not a matter that can be resolved by killing alone.”

Zhao Yen enunciated each word clearly: “Has Mother Empress considered that Concubine Liu is one whom the Crown Prince favored? After the Eastern Palace was closed for several months, she returns to the palace, and then, having witnessed the Prince Su’s night visit, she suddenly dies without cause—would this not arouse even greater suspicion?”

Empress Wei’s brows knit slightly.

Zhao Yen knew she had listened, and thus continued: “Of course Mother Empress could quietly deal with it, command the attendants to keep sealed lips, and act as though Concubine Liu had never come to the Eastern Palace. But will the Prince Su believe it?”

What she spoke of, the Empress had naturally already considered.

“Even so, she cannot be kept to serve at your side. At most it is a choice of the lesser of two harms. Concerning the fate of the nation, neither you nor I can afford to gamble.”

Seeing her mother’s face solemn, yet her voice not as severe as before, Zhao Yen knew the matter had turned somewhat.

Even if there was but a sliver of hope, she must strive for it to the very end.

Seizing the moment while it was warm, having finished speaking of advantage, she now moved by feeling: “Concubine Liu, even while knowing something was amiss within the Eastern Palace, still returned without hesitation. Even while knowing that discerning my identity would bring the calamity of death, she still chose to be frank… This alone proves that Elder Brother’s trust in her was deserved. Moreover, she was by Elder Brother’s side day and night, sharing his interests; she knew his writings and chess skill thoroughly. If we kill her, I fear we may never again find another so fitting.”

Empress Wei raised her fingers to rub her aching temples, and after a long moment asked: “And your meaning is?”

Zhao Yen said with calmness: “Concubine Liu is of use to us. I ask Mother to temporarily spare her life, and let her assist the Eastern Palace.”

“If her heart be not upright, if she were to divulge secrets…”

“If any mishap occurs, I am willing to personally bring this matter to an end, and then present myself before Mother Empress for punishment!”

But at the very least—at the very least for now—she must win Concubine Liu the chance to live. Zhao Yen lightly curled her fingers.

Empress Wei weighed in silence for a long time.

Outside the window, the sky gradually brightened; the dim candlelight cast upon the floor tiles was slowly replaced by the faint glow of dawn.

“Liuying.”

The Empress finally spoke, rising to give her command: “Confine Concubine Liu temporarily within the Hall of Cheng’en. She is not permitted any contact with palace attendants. Should there be anything unusual—kill without mercy!”

Liuying, not minding the pain in her knees, quickly lowered her head in assent.

The Empress did not linger further, intending to return to Kunning Palace before daybreak.

Zhao Yen knew that Concubine Liu’s small life had been temporarily spared, and sank down upon the floor tiles, releasing a long turbid breath.

Her heart had not even fully settled when it was suddenly suspended again.

The sky was already bright; she still had to go to the Hall of Chongwen for lessons.

Another calamity awaited.

Listless, unwilling though she was, she still had to change clothes and wash, then enter the hall to face that Wenren Lin, filled with schemes as dark as ink.

By the time she arrived at Chongwen Hall, Wenren Lin was already there.

As usual he wore a plain robe of dark ink. His left sleeve of civil office held a scroll as he sat upon the grand master’s chair in study; his right sleeve of martial cut extended slightly forward, his long, powerful hand casually turning, resting his knuckles above the brazier to warm them.

Fortunately, aside from this brazier, there was nothing superfluous in the hall; a faint warm fragrance drifted, the temperature neither too cold nor too warm, just right.

On the table before Wenren Lin lay a chessboard, black and white interlaced.

Zhao Yen, mustering courage to step closer, saw and recognized the game—it was the very one she had ruined by feigning a faint a few days before.

Wenren Lin, by memory alone, had restored the entire game stone by stone without a single mistake!

Zhao Yen swallowed, reaching into the white-stone jar to draw one piece, which she clicked softly down upon the upper-right cut point.

The Swallow-tail Formation formed, and the white stones turned their failing position.

From behind his scroll Wenren Lin lifted his eyes; seeing the deadlock broken, his gaze shifted slightly.

Zhao Yen showed a cautious smile, speaking softly: “Grand Preceptor, this one’s illness is already much recovered.”

As if!

That Swallow-tail Formation had only been learned hastily in the night, following along after Concubine Liu.

At the mere sweep of Wenren Lin’s gaze, Zhao Yen felt her whole body go numb, as though he had seen through her from head to foot.

He gave no comment, only tapped the table with his scroll. “Come here.”

Zhao Yen sat obediently behind the desk.

Wenren Lin spoke again: “Closer.”

Zhao Yen started, then dawdled forward a mere half-inch.

Wenren Lin’s eyes arched at the corners.

This time Zhao Yen dared not play tricks—she obediently leaned over the desk, half her body stretched across the chessboard toward him.

Wenren Lin picked up a small prepared celadon medicine jar at his side. Pulling out the stopper, he scooped a dab of ointment with the pad of his finger.

His joints were distinct, his fingertips cold-white like frost—astonishingly the same color as the ointment itself.

When his hand reached over, Zhao Yen closed her eyes evasively, her very breath nearly halting.

The next moment, upon the bruise at her forehead came the cool, moist sensation of the ointment being applied.

She trembled as she opened her eyes, only to see Wenren Lin’s incomparably handsome face so near at hand, half-lowered eyes, unhurriedly spreading the ointment evenly for her.

Wenren Lin lifted his eyes, colliding directly with her gaze.

Zhao Yen’s five fingers clenched tight within her sleeve, straining with all her might to suppress the desire to flee, as she heard Wenren Lin ask with careless languor: “Has the Crown Prince been taking his medicine on time?”

“Medicine…”

Ah—that bottle of something or other, warming-yang, replenishing-kidney pills?

Zhao Yen’s eyelashes quivered, embarrassed: “Many thanks for the Grand Preceptor’s concern, next time without fail.”

Without fail to throw it away, Zhao Yen cursed inwardly.

Who knew what Wenren Lin’s concoction really was? Only a fool would rush to swallow it. Not to mention such medicine was of no use in her hands.

Wenren Lin raised his eyes. Clearly the little Crown Prince had not slept well last night—her face was pale as snow outshining frost, with faint bluish shadows under her eyes.

He said: “At such a tender age, overindulgence is not acceptable.”

Zhao Yen nodded like pounding garlic: “Grand Preceptor’s instruction is right.”

Looking at her submissive, overawed appearance, Wenren Lin’s eyes curved with the faintest smile. Withdrawing his hand, he said: “Then let the Crown Prince recite for me from the Classic of the Mysterious Maiden—the section on ‘Cranes Crossing Necks.’”

Zhao Yen was about to nod perfunctorily when she froze.

The Classic of the Mysterious Maiden?

And what was “Cranes Crossing Necks”?

Seeing her dazed expression, Wenren Lin slowly narrowed his eyes.

“In the palace, before each imperial son comes of age, all must study the arts of pleasuring women. The Classic of the Mysterious Maiden is required reading for them.”

Wenren Lin took up a cloth brought by the attendant eunuch, wiping away the last trace of ointment from his fingers. His tone was laden with meaning: “I saw the Crown Prince last night, in blissful rapture with a concubine—surely you have mastered its mysteries, and cannot fail to recite it?”

Zhao Yen was utterly dumbfounded.