Though he had managed to control himself reasonably well, with such matters, inevitably there would be a lapse.

This was originally for the palace consorts to avoid conception, more effective than drinking those chilling decoctions, yet overuse would likewise harm the body.

Next time he must develop a method less injurious to the body…

Once that thought arose, Wenren Lin’s kneading movement paused, shadow falling beneath his lowered lashes.

Once was already an accident—how could there be a next time?

…

Zhao Yen seemed to sink into a black mire, unable to find the way out.

“Yen’er, Yen’er…”

Someone was calling her, the voice ethereal, as though from the heavens.

Zhao Yen opened her eyes. Within the hazy vision, it seemed she had returned once again to the sleeping hall of Huayang Palace.

Outside the window came the patter of rain. Zhao Yan, clad in a snow-colored robe with wide sleeves, sat before her, his form sheathed in a layer of silvery rainlight, gazing at her with a gentle smile.

Had she…already died?

Zhao Yen tentatively reached out, as though to touch that face so very like her own, yet gentler still.

But her slender fingertips halted in midair, slowly curling back. She pressed her lips tightly together, hugging her knees to hide herself in the corner of darkness.

“Yen’er, are you in great pain?”

Zhao Yan’s gentle voice sounded at her ear, suffused with unhidden concern.

“You must be very disappointed,” Zhao Yen closed her eyes. “I ruined everything.”

“How could that be? Yen’er has already done very well—braver and wiser than most women, even men.”

Zhao Yan lightly rested his hand upon her shoulder, speaking warmly: “Do not reproach yourself further. That was not your fault. Gu’s younger sister is not one who would surrender easily.”

Zhao Yen’s lashes quivered. She lifted her eyes, but all before her blurred and dimmed, receding farther and farther away.

“Zhao Yan!”

Zhao Yen cried lowly, startled awake from her dream, one hand still stretched forward, clutching the sleeve of Liuying.

…Indeed, it was Liuying.

This was not Hegui Pavilion.

Zhao Yen glanced around. She found herself lying upon the great bed of the Eastern Palace’s sleeping hall, the pale yellow translucent bed-curtain swaying slightly beneath the lamplight’s shadow.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, dazed for a moment. Coming back to herself, she immediately reached toward her chest.

The chest binding was still there, clothes in order, even the coronet was properly fixed. She even felt that everything she had undergone at the Flower-Banquet had been nothing more than a nightmare…

If she ignored the hidden aches and soreness pervading her whole body.

Holding her breath, she lifted her sleeve for a look. That faint finger mark was still there. Everything reminded her that what she had experienced had not been a nightmare.

Zhao Yen swiftly dropped her sleeve, sat in blankness for a while, then asked hoarsely, “I…how did I return?”

Liuying moved the gauze lamp closer toward the bed and replied, “Your Highness fainted in Hegui Pavilion. Prince Su discovered you and sent someone to inform this servant. Only then was Your Highness brought back to the Eastern Palace.”

“Prince Su…”

Zhao Yen’s throat tightened. Clutching the quilt, she said, “Who fetched me? Did they see…anything unusual?”

“It was this servant together with Li Fu who personally went. We only saw Your Highness alone upon the couch, sound asleep, and nothing else at all.”

Having spoken, Liuying softly added, “Imperial Physician Zhang has already taken Your Highness’s pulse.”

The heart Zhao Yen had just slightly set down was suddenly pulled taut again. She asked tensely, “What did he say?”

“He said Your Highness drank wine and caught cold, that wind-evil entered the body, thus causing fainting. With two days’ rest, it will be well.”

Liuying carefully observed her mistress’s changing expression, a terrible guess forming in her heart.

She bit her lip for a while, then at last lowered the bed curtain and whispered: “Your Highness suffered treachery. Was it…that someone bullied you?”

Though Liuying’s words were veiled, Zhao Yen felt as though struck by lightning—every secret and humiliation laid bare in that ghastly white daze.

“Your Highness, be at ease. Imperial Physician Zhang said nothing. He is one to be trusted.”

Liuying clenched her fingers hard, then stepped back and knelt to plead guilty. “It was this servant who, on her own accord, when changing Your Highness’s clothes, discovered…”

At that time, though Zhao Yen was dressed neatly, chest binding wrapped securely, Liuying’s sharp eyes still saw at once that the binding technique was by no means her own hand. And upon seeing the faint marks upon that slender waist…

One serving in the palace—how could she not know what such things meant?

Liuying had nearly been frightened senseless at that time, unable to sit or stand at peace.

By then Zhang Xu had already come to take the pulse, and was outside writing a prescription for calming spirit and replenishing qi. Seeing Liuying’s grim face and words unsaid, he said: “Her Highness merely has wind-evil in the body, qi deficiency and dizziness. Girl, be at ease. No matter who asks, this official will say so.”

Only then did Liuying understand that Imperial Physician Zhang’s thoughts were the same as hers—that they would stake their lives to guard this secret.

For the little princess, with the frailty of a woman’s body entangled in this chaos, had been treading on thin ice every day for half a year already—not at all easy.

Their sealed lips, spoken lightly, were for loyalty; spoken heavily, were for the realm.

Zhao Yen looked at Liuying kneeling outside the bed curtain. Her chaotic thoughts instead grew clearer, settling like dust.

“It was my own carelessness that fell into the scheme. How could I blame you?”

With difficulty she lifted her arm to hug her bent knees, and even had the thought to smile at Liuying, whose brows were tightly knit. “The more at such a time, the less you must throw yourself into confusion. Between us, there must always be one who stays clear-headed.”

Liuying bit her lip and nodded forcefully.

The little princess seemed lively, unrestrained, unbound by convention, yet in truth she was just like the Crown Prince—at her core extremely gentle and deeply bound by affection.

Liuying did not ask who had “bullied” her mistress. If it were some ordinary man at the banquet, the Eastern Palace naturally had means to silence him and cover the matter.

But since Her Highness, from the moment she awoke, had never once mentioned “handling” the matter, that alone showed that the man was one whom not even the Eastern Palace could shake.

Within the whole imperial city and without, how many such men could there be? And moreover, for the matter to have taken place in Hegui Pavilion…

Liuying pondered briefly, and the conclusion had already formed in her heart.

In this surging undercurrent of struggle, Her Highness was the most innocent of all. How could Liuying bear to watch her plunge from the high platform, never to recover?

“Let Her Majesty the Empress send Your Highness away—far from the capital.”

Having steeled her resolve, Liuying said gravely, “Even the Crown Prince would not wish to see you entangled in this.”

Zhao Yen started slightly and asked instinctively, “If I leave, what will become of you all?”

Liuying hesitated for a moment, then whispered: “Ever since the Crown Prince’s accident, this servant should already have gone with him. By the little princess’s blessing, I have been able to survive until now—it is already the greatest fortune.”

Zhao Yen rested her chin upon her knees. Hearing this, she lightly yet firmly shook her head. “I cannot leave.”

Zhao Yan had been right. She had always been stubborn and defiant, never one to give up easily.

Since Wenren Lin had sent her back and taken no further action for the moment, that meant there might still be a turn in the matter.

Yet Liuying, truly worried for her mistress, wished to persuade further, when from outside came the eunuch’s cry: “Her Majesty the Empress arrives—”

Zhao Yen’s lashes quivered. Liuying hurriedly laid her down properly, covered her tightly with the quilt, then turned to kneel in greeting: “May the Empress live a thousand years.”

Empress Wei, having accompanied the imperial carriage the entire day, came directly to the Eastern Palace once freed. At Liuying’s words, she said, “Rise,” and went straight toward the inner chamber couch.

She looked at the slim figure lying turned inward behind the bed-curtain. After a long while, she said, “I heard the Crown Prince fainted at Hegui Pavilion and slept all afternoon. Is there any discomfort?”

Zhao Yen opened her eyes and pressed her voice low. “Only a little dizzy. I fell asleep without realizing.”

Though she strove to conceal it, Empress Wei still heard the subtle wrongness in her daughter’s tone.

Her heart sank slightly. She personally lifted the curtain, sat at the bed’s edge, and looked at her daughter for a long time before asking: “Truly nothing amiss?”

This time, her voice was much softer.

Zhao Yen answered with a quiet “Mm,” her nose inexplicably sour.

Since childhood she and her mother had often been at odds, rarely speaking so calmly. She did not know whether her mother’s concern was for “Crown Prince Zhao Yan,” or for her daughter Zhao Yen… Yet she suddenly wanted to seize her mother’s sleeve, like a child of an ordinary household, and pour out something of her heart.

But she did not dare. She feared seeing that cold, disappointed gaze.

Empress Wei’s red lips moved slightly. After a long time, she at last said softly: “You are this palace’s child. Remember—even if there is something the Eastern Palace cannot shield, there is still the Central Palace.”

Those ringing words left Zhao Yen’s heart both sore and weak.

She bit her lip, hesitating whether to lay everything bare, when again the eunuch’s cry came from outside:

“The Crown Prince’s Grand Preceptor arrives—”

Wenren Lin!

All of Zhao Yen’s frail hesitation vanished without a trace. In the darkness her eyes opened wide: What was he coming for now?!