“Indeed, there is one that is rather interesting.”

Wenren Lin deliberately slowed his voice, so that Zhao Yen could hear clearly and distinctly.

The Emperor did not notice that fleeting clash of gazes. Startled at the words, he pressed one hand upon his cross-legged knee and asked: “Whose family’s daughter is she? If her family background is proper, I may make the decision for you.”

What was called “family background proper” meant that the other party had neither power nor influence, and that marriage ties would not affect the balance of the court.

Zhao Yen understood this perfectly, fearful that Wenren Lin would at any moment utter some shocking and outrageous name—such as, the Princess Changfeng.

In any case, he always liked to use this matter to intimidate her.

That brief silence seemed as long as an entire cycle of sixty years.

Every breath was a tremendous challenge to Zhao Yen’s state of mind.

“At the banquet it was but a fleeting glance, and then she hastily departed, so I did not yet have time to inquire after her name.”

Wenren Lin carried a flawless, shallow smile, once again glancing at Zhao Yen, as if sincerely asking, “Does the Crown Prince know whose family’s daughter that was?”

Zhao Yen of course knew, but how could she dare speak the truth?

So she seized the thread of the conversation that had been tossed to her, and said calmly: “There were quite a number of guests at the banquet, I did not pay close attention. Later, may the Grand Preceptor describe that young lady’s appearance and features, so that I may order someone to search for her.”

Laughter spread in the depths of Wenren Lin’s eyes, until her eyelashes began to tremble with unease once more. Only then did he utter an “Mm,” and said: “I trouble Your Highness.”

Thus, at last, this dangerous topic was brushed past.

The Emperor seemed to have some important matter to speak of with Wenren Lin. After instructing Zhao Yen with a few words, he let her take her leave.

Once she exited the Taihe Hall, the senses that had been suppressed by tension gradually returned, and soreness once again flooded through her whole body. Zhao Yen instead felt a sense of relief, as though a heavy burden had been lifted.

She drew in a deep breath of the damp rain-laden air, and supporting herself on the arm extended by Liuying, said: “Let us go to the Chongwen Hall.”

Because the report to the Emperor in the Taihe Hall had delayed her for some time, by the time Zhao Yen, bracing her aching waist and abdomen, climbed the stone steps of the Chongwen Hall, she was already two quarters of an hour late.

The heir of Marquis Jinping, Pei Sa, leaned askew upon his seat, idly spinning a brush between his fingers.

Meanwhile Zhou Ji was holding a bronze incense weight, quietly arranging the ash within the beast-shaped censer. His plain robe of azure, like refined bamboo beside the window lit by the glow of rain, held not the least trace of impatience or irritation.

Zhao Yen recalled that when she had been taking medicine, she seemed to hear someone in the distance calling Zhou Ji’s name, and she could not help but feel somewhat guilty.

Zhou Ji was an absolutely upright gentleman, a life lived open and honest, never telling a lie. Yet at that time she had been muddled by medicine, and for one instant even wished to drag him into muddy waters.

Provoking Wenren Lin was indeed a terrifying matter, but there was one advantage: so long as Wenren Lin did not wish to expose the affair of the Spring Banquet, then no one could move against her. In this world, there were almost no people who could stand above Prince Su.

And Zhou Ji?

He was merely a Fifth Rank Reader-in-Attendance; whether successful or not, he would likely lose his life for stumbling upon the Crown Prince’s secret.

It could be counted as fortune within misfortune that she had not implicated more innocent people. Thinking thus, Zhao Yen steadied her breath, and with a bearing more serious than usual said: “Reader Zhou, I have come late.”

Pei Sa rose to give his salute. Lifting his head and seeing the fine sweat at Zhao Yen’s temple, he was startled: “Why does Your Highness’s complexion look so poor?”

The unlucky events of these two days were truly things Zhao Yen did not wish to recall.

She accepted the handkerchief passed over by Li Fu, and seated herself with difficulty behind the desk, saying: “It is nothing, I caught a chill at the Flower-Wearing Banquet.”

Spring was growing warm; the floor beneath the seats had already been changed to tribute thin Persian carpets, not so soft and thick as the heavy rugs of winter.

Zhao Yen knelt seated, only feeling the ache in her lower abdomen grow worse, and even that place of pleasure was pressed uncomfortably by her ankles.

At first she could still barely force herself to sit with her back straight, but after less than a moment, she simply settled however was comfortable. Her expression languid, she lay across the desk listening to the lecture, her eyelids, unlifted after a sleepless night, unbearably heavy.

Zhou Ji, seeing Zhao Yen leaning to the side, seemed to be pondering something.

He still remembered the task his teacher had entrusted to him: if he were to coax words from her, then in this moment, when the little Crown Prince’s spirit was slackened, it was the best opportunity.

Yet, a gentleman does not take advantage of another’s distress.

He hesitated for quite a while, in the end swallowing down the draft he had prepared, and instead said: “If Your Highness is unwell, you may summon the Imperial Physician to examine you, and afterwards excuse yourself to return to the palace and rest.”

Zhao Yen sluggishly returned to herself, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head, saying: “Just now I stood for a long time before the Taihe Hall. Truly I have no strength at all. Let me first rest here a while.”

Zhou Ji, seeing that her complexion was truly wan, inclined his head and assented: “Then this minister shall continue explaining. Your Highness need not listen, only rest at ease.”

Zhao Yen knew that Zhou Ji was a man of principle. Since he had received the charge to lecture the Crown Prince, he would not waste even a single hour, insisting on teaching until the bell tolled.

But he never used his own principles to force others.

So Zhao Yen pillowed her hand beneath her cheek, lay down upon the desk, and, accompanied by that plain lecturing voice, closed her eyes. In but a short while, she wearily sank into deep dream.

Zhou Ji, seeing this, let his voice pause slightly, then rose and fetched from the great lacquered clothes rack a rain-cloak of oiled cloth that had been dried, and gently draped it over the frail shoulders of the little Crown Prince.

…

Wenren Lin came out from the Taihe Hall, his body tainted with that heavy scent of aloeswood incense, making him somewhat uncomfortable.

Zhang Cang, waiting below the Changqing Gate, came forward. Tucked beneath his arm was a paper umbrella, and in his hand he carried a dark-blue cloak to ward off the rain, which he slung sideways to place over his master.

Wenren Lin swept his gaze up and down over him, and asked: “Wearing new clothes?”

“Heh! Your Highness is remarkable, saw it at one glance.”

Zhang Cang rubbed his clean-shaven, iron-blue chin, grinning: “Took a bath, shaved my beard as well.”

Zhang Cang had mulled it over for half the night—this life, he was determined to find a wife and live out his days. Though he could not cater to his lord’s preferences, at least he must keep his appearance neat, so as to be worthy of his lord’s favoring regard.

He thought all sorts of things, then diligently held up the umbrella, shielding Wenren Lin from the rainwater that rolled from the eaves.

The umbrella’s edge pressed low over his head, nearly poking out an eye.

Wenren Lin endured the urge to sweep the wretched thing aside with a palm, raised a finger against the umbrella’s edge, and with a frown moved it away from before his eyes.

Zhang Cang again lifted the umbrella to follow after him, lowering his voice to mutter: “It is nearly the hour of Si (9:00 a.m. – 11:00 a.m.). When Your Highness goes to the Chongwen Hall to meet the Crown Prince, do not forget to bring that thing…”

Having said this, he revealed an expression that could only be understood, not spoken.

The Chongwen Hall…

Wenren Lin halted his steps.

In the beginning, when he accepted the post of Crown Prince’s Grand Preceptor, it was only to keep the little Crown Prince under his eyes, in his grasp, to treat it as a pastime of solving a riddle in idle days.

Now that the riddle’s answer had been revealed, by rights the “little Crown Prince” held no further value of observation for him. This “Grand Preceptor of the Crown Prince,” why should he continue to hold it?

Wenren Lin considered that he must find an opportunity to shed this position, and turn his attention to Prince Yong. After all, if a great matter were to succeed, it would not do without these discarded pieces muddying the waters.

Unwittingly he had already mounted the stone steps of the Chongwen Hall. Passing through the covered corridor, and glancing in through the half-opened window, he saw Zhou Ji slightly bent, draping a garment to ward off the cold over the slumbering “little Crown Prince” who had fallen asleep upon the desk.

Pei Sa also, his face cold, at the same time reached out to tuck in the edge of her garment.

Wenren Lin seemed lost in thought, his lacquer-black eyes narrowing slightly.

…

When Zhao Yen awoke groggily, she found herself lying on a luohan bed, covered with a soft silk spring quilt.

The hall was empty. She blinked her hazy eyes, and quickly recognized this as the resting chamber in the rear hall of the Chongwen Hall.

But was she not listening to Zhou Ji’s lecture in the front hall? How had she come here?

She rubbed the stiffness from her neck as she sat up. Turning her head slightly, she caught sight of Wenren Lin seated in a chair by the bedside.

The lattice window was half-open, through which could be faintly seen the slanting light of rain outside. Wenren Lin sat in that glow, holding a military treatise in his hand, leafing through it.

Zhao Yen instantly sobered, dreadful images rushing up in her mind. She could not help but secretly stretch out her hand to feel at her clothes…

Fortunately, fortunately—her garments were neat and in order, even the chest wrap was still in place.

Her movements too abrupt, she clutched her abdomen and bent over, waiting out that pang of twisting pain.

Wenren Lin heard her movements and lifted his eyes from behind the book.

Seeing her frown and curl herself into a ball, he knew that the medicine he had given her last night had not been taken.

He put down the scroll and rose, lifting the kettle of simmering water on the small stove outside, pouring out a cup, then returning to the bed and setting the steaming tea on the desk beside her.

His unhurried manner bore a trace of elegance.

Zhao Yen stared unblinkingly at Wenren Lin, her moist peach-blossom eyes shifting slightly with his movements.

Only when she saw Wenren Lin draw from his bosom a small medicine vial identical to the one sent last night, pull out the jade stopper, and before her very eyes pour half of the amber-colored liquid into the cup, did she lower her gaze like a thief plugging her ears while stealing a bell.

Wenren Lin gave no explanation, merely pushed the cup toward her and ordered: “Drink it.”

Zhao Yen swallowed, her five fingers tightening and loosening again, before at last stretching from the bedding a pale, bloodless hand to obediently take up the cup.

The pale golden liquid steamed with heat. Zhao Yen pressed her lips together, then finally tilted back her head, closing her eyes to sip it down in small mouthfuls.

It was somewhat bitter, with a hint of pungency. She carefully licked the droplets clinging to her lips.

Wenren Lin, seeing that fleeting flash of her rosy tongue, could not restrain himself from reaching out, the cool pad of his finger wiping away the trace of moisture at her lower lip.

Their gazes locked; for a moment both were stunned.

That frost-pale fingertip pressing against vivid lips stirred certain untimely memories. Though they had already done things more intimate, Zhao Yen was still mortified and flustered.

Fortunately, it was but the lightest brush. Wenren Lin drew his hand back without change of expression, sneering: “This time, are you not afraid that what I have given is poison?”

Zhao Yen forced herself to composure, and did not answer.

If it were poison, Wenren Lin would not use it twice, nor be foolish enough to act so brazenly within the Chongwen Hall.

Sure enough, soon a surge of warmth rose within her abdomen, coursing along her blood vessels, spreading heat through her limbs and bones. In no time, even the soreness of her waist and legs was much relieved.

This medicine… to think it had such miraculous effect?

Then what had all her fear and suffering through this half day amounted to?

Wenren Lin, from who knew where, produced again a small white jade box of medicine. Leaning forward, he placed it by Zhao Yen’s pillow, indicating: “For external use.”

Ex… external use?

Zhao Yen followed Wenren Lin’s gaze, and started in fright, instinctively pressing her knees together.

“I will apply it once I return to the Eastern Palace.” She avoided his eyes, speaking with difficulty.

“Your Highness has just experienced relations, and moreover with this prince…”

Wenren Lin paused ever so slightly, his gaze deepening, “If you delay further, let alone returning to the Eastern Palace, even getting out of bed and walking will be difficult.”

He had struck true.

After a half day’s jostling, indeed Zhao Yen had reached the limit of her endurance.

“Then… may Prince Su step aside for the moment.”

Zhao Yen turned her head, and then realized: yesterday, when she mistakenly entered the Hegui Pavilion during her medicine, she had spoken to Wenren Lin in just the same way.

Fortunately, Wenren Lin did not bring up those shameful memories again. He merely set a piece of clean cotton cloth upon the desk, and then rose to go into the outer room.

Zhao Yen thought he had left, and only then carefully loosened her golden jade belt, with her fingers scooped out the ointment to apply to the place of pain…

She never imagined that Wenren Lin would return at that very moment. Nervous, her hand pressed too hard, and at once she let out a muffled groan of pain.

Wenren Lin, holding a basin of warm water, raised his brows as he looked at Zhao Yen, crouched and shrinking within the bedding.

Truly both pitiful, and… inviting of bullying.

The line of Wenren Lin’s lips shifted slightly.

With broad shoulders and long legs, in a few steps he was beside the bed. He set the square of cotton into the copper basin to soak, then lightly wrung it dry.

As he used his strength, his knuckles stood out faintly, clear water slipping eagerly through his long, powerful fingers, as though a pure spring washing over cold white jade.

“This medicine must be wiped clean first, then applied.”

Wenren Lin held Zhao Yen’s slender, trembling wrist, drawing out the hand she had hidden under the bedding, and with bent finger tapped lightly upon her clenched fist.

Zhao Yen stiffened, slowly, bit by bit, opening her fingers.

Her fingertips were stained with bright red, mingled with the fragrance of ointment. Wenren Lin lowered his gaze, carefully wiping it clean with the damp cotton.

Zhao Yen raised her eyes unsteadily, trying to discern some trace of emotion on Wenren Lin’s face.

But to no avail. His expression remained ever at ease and tranquil, thick lashes casting a harmless light shadow, without the slightest hint of wanton intimacy, as though he were handling a fragile and beautiful piece of jade.

“Your Highness is unwell, yet instead of resting properly you run about everywhere—are you afraid that I will inform?”

Wenren Lin’s tone was low and languid, as though it were a casual question.

When he released her hand, Zhao Yen swiftly withdrew, biting her lip as she fumbled beneath the quilt to put herself in order.

The hall was very quiet.

Some matters, even if Zhao Yen wished never to mention them again, she had no choice but to face directly.

“Never thought that Prince Su would still come to the Chongwen Hall.”

She took the initiative to speak, her voice soft: “I thought that, to Prince Su, I no longer held any value for testing.”

Wenren Lin keenly noticed that she addressed herself as “I,” and not with the Crown Prince’s guise of “Gu,” like a despondent little beast that had withdrawn its claws.

Even though she had guessed his thoughts, Wenren Lin’s face did not show the slightest ripple.

“Scarlet garments, a slender waist, long legs, skin like congealed fat, exquisite beyond compare. Only, sharp of tongue, somewhat fond of biting…”

Seeing the spreading astonishment and doubt on Zhao Yen’s face, he curved his lips into a faint, elegant smile and slowly explained, “Did not Your Highness say that this prince should describe that young lady’s features to you? This is they.”

Zhao Yen was stupefied.

She had not thought that her own appearance and figure, spoken from Wenren Lin’s lips, would sound so… so unbearable to the ear.

Wenren Lin, as he wished, saw her alabaster cheeks flush with a rosy bloom, and leaning closer, smiled as he asked: “Your Highness, have you found her for this prince?”

Zhao Yen opened her lips, then closed them again.

“In any case, a thing soon to die—what use in finding her?”

She lowered her eyes to hide her emotions, cautiously wording her probe: “Will Prince Su not kill me?”

Wenren Lin held the cotton cloth stained with bright red, sinking it into the copper basin until the faint red spread like ink, dispersing.

“Why should I kill Your Highness?”

He said: “Such a great handle rests in this prince’s hand. Your Highness, constrained by fear of exposing your weakness, will henceforth weigh your every action more carefully. Is that not more useful than killing you?”

“…”

Wenren Lin spoke such shameless words of coercion with such open and upright candor!

If it were not that she could not defeat him, and would lose miserably… Zhao Yen would have already bared her claws and leapt upon him.

“Your Highness thinks the same, does she not?”

Wenren Lin lifted his hand, lightly flicking the droplets at his fingertips, and spoke with calm ease.

Seeing Zhao Yen’s beautiful eyes shed their disguise of timidity and once more faintly kindle with a flame of anger, Wenren Lin pressed his lips in a pleased smile.

“Rest well and heal. Next time, this prince will personally inspect.”

Wenren Lin rubbed the dampness on his fingertips, his words layered with meaning: “And at the same time, for Your Highness, make up the lessons missed today.”