Wenren Lin shifted his gaze from that drop of scarlet cinnabar ink, and glanced again at Zhao Yen.

The young girl’s brows were adorned with a huadian [ornamental forehead decoration], dark brows and snowy cheeks, her lips lightly dusted with rouge, bright and enticing. Now that the Crown Prince’s male disguise had been stripped away, beneath her slender, delicate neck were faintly protruding collarbones, snow-like peaks, dazzling under the glow of warm lamplight as though suffused by the radiance of the moon.

When Wenren Lin was not smiling, his eyes were unfathomably deep, carrying a certain icy inscrutability.

This time, Zhao Yen endured without avoiding his gaze. She had already shown him her truest appearance, and there was no need to feign weakness and timidity.

Thus she bravely met his eyes, stretched out a slender white finger, pushed the piece of soft jade inside the box forward another inch, and asked: “The jade in the box has already been washed clean. Will Grand Preceptor not examine it?”

It was as if Wenren Lin only then understood. The tip of his brush skimmed lightly across that row of neatly aligned, warm-colored soft jade, leaving upon it a streak of fresh red wetness, resembling exactly that ambiguous bloodstain when Wenren Lin, blindfolded, applied medicine to her that night…

The brush then trailed upward along her slender fingertip, before pausing on the tender back of her hand, and lightly tapped.

“Your Highness is… enticing this prince.”

Maintaining the posture of leaning forward with brush in hand, Wenren Lin’s face did not flush, his heart did not race—entirely solemn and proper.

Zhao Yen truly wished to tear away that hypocritical mask of his, to reveal the black-hearted insides beneath.

“I merely think that, since the matter has already become a foregone conclusion, it is better to be frank with Grand Preceptor.”

Zhao Yen endeavored to make her expression appear more sincere, raising her arm slightly as she asked, “Does Grand Preceptor find satisfaction with my original appearance?”

Wenren Lin looked at her attire, blooming like a lotus flower, and after a moment, said lightly: “Naturally.”

Under the brilliance of the lamps, her makeup was exquisite—far surpassing the hazy, fragile look she had shown at the Flower-Banquet.

Knowing that she was not truly seeking an answer, Wenren Lin gently set down the brush. When withdrawing his hand, he seized Zhao Yen’s chin in passing, turning her face toward him.

He scrutinized her brows, eyes, and cinnabar lips with meticulous detail, until those crow-feather lashes of hers could not help but tremble. Only then did he casually ask in a low voice: “This makeup—who painted it for Your Highness?”

Zhao Yen had been concentrating on observing his reaction, yet had not expected him to ask such a trivial detail, and she was taken aback.

“Liuying does not know how to do makeup—it was Liu Ji who lent her aid.” She spoke the truth.

Such a small matter was unnecessary to conceal from Wenren Lin, nor could it be hidden—among those beside Zhao Yen who knew her true identity and were usable, there were only a handful.

For some unknown reason, Wenren Lin’s brows faintly knit.

Zhao Yen even perceived in the depths of his dark eyes a trace of… disdain.

Was today’s makeup unappealing?

Impossible!

Liu Ji excelled in painting, and perhaps by extension, on those occasions when she attempted makeup, the result was remarkably beautiful.

Could it be that Liu Ji’s own features were deeply vivid and brilliant, so the effect seemed good on her, yet in truth was not suitable for Zhao Yen?

While Zhao Yen was still secretly speculating, Wenren Lin had already picked up the neatly folded silk handkerchief from the desk, tossed it into the copper basin of clean water at the side, dampened it with a single squeeze, and placed it over Zhao Yen’s face.

“Mm.”

Zhao Yen’s face was suddenly covered with the wet cloth, and instinctively she tried to turn away, yet Wenren Lin held her firmly.

Bringing his other hand over, he began to slowly and deliberately wipe away the freshly applied crimson makeup from her face. Very quickly, the handkerchief became stained with red and white cosmetics.

“Close your eyes.”

Wenren Lin stopped the cloth at the tear mole beneath her right eye, and instructed indifferently.

Zhao Yen closed her eyes as told, her lashes trembling restlessly.

Her eyes were very beautiful, the corners stained as though with ink lines. Even with the cosmetics wiped away, her complexion remained luminous and flawless, perhaps even clearer and more natural.

“Has Your Highness finally thought it through?”

With her eyes closed, Zhao Yen heard Wenren Lin’s emotionless voice.

She unconsciously curled her fingers, then slowly relaxed them again, lifted her chin, and hummed softly: “Grand Preceptor is right. A poisoned person must take the antidote, just as a starving person must eat. It is nothing more ordinary.”

After a moment of silence, she muttered in an extremely small voice: “Just think of it as being bitten by a dog, nothing of great matter.”

The damp cloth wiping her brows paused.

After a long while, Zhao Yen distinctly felt the force of the cloth against her skin grow heavier. Wenren Lin let out a faint sneer: “Then Your Highness is rather skilled at choosing dogs.”

He pressed at the corner of Zhao Yen’s eye, forcing her to open them. “And now, are you not afraid of being killed by this prince?”

Zhao Yen opened her eyes, and at once the hall’s lamplight reassembled itself within her gaze, shimmering with the noble grace befitting a princess.

She thought for a moment, then recited the words she had already prepared: “Not afraid. After all, Grand Preceptor and I are accomplices in the same boat.”

Wenren Lin’s eyes darkened slightly.

“If Grand Preceptor were to act in righteousness and destroy me, exposing the truth of the Princess impersonating the Crown Prince, then I would have no choice but to confess truthfully our entanglement and debauchery. After all, to offend one’s superior and lay hands upon a princess is also a grave crime.”

Still lifting her chin, Zhao Yen felt Wenren Lin’s fingers at her jaw slowly tightening. She spoke each word clearly: “Even if Imperial Father chose to preserve Grand Preceptor and put me to death, to have my corpse pave a path of survival for Grand Preceptor would be my fortune. And if Imperial Father spared my life, then the matter becomes simpler still…”

“At that time, for the sake of covering up the scandal, Imperial Father would surely choose some honest and reliable son of a noble family to marry me off at will. For me to sleep with two men at such a young age—seems not a loss either.”

Her eyes curved as she lifted her hand to grasp Wenren Lin’s slightly cool fingers holding the cloth, and deliberately asked with seriousness: “Do you not agree, Grand Preceptor?”

Wenren Lin looked at her, his expression immovable, yet faintly there was an added pressure of danger.

Zhao Yen instead calmed down—she knew she had struck at the crux.

“This prince is somewhat curious.”

Wenren Lin tilted her youthful face back and forth between his fingers, speaking slowly: “By which master was Your Highness enlightened?”

Zhao Yen’s heart skipped. Of course she would not reveal Liu Ji.

In truth, Liu Ji had only been a knocker at the door of her thoughts; the many details had been patiently unraveled by Zhao Yen herself over the course of an afternoon, once she had calmed down.

If Wenren Lin’s catlike teasing was not born of coercion, but rather out of mere interest…

Then, was this not precisely a weakness of His Highness Prince Su?

Understanding this point, the certain death she faced suddenly revealed a glimmer of survival.

Wenren Lin lifted his finger to wipe away the residue of rouge at the corner of Zhao Yen’s lips, then held the cloth as he sat in the round-backed chair beside the desk, pressing his bent knuckle lightly against his temple. “Speak then, Your Highness, since you have lowered yourself—what is it you seek?”

After all, no thought could be hidden from him.

“I wish to leave the palace for a short stay, to ease my heart.”

“Your Highness should consult with His Majesty and the Empress. As for the private affairs of the Crown Prince, this prince does not interfere.”

Zhao Yen nodded. The damp strands of hair at her temples clung to her cheeks, tracing out a softness unsuited to the moment.

“But, Gu wishes for Grand Preceptor to accompany.”

Thinking of the filthy deeds Zhao Yuanyu had committed, Zhao Yen’s tone grew firmer as she repeated, “There are many eyes fixed upon the Eastern Palace. For safety’s sake, Gu wishes to travel with Grand Preceptor.”

These days Wenren Lin often lodged outside the city; what case he was investigating, Zhao Yen naturally knew well.

She deliberately insisted thus, staking everything, to see just how far Wenren Lin would retreat for her.

“It is not impossible,” Wenren Lin said.

At that, Zhao Yen was stunned.

When she regained her senses, suspicion flickered in her eyes—she did not for a moment believe Wenren Lin to be so easily persuaded.

Sure enough, Wenren Lin tapped his knee with a bent finger and continued: “Only, if Your Highness wishes this prince to act, you must show the attitude of one making a request. For example, do something for this prince.”

See! I knew it!

Zhao Yen smiled faintly: “Gu is dull—may Grand Preceptor give guidance.”

Wenren Lin lifted his eyes: “Anything at all?”

“……”

Zhao Yen told herself not to betray fear, forcing her legs—itching to flee—into stillness. After a moment’s thought, she said calmly, “Although I do not much enjoy such things, when I think that the one I draw close to is His Highness Prince Su, who holds sway over the world, it seems not so unbearable.”

She nodded slightly to herself, firmly declaring: “The first time may be unfamiliar, the second time one is practiced—this time I have experience.”

At these words, Wenren Lin’s tapping finger paused.

What was this nonsense?

Yet since the little princess herself had brought up such a topic…

Wenren Lin curved his lips, lifting his thickly lashed eyes: “Surely Your Highness is not so naïve as to believe this prince will again allow himself to be pressed beneath you as last time?”

Zhao Yen froze, uncomprehending.

“If we are to play, then it should be this prince who plays.”

Wenren Lin deliberately drew out his tone, until Zhao Yen swallowed nervously, before speaking in a low voice: “Do you know what is meant by the ‘Tiger’s Step’?”

Zhao Yen pursed her lips guiltily, clearly at a loss.

That pure, innocent guise of hers, feigning free and easy charm—truly, it was endlessly amusing.

Wenren Lin raised his brows slightly, and with understanding said: “The Xuan-nu Classic [ancient Taoist text on arts of the bedchamber]—Your Highness has not read it. No wonder last time you were neither light nor heavy.”

Who was neither light nor heavy!

Heat rose on Zhao Yen’s cheeks; she turned her head away altogether.

At her ear came the faint rustle of cloth—Wenren Lin rising from the round-backed chair.

Shadow fell over her. Before Zhao Yen could react, she felt her body lifted weightlessly.

Wenren Lin, with effortless ease, swept her up sideways into his arms, his expression unchanged, striding steadily toward the inner chamber.

The luxuriant hem of her skirt swayed with each step, revealing two lotus-thread embroidered shoes and slender ankles. Zhao Yen’s heartbeat instantly grew chaotic, her nose filled with the unique scent of Wenren Lin—frost and snow mingled into cold austerity.

She vaguely remembered, back when she had taken the medicinal decoction, also colliding with Wenren Lin like this—being carried horizontally in his arms—and what followed thereafter…

But this time, there was no medicine. Both were entirely sober. Though Zhao Yen had prepared herself for the worst, once matters truly reached this point, she discovered she was far from as calm and free as she had imagined.

Learning from last time’s lesson, the instant she was set upon the couch, Zhao Yen sprang upright.

She tried to draw some distance, but her wrist was caught; then Wenren Lin bent his knee against the crook of hers, and Zhao Yen cried out softly, falling weightlessly back upon the bed.

Her hair loosened, several strands falling mischievously across her cheeks. Stunned, she finally realized—this was not at all the same as last time’s crane-necked entanglement, where she as the one above had held sovereignty!

Zhao Yen’s cheeks flushed scarlet. Instinctively she bent her knees to crawl up, yet a broad hand pressed down upon her shoulder.

“Make the girl crouch forward, head bowed submissive.¹”

Wenren Lin’s low, rich, steady voice instructed her from behind, enunciating word by word.

“The man kneels behind, encircling her waist… do not move, learn properly.” Speaking thus, his other hand clasped her slender waist and lifted; his straight, long legs were already kneeling upon the bed, his body leaning forward to envelop her.

Kneeling, Zhao Yen felt a chill run down her back. This time, she truly regretted it, scrambling with both hands and feet to escape further inward.

Yet not the least movement was possible.

Wenren Lin’s strength was something a pampered little princess such as she could never shake.

Her black hair spilled softly from the back of her neck, strands quivering with her breath, exposing a stretch of fair skin and two flushed, burning ears.

She could not see Wenren Lin’s expression behind her. Precisely because it was unknown, her unease and tension grew all the more.

Yet she was a princess—unwilling to yield or concede. Her cheeks burned as though blood would drip, so she bit her lip and buried her face into the bedding, like a small peacock foolishly hiding its head in the sand.

But the humiliation she imagined never arrived. Clutching the bedding, Zhao Yen strained to listen. After a long while, she trembled and lifted a watery eye from the brocade, cautiously peeking out…

Only to see Wenren Lin, elbow propped against the bed’s headboard, leisurely watching her.

Zhao Yen blinked, realizing she had once again been frightened into disorder by this man. Shamed and angered, she rose amid disheveled clouds of hair, glaring at Wenren Lin as she breathed faintly.

Her embarrassment was real—and Wenren Lin perceived it.

“This prince is but a dog.”

Wenren Lin reached out, smoothing the stray locks at her temple, his cool fingers brushing deliberately against her burning cheeks. His eyes brimmed with laughter as he rasped lowly: “Why must Your Highness be angered with a little dog?”

Zhao Yen froze. What did that mean?

Wenren Lin said no more. With a smile lingering, he finished arranging her hair, then rose and strode out of the hall with a trace of delight.

He carried with him as well the box of warm jade from upon the desk.

Only then did Zhao Yen realize—he had been referring to her words about “just think of it as being bitten by a dog.”

Sitting amidst the bedding, she did not know whether to be angry or to laugh.

But soon, her eyes fell, vexation overcoming her.

With such an attitude—had Wenren Lin agreed, or not?