Zhao Yen covered her belly and softly said something.

Wenren Lin’s hearing was extremely sharp; he clearly heard it, yet pretended to be indifferent.

Zhao Yen had no choice but to slightly raise her tone and repeat: “My monthly cycle is about to come, it is not very convenient.”

Wenren Lin looked at her eyes that were feigning calmness, and after a while, nodded.

“This prince is not one without reason, nor do I have a fondness for forcing Your Highness. Since it is so, then let us change the condition.”

With an appearance of negotiating, he thought for a moment and said, “As it happens, this prince is lacking a personal maidservant at his side, would Your Highness be willing to condescend and fill the role?”

To have the dignified Princess of Changfeng pretend to be a maidservant and serve him—how could Wenren Lin dare?

Yet compared with “demonstrating” the Nine Postures of the Classic of the Mysterious Woman, this request instead seemed somewhat more acceptable…

Perhaps, Wenren Lin’s goal from the beginning was not the Classic of the Mysterious Woman at all.

Seeing Zhao Yen’s eyes turning restlessly, her lips pressed without speaking, Wenren Lin set down the brush for painting makeup, calmly lifted the curtain and said, “Attend, escort Her Highness…”

“Just for one day.” Zhao Yen hurriedly pulled at his sleeve, able to yield and able to stretch.

Between two harms, one chooses the lesser; even knowing this was a pit dug by Wenren Lin, she still had to grit her teeth and jump down.

Wenren Lin slanted his eyes to look at her, and as the wheels rumbled, the faint sunlight lightly swayed at the bottom of his gaze.

“…escort Her Highness an ice container to relieve the heat.”

With a faint smile, he completed the latter half of his words in a low and clear voice.

“……”

The carriage halted, two attendants carried in a heavy bronze ice container, then silently bowed and retreated.

The curtain again shut off the light. Zhao Yen’s hand slipped from Wenren Lin’s sleeve and fell dispiritedly at her side.

She had fallen into the trap once more.

Zhao Yen simply turned her head away, refusing to look at him. She only furrowed her brows, venting her anger as she uncovered the ice container exhaling faint cool air, stuffing into her mouth grape after grape chilled white with frost.

“At this time, do not be greedy for cold things. If your belly aches again, this prince will not care.”

Wenren Lin raised his fan to cover her fingertips that intended to continue, and signaled, “Change the clothes.”

Zhao Yen was startled: “Here?”

Wenren Lin, composed and ready: “Within the carriage there is no outsider.”

Zhao Yen listened to the bustling cries of people coming and going on the street outside, troubled: “But the carriage curtains sway, it is difficult to avoid being exposed. Moreover, my true appearance must not be known. If when boarding I was the Crown Prince, and upon alighting I am a woman, what will the palace attendants think when they see it? Surely it would also bring trouble to the Grand Preceptor.”

Seeing Wenren Lin silent, she covered by lifting the curtain slightly and glanced out. In the distance she caught sight of the seven-storied pagoda of Anping Temple rising tall, and thus knew this place was not far from Daning Street beside the northern gate of the capital.

“I have long heard that Daning Street has many eateries and taverns, bustling and lively. Why not quietly go there to seek a place to stay, then I can change back into a woman’s attire and accompany by your side.”

Zhao Yen blinked her lashes, softening her tone, “Would that be good, Grand Preceptor?”

After speaking, as if fearing Wenren Lin would object, she leaned from the carriage window and ordered: “Let them continue forward, I will change route to Daning Street.”

Because the Crown Prince was still young, she had not bound up all her hair; at the back of her head, soft black hair cascaded to her waist, outlining a slender, delicate silhouette.

Wenren Lin’s gaze was calm, a faint smile flickering on his lips, yet he did not hinder her.

He lifted the carriage curtain and gave some instructions to the attendants. The carriage slowly came to a halt, then broke away from the lengthy procession, taking only the vice general, several personal guards, and hidden guards toward Daning Street.

Guihai Tower was the largest tavern on Daning Street. Built by Yunxiao Bridge, beside the Longshui Canal, guests came and went from all directions. Leaning upon its balustrades, one could take in the splendid scenery of the capital at a glance.

Just after the dragon boat races, many spectators still crowded the tall building. On the fourth-floor balustrade reclined a young gentleman of about twenty, clad in splendid clothes, of outstanding appearance, surrounded by four or five gorgeously dressed concubines, looking every bit the scion of some wealthy family on an outing.

The young master opened his mouth to take the fruit fed to him by a concubine, then gave a bored hum: “I thought today’s grand scene would surely be beauties as numerous as clouds, but after watching here for an entire afternoon, what I have seen is nothing but ordinary peach and vulgar plum.”

The concubine feeding the fruit was no more than seventeen or eighteen years old. Hearing this, she pouted and spat lightly: “Master already has us, why still think of trifling with flowers and grass!”

“In this world, only beauties and fine food cannot be betrayed. You? In the end, you fall somewhat short.”

The splendidly dressed young man laughed, pinching the concubine’s tender cheek. Just as he turned, his steps rooted to the floor.

From above, a young maiden descended slowly, holding a pale apricot shawl. The scarlet hem of her dress unfurled lightly with each step, like a living painting of beauty. As for her face—needless to say—it was like flowers and the moon, like a bright pearl beyond the world. The vivid begonia huadian was not painted between her brows, but uniquely set at the corner of her eye, beautiful yet not vulgar.

Even rarer was that her bearing was noble and transcendent, unlike common women who stooped their shoulders and bowed their heads. Even the act of frowning as she arranged her shawl appeared naturally charming and innocent.

The young man swallowed involuntarily, stepping forward without realizing it. The beauties around him, when compared to her, were as clay idols that lost all color.

The concubines knew his infatuation had flared, and angrily pinched his arm. In that brief moment of distraction, the maiden passed through the hall and corridor, heading toward the balustrade on the other side.

There stood a tall, lofty man with hands behind his back. His back alone was extraordinary, and when he turned half of his cold, pale handsome face, even the concubines who had been gnashing their teeth just now were struck dumb.

Even an immortal from heaven could be no more.

The man raised his hand, brushing aside the stray strands at the maiden’s temple, then drew her slender waist firmly to his side. The intimacy of the posture was clearly not that of siblings.

At once, the young master and concubines all drew in a sharp breath together, their hearts struck: what a pity, what a pity, she already belonged to another.

Only Zhao Yen knew that the seemingly affectionate hand resting at her waist held her in a grip that was far too firm.

Yet Wenren Lin’s expression was one of breezy calm, mild and upright. He picked up a veiled hat handed over by a personal guard and gently placed it upon Zhao Yen’s head, his voice low: “This face of Your Highness is indeed too conspicuous.”

Zhao Yen raised her hand to adjust the veil blown against her face by the wind, and retorted without yielding: “Likewise.”

“This prince has long awaited Your Highness’s change of attire, and I am somewhat thirsty.”

Seeing Zhao Yen unmoved, he slanted his gaze, “Since you are pretending to be a maidservant, this small matter should not need to be taught.”

…Fine, for the sake of the clues, she would endure him for this one day.

Zhao Yen lifted the cool tea on the side table, poured a cup, and offered it with one hand to Wenren Lin.

When he did not move, she forced herself to bear with it, raised the cup to his lips, and bit her teeth with a smile: “Langjun [young lord], please drink tea.”

At hearing the words “Langjun,” Wenren Lin revealed a trace of surprise.

He had made her pretend to be a maidservant, yet she herself raised the status, addressing him as “Langjun.” Her little abacus was calculating finely. Wenren Lin did not correct her, but folded away his fan with one hand, then leaned his lips to the cup along with her hand.

Zhao Yen only felt the teacup grow heavy, and had no choice but to support it with her other hand. Beneath the setting sun, Wenren Lin’s thin lips pressed against the rim of the cup, his lashes half-lowered in enjoyment, casting down two dark arcs of shadow…

Not at all like the stern Prince Su who made the court tremble at the sound of his name.

Yet when he lifted his dark eyes, the depth and mockery within made Zhao Yen gnash her teeth.

She put away the teacup, cast her gaze aside, and pointed at the little girl selling flowers below: “Langjun, I want to buy flowers.”

Wenren Lin’s eyes lifted at the corners, as if to see what trick she would play next.

Zhao Yen lifted a corner of the veil of her hat, revealing the bright eye adorned with the begonia at the tail, and smiled brilliantly: “Langjun, will you accompany me to buy flowers?”

It was easy to forget that she could imitate Crown Prince Zhao Yan vividly and to perfection; to act the role of a pampered and willful young woman was naturally no difficulty.

Wenren Lin’s interest deepened, and he answered as bidden: “Let us go.”

Like husband singing, wife following, behind them at the balustrade came another chorus of broken-hearted sighs.

The flower seller was a young girl of twelve or thirteen. Her looks were ordinary, with freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. Her coarse linen skirt was patched, yet kept clean and fresh—surely a poor child dearly loved by her parents.

At this hour the sun slanted low. In her basket only a few sachets had been sold, and most of the flowers still remained. Even though she kept moistening them with droplets of water, their wilted state could not be hidden.

So late already—if she could not sell them all, she would have to return empty-handed. In recent days, young girls and children had often gone missing both inside and outside the city, and her parents would not allow her to linger outside after dark.

Seeing a pair of radiant young figures approaching, her eyes lit up. She quickly gathered her spirit and asked in a clear voice: “Honored guest, would you buy flowers? This elder sister, at one glance, I can see she is a great beauty. Honored guest, buy her a flower!”

“Which one?” Wenren Lin asked toward his side.

The plants of the common folk, untrimmed by gardeners, had a natural wild beauty in their wayward branches. Zhao Yen was bending over, troubled at making a choice, when she heard Wenren Lin say blandly: “Buy them all.”

The words had scarcely fallen when the prince’s personal guards appeared from nowhere, placed a small piece of broken silver in the flower girl’s hand, then withdrew silently.

The little girl’s face brightened with joy, and she said honestly: “These flowers are not worth so much money. This basket was woven of willow by my father, let elder sister have it as well! And these sachets too, they are all made by my mother’s own hand…”

In a rush, the girl gave Zhao Yen all her things, then carefully tucked the few coins of silver into her pouch, and ran away delightedly.

Truly a fortunate day—she had met generous honored guests!

Clutching the pouch with silver and scattered copper coins to her chest, she was happier than if she had received the sweetest candy in the capital. With this money, her mother’s medicine expenses for the month would be secured!

The little girl wove her way through the bustling crowd, running faster and faster, wishing her feet could take wing and carry her home at once to bring the good news—completely unaware of the several sinister eyes watching her at the street corner.

A short cry was smothered into her mouth, drowned in the lively laughter of the capital.

An ox cart piled with vegetable leaves passed by and halted at the corner. When the wheels rolled forward again, the flower-selling girl was gone. Only an old, faded pouch remained on the ground, trampled beneath the shoes of passersby.

……

Wenren Lin bought the whole basket of flowers not to win the little princess’s favor.

He simply thought that wasting time on such a trifle was not worth it.

But Zhao Yen was very happy. Back at the Huayang Palace, she had always loved roaming in the mountains and streams, and would return with great armfuls of wildflowers to fill the vases of the palace.

Since becoming “Crown Prince,” she could no longer do such things. She was like a proper and exquisite wooden puppet, placed in a position that did not belong to her.

At this moment, twilight was deepening, the last light of sunset not yet extinguished. On Daning Street the lanterns had already been lit. Zhao Yen stood with the flower basket by Yunxiao Bridge, poised amidst the splendor of heaven and earth. As she turned her head, the wind lifted her pale shawl, and her sleeves were full of fragrance.