Wenren Lin did not pick up the thread of conversation.

Zhao Yen likewise refused to yield, meeting his gaze with a smile.

The hand around her waist tightened in punishment. Zhao Yen twisted imperceptibly, yet could not break free.

The two stood facing one another, appearing as though full of tender affection, yet in truth secretly contending. From the gap at the side of their faces, one could see the warm light flickering, faintly revealing Zhou Ji’s cold and refined face.

The people coming and going on the bridge were blurred of countenance. He had no interest in the vanities of the mortal world, and so, indifferent and dignified, he slightly cupped his hands in farewell and departed.

At last Zhao Yen was the first to move her gaze away, pressing Wenren Lin’s forearm in reminder: “Zhou Wanlan has already left.”

“…Wanlan?”

Wenren Lin repeated the name with the curve of his lips, then raised his hand along her back, lightly touching the nape of her neck.

Zhao Yen only felt a chill at her neck, and instinctively covered the place he had touched. Wenren Lin, however, gathered in his expression, his eyes darker than the night, and turned away.

The wind filled his sleeves, blowing several red and white peonies and jasmines out of the basket. Zhao Yen was stunned for a moment, then hastened her steps to follow.

The city gates would be closed at the hour of Xu [7–9 p.m.]. Cai Tian had already ordered the personal guards to ready the carriage, preparing to continue the journey.

Zhao Yen bent to enter the carriage. Once the curtain was let down, she impatiently removed her veil-hat to breathe.

The ice container on the small table before Wenren Lin had already been removed, replaced with seven or eight dishes of freshly prepared hot food.

Zhao Yen, having long accompanied the Empress Dowager, had also once racked her brains for chances to enjoy a feast, and thus had done some study into “false vegetarian banquets.”

For instance, that bowl of seemingly plain clear-soup tofu by Wenren Lin’s side—in truth, the “tofu” was fresh chicken breast chopped into fine paste and prepared, while the “clear soup” was a small bowl simmered over a slow fire from mountain delicacies and pork bones. Just from the aroma one could tell it was incomparably fresh and fragrant.

She had not expected Wenren Lin’s diet to be so fine and light. Zhao Yen had thought a man such as he—even if not the blood-drinking monster in the storybooks and operas—must certainly be fond of cracking bones and gnawing flesh.

She quietly sat down, setting the flower basket aside. Wenren Lin did not even lift his eyes, only concentrated on wiping his hands with a damp cotton cloth.

Zhao Yen was indeed hungry. She quickly wiped her hands clean, then picked up the jade spoon, first serving herself a bowl of soup.

The sound of spoon against bowl was clear. Wenren Lin finally lifted his gaze, and after a moment said: “Is it good?”

Zhao Yen nodded honestly: “Good.”

“How is it that I never noticed before, that Your Highness can be so obedient and docile.”

“Mm?”

Zhao Yen, holding the small bowl in both hands, slightly tilted her head, realizing that he referred to that earlier jest of “offering wine.”

“Was it not the Grand Preceptor who said that I… should play the part of the beautiful concubine?”

Remembering something, she revealed an expression of disbelief. “Could it be that the Grand Preceptor does not like the obedient ones?”

“Obedience naturally has its own delights.”

Wenren Lin watched Zhao Yen finish the soup to pad her stomach, then reach for fish meat as fine and tender as white jade. The corner of his lips tugged slightly: “Only, when there are no others present, Your Highness seems not quite so obedient.”

Zhao Yen followed his gaze downward, falling upon her own bowl filled with the choicest essence of the whole table. Her lashes trembled.

Indeed, she had no experience in serving others. In eating, drinking, pleasure, and amusement, she had always accustomed herself to putting her own wants first, and had forgotten that Wenren Lin had not yet lifted his chopsticks.

Zhao Yen attempted to mend the pen after the sheep were lost [too late remedy; idiom], and instead picked up another pair of clean chopsticks, imitating the same motions to serve again. Only then did she lightly push the small bowl, piled into a little peak, toward him, resting the chopsticks on the white jade chopstick rest.

Wenren Lin propped one hand against his temple, looking at that bowl of food which truly could not be called elegant. After a long silence he finally said: “Wine.”

Zhao Yen poured another cup of wine. This time she had learned to be clever, directly lifting the cup to his lips.

Who knew the night road was uneven, and the carriage wheel happened to run over a stone. At the sudden jolt, Zhao Yen lost her balance, and instinctively braced a hand against Wenren Lin’s shoulder.

Thus half the wine spilled onto her own hand, the other half dripping down Wenren Lin’s lapel and robe, spreading into a dark damp stain…

The position looked somewhat troublesome.

Wenren Lin glanced at the wine stain on his garment, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Zhao Yen quickly drew back her hand. Just as she raised the cup again, hesitating whether to find a cloth to wipe it for him, she felt a soft warmth upon the back of her hand.

Wenren Lin had lowered his head indifferently, his lips lightly brushing to sip away the few drops of wine left upon the joints of her right hand, tasting them unhurriedly.

Zhao Yen was stunned, the place on the back of her hand touched by his thin lips as though scorched by fire.

“The wine is not bad.”

Wenren Lin’s tone was calm as he gave his verdict.

Zhao Yen swallowed.

She did not know if it was an illusion, but every time she thought she had gained a small victory, Wenren Lin always had a way to turn it back, and moreover had to put on that solemnly upright appearance, leaving her unable to cope.

Zhao Yen stiffly returned to her seat, thudding the cup onto the table, determined not to pay heed to this crafty fellow any longer, and lifted her own small bowl, burying her head in eating.

A ripple flickered through Wenren Lin’s eyes and was gone. He too picked up his chopsticks, from the little mountain of food in her jade bowl picked out a piece of white, tender tofu, and placed it into his mouth.

Fresh. Fragrant.

…

The carriage passed through the city gates at the final moment before they locked, traveling nearly an hour along the mountain road before arriving at Yuquan Palace.

At that time the place had not yet been put in order. Palace attendants moved back and forth with chests, arranging things. Even lanterns had not yet been prepared, so in the dimness few took note of Zhao Yen’s return.

Before the carriage had fully halted, Liuying, who had been anxiously waiting outside, came forward and bowed: “Your Highness, Historian He was ordered to come to extend regards. This servant, on the pretext of Your Highness being fatigued and resting, has temporarily kept her settled in the Guanyun Hall.”

Zhao Yen had not expected that the people sent by Father Emperor and Mother Empress to supervise would come so quickly. After a thought, she said: “Entering from the main gate would cause too much commotion. Is there another gate?”

Liuying said: “The corner gate on the north side is close to the Guanyun Hall.”

Zhao Yen nodded and instructed: “Dismiss the unrelated attendants, and prepare damp cloths for wiping the face and clean clothing. I will come.”

Liuying bowed and withdrew. Zhao Yen then told the guard driving the carriage: “Go to the corner gate, lightly.”

The guard seemed hesitant and did not move.

Only then did Zhao Yen suddenly remember that these guards were all Wenren Lin’s men, of course they would not listen to her.

She leaned against the carriage window, glancing back at Wenren Lin, her expression pitiful and beseeching.

“Did you not hear Her Highness’s words?” Wenren Lin at last spoke.

The carriage immediately set off again, swiftly and smoothly. His words, light and without emotion, were far more effective than Zhao Yen’s anxious command.

Entering through the corner gate, indeed only Liuying awaited there, holding combs, towels, and clothing.

Zhao Yen had no time to bid farewell to Wenren Lin before leaping down from the carriage. As she hurried through the corridors, she casually removed her veil-hat and hair ornaments, then took the comb cloth silently handed over by Liuying, wiping away the rouge from her face. Loosening her coiffure, she raked through it twice with her fingers, binding it atop her head with a jade hairpin.

Entering through the back door of Guanyun Hall, she had just taken off her shawl when she heard Historian He’s voice approaching from afar: “…there is no need to wake the Crown Prince. It is better to let the Imperial Physician take a peace pulse [a pulse to confirm health], to be certain His Highness is safe and sound, that I may return to the palace and report.”

There was no time to change fully into proper garments. With Liuying’s assistance, Zhao Yen hastily wound her chest binding, threw on an under-robe, and, without even managing to remove her skirt completely, slipped into the inner bedchamber, poking her head out from the tightly draped curtains.

Almost at the same moment, the female official and the Imperial Physician entered one after the other.

“Historian He, Physician Zhang.”

Zhao Yen nodded to the female official and Zhang Xu. Borrowing the cover of the curtains, she secretly kicked away the hem of the skirt piled at her ankles.

“Your Highness is awake?”

Historian He saluted in surprise. Seeing the young Crown Prince’s complexion rosy, his hair and garments slightly loosened, indeed looking as though he had just woken from a nap, she secretly set her mind at ease.

“Just awakened.”

Zhao Yen feigned reproach toward Liuying: “Historian He is the one most trusted by Mother Empress. When she came, why did you not wake me?”

Historian He hurriedly said: “From the Imperial City to here requires half a day’s jolting journey. Your Highness has truly labored hard; this servant would never dare disturb you. Only, the Empress and His Majesty worry for Your Highness, and instructed this servant to be sure to witness the physician take the pulse before returning to report.”

Zhao Yen expressed understanding, obediently stretching a hand from within the curtains, looking toward Zhang Xu: “Troubling Physician Zhang.”

Zhang Xu saluted and stepped forward—then paused.

Zhao Yen followed his gaze and was startled: in her haste, she had forgotten to remove the little bracelet of woven fresh flowers.

Fortunately, Zhang Xu was one of their own. Drooping his lids languidly, he drew out a piece of soft, fine silk handkerchief and placed it over Zhao Yen’s wrist, covering the half-wilted jasmine bracelet.

When the pulse-taking was finished, he withdrew his hand and said: “If His Highness soaks in the hot spring for a quarter of an hour each day, the inner turbid poison will gradually be expelled. As summer hot springs are somewhat stifling, this minister will also prescribe some cooling remedies.”

Zhao Yen immediately drew back her hand. Zhang Xu’s brush flowed like dragons and snakes, and in an instant he had written the prescription—it was for sour plum soup and Su Shan [a type of chilled sweet delicacy], refreshing sweet iced drinks.

Historian He completely relaxed, saluted, and took her leave, hurrying back to the palace that very night to report.

The danger had passed without mishap. Zhao Yen let out a long breath, tugged at the sticky garments on her body, and said: “Liuying, where is the hot spring pool?”

Liuying said: “There are both Dragon and Phoenix pools. Which would Your Highness like to use?”

Zhao Yen was not much accustomed to bathing with others. Thinking of that Liu Ji, who even wanted to hold hands and bathe together, she immediately answered: “The men’s side. Leave the Phoenix Pool for you all—now that we are out of the palace, there is no need to be so restrained. You and Liu Ji should also relax a little.”

Liu Ji was indeed a troublesome one. Once clinging to the Crown Prince, now clinging to the Little Prince—it was inevitable she would do something out of line.

Liuying nodded: “This servant will go and make arrangements.”

“Wait.”

Zhao Yen turned back, drawing from the flower basket she had brought a cluster of pink-white roses and a sachet, handing them over.

“I bought these in the marketplace in passing. A wish for peace on the Dragon Boat Festival.” She smiled gently.

Liuying was dazed for a moment, then solemnly received the bouquet and sachet with both hands, carefully holding this blessing in her palms, murmuring softly: “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Zhao Yen waved her hand. Once she let herself relax, drowsiness came. Rubbing her eyes, she said: “It is I who should thank you. Elder Sister Liuying should smile more. To keep one’s face stern at every moment must be so tiring.”

Liuying replied properly with a “Yes.”

Then she realized that her own response was too distant and stiff. She wished to be as naturally familiar as Liu Ji, yet could not cross the barrier called “master and servant.” For a moment she did not know where to put her hands and feet.

She simply bowed in salute—almost like fleeing in disarray.

The bright moon hung high. Liuying looked at the fervently blooming bouquet in her hands, letting the cool mountain night wind brush away the heat upon her face.

“Smile more, Elder Sister Liuying.”

Once, too, a gentle and fragile young boy had said such words to her.

He had also stood beneath the eaves of the summer resort, counting the fireflies in the courtyard as he told her: “Do not envy Liu Ji, and do not feel inferior because you cannot fight side by side with me. Look, Fireflies (Liuying) does not contend with the stars and moon for brilliance. Small as it is, it can still illuminate a span of the night sky.”

But later, her moon had fallen.

In the world there was no longer gentle moonlight to shine upon that lonely and humble firefly.

She thought she would sink into the darkness, silently die with regret and resentment—until came another proud and resilient little sun…

Liuying tucked the sachet into her bosom, her solemn features gradually firming.

Indeed, she did not possess Liu Ji’s talent for games and rivalry, able to hold her head high and stand beside His Highness. But at the very least, now, she had found her own place.

…

The Dragon Pool hot spring was just behind Guanyun Hall. Zhao Yen gave a slight yawn, dismissing the palace maids carrying lanterns: “You may all withdraw. Leave the clothing in the outer chamber.”

The inner attendants received the order, placed the garments upon the couch in the outer room, then closed the door and withdrew.

Zhao Yen lifted the hanging curtain beneath the carved-moon door and continued inward. A warm yellow light mixed with the humid heat of steam rushed toward her.

By the rippling Dragon-Head Hot Spring, Wenren Lin was holding a fire striker, lighting the last bronze lamp shaped like fallen flower branches.