“Yesterday Prince Su said, no matter what I wish to do, as long as I do not block his path.”

Zhao Yen gazed at Wenren Lin’s half-lowered thick eyelashes and said softly, “I do not know what Prince Su seeks, but what I seek has never been imperial power or status, merely self-preservation. Since there is no conflict of interest, why treat me with such harshness?”

“Harshness from this prince?”

Wenren Lin was amused by Zhao Yen’s choice of words. He examined the red moon painted in rouge upon the fan’s surface and said, “Does Your Highness truly think that what this prince seeks is merely power and position?”

Zhao Yen was startled. Boundless power and status were not enough?

Then what else could it be—rebellion and usurpation?

As if realizing what he had let slip, Wenren Lin paused slightly. He had never been a man of such loosened will. Had he, of late, been indulging the little princess too much?

Wenren Lin slowly closed his fan, the smile in his dark eyes fading somewhat: “Your Highness need not waste effort trying to pry words from me. This prince is not taken in by such things.”

Seeing that neither soft nor hard words moved him, Zhao Yen opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“No matter what I say, Prince Su will not be satisfied. Last night I scarcely slept half the night, and in this great heat I came down the mountain to deliver a fan, thinking I could gladden Prince Su for a moment, only to be chided without cause.”

Zhao Yen frowned, took the veiled hat from the table and pulled it heavily onto her head. “I am going back.”

Wenren Lin glanced at the glaring white sunlight outside and said: “Stand still.”

Zhao Yen ignored him, and the next moment her arm was seized.

“The noon sun is scorching. Do you not want your life?”

Wenren Lin slowly lowered his eyes, pulling her back before him. “Only you may play small tricks, yet this prince may not expose them? Why are Your Highness’s teeth so sharp and unreasonable?”

As he spoke, he pointed with deliberate meaning at his own shoulder with the fan, the pair of warm jade fan pendants colliding with a crisp sound.

Zhao Yen suddenly recalled, during the entanglement at Hegui Pavilion, how she had bitten down on his shoulder unable to endure, leaving behind those two marks of teeth. Her cheeks grew hot.

“Was it not because Prince Su found my temperament unlike that of my elder brother, that he grew interested and spared my life at the start?”

It was no wisdom to lie before one such as Wenren Lin, so Zhao Yen did not conceal it. She turned her face aside and said, “In any case, this is my nature. If others harm me again and again, I must bite back.”

Wiping away the lip rouge, the small tear in the skin of her lower lip became all the more conspicuous.

Wenren Lin recalled with relish the scene last night beneath the waters of the hot spring pool, the little princess’s black hair floating like clouds, lips and tongue forced open, pounding his shoulder with her fists in suffocated resistance.

The shadows in his heart dissipated. Wenren Lin bent down, pressed her lips with his fan, and asked slowly, “Then why did you not bite back last night?”

“……”

Zhao Yen’s teeth indeed itched, yet not so much as to leap into his trap at one go. She answered calmly, “If I bit back, how would I know Prince Su would not make things hard for me afterward?”

Wenren Lin showed a faint, surprised expression. “The little princess has grown somewhat cleverer.”

“It is thanks to the Grand Preceptor’s teaching.”

Zhao Yen softly countered, “To live up to such expectations, I must sharpen my teeth still more…”

…to bite down upon his throat would be best.

Wenren Lin inclined his head with a quiet “Mm,” smiling as though he had seen through her thoughts. “This prince will be sure to wash clean, and stretch out the neck to receive slaughter.”

Zhao Yen was dumbfounded, looking at him now with more suspicion and astonishment.

This time Wenren Lin was truly in high spirits, pleasure hanging from his brows and eyes. He gave an order toward the doorway: “Have the kitchens prepare some food, to give Her Highness something to grind her teeth on.”

The midday meal was, as usual, light in fare, only that at Zhao Yen’s side there was an added bowl of sweet, heat-relieving sour plum soup.

At room temperature, not chilled.

After the meal, when the sun leaned slightly westward, Wenren Lin personally escorted Zhao Yen back to Yuquan Palace.

The carriage passed beneath avenues of green shade and cicada cries; the pale sunlight gradually turned into a rich crimson-golden glow, piercing through the mountain trees and casting down layers of gauzy light.

Seeing Wenren Lin resting his elbow against his brow in repose, Zhao Yen could not help but ask: “Does Prince Su dislike meat, fish, and spicy food?”

When Wenren Lin slowly lifted his lashes, she propped her chin and said matter-of-factly, “This is not an attempt to pry. I merely wish to know more of Prince Su, so that I may commit fewer mistakes in the future, lest I not even know how I died.”

Wenren Lin avoided answering, his fingers tapping the folded fan on his knee. “As long as Your Highness obediently listens, naturally you will not die.”

The carriage stopped at the right moment—they had arrived at Yuquan Palace.

Zhao Yen reached toward the table for the veiled hat, yet Wenren Lin was one step ahead.

He gently set the veiled hat upon Zhao Yen’s head, leaning slightly and inclining his head, his long fingers threading and knotting the ribbons with utmost elegance.

Zhao Yen was forced to lift her chin a little, looking at Wenren Lin’s calm and handsome face so close at hand.

“The words I warned Your Highness of in the other residence—do you remember them?” he asked.

The cool bones of his fingers brushed now and again against her chin. Zhao Yen swallowed and answered softly: “I remember.”

“Mm. If Your Highness is obedient, then this prince is willing to coax you.”

Wenren Lin raised his hand to adjust the angle of the veiled hat, then carefully smoothed the hanging gauze.

Through that layer of gauze his face was blurred and indistinct, only his low voice came clear: “Otherwise, even if Your Highness were to weep and beg, this prince would absolutely not rescue you.”

Supported by Liuying’s hand, Zhao Yen alighted from the carriage and returned to Guanyun Hall. She sat within the evening glow streaming through the window for a long time before slowly regaining her senses.

When she opened her eyes again, clarity shone within them. She lifted her brush, moistened it with ink, and silently wrote down the information from the register and the land deeds.

At the hour of Xu (7 PM – 9 PM), the resplendent lamps of Yuquan Palace sparkled among the mountains like an immortal realm.

In Tingyu Pavilion, Liu Ji stared in astonishment at the freshly dried register before her and asked: “Where did this come from? It is even more detailed than the official records.”

Zhao Yen lightly fanned herself, paused, and said: “This you need not know. As for the purchasers on the land deeds, I have already sent Gu Xing to investigate. Only this register leaves me uneasy—quickly, help me take a look.”

“All the missing people are here?”

“Seven or eight out of ten. Time was short, I remembered only this much.”

Liu Ji carefully scanned the sheet, then furrowed her heroic brows. “The dates when these children and young girls went missing are rather strange.”

Speaking, she hopped on one leg to fetch a vermilion brush, then sat back at the table, circling several dates for Zhao Yen to see. “Whenever disappearances were frequent, it was always at the beginning or end of the lunar month. Yet at each mid-month, there was utter peace… does Your Highness not find that strange?”

The motion of Zhao Yen’s fan slowed as she pondered: “Unless mid-month is some special day, when they cannot commit crimes.”

Indeed—according to the information Gu Xing had gathered while staking out, it seemed that near every mid-month, Zhao Yuanyu would secretly slip out of the city, returning only after several days.

There must be a connection between these two matters.

“Could it be that even in abducting people, they follow the almanac, with mid-month being inauspicious for travel?”

Thinking of something, Liu Ji again hopped into the inner room. After a round of rummaging through boxes and chests, she came back out, bouncing, with a half-old, yellowed booklet in hand.

Zhao Yen rose and steadied her, curiously asking: “What book is that?”

“The Record of Great Harmony of Yin and Yang.”

Seeing Zhao Yen’s confusion, Liu Ji, for once uncharacteristically awkward, lifted her hand to the tip of her nose and gave a light cough. “It… speaks of the arts of the bedchamber.”

Zhao Yen froze, then slowly widened her eyes.

“When you came to Yuquan Palace, why would you bring such a book?”

“It was once slipped to me by the palace maids in charge… fine, I also had some interest in studying it myself.”

Liu Ji admitted frankly, rubbing the slightly reddened tips of her ears. “This book states that in mid-month, a man’s yang energy is at its strongest. If husband and wife wish to have a child, coupling during these days is most suitable…”

When she saw Zhao Yen leaning closer, Liu Ji hastily snapped the little yellow booklet shut.

“Your Highness is a young lady, it is not proper to look at these. If Zhao Yan were to find out, he would certainly leap out to scold me harshly.”

No sooner had the words fallen than both she and Zhao Yen stilled.

If Zhao Yan could truly appear before them alive to scold, would that not be a fine thing?

Seeing Liu Ji’s face cloud with regret, Zhao Yen could not help but laugh. “You too are a woman, why then do you read it?”

“I…”

Liu Ji avoided her gaze, muttering, “I do not quite count.”

This playful jest unexpectedly cleared Zhao Yen’s thoughts. Returning to the matter at hand, she said: “So your meaning is, with the yang energy strongest at mid-month, those abducted young girls were taken away to couple and give birth, thus at mid-month there were no further crimes?”

No—it did not make sense.

A girl not yet of age had not fully matured, unsuitable for childbearing. If they were to seize, it should be adult women. And how then to explain those boys under four years old?

Unless the purpose was not for childbirth, but rather…

“To harvest yin and replenish yang.”

Liu Ji promptly picked up the thread. “This book says that the breath of a virgin is purest, most fitting for cultivation through harvesting. In this way it explains why small children also vanished: Great Xuan reveres Daoism, which proclaims that man possesses the qi of the five viscera, with the heart yang the most vigorous. The heart-blood of a boy is reputed to be pure yang, said to have the effect of reversing yin into yang…”

With but a few words, a chilling conjecture was woven.

At last Zhao Yen understood why Wenren Lin forbade her to intervene, why though the Prince Su’s manor had uncovered many clues in the disappearance cases, no one had yet been seized and the case concluded—

Because this case touched upon the Daoist teachings of the Shen Guang Sect, and at its pinnacle stood the present Son of Heaven. If the world were to know that under the guise of seeking immortality and the Way, lives were wantonly taken and children slaughtered, to lay bare the truth would be no less than striking the Emperor’s face.

Perhaps Wenren Lin was weighing matters. Or perhaps he harbored other designs.

But Zhao Yen could wait no longer. If Zhao Yuanyu truly was the culprit behind the scenes, with the Emperor bent on covering it up, and Prince Su’s intentions unfathomable… then who in all of Great Xuan could restrain the Prince of Yong’s manor?

On a blazing summer night, her very garments turned chill.

Zhao Yen set down her paper fan and asked gravely: “Liu Ji, on which days this month is the yang energy at its peak?”

Liu Ji counted on her fingers and said: “The eleventh through the thirteenth, those three days.”

There were fewer than five days left. Zhao Yen’s heart sank.

Seeing through her thoughts, Liu Ji grew solemn for a while before speaking: “At that time Zhao Yan had finally reached the step of being able to act as regent, and still he lost his life, though he had under him a few capable men. Now Your Highness has only the two hundred Eastern Palace Guards brought by Gu Xing, and one hundred Imperial Guards assigned ostensibly for protection but in truth for surveillance…”

Zhao Yen understood Liu Ji’s meaning: she had too few people she could command. If she were to report to the Emperor, he would likely only delay again and again, intent on covering matters up.

“To move against Jinyun Manor, it may not be necessary for me to come forth in person.”

Zhao Yen lifted her lashes, glowing with warm candlelight, and said softly, “In the court there is someone who more than us wishes to rescue those children.”

Liu Ji started, then came to herself: “Your Highness means… Vice Minister of War, Cen Meng?”

——

His younger sister Cen Yu had already been missing for twenty days.

Cen Meng’s eyes were bloodshot, his beard unkempt, wandering through streets and alleys. Having asked too many along the way, his throat was already hoarse, unable to speak, and he could only hold his sister’s portrait, gesturing in desperate inquiry.

Even his colleagues said: a fourteen-year-old girl, everyone could guess where she had been sold to; even if found, she would not be the same person, better to accept fate.

In his fury, Cen Meng threw aside past ties and slammed his fist mercilessly into the man’s face.

She was his own sister!

Their parents had died early, leaving only the infant sister and him to depend on each other. Mouthful by mouthful, porridge and water, he had carefully raised her. Through wind and rain, they had leaned upon each other for warmth. Anyone else might resign to fate—but he, as her elder brother, could not!

For striking a colleague, Cen Meng was punished with half a month’s suspension. He took the “long holiday” to roam day and night in search of his sister’s whereabouts, enduring hardship in wind and dew. Yet after so many days, horses dropped dead, he grew gaunt and dark, and even the boats purchasing “Yangzhou thin horses” [euphemism for girls sold into prostitution] he searched and questioned. For this he nearly lost his life, yet still he found not the slightest trace of his sister.

If only he had taught her a few moves of martial defense! Cen Meng’s eyes were full of regret and pain.

His sister yearned for the chivalrous world of rivers and lakes, always clamoring to learn martial skills. But he despised that she lacked the demeanor of a proper lady, forbade her from playing with sticks and staves. In anger she had stormed out of the house…

Had he taught her how to defend herself, or not quarreled with her that day, none of this would have happened.

After several sleepless days and nights, Cen Meng toppled headlong from his horse.

When he awoke again, he found himself lying in a posthouse, a letter pressed beneath a paperweight upon the table, along with a map marked with the location of Jinyun Manor.

Reading the contents of the letter, Cen Meng was both shocked and doubtful.

He had believed all along that his sister had been abducted, so his search was confined to brothels and the brokers who purchased concubines and servant girls. Never had he imagined there were those who, for such absurd reasons as “harvesting yin to replenish yang,” would abduct so many children and young girls.

Cen Meng had also suspected the identity of the one who sent the letter. But his sister had been missing too long, and he could not afford hesitation. This thread of hope might well be the whole of her survival!

Thinking thus, Cen Meng at once informed others who likewise suffered misfortune—Censor He and the Ministry of Justice officer Hu—together they acted first and reported later, mobilizing near a hundred clerks and guards, surging toward that ghostly, sinister Jinyun Manor.

But when they rushed through the night up the mountain, all they saw were fires blazing everywhere within the manor.

Censor He could not withstand the blow of hope dashed to pieces, nearly fainting, and those gathered fell into chaos.

“There are cries.”

Cen Meng raised his hand to quiet them, then his blood-red eyes lit up. He leapt from his horse. “There are children crying inside! Quickly, save them!”

Thick smoke billowed into the sky, like shadows of ghosts circling upon the mountainside in the distance.

Zhao Yen, while donning her robe, stepped out from Guanyun Hall, frowning: “What is going on?”

Gu Xing, panting heavily, came to report: “Vice Minister of War and the others went up the mountain to search for people. By the time they arrived, Jinyun Manor was already on fire.”

Zhao Yen sneered: “They mean to burn the entire manor with the people still inside, destroy corpses and erase all traces.”

Water was scarce in the mountains; once the wind rose, the fire would inevitably spread across the whole range. With the few men Cen Meng had brought, there was no way to quench it!

Was she to stand by and watch Zhao Yuanyu slip away while the evidence was reduced to ashes?

Zhao Yen stood at the gates of Yuquan Palace, robes of apricot-white fluttering in the cool summer night wind, like an immortal descended.

Her eyes reflected the crimson blaze upon the dark mountains in the distance; her gaze was calm and steady. She drew in a deep breath and commanded: “Prepare the horses. Bring everyone we can use and head for Jinyun Manor!”

——

Prince’s manor, western mountain retreat.

Wenren Lin stood in his study, hands clasped behind his back as he practiced calligraphy. On the papered window faintly shone the glaring firelight from the mountainside afar.

Cai Tian came quickly, reporting in a deep voice: “Jinyun Manor is aflame—it seems they mean to flee.”

Wenren Lin’s brush swept with dragon-serpent strokes, his expression unruffled: “Was Cen Meng not going to save people?”

“But the evidence…”

“If it burns, let it burn. Zhao Yuanyu, this piece, is still of use to this prince.”

“Yes.”

Remembering something, Cai Tian lowered his voice: “The Crown Prince also hastened there.”

The folding fan fell to the floor.

Wenren Lin’s brush halted. The fine jade brush snapped in two between his fingers.