“Your Highness, how is it that you returned first, without waiting for me.”

Liu Baiwei muttered softly, already circling past the screen and coming toward the inner chamber, “Your Highness, guess who I met today…”

Zhao Yen’s wrists were bound behind her, and this was certainly not a proper time for discussion. She could only quickly cry out to stop him: “Wait!”

“What is it?” Liu Ji froze in confusion, forcibly halting his steps.

Zhao Yen had only just uttered the word “I,” when her ankle was suddenly clasped by a large hand.

Within the dim bed curtains, Wenren Lin knelt upon the couch, propping himself up as he said, “The bruising has yet to disperse—why are you running about…”

His voice was pressed very low, almost a murmur at her ear, yet Zhao Yen still felt alarmed and flustered. She widened her eyes and glared at him, signaling him to keep silent.

The more tense she became, the more composed Wenren Lin appeared. In the depths of his gaze, there was even a faint, wicked smile spreading.

Sure enough, instead of retreating, he leaned closer, his tone warm: “Your Highness’s jade-like hips were also bruised—should they be examined along with the rest…”

Zhao Yen could not use her hands to cover his mouth, and she feared that if he continued with his reckless nonsense, all would be exposed. Simply turning her head and leaning forward, she sealed his lips with her own.

The bed curtains billowed. The unfinished whispers were blocked within the softness of lips.

Wenren Lin finally quieted. His lowered lashes cast a dense shadow as he leisurely ground the tip of his teeth, then opened his mouth to bite back upon that fragrance.

Zhao Yen felt pain and gave a muffled cry.

“What sound was that?”

Liu Baiwei, having heard the commotion, cast a shadow upon the hanging curtain as he limped two steps closer.

A suspicious rustling of cloth, followed by Zhao Yen’s unsteady breathing, came through the heavy curtains. She said in hurried, short words: “Nothing, just… just a cramp.”

Her voice was somewhat hoarse, tinged with anxious frustration.

Liu Baiwei asked doubtfully: “Truly? Should I call someone in to massage Your Highness?”

How could Zhao Yen dare?

Within the dimness of the tent, Wenren Lin’s expression grew blurred and entangled, his finger deliberately brushing against her lips. When he raised his eyes, his thick brows pressed low, and those beautiful eyes were especially dark and arresting.

Unconsciously, Zhao Yen pursed her numbed, aching lips, unwilling to make the effort to silence him once more.

“No need, I have already loosened my robes.”

Zhao Yen suspected what Liu Baiwei wished to discuss was related to her elder brother and his companions. To speak of such in Wenren Lin’s presence was perilous. She hurried to explain: “I am truly weary today. If there is any urgent matter, let us speak of it tomorrow.”

Liu Baiwei gave a somewhat surprised “Oh,” then hobbled on his agonizingly injured foot to set a small food box upon the table behind the screen.

“Behind Mingde Hall there is a shop selling biluo of unrivaled taste. I brought some back for Your Highness.”

Thinking of something, he then smiled and added: “Rest assured, they are crab-roe biluo, not the sweet kind. The food box is lined with cotton to keep them warm. Your Highness must eat them while hot—if they grow cold, they will be greasy.”

“Many thanks.”

Zhao Yen did not dare meet Wenren Lin’s gaze. Her eyes followed the shifting shadow of Liu Baiwei upon the curtain. Clearing her throat, she said, “Your leg is still injured. Hurry back and rest.”

Perhaps because she was driving him away too bluntly, Liu Baiwei snorted: “In the past, Your Highness always addressed me as ‘elder sister.’ But now it is nothing but ‘you’ this and ‘you’ that—how very distant.”

Now that Zhao Yen knew Liu Baiwei’s true identity as a man, she could no longer intimately call him “Elder Sister Liu Ji” as before. And with the dangerous Wenren Lin present within the tent, she also could not brazenly address him directly by his given name. She could only choose silence.

Liu Baiwei muttered in jest: “Since you cannot call me Elder Sister, addressing me as brother will do as well.”

He did not know Wenren Lin was within the bed curtains, and was on the verge of spilling out his true background completely.

Zhao Yen was startled, instinctively glancing toward Wenren Lin.

Wenren Lin reclined sideways on his elbow against the couch, his other hand casually resting behind Zhao Yen’s slender waist, gently kneading. His expression was calm, giving no hint of joy or anger.

Having received no reply for a long while, Liu Ji finally gave a light cough to cover his dejection, and said a “farewell.”

The palace doors closed once more. Within the narrow curtains, only Zhao Yen’s cautious breathing could be heard. She was unsure whether Wenren Lin had discerned Liu Baiwei’s true identity, or if, knowing it, what sort of reaction he might have…

Yet nothing could be read. Wenren Lin’s posture remained leisurely, his countenance as mild as if carved in perfection.

He lifted the sleeve beneath Zhao Yen’s weight, where faint wrinkles had formed, and with frost-pale fingers drew open the bed curtain, setting down with a soft clack the unfinished jar of ointment upon the low cabinet by the bed.

Leaving?

Zhao Yen hastily reminded him: “My hands have not yet been untied.”

Wenren Lin turned his head to glance sidelong, then suddenly smiled: “Your Highness is never lacking attendants at your side. Just summon a brother, or an elder brother, to undo it—why need this prince be troubled.”

Ah, so he was waiting for this!

Indeed, Zhao Yen could have others come in to untie her. Yet she had always been thin-skinned—how could she allow Liuying and the rest to see her in such a disheveled state?

She was the dignified Princess of Changfeng—such shame could not be borne!

Moreover, if Liu Baiwei’s identity truly provoked Wenren Lin’s displeasure, there would be no good outcome. Better to settle the matter here and now.

Seeing Wenren Lin truly rise to leave, Zhao Yen, in her anxiety, hooked her legs, crossing them around Wenren Lin’s firm and taut waist to bar his way—

The cool texture of the jade-hook ornaments pressed against the bare skin of Zhao Yen’s calves. None knew better than Zhao Yen herself how “fearsome” this waist was.

But she forcibly endured, refusing to shrink back.

Wenren Lin was surprised. He lowered his lids slightly, his gaze falling upon the pair of well-shaped calves entwined at his waist.

The curtain swayed gently, the chamber light dim and dusky, making those two calves glow pale as if lit by moonlight, exuding a soft radiance. Wenren Lin could not help but extend a hand, lightly patting the calves that only tightened more firmly around his waist.

Beneath his palm was smooth and delicate. Wenren Lin lingered there briefly, before softly saying: “Who taught Your Highness to be so willfully unreasonable, hmm?”

“Do not let anyone else untie them…”

“What is Your Highness saying?”

Feigning deafness, Wenren Lin pressed, and Zhao Yen could only raise her tone a fraction.

“I do not wish for anyone else to untie them.”

She repeated clearly, lifting her chin slightly: “I have said before—Prince Su will always be my first choice.”

Wenren Lin sat facing away, unmoving, as if not satisfied with these words. His tall figure cast a shadow that wholly enveloped Zhao Yen, half reclining beneath him.

Zhao Yen grew aggrieved—why was this man so difficult!

Her wrists bound behind her back, the half-reclining posture was uncomfortable. She vexedly clenched her numb fingertips, tightened her waist and abdomen, and, keeping her legs clasped around his waist, lifted herself forward to bite down upon Wenren Lin’s shoulder.

Through the fabric, the bite was no more than the light scratch of a cat’s paw.

Thus, Wenren Lin did not move in the slightest. After a long moment, he finally raised a hand to stroke the head biting at his shoulder, sneering: “And you are not afraid of filth.”

“Even if Prince Su holds anger in his heart, after bullying me for so long, he should have vented it by now. Otherwise, it would be far too petty.”

Zhao Yen released her teeth in resentment, bumping her forehead lightly against Wenren Lin’s back, muffled: “Because Prince Su always forbids me from investigating cases, I was left with no choice but to make use of others. And now what is this—binding but not unbinding, truly excessive.”

Wenren Lin nearly laughed from sheer exasperation.

“It seems Your Highness is fully recovered from illness, restored once more to your sharp tongue. I have yet to settle accounts with you, and you would already lay reproach upon me.”

“How would I dare? But having my hands bound for so long is truly uncomfortable—my fingertips are all numb.”

It was Wenren Lin himself who had tied the belt; how could he not know the strength he had used? Yet he did not expose her lie. One hand gripped the calves twined at his waist, the other seized Zhao Yen’s bound arm, and with a twist of force—

Zhao Yen had not even time to react before her entire body pivoted around Wenren Lin’s waist, turning half a circle from behind him to sit facing him, cross-legged upon his lap.