That bastard Wenren Lin, he actually deceived her!

Zhao Yen drew in a deep breath to press down her emotions, and first asked Liu Baiwei: “Are you all right? Are you injured anywhere?”

Wenren Lin had originally been intent on watching that trace of dampness at the corner of Zhao Yen’s eye; at her words, he let out a cold, light laugh.

Facing Zhao Yen’s anxious and concerned expression, Liu Baiwei lowered his head, and of his own accord softened his voice: “It is nothing serious, only two fingers are injured.”

Zhao Yen’s gaze dropped; sure enough, she saw on Liu Baiwei’s right hand joints several places bruised and broken, looking rather severe.

Was he subjected to torture?

Zhao Yen could not help but glance sideways; Wenren Lin sat upon a purple sandalwood palace chair, his arm resting on the armrest, knocking lightly with bent fingers, his eyes cold.

Liu Baiwei was skilled in calligraphy and painting; if because of this right hand he were to leave behind some lingering affliction, Zhao Yen could hardly shirk responsibility.

Although her heart was filled with emotions, she could only first deal with the situation before her, and asked: “How did you injure it?”

“I was schemed against.” Liu Baiwei ground his teeth in hatred.

That day at Yuquan Palace, upon learning of the vile deeds Wenren Lin had done to the little Highness, he truly found it difficult to accept, and gloomily cast chess pieces all night.

Fortunately, at present he was still bearing the identity of “Concubine Liu Ji.” Henceforth, even if it meant laying a mat outside the sleeping hall of the Highness and standing guard day and night, though it was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, perhaps he could still protect the Highness within the tiger’s maw of Prince Su.

Thinking thus, Liu Baiwei’s heart felt a little better. Just as he was about to go out to seek Zhao Yen, he was suddenly struck unconscious from behind by a hand blade.

When he awoke, he was already in a strange dungeon.

A rough-faced man who called himself “Zhang Cang” threw him a set of men’s scholar robes, telling him that “Concubine Liu Ji” had already fallen to her death from a cliff, and ordering him to go and collect the body in the name of Liu Ji’s elder brother.

Only then did Liu Baiwei realize that in the few hours of his unconsciousness, his identity as “Concubine Liu Ji” had been erased, and he had been forcibly restored to his male form! From now on, not to mention guarding the Highness at her side day and night, even to see her once within the palace would be as difficult as ascending to heaven…

Sinister, truly sinister!

In his fury Liu Baiwei swung his fist against the stone door; the door was unharmed, but his hand was nearly ruined. His face, flushed red with anger, instantly turned deathly pale from pain.

Hearing that Liu Baiwei’s hand had been injured in such a way, Zhao Yen at last felt fully relieved, and stepped forward, saying: “Go back first and apply medicine. You must by no means act rashly or recklessly.”

Liu Baiwei suddenly raised his head, seemingly in disbelief.

He looked at the instigator seated in the chair, arm draped, and then as if understanding something, his expression sank, and he said: “I ask that Your Highness come away with me.”

Zhao Yen was astonished; without turning her head she already knew what expression Wenren Lin was wearing.

“Do not fear. Though I am but a mere scholar, I also understand the principle of ‘if the lord is humiliated, the minister dies.’”

Liu Baiwei took a step forward, stern and resolute: “At most, it is but two corpses fallen, and blood flowing five steps.”

If they did not leave now, there truly would be blood flowing five steps.

“Liu Baiwei!”

Zhao Yen’s expression grew solemn. “The lamp of the Hall of Illumination, you must keep it burning for me.”

Her voice was light yet urgent. Liu Baiwei’s expression grew complicated; his fist clenched for a long while, before at last he lowered his voice and said: “Your Highness, protect yourself well. I will think of another way.”

Liu Baiwei was led away. Zhao Yen knew that for now, his little life had been preserved.

Cai Tian silently closed the doors of the book hall. Within the vast main chamber, only the faint crackle of the burning candle wick could be heard.

Zhao Yen slowly turned around. The purple sandalwood palace chair was already without Wenren Lin’s figure; that tall, cold and stern silhouette turned past the long landscape screen and vanished behind the beaded curtain of the inner chamber.

A man of Wenren Lin’s station, when truly enraged, would not be terrifying like a storm of wind and rain; on the contrary, he was gentle, carrying an elegant smile, and with the flick of a finger could turn all to ashes.

The calmer he was, the more Zhao Yen’s emotions within her heart magnified endlessly, striking out hollow echoes.

After some thought, she pressed her lips together and followed.

The matter of today—she must make it clear.

Lifting the beaded curtain, inside was a spacious tea room for rest, with shelves of precious antiques stretching inward. Along the wall was placed a long couch with table and chairs; Wenren Lin sat upon a chair, reaching for the jade wine vessel warming upon a small brazier.

From beginning to end, he did not once raise his head to look at her.

There were no extra chairs in the inner chamber, so Zhao Yen seated herself upon the long couch. Clearing her throat, she said: “In the heat of midsummer, why does Prince Su still drink hot wine?”

Wenren Lin gave no reply. At her ear was only the faint trickling sound of wine being poured.

“Pour me a cup as well.”

The corners of Zhao Yen’s eyes still held traces of redness and dampness. Pressing her lips together, she said, “I broke into a sweat from fright, and feel chilled.”

As she spoke, her trailing note indeed carried a slight tremor.

Although Zhao Yen knew Wenren Lin was always calculating and deep, and this was not the first time she had been frightened by him, yet this time, beyond her daze, there faintly arose a trace of grievance—even she herself was not aware of it.

Very strange—she had been strong-willed since childhood, never a pampered person. Yet of late, before Wenren Lin, the times she felt aggrieved grew more and more numerous, as though he always had the ability to shatter all her disguises, exposing the frailty within.

This was no good omen.

Wenren Lin finally lifted his eyes slightly. Whether it was due to the lamplight or not, Zhao Yen felt his eyes were different from usual, as if they held a few degrees more… of familiar demonic allure.

He held a jade wine cup in one hand, yet did not pour one for her. His gaze followed the redness at the corner of Zhao Yen’s eye downward, landing upon the fingers clasped together within her sleeve.

“This prince is curious—when will that short blade within the Princess’s sleeve come out of its sheath?” he said.

Zhao Yen heard the faint mockery in his tone, and could not help but be startled, subconsciously saying: “The Grand Preceptor’s skill is outstanding. Having lost once, I would by no means again strike an egg against a stone.”

Wenren Lin understood, and said evenly: “If not to assassinate this prince, then it must be to hold it to the Princess’s own neck, to force this prince to release someone?”

The fleeting astonishment in Zhao Yen’s beautiful eyes did not escape Wenren Lin’s notice.

A man such as he had long cultivated the ability to discern the thoughts of others. Though he knew this, within his chest still surged an unfamiliar heaviness, blood and breath roiling.

The proud young maiden whom even he was unwilling to strike harshly actually thought to gamble with her own life, to exchange for another’s path of survival?

That surname Liu—was he even worthy?

“The Princess, with a body worth a thousand gold, would go so far for him?”

Wenren Lin was so angered he laughed. He lightly set down the half-untouched wine cup upon the table. “Ordinarily, when the Princess sees this prince, she is like a rabbit facing a hungry wolf, unwilling even to give a genuine smile. Yet with others, she is willing to bare her heart.”

As he spoke, his tone grew ever more gentle: “In the world, all are pure and good, only this prince is of great treachery and great evil. To consort with a man such as this prince, is a stain the Princess can never face for a lifetime. Does the Princess regret, that at the Flower-Banquet that day, the one she encountered was not a ‘shameless wretch’ such as this prince, but instead a true gentleman like Zhou Wanlan, who treads frost and snow, or perhaps that Liu fellow, such a singular youth of both feminine and masculine mien—perhaps then, she would have been happy…”

Wenren Lin’s deep voice abruptly halted.

His gaze fixed, watching that crystalline teardrop fall without warning, soaking the edge of Zhao Yen’s tightly clenched sleeve.

Zhao Yen did not wish to cry either.

Since she could remember, she had only wept once—that night, when she learned the truth of Zhao Yan’s death, pressed against Wenren Lin’s chest. Just now, upon hearing the “news” of Liu Ji’s death, though her eyes had reddened with urgency, no tears had fallen; yet after merely a few words from Wenren Lin, she could no longer hold them back.

She felt utterly ashamed. Her vision blurred, and she could not make out Wenren Lin’s expression at this moment.

For a long time, he did not speak.

“If Prince Su had been willing to consult me in this matter, and not deceived others with Liu Baiwei’s ‘death,’ how would I have been kept in the dark and forced to resort to such a desperate measure!”