Inside the box, there seemed to be a dark red pellet. Before Zhao Yen had time to take a closer look, the little red-lacquered wooden box was pressed down from behind.

She was startled, her fingertips curling as her gaze followed along the arm behind her. She saw Wenren Lin, body still damp with water vapor, leaning down from behind to enclose her.

His snow-colored robe hung loosely, his features deep and stern, his brows and eyes carrying the moist sheen left by water, holding a different kind of lingering softness. Half-dry ink-black hair spread loose, and with the posture of his lean, two strands slipped down from his shoulder, coolly brushing across Zhao Yen’s cheek and the hollow of her neck.

She instinctively touched the damp itch at the side of her face, while Wenren Lin had already closed his palm around the wooden box and withdrawn it.

He did not straighten and leave, but remained in his leaning posture, trapping Zhao Yen beneath him, carrying a faint sense of control both near and distant, his lowered eyes seeming to ponder how to deal with the current situation.

This book pavilion had never allowed outsiders to intrude. By rights, he should not have let such an accident occur, and one who glimpsed his secret must not be permitted to leave alive.

Wenren Lin slightly tilted his head, slanting a glance at Zhao Yen.

The soft undergarment that fit him closely was loose and oversized on the young girl before him. The hem draped down over her knees, and the slanting collar nearly slid from her slender shoulders, pressing snow into peaks, adding yet another degree of fragile pitifulness unseen in daily times.

She looked at Wenren Lin’s side-profile that was almost pressed against her face, her lotus-like features carrying a trace of daze, as though she too realized the subtlety of the atmosphere.

The surging depth of Wenren Lin’s gaze gradually returned to calm. That hand which could so easily claim a life lifted, yet only rested lightly at her chest, drawing together the collar that was about to slip.

“What medicine is inside there?” Zhao Yen asked casually.

Wenren Lin placed the little wooden box back into the drawer at random, leisurely saying: “After several months, Your Highness’s strength has increased greatly, yet still has the energy to slip down from the bed and run about.”

What was this supposed to mean!

Zhao Yen’s train of thought was led astray, and she pressed her lips together, saying: “I only wanted to find some medicine to apply.”

“Injured?” Wenren Lin was a little surprised.

He had already been as careful as possible. Before leaving he had even looked over once more; aside from some redness he had seen no other wound.

“My knees hurt, they’re red.” Zhao Yen rubbed at her knee.

Speaking of this made her vexed. At that time she had been stripped bare, while Wenren Lin was neat and fully clothed, the smooth jade hook belt and fine fabric rubbing against her again and again, stirring indescribable sensations. The harshest punishment could be no more tormenting than this.

Wenren Lin’s gaze dropped downward, and sure enough he saw her just-healed delicate knees rubbed into a patch of rouge color. He lifted her overly long sleeve, and the outside of her elbow was also pressed red. Fortunately there was no broken skin, yet against the surrounding gleaming white and fine skin, it was overly decadent and startling…

Wenren Lin’s eyes darkened like lacquer. His fingertip slowly pressed over the reddened knee before he rose and went to the outer room, returning with the ointment Zhao Yen needed.

He bent to lift Zhao Yen back onto the couch, then sat at the edge, turning her body slightly. Opening the small jar, he scooped some ointment with his fingertip and leaned over to apply it to her.

His fingertips were cool, bearing the thin calluses unique to one who practiced martial arts. The ointment was also cool, and the heat and ache in her knee immediately dissolved away.

Zhao Yen suddenly recalled, these past months Wenren Lin seemed to have been applying medicine for her with increasing frequency, his technique becoming ever more natural and skilled.

She did not know when this tacit understanding had begun between them. If it had been when she had first returned to the palace last year, not to mention letting Wenren Lin apply medicine, even if he touched her she would have been frightened into cold sweat.

Wenren Lin glanced at her lowered lashes, as if seeing through her thoughts at this moment, and drawled slowly: “Your Highness has become more delicate by the day—cannot kneel, cannot be struck, and must be served by this prince from top to bottom.”

Zhao Yen grew angry, retorting: “It is the bed in the Prince Su Manor that is too hard.”

The long couch here was laid only with a summer bamboo mat and a single thin quilt, hard as an army cot. She wondered how Wenren Lin could even sleep upon it.

Wenren Lin gave a quiet laugh at her words, wiping his fingers clean with a damp cloth. “Your Highness does not know—hard has its advantages. If one sleeps too soundly, it is easy not to wake again.”

Zhao Yen keenly caught some meaning, and was just about to press further, when she saw Wenren Lin pour out a snow-white pill and press it between her lips, blocking the words with which she had been about to dig to the root.

The fingertip carrying a faint medicinal taste brushed across her lips. Zhao Yen froze slightly, pursing that fingertip-sized white pill into her tongue, at once furrowing her brows.

That little pellet, crystalline as though frosted with sugar, was in fact bitter.

“Do not spit it out.” Wenren Lin pressed against her lips.

“What… what is this thing?” Zhao Yen asked with difficulty, her brows knotted tight.

“Something to spare Your Highness from suffering.”

Seeing Zhao Yen’s doubt, Wenren Lin brought over tea water already prepared, speaking more plainly: “A contraceptive pill. Improved personally by this prince. Your Highness may rest assured.”

Zhao Yen blinked once, blinked again. Coming back to herself, a thin flush crept across the tips of her ears.

“You… didn’t… did not release…” She stumbled, unable to find the words.

Wenren Lin recalled that moment, the depth of his gaze darkening slightly.

“On such a matter, it would be best if Your Highness does not place too much faith in this prince’s self-control.”

Zhao Yen had never thought of this angle; no one had ever taught her such things.

Now she no longer cared about the bitterness. She took the tea from Wenren Lin’s fingers and drained it in one gulp, tilting her head to swallow, dazedly murmuring: “Then at the flower-adornment banquet last time…”

“That time it was external medicine. Its efficacy is not as good as this.”

Wenren Lin lifted a finger, wiping away the trace of moisture on her lips. The little princess was still so young; that sort of coarse thing, used too often, would harm the body. How could it be fitting for one of such golden branches and jade leaves?

Zhao Yen was unable to speak. This scene… why did it resemble the boudoir whispers shared between husband and wife?

Wenren Lin looked at her trembling lashes, rubbing the moisture upon his fingertip, his gaze gradually calming.

The night was still long. For an instant, he wished to rise and fetch soft bedding, laying the couch to be gentler and cleaner, so as not to bruise the delicate body of the little princess again.

In a haze, he understood: all the roundabout efforts he had expended in doing those sordid things were only so that he might, as now, quietly and enduringly monopolize this splendor.

Yet the thought had scarcely surfaced before he forcibly pressed it down.

What was he doing?

Wenren Lin sneered at himself inwardly. That he should be shaken to such a degree, even harboring the delusion of lying beside her through the night.

As he brooded, Zhao Yen, her eyelids drooping with drowsiness, spoke first: “I should return to the Eastern Palace. Liuying and the others are still waiting in the carriage.”

Wenren Lin looked at her, neither agreeing nor refusing.

Zhao Yen rubbed her eyes and curled back onto the couch, fumbling in the bedding to pull on her underpants. Then she stretched out a pale hand to grasp the breastband scattered on the couch’s edge.

She could not fasten it tightly on her own, and was struggling awkwardly when Wenren Lin finally leaned forward, helping her wrap it layer upon layer—his strength neither too heavy nor too light, far more practiced than at the flower-adornment banquet.

Zhao Yen, breathing in the faint frost-and-snow scent on his body, let go of her hands.

He tapped her arm with a finger, and Zhao Yen lifted her arms into the sleeves. He rapped her slender leg, and Zhao Yen raised it into the boot.

Wenren Lin set a jade hairpin into her hair. From the mirror he glimpsed her restored appearance of a dazzling young noble, and his movements slowed.

She had only just dressed neatly, and already he longed to strip away these obstructive garments that did not belong to her.

Zhao Yen gave a small yawn. From the mirror she observed Wenren Lin’s careless handsome face. After hesitating over her words several times, at last she softly ventured: “Has the Grand Preceptor calmed his anger?”

Wenren Lin adjusted the angle of the jade hairpin, lowering his gaze to look at her.

Zhao Yen then said: “Later, send Liu Baiwei back to the Mingde Hall. I will order people to keep strict watch and discipline him, and never again allow trouble for the Prince Su Manor.”

Wenren Lin saw through that little calculation of hers completely. His hand adjusting the hairpin slid downward, twining slowly around a lock of hair at her temple.

“Who said this prince was going to let him go?”

“What difference does it make? He can no longer enter or leave the Eastern Palace now, so he will not obstruct the Grand Preceptor’s eyes again.”

From the mirror, Zhao Yen looked back at him. Her mood calmed, and her thoughts became much clearer. “There are not many people I can use at my side, and the Grand Preceptor cannot protect me at every moment. Now that Liu Baiwei is gone, I can hardly move a step. I have not even sought compensation from the Grand Preceptor yet.”

“Have you not sought compensation?”

Then what was all of this last night for?

Wenren Lin’s gaze deepened, and after a moment of thought he nodded slightly. “Compensation must be given.”

Zhao Yen knew when to stop; she drew a deep breath as she rose, turning to face Wenren Lin.

“In the future, should there be any plans involving the Eastern Palace, at least inform me once.”

She lifted her head, bright eyes carrying light. “I am not so easily frightened.”

Wenren Lin reached out to pinch her soft, faintly flushed earlobe, his tone as ever low and gentle: “Still leaving, or not?”

“Leaving.”

Zhao Yen nodded, walking a few steps toward the outer room, then turned back to look.

The pearl curtain swayed; Wenren Lin’s figure was indistinct and hard to discern.

After a moment, he finally donned his robe and lifted the curtain, personally escorting Zhao Yen out of the manor to her carriage.

Zhao Yen said nothing, but the corners of her lips, tightened all night, at last curved lightly upward at this moment.

…

Liuying, waiting anxiously in the carriage, finally relaxed slightly when he saw Zhao Yen return under Prince Su’s escort.

That Her Highness delayed so long before returning to the Eastern Palace, even lingering half the night in Prince Su Manor, would be difficult to explain to the Empress Dowager. Yet Liuying asked nothing, only helping Zhao Yen into the carriage and considerately offering cooling tea to moisten her throat.

Seeing Prince Su follow into the carriage, he understood that His Highness intended to personally escort her back to the Eastern Palace. Liuying got down of his own accord, walking alongside and leaving the space inside to them.

The carriage started forward, the solemn lights of Prince Su Manor gradually receding into the distance.

Zhao Yen was truly exhausted. Propping her chin, she dozed, and before long sank into sleep.

When she awoke, what filled her sight first was a dark robe-front.

She did not know how she had come to be leaning in Wenren Lin’s embrace, her head resting against his shoulder, while he supported his temple with one hand and loosely circled her waist with the other.

Seeing him open his eyes as well, Zhao Yen quickly sat upright, asking drowsily: “We have arrived?”

Wenren Lin nodded, his gaze falling on the faint red mark pressed into her cheek, a very light smile in his eyes.

“Many thanks to Prince Su.”

Zhao Yen rubbed at her cheek. To say more would have been overly deliberate, overly ambiguous, so she unconsciously bit at her lip and rose.

Entering through the Eastern Palace’s side gate, Zhao Yen turned back beneath the tall doors. Wenren Lin’s carriage still stood at a distance. The curtain was lowered, but Zhao Yen could feel that faint, indistinct gaze had never left her.

Walking further inside, passing through the long corridor, the Eastern Palace’s side gate was barred shut, security once again tightened. Only then did the faint sound of departing hoofbeats arise outside.

Zhao Yen, gathering her breath in one go, returned to her bedchamber and sat upon the couch.

After a long time, she gently lifted her hand, sniffing at the barely perceptible trace of cool, faint fragrance upon her fingertips, like the frost and snow of a bitter winter.

It was what she had accidentally touched when she opened Wenren Lin’s low cabinet and that red-lacquered medicine box. Fearing she had brushed against some secret of Wenren Lin’s, though she suspected, she endured without showing it. Only after returning to the Eastern Palace did she dare raise her hand and lightly sniff, to confirm.

That dark red pill—was it a dan medicine?

Yet Wenren Lin had always scorned heaven, earth, ghosts, and gods. He did not seem like one to seek immortality or cultivate the Way. Why, then, would he have a dan medicine in his room?

And placed in so important a spot in the study…

Zhao Yen could not be certain. After some thought, she summoned Liuying: “Go and invite Imperial Physician Zhang. I have an urgent matter to ask him.”

Zhang Xu soon arrived, his eyes still carrying drowsiness. He bowed and said: “That scroll of writings, as well as the dan prescription, this humble minister is still analyzing. I beg Your Highness to grant some days of leniency.”

Zhao Yen waved her hand. “I called you for another matter.”

She once again sniffed at the faint frost-and-snow scent upon her fingertips, yet the fragrance was too weak. Even Zhang Xu could not possibly discern anything from it.

For now, the only thing she could confirm was that Wenren Lin’s pill was not poisonous.

Thinking of Wenren Lin’s occasionally abnormal body temperature, Zhao Yen’s doubts only grew heavier. She motioned Zhang Xu to withdraw.

Then something occurred to her, and she lifted her head, calling out: “Wait.”

Zhang Xu, holding his medicine chest, halted and turned back to await instruction.

Zhao Yen pressed her lips together before speaking softly: “Does Imperial Physician Zhang have any contraceptive decoction?”

Wenren Lin had reminded her, and she now felt some lingering fear. Better to take an additional dose to be safe.

Contraceptive… decoction? That should be the kind, yes. She remembered when she was a child, hearing her nursemaids talk of the palace consorts.

Zhang Xu looked at Zhao Yen once, asking nothing further. He only reminded her: “The common contraceptive decoctions are of a cold nature. Frequent use harms the body. Your Highness should take them as little as possible.”

He saluted and withdrew. Before long, Liuying brought in a steaming bowl of bitter medicine, saying it was for fortifying the essence and nourishing the body.

Zhao Yen understood without words. She lifted the bowl and drank it down in one draught.

Whether it was from the medicine’s effect or not, in the latter half of the night Zhao Yen’s lower abdomen began to ache faintly and heavily.