Medicinal herbs to dispel cold were steeped in the hot water, soaking her feet. The heat quickly climbed upward from the soles, and Zhao Yen could not help curling her toes.

She propped herself on the couch, quietly observing Wenren Lin’s expression.

Clearly, she was the one with abdominal pain, yet Wenren Lin’s face appeared colder than hers by several degrees. She keenly sensed that something was wrong, yet could not tell from where this sense of discord originated.

As she was absorbed in thought, Wenren Lin picked up a neatly folded piece of cotton cloth beside him and wiped his hands, then rose to his feet and, without the slightest hesitation, tore open the jade belt clasp at Zhao Yen’s waist.

With the faint sound of snapping, her clothing suddenly slackened. The heart she had just managed to steady tightened again.

“I have come into my monthly flow…” she hesitated, speaking softly.

Wenren Lin glanced at her, lifted his robe, and sat by her side. “This prince has no interest in such a disheveled appearance of Your Highness.”

Zhao Yen flushed with shame. She focused intently on the amber ripples in the wooden basin, when she suddenly felt Wenren Lin’s palm encircle her thin shoulders and gently pull.

Startled, Zhao Yen’s upper body tilted back uncontrollably, leaning against Wenren Lin’s chest.

Before she could recover her senses, a large hand warmed by the water slipped through the loosened ties of her clothing and pressed against her lower abdomen, tracing circles in a massage neither too heavy nor too light.

Her lower abdomen was chilled and painful. At the first touch of the massage, it was uncomfortable, as if a stagnant wound within were being directly pressed. She instinctively tried to push herself up, yet Wenren Lin subdued her with ease.

“So resistant?”

Wenren Lin’s palm did not cease kneading, attending to the acupoints for invigorating blood and dispelling stasis. “If Your Highness regrets it, it is not too late even now.”

“It hurts.” Zhao Yen bit her lip in protest. It was not as he thought.

Wenren Lin gave the faintest of hums, yet the pressure beneath his hand clearly lessened.

“At first it is somewhat uncomfortable—endure it. There are no women by my side, but when afflicted by cold, massaging this acupoint is especially effective. It stands to reason that for women’s stagnant blood it should be the same.”

Their postures were so close. His deep voice brushed against her ear. Zhao Yen could even feel the slight vibration of his chest as he spoke.

No longer stiff, she gradually relaxed, softly leaning into his embrace.

Wenren Lin’s expression remained leisurely, yet Zhao Yen still sharply perceived the subtle discord. “How does His Highness Su know the remedy for one afflicted with cold?”

Wenren Lin gave no answer.

This man seemed mild and detached, but in truth his heart was fathomless; his joy or anger never showed on his face. Matters he was unwilling to speak of, no one could glean a trace. Only after long acquaintance could Zhao Yen begin to discern faint emotions from those unfathomable eyes.

Before long, the pain in her lower abdomen gradually eased. A warmth rose and spread from the acupoints, dispelling the chill.

It was as if Zhao Yen had finally stepped out from an icy cavern of cold bones, wrapped in the gentle heat of a summer night. A faint sheen of sweat began to seep from her back.

Her delicate feet, still placed in the hot water, overlapped and pressed down lightly. The rippling light of the water scattered; the comfort magnified the doubt in her heart.

Unable to restrain herself, she tested softly: “Why does His Highness Su, at times… treat me so well?”

This counted as treating her well?

Wenren Lin could not help but laugh, recalling the look on the little princess’s pale face when he had entered earlier.

He truly did not know how the Empress had raised her daughter. Other girls could nestle in their parents’ arms, coquettishly crying of pain, yet she could only press her belly and endure alone…

Of course, that was not the sole reason.

He had long chosen his own ending. What he saw now was nothing more than a fragile butterfly that had strayed into the spiderweb he had woven with his own hands. Watching her transform and struggle before the net closed—was rather amusing.

He admired that beauty and stubbornness—this was prey that belonged to him alone.

Wenren Lin lowered his eyelids, withdrawing the hand that had been kneading, letting it rest along her slender waist, and said: “For what else could it be? Naturally, it is because the sight of Your Highness casting yourself into the net is both beautiful and amusing. For now, this prince happens to find it somewhat rare and precious.”

Zhao Yen turned her head from his embrace, lifting her eyes as if to discern the truth or falsehood of his words.

“Rare enough to bury me with you?”

She recalled that lingering yet heavy whisper Wenren Lin had spoken during their spar of lips and tongue last night at Su Prince’s Manor.

Wenren Lin started, then gave a low laugh, laughing until his chest shook.

In his eyes, the candlelight gleamed brilliantly. Lowering his head, he carefully regarded Zhao Yen’s dazzling and delicate face. He reached out and pinched her waist lightly. “What a pity that Your Highness is unwilling to remain bound in the net, always wanting to flutter your wings. In the future, if you grow tired, even should Your Highness wish to beg for this prince’s pity, you will not be able to obtain it.”

Wenren Lin seemed to still have private matters to attend to, and did not stay long.

Once Zhao Yen’s hands and feet were warm, he straightened her garments for her and rose to depart, leaving Zhao Yen alone, curling on the couch with her knees hugged to her chest, pondering over his last words full of profound meaning.

The following morning, as usual, she went to Chongwen Hall for lectures.

Zhou Ji was the same as ever, his eyes filled only with the vast mountains of books, his heart undistracted. Only when bowing at the end of the lesson did he suddenly say in a faint tone: “During the half month that Your Highness was resting at Yuquan Palace, this minister returned once to Huayang.”

Zhao Yen’s heart clenched. She forced herself to smile as if nothing had happened and said: “Had I known Lecturer Zhou was going to Huayang, I should have written a letter, asking Lord Zhou to deliver it to my younger sister.”

Now that she knew the truth of past events, to voice such concern for herself again in Zhao Yan’s tone—inevitably left her with bitterness and desolation.

Fortunately, Zhou Ji seemed not to notice the lightly clenched fingers hidden in her sleeve. He only said: “Princess Changfeng is quite well, Your Highness need not worry.”

Although, at a glance, he had recognized that the so-called “Princess Changfeng” in Huayang was false.

His mentor, Grand Minister Li, had once warned him: “Wanlan, I know your nature is pure, not tolerating filth. Yet in this world, to see through everything is not what it means to be wise. To know what can be spoken, and what cannot be spoken—may also be a great wisdom.”

Zhou Ji bore it firmly in mind. Thus, although he harbored doubts about the whereabouts of Princess Changfeng, he only alluded to it and went no further.

His expression was calm and composed, as he gathered his sleeves to take his leave. In the sunlight, his azure robe was like bamboo, without the least trace of shadow.

Zhao Yen knew that Zhou Ji was also investigating the cause of his junior fellow disciple Shen Jingming’s death, yet she hesitated, not daring to tell him the truth. After all, behind the Zhou and Li families stood the century-old foundation of the Luoyang clans. If they knew Shen Jingming had died assisting the Crown Prince in implementing new policies, the very first targets would be these aristocratic families. It would be hard to say whether estrangement from the Eastern Palace might not arise…

But Zhao Yen soon had no mood to think on it further, for in the next martial lesson, Wenren Lin did not come.

Not only that day, but for four or five consecutive martial lessons, it was Vice Preceptor Jin who substituted. He was an eccentric who explained military strategy as if speaking heavenly scriptures.

Zhao Yen listened until her head swam, and could not help recalling Wenren Lin reclining in the grand master’s chair, elegantly elucidating the abstruse strategies of alliance with simple clarity… and she found herself strangely reluctant, with faint yearning.

Pei Sa said that Prince Su had claimed illness these past few days, even declining court deliberations in the Taihe Hall—arrogant to the extreme.

Zhao Yen half-believed, half-doubted.

Could someone as formidable as Wenren Lin truly be unwell? Or was it merely a casual excuse?

Did he intend to cease serving as the Eastern Palace’s Grand Preceptor?

Zhao Yen’s heart was full of doubts. Returning to the Eastern Palace, she was still mulling it over.

Only then did she suddenly realize—Wenren Lin seemed to know all her secrets, yet she had never once truly seen through Wenren Lin’s mind. She had no idea what he thought, what he did.

As she pondered, Liuying came to report: “Your Highness, Imperial Physician Zhang has come to take the peace pulse.”

Zhao Yen glanced at the sky. It was not yet the appointed time for taking the pulse.

She knew at once that Zhang Xu must have found some clue regarding the poison she had ordered him to investigate, and quickly composed herself, saying: “Invite him in.”

Zhang Xu bowed in salute. Zhao Yen dismissed all attendants, leaving only Liuying by her side, then asked directly: “What were the results?”

Zhang Xu said: “The several pill prescriptions Your Highness provided all have the effect of restoring yang and assisting conception. This minister followed the prescriptions to refine two pills. Aside from omitting the guiding ingredient of a boy’s heart blood, the other medicines were all included. Afterwards I discovered that the refined pills carried a faint fragrance, seemingly of the same origin as the poisoned incense hidden within that book.”

“Poisonous?” Zhao Yen pondered.

“At first this minister also suspected so. Yet after repeated tests, I confirmed that the source of the fragrance is the gland of the Candle Snake, a specialty of the southern frontier. This thing is utmost yang and utmost heat—able to cure, yet also able to harm. The key lies in how it is compounded by the one who uses it.”

Zhang Xu placed on the table the pill prescription Zhao Yen had retrieved from the alchemy room of Jin Yun Villa, pointing to the strange drug circled in cinnabar ink. “But its fragrance is distinctive, not suppressible by other ingredients. Thus whether compounded into a secret medicine for restoring yang or into a poison, it will always leave the scent. Moreover, this thing is exceedingly rare. This minister exhausted all connections, and only managed to purchase enough from an old Taoist on the black market to refine two pills.”

This was something beyond price, yet Zhao Yuanyu had refined several dozen at once—how did he have such access?

Zhao Yen scrutinized the small black pill Zhang Xu handed her, and cautiously asked: “Does this pill contain poison?”

Zhang Xu said: “This minister has personally tested the medicine—it is without poison.”

“…”

Zhao Yen could not help but admire Zhang Xu’s courage. She ordered Liuying to bring a pouch of gold leaves to reward him for “testing poison with his own body.” Then, carefully receiving the sole remaining pill, she lifted it to her nose and lightly fanned it with her hand.

A faint cold fragrance lingered at the tip of her nose. Zhao Yen suddenly froze.

The scent was slightly familiar, as though she had encountered it before, here and there, similar yet not identical.

She recalled the small red-lacquered wooden box she had seen in Su Prince’s Manor. Her eyes darkened: was it that scent?

Not entirely certain, Zhao Yen gestured for Zhang Xu to withdraw first.

Wenren Lin had vanished without a trace for several days. Zhao Yen turned over in her mind those words he had spoken before disappearing: “In the future, if you grow tired, even should Your Highness wish to beg for this prince’s pity, you will not be able to obtain it.”

Could it be that he had grown tired? Impossible.

Zhao Yen gazed at the small black pill between her fingers, its faint cold fragrance spreading, her brows knitting. She placed the pill carefully into a small medicine vial and sealed it tight, then rose to her feet: “Prepare the carriage. I am going to Su Prince’s Manor.”

Su Prince’s Manor, the night was heavy.

Zhang Cang exhaled in relief, shaking the blood from his hands. “After taking the antidote, it is finally suppressed… nearly killed me along with it, scared me half to death.”

Cai Tian did not speak, only looked toward the brightly lit purification chamber.

At that moment, the main gates of the manor were knocked upon.

Cai Tian grew wary, instinctively pressing his hand to his sword-hilt and sticking close behind the door, signaling Zhang Cang to open it.

Zhang Cang cautiously opened the door a crack, then hurriedly hid his blood-stained hands behind his back, stunned: “Your Highness the Crown Prince?!”

Zhao Yen sat waiting in the library hall of Su Prince’s Manor, seated on a long couch. A thin quilt had been laid over the jade mat beneath, so it was not so hard.

Before long, the sound of water ceased in the adjoining room. After a door opened and closed, Wenren Lin emerged, a robe loosely draped over his shoulders, his body still exuding damp heat.

Seeing Zhao Yen unconsciously straighten at his arrival, he did not seem the least surprised. Taking a taper, he lit all the lamps in the hall, then seated himself in the chair opposite her, saying: “What does Your Highness seek of me this time?”

Zhao Yen thought she caught again that faint breath of frost and snow. She carefully regarded Wenren Lin’s unchanged expression, and in reply asked: “If I have no matter, can I not come to seek you?”

Wenren Lin lifted the corners of his eyes slightly. After a long moment, his expression did not change as he said, “Then it must be that Your Highness lay sleepless upon the pillow, wishing to borrow this prince’s body for use.”

Zhao Yen choked, heat climbing up her cheeks.

“But having heard that the Grand Preceptor feigned illness and remained in his manor, absent both from court and from Chongwen Hall, I came to see.”

Zhao Yen pressed her lips together. “It seems I have only brought humiliation upon myself.”

With Wenren Lin’s ease and composure, how did he resemble one who was ill in the slightest?

Seeing Zhao Yen turn her delicate face aside, the tear mole at her eye reddened faintly with thin vexation. Wenren Lin, having teased enough, finally laughed low in good humor.

He raised his arm slightly, his meaning obvious. “These past few days I have indeed been somewhat unwell. Perhaps if Your Highness deigned to embrace me, this prince would recover.”

In the end, he slowly lowered his arm again, resting it on the chair’s armrest and tapping lightly. “I nearly forgot—if Your Highness were to embrace me, then one way or another, I would still have to drink two more bowls of decoction before it is settled.”

Why mention this again?

“I drank that extra bowl only thinking it would be safer so. Otherwise, should something happen in the future, there would be no one to put things in order for me…”

Zhao Yen grew vexed. “I do not understand such things. I only thought my body could endure.”

The resilient little princess was still not well-versed in showing weakness; her voice grew ever softer.

Yet Wenren Lin still heard it clearly, answering lightly, “This prince’s fault.”

He said thoughtfully: “Next time, this prince will bring two books to the Eastern Palace, and personally teach Your Highness. It would not be unworthy of Your Highness calling me once by the title of ‘Grand Preceptor.’”

…What books?

Zhao Yen stared blankly at Wenren Lin’s earnest face, a faint sense of ill omen rising in her heart.