Moonlight seeped down through the clouds, accumulated rain dripping from the eaves onto the steps before the hall.

The doors and windows of the Eastern Palace bedchamber were tightly shut, candlelight soaking the window paper into a soft, warm orange-yellow.

The summer night’s insects were quiet. Zhao Yen did not know when she had come to be seated upon Wenren Lin’s lap, fine strands of hair at her temples damp with sweat, her fair cheeks gradually steaming into a delicate rosy flush.

Wenren Lin had no choice but to hold tightly the soft, boneless slender waist in his arms, his palm pressed upon her incessantly rising and falling lower abdomen to steady her, while his right hand was hidden beneath the loosened apricot-white lower garment.

He lowered his head and gathered his gaze, intent and concentrated, unwilling to let pass the slightest change of expression upon her face.

Under his scrutiny Zhao Yen lowered her head, simply bit her lip and closed her eyes, clenching his dark garment so tight that creases arose.

Sensing her evasion, Wenren Lin lifted his hand to pinch her chin and turn it back, inclining his head to seize upon those tightly pressed fragrant lips.

His long brows were dense and his lashes thick, half-lowered lids bearing elegance and lingering entanglement, as though savoring a rare delicacy, advancing slowly and deliberately.

By the time Zhao Yen realized something was amiss, it was already too late; lips and tongue were pressed back against her, breath was broken into fragments, even reason itself seemed to be seized away along the tip of the tongue.

The pointed ice cubes in the ice basin gradually melted, becoming a pool of clear water that reflected the many-tiered lights of the hall.

Zhao Yen’s lips, upper and lower, were crimson as if about to drip, her eyes too a rippling brilliance; she could only brace against Wenren Lin’s chest to steady her breath.

After a long time, Wenren Lin dipped his right hand casually into the ice basin, washed in the melting cold water, then rested his hand upon the edge of the table to dry the drops from between his fingers, while with the other he slowly smoothed the little Highness’s scattered long hair.

When her breath had steadied, Wenren Lin wrung out a handkerchief to wipe her, then carefully arranged and smoothed her lower garment.

That jade belt buckle was still lying on the ground. In any case it was already the hour of rest, so he did not bother fastening it again.

When the sound of tides in her ears receded, Zhao Yen realized that the hall was in fact so quiet, quiet to the point that each unbalanced heartbeat was noisy.

When she caught her breath, she felt the man’s hard body pressing uncomfortably, wanting to rise, yet was held down by his large hand.

“Do not move yet.”

Wenren Lin lowered his head close against her cheek, his voice hoarse and deep, “Your Highness need not be nervous, this time there is no need for medicine.”

Is this a matter of medicine or not?

Zhao Yen’s face was crimson; perceiving something, she indeed dared not move again.

After a long time, she fixed her gaze on Wenren Lin’s long hand with veins standing out, and said: “Next time… do not be like this.”

Wenren Lin raised his eyes and asked her: “You do not like it?”

Zhao Yen both nodded and shook her head.

She was ashamed beneath Wenren Lin’s gaze, as though the one drowning within it was only herself. This feeling was truly stirring, yet strange. Thinking carefully, before this either she had been poisoned and her memory blurred, or the position was wrong; she seemed never to have properly seen Wenren Lin lose control of his emotions.

This was unfair.

Zhao Yen was astonished at her own thought in this moment, strange in her heart, after a while muffled her voice: “You have been looking at me all along.”

Wenren Lin paused, then understood what the little Highness was shy about, and in his dark lacquer-like eyes rippled faint laughter.

“Cannot touch, not even look?”

He lightly pinched the waist beneath his palm, and said low, “So difficult to serve.”

With such teasing, Zhao Yen was truly too weary, hastily wiped her face and climbed onto the couch.

As her eyes closed, she heard from the distant palace towers the bell of the third watch in the night; palace roads were forbidden, yet Wenren Lin had not left.

He sat upon the edge of the couch, fingers slipping into Zhao Yen’s hair at her temples, straightening the strands pressed into disarray upon the pillow, and leaned down slowly to say: “At tomorrow’s birthday banquet, Your Highness show your face and then return to the Eastern Palace to stay, do not run about.”

Zhao Yen was drowsy; at his words she struggled to open her eyes and asked vaguely: “Will Prince Su not attend the banquet?”

Wenren Lin rubbed the mutton-fat jade pendant at his waist, his gaze dark and calm, without reply.

Zhao Yen had no strength to press further. She blinked her lashes once, and slowly sank into slumber.

When she awoke, the sky was just beginning to brighten, and at the side of the bed Wenren Lin’s figure was no longer present.

Liuying entered the hall carrying the washing cloth and comb, and at Zhao Yen’s inquiry replied: “Prince Su Highness had been sitting in the bedchamber the whole time, only at the hour of Yin (3:00 a.m. – 5:00 a.m.) did he leave.”

The hour of Yin?

Did Wenren Lin truly remain in the Eastern Palace bedchamber for most of the night?

Seeing Zhao Yen look over, Liuying immediately said: “Outside the hall were only slave-servants keeping guard; the Eastern Palace guards are also under Commander Gu’s discipline, they will not spread rumors.”

But what Zhao Yen thought of was not this. On the contrary, with Prince Su’s support, the Eastern Palace’s path ahead might become much smoother.

She was about to speak when Li Fu reported from outside the hall: “Your Highness, Censor He and the Ministry of War Vice Minister Cen have both replied.”

Zhao Yen swiftly lifted her eyes, put on her robe and descended from the couch, saying: “Quickly present them.”

Li Fu examined the letters inside and out, confirmed there was no trap, then presented them with both hands to Zhao Yen.

Zhao Yen unfolded Censor He’s reply, motioning for Liuying to bring the lamp closer.

【Your Highness is still young, like flowing waters eastward, with a long road ahead. This old minister is aged and decayed, at the Censorate holding position and eating rations, lingering on with life. Fortunately, Your Highness at Jinyun Villa rescued the life of my youngest son, allowing the He family bloodline to continue, so that even in death I have no regret! Now I am willing before all eyes to memorialize in deathly remonstrance, to expose the corrupt face of the demonic Dao. Whether successful or not, I beg Your Highness to take care!】

The reply from Vice Minister of War Cen Meng had only two lines: 【Only to be a foot soldier before the horse, awaiting command.】

At the He residence, the oil lamp was dim.

From the inner room came the humming of a middle-aged matron coaxing a child to sleep. Censor He, dressed in his official robe, sat upright; on the small table beside him lay the memorial he had written through the night.

When the sky turned faintly bright, only then did he exhale a heavy turbid breath, trembling as he rose to his feet, both hands lifting the official hat to place it solemnly upon his head. Taking the written memorial, he staggered into the dimness of dawn.

At the Cen residence, Cen Yu had just secretly slipped into the back courtyard to practice boxing, only to be caught by her elder brother.

She thought she would inevitably receive a scolding such as “a girl must be gentle and quiet,” yet this time her brother said nothing, only silently walked into the courtyard to correct her movements.

Cen Yu was dazed for a while, then anxiously asked: “Brother, you are not angry?”

How could Cen Meng bear to be angry?

At Jinyun Villa, this pampered and spoiled younger sister had dared to risk her life to rescue another group of suffering young girls—he was proud of her.

Cen Meng carefully examined his younger sister, and said evenly: “On the desk in the study is a bundle. If elder brother has not returned home by the hour of Shen, A’Yu take what is in the bundle, go with Uncle Wang by carriage, and see the mountains outside, the waters outside.”

“Truly?!”

Cen Yu could not help but be overjoyed, but then suddenly realized something was wrong, and hesitantly said, “Brother, why are you suddenly treating me so well? Something is not about to happen, is it?”

Cen Meng did not speak, only asked: “Is His Highness the Crown Prince well?”

“Of course well! Though the Crown Prince is frail he is brave, he does not judge high and low by wealth or rank, he is a very very good person!”

“That is right. Elder brother… must also go to do a brave thing.”

When the servant boy came bearing a lantern to urge him, Cen Meng raised his hand to press upon his sister’s hair crown, then in the solemn light of dawn mounted the carriage.

…

The Empress’s birthday banquet was set in the North Court’s Qifeng Pavilion.

By the hour of Si (9:00 a.m. – 11:00 a.m.), the covered bridges and wooden walkways were already crowded with noble ladies, titled women, and the scions of noble houses, exchanging greetings with one another.

Zhao Yen, her hair bound with a jade hairpin, alighted from the carriage wearing a violet robe of fine silk. In a low voice she instructed Gu Xing: “At the banquet no guards or retainers may be brought. Find a way to keep watch at the Tongtian Terrace. Once the memorial is handed up, Wenren Lin will surely act—then you act according to the situation.”

Gu Xing received the order.