“Close your eyes.”

Wenren Lin lowered his head and instructed Zhao Yen, his breath carrying bone-piercing cold, “This prince’s appearance is not very good, I must first go and clean it up.”

That breath he exhaled was so sharp and cold, it seemed to pierce straight through the tender skin at Zhao Yen’s neck and stab directly into her flesh and blood.

She did not need to see to imagine the extreme pain Wenren Lin was enduring at this moment. Enduring her trembling, she obediently closed her eyelashes.

Wenren Lin smiled and said, “Good,” raising the clean palm of his hand to stroke Zhao Yen’s crown of the head, “This prince needs some time. If you are tired, then go and sleep on the couch for a while.”

Zhao Yen nodded and said, “Alright.”

The large hand pressing upon her crown was of hard joints; after kneading in satisfaction, within the surging gloomy cold murderous qi there was a trace of pitying meaning.

The large hand left, the heavy footsteps slowly turned a corner, paused, and then stepped upon the waxed smooth wooden staircase up to the second floor.

Until no sound could be heard, Zhao Yen then tremblingly opened her eyelashes.

Her sight was somewhat blurry at first, then gradually cleared. She saw upon the case table that the small red-lacquer wooden box had been opened, and the slot where the medicinal pill had been set was already empty.

Wenren Lin had taken the medicine. Zhao Yen unexpectedly felt a faint sense of relief.

She needed time to digest everything before her eyes, so she lifted the soft smoke-hanging gauze, and dazedly sat upon the inner room’s soft couch—the very couch upon which she and Wenren Lin had tangled the first time.

Zhang Cang led two silent little eunuchs, carrying large buckets of hot water, thumping up the stairs and thumping back down again. Perhaps in urgency, they had no leisure to notice Zhao Yen sitting quietly within the inner partition gauze.

She propped her chin, gradually thinking through some fine points, such as why Wenren Lin dared so assuredly to entrust his secret to her to decide upon.

Just like last year’s end, in the very first riding and archery lesson after their acquaintance, Wenren Lin deliberately placed the only sharpened arrow into her hand—

He was extremely adept at casting bait for a gamble, to grasp Zhao Yen’s subtle attitude toward him.

Therefore he was able, in a situation where he ought to have been frail and wretched from vomiting blood, to laugh with such composure and strength.

In both the contest of chess and the psychological game, Wenren Lin was as steady as Mount Tai, never having lost.

Yet Zhao Yen knew well, that for her to be able to sit here alive and safe, pondering these things that may or may not matter, was in essence already a great victory—

Wenren Lin would rather circle round with probing, gently forcing her to make a choice, yet never touched even a single hair of hers.

Perhaps between them, victory and defeat could no longer be distinguished.

If it had been last year, Zhao Yen would hardly have dared even to imagine that between herself and Wenren Lin, there would be a day of mutually baring weakness, of quietly leaning close and embracing.

And what was beyond her expectation was, she did not resist such a feeling.

Zhao Yen did not know how long she had sat in the inner room, only that Zhang Cang and the others had gone upstairs to change for yet another round of hot water, and the lattice window’s shadows slanted, sunlight shifting from pale gold into splendid crimson-gold.

The room gradually darkened, the noises upstairs ceased.

After a long while without hearing any new sound, Zhao Yen could not help but feel uneasy, hesitating whether she ought to rise and go upstairs to take a look.

Just as she rose, from the wooden staircase came unhurried footsteps.

Wenren Lin, loosely wearing a robe of snowy color, carrying moist steam, lifted the curtain and entered. First he took up the fire striker and lit the lamp, and then turned round, drawing Zhao Yen’s hand to sit upon the soft couch.

Only then did Zhao Yen come back to her senses. She had sat in a daze for half the afternoon, even forgetting to light the lamp.

The lamplight gradually grew bright and warm, filling the inner chamber. Wenren Lin’s complexion was still pale, his lips crimson and cold in texture, yet in the depths of his eyes there was much more calm, no longer faintly showing that terrifying trace of dark red.

The little eunuchs carried away the cooled water from upstairs, and quickly brought in several light porridge dishes and small side dishes, lowering brows and gathering eyes, placing them on the small round table beside the couch, then without glancing aside withdrew from the pavilion, closing the door once more.

“Just sat there foolishly the whole afternoon?”

Wenren Lin scooped a bowl of savory mushroom-and-chicken soup with a small spoon, bringing it before Zhao Yen, his voice somewhat low and languid.

“Mm… I’ll do it myself.”

Zhao Yen received that bowl of chicken soup, sipping mouthful by mouthful. At the banquet she had not managed to eat much, and after rushing about the entire afternoon, she was indeed hungry.

After a moment, she set down the empty bowl, turning her head to observe Wenren Lin’s expression: “Does it still hurt?”

Wenren Lin held a porridge bowl in one hand and took a sip, then at once furrowed his brows and set it down.

“Perhaps if Your Highness were to give a kiss, it would not hurt anymore… who knows.”

In his eyes was a smile, once again producing that line of speech, and even more excessive than before.

Zhao Yen averted her gaze, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her lower garment, lips pressing together.

She struggled for a moment, then finally turned slightly, her arms loosely encircling Wenren Lin’s waist, her forehead leaning against his chest.

The cloth was thin, and she touched the man’s firm, taut muscles, as well as the faintly cool body temperature that even hot water could not warm.

…So be it.

Wenren Lin’s gaze flickered, quite surprised at her softness today.

He casually removed the eunuch’s cap from Zhao Yen’s head, then lowered his head slightly, his chin resting against the crown of her hair, his hand idly stroking now and then.

In the quiet, Zhao Yen could not help but ask: “If I were to choose to make use of you, to coerce the Grand Preceptor into serving me, what then would the Grand Preceptor do?”

At hearing the words “coerce,” Wenren Lin already laughed aloud.

This word held no actual meaning for him, not even a hypothetical possibility. If he were willing to be subject to others, he would never have trodden a path of corpses and seas of blood to reach this step today.

“Kill Your Highness…”

Zhao Yen stiffened, then heard the low voice come from above her head, “…Naturally, I would be loath to do so. Then there would be no choice but to wrong Your Highness, strip off the false Crown Prince’s skin, and stay by this prince’s side in a more obedient identity.”

“Can the Grand Preceptor not finish his words in one breath?”

Zhao Yen then softened her body again, quiet for a while, before asking, “Then my choice—has it pleased the Grand Preceptor?”

“Your Highness has always been intelligent.”

Wenren Lin played idly with a loose wisp of hair at the back of her neck, neither affirming nor denying.

Taking advantage of his still-pleasant mood, Zhao Yen weighed matters in her heart and asked: “Grand Preceptor’s body… is it poisoned?”

Wenren Lin lowered his eyelids, leisurely replying, “Yes.”

“How did it happen?”

“The Great General personally fed it.”

“What?”

Zhao Yen lifted her head from his embrace, her eyes full of surprise.

“Wenren the Great General, this prince’s birth father.” Wenren Lin looked into her eyes, calmly repeating once more.

In Zhao Yen’s eyes was reflected his indifferent countenance, and she could not comprehend this answer.

She had thought the poison in Wenren Lin’s body had come from some enemy or opponent’s secret attack… how could it have been by the hand of his own kin? This was contrary to human ethics.

Zhao Yen faintly felt she was touching upon some core truth.

“The Great General… does not like the Grand Preceptor either?”

Yet even a tiger, vicious as it is, does not eat its cubs. Even if the Empress Dowager disliked her, no matter how angry she became, she had only banished her to Huayang.

“He may be strict, yet he loves his children.”

Wenren Lin softly denied, and then added, “Every single one of them.”

“Then why would he…”

“Hush, Your Highness has asked too many questions today.”

Wenren Lin’s thumb moved upward, gently pressing upon Zhao Yen’s lips. “This prince is curious, Your Highness’s heart has always been like a stone, uncomprehending of feelings—how is it that suddenly it has opened its knot?”

Zhao Yen was caught by the question.

From the moment she had uncontrollably embraced the blood-spitting, mocking Wenren Lin, she had been constantly reflecting and questioning herself within.

She furrowed her brows, pondering for a long while, and at last, softly and sincerely said: “I do not know.”