They sat together in the carriage as it traveled through the rainy night.

The lamplight from outside the carriage canopy cast flickering shadows within.

Mu Wanyao leaned against the carriage wall, eyes closed, paying no attention to Yan Shang. When she had entered the carriage, Yan Shang had covered her legs with a blanket, and now he busied himself adjusting the incense in the burner on the small table. Only when he had exhausted all possible tasks did he turn to look at Mu Wanyao.

He felt somewhat disappointed that she hadn’t acknowledged him since entering the carriage. He had thought she would at least tease him with a few playful remarks when he came to pick her up.

But seeing her sitting there with closed eyes, Yan Shang felt sympathetic, thinking she must be tired after her encounter with Prince Jin. He shouldn’t disturb her. Besides, it was rare to see Mu Wanyao so peaceful and docile. When her eyes were open and she leaned close, he had to remain mentally alert to handle her. When she closed her eyes and pretended to be well-behaved, his mind wasn’t quite so muddled.

He rested his elbow on the table, gazing at her intently. As the outside light filtered in waves through the window, he couldn’t help but study her features carefully. The more he looked, the softer his eyes grew, the more his heart filled with fondness.

His affection manifested in quietly watching her, a slight smile playing on his lips, making no move to disturb her.

Suddenly, Mu Wanyao spoke: “What are you looking at?”

Yan Shang was startled.

His eyelashes trembled violently as he saw Mu Wanyao open her eyes and look at him from across the carriage. Her lips curved in a mischievous, teasing smile—the kind of ambiguous expression that once again turned Yan Shang’s mind to mush.

He lowered his head, trying to maintain composure: “Nothing in particular.”

Mu Wanyao: “I don’t believe you.”

Yan Shang: “Really… ahem, I was just thinking about something.”

Mu Wanyao’s eyebrows curved upward as she leisurely propped her chin on her hand, leaning forward against the small table. The table had a mechanism underneath that could rotate. As she leaned in, her face came within inches of Yan Shang’s, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.

Yan Shang sat up straight, maintaining his composure, which only earned him a raised eyebrow and an amused smile from Mu Wanyao. His face grew warm, but he pretended not to notice her teasing expression about his bashfulness, stubbornly finding an excuse: “I was thinking about composing poetry.”

Mu Wanyao paused in surprise: “What poetry?”

As Yan Shang said this, he realized he might be able to use this opportunity to seek Mu Wanyao’s guidance. He had visited the Northern Quarter multiple times to teach Chun Niang calligraphy and poetry, and as her progress accelerated, his limited poetic abilities were becoming insufficient.

Yan Shang furrowed his brow: “In official circles and at banquets, we often compose poetry for entertainment. Does Your Highness also compose poetry when hosting officials at banquets?”

Mu Wanyao: “Of course! What’s so difficult about it? It comes naturally.”

Yan Shang: “…”

Why couldn’t he compose so effortlessly?

Why did he always need to prepare in advance?

Yan Shang fell into slightly dejected silence. Then, he felt something kick his knee gently. Looking down, he saw a delicate, fair foot pressing against his knee in the dim light beneath the table, rubbing softly.

Her pearl-adorned shoes lay discarded beneath her skirts.

Seeing her foot made his face flush red instantly. He tried to move his knee away, but as soon as he shifted, she pressed between his legs. At that moment, blood rushed downward, and Yan Shang’s face went beyond mere blushing—it was practically boiling.

Heavens.

How could she do this… Yan Shang thought hazily, both tortured and aroused.

His body trembled as he leaned against the wall, looking at her, but she maintained her sweet smile as if completely unaware of what she was doing.

Mu Wanyao’s toes pressed down slightly, watching as he threw his head back, gasping, his hand gripping the table edge. She glanced down to see the veins standing out on the back of his hand. She smiled mysteriously and asked in all seriousness: “What’s wrong, can’t you compose poetry?”

After a long moment, Yan Shang managed to respond hoarsely: “Y-yes…”

Mu Wanyao pressed harder with her toes, and he let out a gasp, collapsing onto the table. His shoulders trembled for a moment before he looked up at her, his eyes dark, their corners tinged red. He reached out to grab her, his voice strained and pleading: “Yaoyao…”

Somewhat begging.

Mu Wanyao shifted away, not letting him catch her hand. She continued seriously: “I’m asking you a question, why are you getting distracted? I’m sincerely concerned about your poetry skills, but you’re just thinking about vulgar things. Second Brother Yan, you’ve changed.”

Yan Shang gave a bitter smile.

He endured for a moment, taking advantage of her temporary cessation of torment to catch his breath. Covering his wildly beating heart, he answered her in a raspy voice: “Do you think my scholarly abilities are poor? I notice you don’t read much either, yet you compose such excellent poetry every time. While I prepare in advance, yet still only produce mediocre works when needed.”

Mu Wanyao feigned surprise: “Oh? I thought you were deliberately being mediocre. I know you prefer blending into the crowd, avoiding attention.”

Yan Shang’s voice grew somewhat husky, losing its usual measured calm: “I’d need that level of skill to fake mediocrity, wouldn’t I? I’m simply mediocre… Your Highness, what am I doing wrong that I can’t write good poetry?”

Mu Wanyao studied him. His eyelashes were slightly damp, his shoulders trembling with desire, several times reaching out before forcing himself to stop. Yet at the same time, he was earnestly answering her questions.

Being unable to write good poetry was deeply troubling to Yan Shang. He had initially thought it was just because he hadn’t read enough books, but now, despite reading daily, receiving his teacher’s guidance, and studying countless masterworks, he still couldn’t write good poetry.

Someone with such high self-expectations would naturally question what was wrong with themselves.

He just wanted to be perfect.

Mu Wanyao stopped teasing and answered him seriously: “Your inability to write good poetry isn’t because you haven’t read enough or aren’t focused or dedicated enough. You’re already quite dedicated… Second Brother Yan, you’ll never write good poetry, so you shouldn’t hope for it.”

Yan Shang pressed his lips together, slightly unwilling: “Why are you so certain I can’t write it?”

Mu Wanyao spoke languidly: “Writing poetry requires three elements: first, complex life experiences that inspire emotion; second, bold imagination that wanders into the extraordinary; third, sensitive feelings that weep at falling flowers. Which of these do you possess? Have you experienced enough of life’s complexities to have something worth expressing? Are you sensitive enough to feel melancholy over spring and autumn? Or do you have any bold imaginings that you could express through poetry?”

She stared at him: “You have none of these.”

Mu Wanyao’s lips curved slightly: “As for life experience, perhaps after a few more years, you might be able to write one truly immortal poem. Being sensitive to spring and autumn—I don’t think you’ll achieve that in this lifetime, so don’t count on it. And regarding imagination, I hate to say it, Second Brother Yan, but with your impoverished imagination, you should give up that hope entirely.

“You follow the path of practicality, not the path of wild flights of fancy. Your imagination simply isn’t up to the task.”

Yan Shang paused for a long while before saying: “My imagination can’t be that poor, can it?”

Mu Wanyao thought to herself that someone with no imagination regarding bedroom matters shouldn’t think himself capable.

She remained silent, instead withdrawing her jade foot, leaving Yan Shang’s knees still parted.

With the pressure suddenly gone, pleasure vanished as well. His eye corners still flushed red, he looked up at her dazedly, somewhat lost, and saw her turn halfway to open the small window beside her, letting in some rain.

The carriage’s heated atmosphere cooled with the fresh rain, and Yan Shang closed his eyes, resting on the table, taking a gentle breath.

Mu Wanyao rapped her knuckles on the window frame. Yan Shang looked up to see her gesturing toward the rain outside, asking: “What would you compare the rain to?”

Yan Shang answered randomly, stubbornly: “Like… like curtains?”

Mu Wanyao smiled mockingly: “You’re just saying that because others have made that comparison before. You have no original thoughts.”

Yan Shang stared at her blankly: “Then how would you compare it?”

Mu Wanyao: “Hmm… like flight, like the Milky Way scattering stars, like waters defying heaven, like… Second Brother Yan’s hair.”

Yan Shang froze as Mu Wanyao winked at him. Her hand moved in the darkness, turning the mechanism, and the table began rotating away. Yan Shang had to sit up straight, no longer able to lean on the table. He felt somewhat embarrassed because once he sat properly, he couldn’t hide his body’s reaction…

He uncomfortably glanced down once, then looked anxiously at Mu Wanyao. However, Mu Wanyao seemed not to notice, having pushed aside the table, she bent forward and came toward his side.

Yan Shang moved to make room for her, but she pressed on his shoulders and knelt on his legs. He trembled, and she slipped from his legs, not having found secure footing.

Mu Wanyao complained: “Second Brother Yan, help me!”

Yan Shang sighed and had to wrap his arms around her slender waist, helping her kneel in his embrace, allowing her kneeling position to make her much taller than him. She cupped his face, lowering her head to make him look up.

Mu Wanyao’s warm, delicate fingers caressed his face.

Her fair, soft fingers traced over his eyebrows, eyes, nose, and lips: “Brother’s eyebrows flow like spring light, winding into my heart; Brother’s eyes are like a clear lake under moonlight, delighting me when I gaze upon them; Brother’s nose is like an autumn blade, merciless in its killing; Brother’s lips are soft like fruit flesh, making me want to kiss them.”

Yan Shang stared up at her dazedly.

The golden light from outside fell into his eyes, where a tiny version of her was reflected in the starry river.

His hands tightened around her waist, and Mu Wanyao saw his throat bob as red crept up beneath his white skin. He leaned in to kiss her but was stopped by her finger pressing against his lips.

Mu Wanyao tilted her head with a coquettish smile, looking at him lovingly: “How were my comparisons?”

Yan Shang: “Good.”

Mu Wanyao pouted: “You’re being so perfunctory.”

Yan Shang no longer knew what to say, his chest tight as he pulled away her slender fingers, trying to lift his head to kiss her. But she laughed and refused, dodging backward, though his arms around her waist prevented her from escaping far. Yan Shang’s lips fell on her neck instead, making her tremble slightly.

Mu Wanyao looked down at his somewhat dazed expression.

Mu Wanyao said shyly: “You can continue downward.”

Yan Shang looked up at her, his gaze moist, eyelashes curved up like flight feathers.

Mu Wanyao raised her hand to touch her brow: “Meng Zaishi kissed me here today.”

Yan Shang’s expression froze slightly as he grabbed her hand. Mu Wanyao glanced at him: “You can kiss from here down to my heart. It’s all yours.”

Usually, he would hesitate, but her earlier teasing had already left him in considerable discomfort; moreover, her sudden mention of Meng Zaishi intensified his earlier unease. And with her finger pointing to her brow, this beautiful, beloved girl kneeling in his embrace, Yan Shang couldn’t resist.

He pulled down her neck and kissed her brow. Holding her small, kitten-like soft body in his arms, Yan Shang kissed her eyebrows and eyes, his kisses falling as densely as rain.

He grew somewhat excited, his touch becoming somewhat unrestrained. His fingers trembled at her waist as his breath returned to her neck, pressing and nuzzling with slight discomfort.

Mu Wanyao looked down, her hand at her neck, parting the gauze-like flowing water.

Moonlight shone clear on the high mountain, white snow light illuminating all, its radiance flowing freely, breathtakingly beautiful. What could a mountain climber do but worship devoutly?

She closed her eyes and covered her heart, whispering: “Kiss here.”

Yan Shang lowered his head, pressing his forehead to her heart: “Yaoyao…”

Mu Wanyao: “Hmm?”

Yan Shang: “I- I…”

His breathing was chaotic, his voice jumbled. His entire state was hazy, only his eyes abnormally bright. The heat and restlessness were familiar—he knew this feeling well. He just felt embarrassed, ashamed. Just thought that they were in a carriage, and they would be returning soon…

But he pleaded pitifully: “I feel so uncomfortable…”

Mu Wanyao suppressed a laugh: “Don’t hold back, I’m willing.”

Yan Shang: “But, but…”

He couldn’t finish his “but,” and compared to his hesitation, his lady was always bolder and more uninhibited. She pulled at his clothes, stepped back onto the floor, and this time, sat on his legs. She lowered her head playfully, and he both wanted to stop her and didn’t. His body was tense, both afraid and excited.

He was always like this, having his boundaries pushed lower by her each time. He was completely blank paper, often feeling this wasn’t good, that wasn’t right, but he couldn’t explain why it wasn’t good, and when he quoted the sages, Mu Wanyao wouldn’t listen and complain he was long-winded.

Yan Shang bent forward, resting his chin on her shoulder, letting out a muffled sigh. Like being roasted over a fire, his grip on her waist was extremely tight. Mu Wanyao felt some pain but endured it, not daring to speak. She feared that if she said anything, he would come to his senses and refuse to continue like this with her.

She held his shoulders, her eyes liquid as she looked at him, lowering her head to kiss the sweat on his brow.

Yan Shang started worrying again, gripping her wrists: “You… you…”

Mu Wanyao said softly: “What is it? Don’t be afraid, no one will know. It’s just us here, relax a bit. As long as we don’t make any noise, no one would dare look inside the princess’s carriage, right? At this point, you can’t hold back anymore.”

His face was rigid from restraint, and as Mu Wanyao lowered her head to kiss him, she found even his sweat endearing.

Yan Shang: “No, you… you… when is your monthly cycle?”

Mu Wanyao froze.

Even someone like her was bewildered by his unexpected question.

She kissed his neck, saying: “Why are you asking about that?”

Yan Shang panted: “Chun Niang said you can’t do this before or after the cycle…”

Mu Wanyao paused: “Who is Chun Niang?”

Her tone was somewhat cold, but in his current state of conflicting sensations, he didn’t notice. He just held her hand, looking at her hazily: “I teach her calligraphy… what’s wrong?”

Mu Wanyao: “Did you sleep with her?”

Yan Shang started: “How could that be possible?”

He pressed against her, saying softly: “You know, I only have you… Yaoyao, don’t torment me…”

Mu Wanyao’s heart instantly softened.

She thought she would have Fang Tong investigate later, as men’s words couldn’t always be trusted. But for now, she still trusted Yan Shang. Moreover, with him nuzzling against her like this, Mu Wanyao smiled again, kissing him for a while before saying: “So the reason you haven’t come to find me for so long is that you were worried I might get pregnant. I was wondering, how could someone be so young not have tasted the pleasures of intimacy, not have any desire, any thoughts of it. I thought you were truly abstinent.”

Yan Shang looked at her.

She kissed him, smiling: “You even made me doubt my charm, you know?”

Yan Shang said softly, embarrassed: “I thought about it… but…”

After a long pause, he said dejectedly: “I shouldn’t have done that with you back then.”

If he hadn’t committed that mistake with her, he wouldn’t be constantly thinking about it today, pushed to this state. Though he knew he shouldn’t, he still wanted to.

Mu Wanyao frowned: “Are you now blaming yourself for weak willpower, or blaming me for tempting you into degeneracy?”

As he was about to speak, Mu Wanyao, fearing he would ruin the mood again, covered his mouth: “Enough, don’t talk about those things anymore, don’t worry about such small matters. I can drink contraceptive medicine for you, don’t worry about it.”

Yan Shang pressed his lips together: “I can’t let you drink contraceptive medicine. It’s bad for your health.”

Mu Wanyao wondered how he suddenly knew this.

She made a mental note of this, likely related to this Chun Niang he mentioned. Mu Wanyao had roughly guessed that Yan Shang must have learned about these matters from courtesans, otherwise he wouldn’t know about the harm to women… though Fang Tong would need to verify this later.

Given Mu Wanyao’s usual temperament, she would certainly have questioned Yan Shang on the spot. But now she felt she hadn’t been good enough to him, so she didn’t want to argue, only wanting to compensate him doubly.

Mu Wanyao said: “It’s alright. Just occasionally won’t result in pregnancy. Don’t you trust me?”

Being inexperienced, he followed her guidance and listened to her words. Though embarrassed, he still went along with her indiscretions. Only, being too afraid of people outside hearing any noise, he covered her mouth, not daring to let her make a sound. His movements were tentative… both forcefully restrained and pleasurable.

This forbidden excitement in a narrow, dark corner aroused them both intensely.

Not to mention Yan Shang, Mu Wanyao arched like a cat, nearly crying as she lay on his shoulder.

Yet halfway through, she mischievously stopped again. Yan Shang was nearly driven mad, grabbing her waist to press her down. Mu Wanyao quickly said: “Don’t move, don’t move, I just want to ask you something.”

He said glumly: “You have to ask now?”

Mu Wanyao: “By rights, after the military exercise, you should be promoted. Has the Secretariat made arrangements for you?”

Yan Shang replied vaguely: “I’m not sure, but my teacher said I should be transferred from the Secretariat to one of the Six Ministries… why?”

Mu Wanyao, having gotten her answer, said: “If I were to request a better position for you from Father Emperor for this promotion, would you feel humiliated and blame me for meddling?”

He forced himself to focus and consider the meaning of her words.

Yan Shang said softly: “I wouldn’t blame you… but why would you request a position for me? Didn’t I say there was no need?”

Mu Wanyao relaxed, smiling: “I’m rewarding you.”

Yan Shang was confused: “Rewarding me for what?”

Mu Wanyao: “For letting me sleep with you.”

Yan Shang paused for a long while before saying: “…So that’s it.”

Mu Wanyao: “Are you unhappy? Look at you, you just said you wouldn’t be unhappy.”

Yan Shang sighed and said: “Don’t do this anymore. I don’t want it this way.”

Mu Wanyao: “Hmm?”

He lost control again and thrust once, and after her gasp, he instinctively kissed her. He mumbled: “One promotion for one time in bed. Isn’t this too good a deal? If you mean it, why not… make me your Prince Consort after eight or ten times?”

Mu Wanyao’s eyes widened: “What did you say?!”

He blushed but persisted: “Prince Consort! Why do you mock me like this… can’t I ask for proper status?”

Mu Wanyao hurriedly told him he could, just that the time wasn’t right… she comforted him in various ways, loving and caressing him, telling him not to mind such things.

The rain drummed against the carriage doors and windows, spring’s brilliance in full display—

The rainy night journey was slower than usual, and due to the closing of the ward gates, they had to present their passes at each checkpoint, unable to return to the mansion as quickly as usual.

Fang Tong and the guards followed the carriage on horseback. In a dark alley entrance, Fang Tong spotted a young nobleman standing there.

Fang Tong immediately drew his sword alertly: “Who’s there?”

Yang Si, standing in the rain under the outer wall of the Princess’s mansion alley, lifted his face lazily: “It’s me.”

Seeing it was Third Young Master Yang, Fang Tong sheathed his sword, and the guards dismounted to bow. Yang Si moved toward the Princess’s carriage, but Fang Tong’s expression turned strange as he reached out to block him. However, with Yang Si’s martial arts skills, he only exchanged two moves before evading the guards and reaching the carriage.

Yang Si knocked on the carriage door: “Yaoyao.”

After a moment’s pause, Mu Wanyao’s displeased voice came from inside: “Isn’t Fang Tong stopping you?”

Yang Si: “Won’t you let me up to talk?”

Mu Wanyao: “Not convenient! If you dare come up, I’ll fall out with you immediately!”

Yang Si raised an eyebrow.

He hadn’t thought much of it before, but her response made him curious. Rain fell on Yang Si’s body and face as he smiled mockingly: “Are you having a secret tryst with someone, afraid I’ll catch you?”

Mu Wanyao’s voice was tense: “None of your business!”

Yang Si shrugged, saying: “Yaoyao, I’m leaving Chang’an.”

After a while, Mu Wanyao said softly: “Really? When? Did the Crown Prince agree?”

Yang Si grinned: “I knew you’d understand me. No need to explain the reasons. Listen, I’m inviting you to watch a play at Ci’en Temple. Will you come?”

Mu Wanyao: “Alright. Give me a time.”

Yang Si spoke with her through the carriage for a while, and when saying goodbye, couldn’t help asking again: “Really won’t let me up to sit?”

Mu Wanyao exploded in embarrassed anger: “Just get lost!”

Yang Si laughed heartily, turning to leave, but looked back to tease: “Don’t worry, don’t worry, remember to wipe your mouth clean after your secret feast, I won’t tell Second Brother Yan.”—

After he left, Fang Tong reminded from outside: “Your Highness, the carriage is about to enter the alley. We’re arriving at the mansion.”

Mu Wanyao naturally understood what Fang Tong was reminding her about: “Mm.”

In the carriage, Yan Shang kept his head down as they both straightened their clothes, neither speaking.

After a while, Yan Shang couldn’t hold back anymore, gritting his teeth: “You told me people outside wouldn’t know what was happening inside!”

Mu Wanyao feigned innocence: “They don’t know.”

Yan Shang grew somewhat angry: “Do you take me for a fool? If they didn’t know, why would Fang Tong remind you we’re entering the alley? When does he ever give such reminders normally? You’re just… just… making excuses for your reckless behavior.”

Mu Wanyao felt guilty and said nothing.

As they spoke, the carriage came to a stop.

Yan Shang got out without hesitation and left, not even using an umbrella, returning to his mansion in an agitated state. On this side, Fang Tong held an umbrella for the Princess, standing below the carriage as Mu Wanyao gazed at the closed door of the neighboring mansion.

After a while, Fang Tong asked: “Your Highness, did you make Second Young Master angry?”

Mu Wanyao said uncertainly: “Surely… he can’t be that angry? Would men be angry about this?”

Fang Tong said: “Your Highness is asking me? Of course, I wouldn’t be angry… but he is Second Young Master Yan.”

Mu Wanyao fell silent, exchanging looks with her guard captain.

Fang Tong said uneasily: “Your Highness, this… should I not have spoken earlier?”

Mu Wanyao sighed: “There’s no helping it. Who knew he’d be so clever? Just one word from you, and he figured it out.”

Fang Tong said guiltily: “Then shall I go apologize to Second Young Master tomorrow?”

Mu Wanyao said optimistically: “No need. Pretending nothing happened is better. If you go apologize, he’ll surely be extremely embarrassed. I’ll go placate and apologize to him tomorrow, coax him a bit. With his good temper, he might not even be angry after tonight.”

Master and servant entered the mansion, discussing how to prepare gifts tomorrow to coax that seemingly angry young man.