Zhao Yān still disliked taking medicine.

Perhaps thinking that Wenren Lin might choose a path of no return by rejecting her proposal, the unease in her heart overshadowed the bitterness of the potion.

At the moment, she had no leisure to think too much. Her jumbled thoughts were kneaded and shaped in his hands. She only wanted to be a burning flame, rushing water, to release her pent-up emotions completely.

Her black hair spread like ink across the desk, flowing over the edge. Shadows enveloped her as Zhao Yān was forced to open her eyes. Before her was the man’s cold, jade-like face with thick, long eyebrows and deep eyes. His usually cool, pale lips had been slightly split by her kiss, tinged with an enchanting crimson.

They were so close that Zhao Yān could feel the cold hardness of the leather belt at his waist, causing her to tremble slightly.

“Your Highness has good intuition.”

Wenren Lin bent down to bite her crimson ear tip with a deliberately unhurried manner. “Such a beautiful face, suddenly taken—you’ll cry, I’m sure.”

He spoke the most unrestrained words in the gentlest, richest tone. Zhao Yān felt as if the hot blood might burn through her thin skin.

With her hands pinned by his, she simply wrapped her legs around his strong waist, neither retreating nor compromising, glaring at him with slightly reddened eyes, her tear mole burning like blood.

Entwined by her, Wenren Lin used his free hand to undo his leather belt. Hearing the jade hooks drop to the floor, Zhao Yān involuntarily stiffened but stubbornly refused to show weakness.

“Don’t cry, little Highness, you hear me?”

The deep voice fell on her ears. Zhao Yān opened her mouth, but before she could make a sound, she was completely silenced.

The heavy sandalwood desk scraped as it moved, uncomfortably hard. Wenren Lin simply lifted her while still kissing, stepping over the fallen cape and walking toward the inner chamber beyond the crescent doorway.

Though his steps were steady, being carried by him was somewhat bumpy. Zhao Yān’s mouth was sealed, so she could only furrow her brow and pound his shoulders, which was no different from pushing against a wall.

And she had even drawn a bow and practiced combat moves before.

The wind and snow had stopped at some point. Sandalwood incense flowed like clouds and mist on the desk.

Silver flakes rose from the charcoal basin, the purple-red firelight suddenly brightening and dimming. The lamplight was dim, warm fragrance lingering.

This time they were face to face, but Zhao Yān didn’t dare to open her eyes to look at Wenren Lin. His lacquer-black eyes were so deep they seemed capable of capturing souls—powerful, profound, affectionate, and splendid.

In a cowardly manner, she raised her arm to cover her eyes, but Wenren Lin gently yet forcefully removed it. He leaned against the pillow and rubbed her moist eyelashes with his fingertips, asking in a low voice: “Have you been crying?”

“No.”

Zhao Yān rubbed her eyes, her cheeks flushed with blood as she turned away from him.

She didn’t know what was happening. Though she hadn’t cried, the corners of her eyes were wet and red beyond control.

Wenren Lin bent one arm to support his temple, while his other hand leisurely played with her silky black hair. He laughed softly: “Whenever Your Highness is nervous and uneasy, you like to act impulsively.”

“I’m not being impulsive with anyone else.”

Zhao Yān felt the tingling sensation of his fingertips running through her hair as she clutched the bedding. She very much wanted Wenren Lin to teach her how to resolve the difficulties between them.

But she didn’t say it aloud. She didn’t want to turn this rare moment of harmony and tranquility into a calculated transaction.

“I want to bathe…”

Zhao Yān spoke with a slight nasal tone, sounding much softer than her usual voice after taking medicine.

Wenren Lin finally released her hair and raised his hand to turn her body toward him: “Will you walk yourself, or should this Prince carry you?”

Zhao Yān shook her head, saying wearily: “It’s too cold outside. I don’t want to go to the bathhouse. Just have Liu Ying bring water to the bedchamber.”

She naturally ordered people around, but Wenren Lin showed no displeasure. He tucked the corners of the blanket around her before lifting the covers and getting out of bed.

His cold, white, powerful body was fully exposed—broad shoulders, long legs, clearly defined muscle lines. Zhao Yān’s cheeks burned again, and she quickly averted her gaze.

But on second thought, at this point, why should she feel shy and guilty? So she collected herself and moved her gaze back.

Wenren Lin had already picked up his clothes from the edge of the bed and put them on. His long robe hung loosely, the leather belt not fastened. This lazy appearance could easily cause misunderstandings. Zhao Yān hesitated to ask him to dress more properly, but he didn’t go out to see anyone. He simply picked up the papers and brushes scattered on the ground, instructed the palace attendants outside to bring hot water and a headscarf, then walked back to the inner chamber and sat in a round chair by the bed.

Zhao Yān looked at his tall figure embedded in shadows and sighed despondently.

Liu Ying first knocked and entered to tidy things up, ensuring nothing suspicious would be seen, before allowing the attendants to arrange the bathtub and hot water properly.

Liu Ying rolled up her sleeves and walked toward the inner chamber, when she heard Prince Su’s deep voice from behind the curtain of the crescent doorway: “Your assistance is not needed here.”

Liu Ying carefully looked inside, and seeing the young Highness’s tacit approval, withdrew respectfully, closing the hall doors behind her.

The gauze lamps were bright, and the ripples in the bathtub reflected a layer of pale golden light on the curtains. Through the curtains, Wenren Lin’s features were illuminated.

He casually picked up his ink-colored cape, lifted the covers, and draped it over Zhao Yān’s soft, delicate body. Then he effortlessly lifted her along with the cape, carrying her toward the bathtub behind the screen.

Wenren Lin was quite tall, so his cape was naturally large. Zhao Yān only showed the tips of her toes, which appeared translucent white with a pink tinge against the dark fabric. She clutched at Wenren Lin’s chest, biting her lip to steady herself.

When her body was immersed in the hot water, she sighed contentedly.

The charcoal basin nearby emitted warmth, and steam filled the air. Nothing was more comfortable than a hot bath on a gentle, quiet, snowy night, washing away all the fatigue and soreness.

Wenren Lin took a hairpin, gathered her long hair hanging over the edge of the tub, bundled it into a knot, and tied it atop her head in a somewhat improper male hairstyle.

He examined it for a moment, adjusting the angle with some dissatisfaction. “Washing hair on a winter night allows cold to enter the body. Your Highness should make do with this for now. Don’t fall asleep.”

Zhao Yān leaned on the edge of the bathtub, lowered her eyes, and nodded.

Wenren Lin watched her nervously trembling eyelashes and bent down, leaning on the edge of the tub: “Your Highness has small hands. Can you wash yourself thoroughly? Do you need the Prince’s help?”

Zhao Yān froze, her gaze falling on his long fingers with distinct knuckles. Then she said irritably: “No need.”

Wenren Lin’s gaze moved downward as he asked considerately: “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“No need!”

Zhao Yān knelt in the water with her knees together, inadvertently splashing a string of water drops. Wenren Lin turned his head slightly, but a few drops still landed on his jaw and collar.

He opened his eyelashes, his wet face possessing a celestial, fallen beauty.

Instinctively wanting to wipe it off for him, Zhao Yān forgot her own hands were wetter. Watching as she made him even wetter, she could only curve her eyes and say: “You should… go wash too.”

Wenren Lin held her slippery wrist, placing it back in the hot water to soak. He squeezed it before rising and going to the basin rack behind the screen.

He soaked a cloth in the copper basin, took off his long robe, and casually draped it on the wooden rack. Immediately, the screen projected a tall shadow with rugged, distinct lines, tapering from broad shoulders to a strong waist, and below, two firm, long legs… so straight and slender that even though Zhao Yān had seen them several times, she was still amazed by the perfection of this body.

In this rare moment of calm, Zhao Yān only dared to admire silently from behind the screen.

Lost in a daze, she suddenly heard Wenren Lin’s deep voice: “Just now on the bed, had Your Highness not seen enough?”

Zhao Yān snapped back to reality, quickly withdrawing her gaze and turning to sit with her back against the bathtub. She thought indignantly: Does this man have a thousand-mile vision? How could he know where her eyes were looking from behind the screen?

She casually splashed two handfuls of water on her face, then frowned, holding her stomach, complaining to no one in particular: “I’m hungry.”

Her tone was endearingly straightforward.

A light laugh came from behind the screen. Wenren Lin unhurriedly finished wiping himself, tossed the cloth into the basin, and put his clothes back on from the wooden rack.

He ladled two dippers of hot water into her tub, reached out to test the water temperature, then dried his fingers and went to the outer chamber, bringing back two plates of dried fruit and pastries.

The Crown Prince had strict etiquette standards. For instance, unless it was a special festival, fires couldn’t be lit in the kitchen after dark, and night food and drink were prohibited. In hot weather, this was bearable, but now with snow falling heavily, cold food seemed difficult to stomach.

Zhao Yān glanced at the food and said softly, “Cold food gives me a stomachache. Is there anything hot?”

Wenren Lin glanced at her, reached out to pinch her ear, and pulled a chair over. He sat with his legs crossed, deliberately using silver chopsticks to pick up a piece of taro cake and a crystal pastry, placing them over the charcoal basin to warm.

The firelight cast on his cold, white face, the profile bathed in warmth. A wave of heat also rose in Zhao Yān’s heart, filling her chest with a sour, swelling sensation.

Everyone feared him. Even Zhao Yān herself had once viewed him as a fearsome beast. Yet after all their tumultuous entanglements, it was this man who, most of the time, granted her every request.

At this moment, they were not Prince Su and the Crown Prince, just a pair of ordinary people warming pastries around a charcoal basin. If this peace could continue forever, it would certainly be a wonderful thing.

Zhao Yān would not force him to back down. She would prove to him that there was still a bright path for them to walk together.

A warmth touched her lips—Wenren Lin had brought over the perfectly warmed, fragrant taro cake, and said casually: “Try it.”

Zhao Yān took the silver chopsticks, took a bite, and nodded: “Delicious. Would you like some?”

Wenren Lin didn’t bite the pastry she offered to share. Instead, he leaned forward, tilting his head to capture the crumbs at the corner of her mouth with his lips. “Mm,” he affirmed, “Fragrant.”

Zhao Yān remembered that Wenren Lin had mentioned he wasn’t in the habit of eating at night. After dark, he was rarely seen eating, his self-discipline terrifyingly strong.

She pressed her lips together, taking a bite of the warm pastry to hide her thoughts: “I don’t know how your body is constructed. You eat so little yet grow so tall, and your strength is also…”

Realizing the topic was becoming inappropriate, Zhao Yān stopped speaking and concentrated on appreciating the soft, fragrant taro cake.

Wenren Lin sat in the chair, looking quite pleased: “This official, then, thanks Your Highness for the compliment.”

His use of “this official” was rare. Zhao Yān felt an inexplicable sense of impropriety, as if the hierarchy had been reversed. She simply averted her eyes to look at the nearly extinguished candle on the desk.

After eating, drowsiness washed over her completely.

Before the water cooled, Wenren Lin forcibly lifted the nodding Zhao Yān from the bathtub, dried her off, wrapped her in clean undergarments, and tucked her into bed.

It was past midnight, and everything was quiet.

Though extremely drowsy, Zhao Yān awoke again when she saw Wenren Lin rising, and grabbed two of his fingers.

Wenren Lin turned back, gazing at the expectation in her eyes. After a flash of surprise, he smiled at her: “Is Your Highness still hungry somewhere?”

Zhao Yān tightened her grip on his fingers, opened her mouth, and instinctively blurted out:

“It’s snowing outside. Why doesn’t the Grand Tutor stay the night and leave when dawn breaks?”