Reminded by Wenren Lin, the Emperor finally looked at the “Crown Prince” who was silently kneeling to the side.

Zhao Yān secretly pinched herself for strength and straightened up respectfully: “Your son wishes to remain at Your Majesty’s side to share your worries.”

Due to the pain, her breath trembled almost imperceptibly, her complexion pale, inspiring pity in those who saw her.

Looking at Wenren Lin beside her, his expression remained calm without a ripple, as if he had merely mentioned it in passing.

The Emperor exhaled slowly and softened his voice: “Winter is indeed the most difficult season for health. The Crown Prince is frail, there’s no need to trouble yourself. You may go.”

Zhao Yān lowered her eyes and bowed again: “Yes, your son takes his leave.”

She supported herself on the floor tiles, momentarily relieving the sudden surge of numbness and soreness, before pressing her lips together and rising, bowing as she retreated from the great hall.

At the foot of Taiji Hall, Liu Ying hurried forward in the piercing north wind, wrapping a cloak around Zhao Yān’s slender form.

“Your Highness has been paying respects for so long today.”

“Don’t mention it. As soon as I entered the hall, I encountered the officials requesting to suppress the Luozhou uprising. Father was angry, and I ended up kneeling for almost half an hour.”

…

…

As she spoke, Zhao Yān, wrapped in her cloak, passed through the gate, heading toward the carriage, “Father even broke tradition and asked for my opinion on the matter.”

“How did Your Highness respond?”

“Was Father truly interested in my thoughts? I felt his tone was somewhat complex, so I didn’t dare answer truthfully and simply evaded the question.”

Zhao Yān frowned slightly and glanced around the empty surroundings, lowering her voice, “By the way, have you heard about the former Crown Prince’s matter? What kind of person was he, and why was he accused of treason?”

“Hush, Your Highness must be careful.”

Liu Ying seemed anxious and whispered in her ear, “This is a nineteen-year-old case. This servant doesn’t know the details clearly, and it’s strictly forbidden to mention it in the palace. This servant only heard that the former Crown Prince had a good reputation, but later was found hoarding a large quantity of armor and weapons. He was jointly reported by Prince Xuan and Prince Rui, so the late Emperor deposed the Crown Prince for treason and exiled him to Fangling… On the way to exile, the deposed Crown Prince took poison and ended his life.”

Prince Xuan and Prince Rui—Zhao Yān had heard the Empress Dowager mention them briefly in Huayang.

At that time, the Empress Dowager was devoted to Buddhism and viewed worldly matters lightly, yet when mentioning these two, she still showed distinct disgust, her prayer beads rolling quickly through her fingers.

Now Zhao Yān understood—what mother would feel kindly toward those who forced her child to death? Fortunately, Prince Xuan and Prince Rui ultimately gained nothing and met tragic ends, somewhat appeasing her grandmother’s anger.

Dark clouds hung low over the imperial city, the cold wind like a flood, seeming to devour everything.

In this golden, magnificent cage, fathers were not fathers, sons were not sons. Brothers slaughtered each other like beasts fighting, with no trace of familial affection.

Returning to the Eastern Palace, Zhao Yān sat in the study rubbing her aching knees while pondering the deeper meaning behind her father’s subtle attitude today.

Last year, when rebels from Sichuan approached the capital, her father remained calm and collected. Why did he react so strongly upon seeing the memorials about the Luozhou uprising today?

Was it because it involved the former Crown Prince?

The former Crown Prince was deposed, Prince Xuan and Prince Rui both ruined themselves, and her father ascended the throne with the strong support of General Wenren, who then led one hundred thousand soldiers to die in a lonely city… Could there be some connection?

She also recalled Wenren Lin striding into the hall, intimidating the court. Her father had initially sent someone else to quell the Luozhou disturbance, but was now forced to rely on Wenren Lin again. She wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

Her thoughts became somewhat chaotic. Zhao Yān covered her forehead, hearing Gu Xing reporting from outside the door.

“Your Highness, Chou Zui has returned to the capital.”

Hearing this name, Zhao Yān came back to herself.

“Where is he?”

“He appeared at Mingde Academy this morning, met with Young Master Liu, and entrusted him to bring something to Your Highness.”

With permission, Gu Xing entered the hall and presented an object with both hands: “This humble one has already inspected it. Please, Your Highness, take a look.”

It was a bronze palace token, used for palace staff to temporarily leave the palace for errands.

“Where did this come from?” Zhao Yān asked sternly.

Gu Xing replied: “Chou Zui obtained it from an envoy sent by the Divine Light sect to Luozhou. It’s said the ‘envoy’ was a woman, but she has already taken her own life. Young Master Liu has gone to investigate this matter.”

From the palace, a woman…

Zhao Yān pondered for a moment, then handed the palace token to Liu Ying at her side: “Please ask Mother to secretly investigate whether any female officials or maids from the six palace departments are missing.”

Liu Ying responded with “Yes” and hid the palace token in her sleeve, bowing before leaving to make arrangements.

A gust of northern wind blew fiercely, and fragmented snowflakes fell from the gray sky.

Then it grew heavier, from fine dust-like particles to goose feather-sized flakes—it was indeed snowing.

Zhao Yān walked to the corridor, looking up at the layers of snow shadows, exhaling a puff of white breath onto her fingertips. The wet, frost scent at the tip of her nose involuntarily reminded her of the scent that clung to Wenren Lin’s sleeves at the beginning of each month…

The snow fell intermittently for a day.

Zhao Yān used physical discomfort as an excuse, personally writing a reply to decline Huo Zhenzhen’s invitation to brew tea with fresh snow. She also had the kitchen make two boxes of pastries that Huo Zhenzhen loved most as an apology, to prevent the little ancestor from coming to complain with a pouty mouth.

With both year-end examinations and private matters being complex, Zhao Yān truly had no energy to deal with other things.

The next day, returning from Chongwen Hall, Zhao Yān was surprised to find Wenren Lin already sitting in the study.

Somewhat surprised, Zhao Yān dismissed the palace attendants behind her and entered, saying: “I thought you wouldn’t come today.”

After all, at the beginning of each month, his poison…

Wenren Lin put down the book in his hand, leaning forward and raising his arm to brush away the snow from Zhao Yān’s fox fur collar: “After meeting with the Emperor, I came to see Your Highness.”

His cool fingers brushed past Zhao Yān’s neck, bringing a familiar frosty breath.

She couldn’t help but lower her gaze to observe Wenren Lin’s complexion as he sat in the chair. Fortunately, apart from looking somewhat cold, he showed no other abnormalities.

“Your Highness keeps staring foolishly at this prince. This prince will suspect Your Highness has designs on him.”

Wenren Lin suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

During those early days of each month, he would always be like this—his lacquer eyes deep and level, like two desolate deep pools reflecting the dark light of a blood moon.

A thought surfaced in Zhao Yān’s mind.

She didn’t retreat but advanced, raising her eyebrows and gazing into his faintly beautiful eyes: “If I had designs, would the Grand Tutor give or not give?”

“Give.”

Wenren Lin said softly, without the slightest hesitation.

Zhao Yān was startled.

Looking more closely, Wenren Lin still maintained a calm expression, as if that word just now had been her imagination.

After a while, light, shallow smiles curved in Zhao Yān’s eyes.

“Then wait here.”

Zhao Yān straightened up and walked two steps toward the hall door, then instructed him, “Stay here and don’t move.”

Wenren Lin didn’t know what she intended to do, but he obediently remained seated in his chair.

Zhao Yān was gone for about half an hour. Wenren Lin raised his hands over the charcoal basin to warm them, reading and waiting. However, the frequency of his page-turning slowed; he would stare at a page for a long time before turning it, his gaze drifting toward the hall entrance.

Before long, languid footsteps finally sounded from the corridor.

Only after entering the study did Zhao Yān shed the disguise of the Crown Prince, her steps becoming lighter as she took Wenren Lin’s hand and said: “Wrap up well in your great cloak to keep warm. I’ll take you somewhere.”

Her hand was exceedingly cool. Wenren Lin frowned, putting on his cloak and following her: “Have you been playing in the snow?”

Zhao Yān paused, like a child caught doing something naughty, glancing at him sideways: “Don’t ask so many questions!”

Wenren Lin smiled without speaking, pausing his steps and gesturing for the distant attendant to come over. He whispered something before following Zhao Yān’s footsteps around the corridor.

Behind Cheng’en Hall was a secluded garden with staggered artificial hills and a dozen or so proudly standing winter plum trees—half with vibrant red blossoms, half with elegant white ones.

These were planted by Zhao Yān and Zhao Yǎn when they were nine years old, taking the number of their ages, eighteen trees in total.

At this time last year, Zhao Yān had lacked the courage to face this garden full of plum blossoms. Now, she could finally stand here calmly, facing the silently blooming white plums on the branches.

“Stand here, facing the corridor. Only turn around when I call you.”

Zhao Yān instructed Wenren Lin to take a fire stick from Liu Ying and approach several snow lanterns set up in the courtyard.

After lighting the last one, she extinguished the fire stick and said: “You can—”

Looking back, she met Wenren Lin’s profound gaze.

He hadn’t listened properly at all but had turned around early and was watching her with a smile.

“Why are you peeking? Not following the rules.”

Zhao Yān stood in the depths of the lamplight, gathering her sleeves, seemingly displeased yet not truly angry.

Wenren Lin quietly gazed at her.

She wore an apricot-white fox fur cloak, surrounded by seven or eight snow lanterns. The crystalline snow lanterns contained small lamps inside, making them warm yellow and cozy. One by one, they were like stars scattered throughout the courtyard, reflecting the plum shadows, somewhat resembling a jade forest fairyland.

And she was the exquisite, dazzling fairy at the center of the snow lanterns.

The stillness of a cold pond receded from Wenren Lin’s eyes, replaced by a trace of warmth.

He took a pair of soft leather hand covers presented by the attendant and slowly walked toward the depths of the lamplight, approaching Zhao Yān.

With each step closer, the intimidating coldness on his face receded a bit more, his cheeks gradually taking on a warm jade-like luster, as if a banished immortal had descended to the mortal world.

“Did Your Highness make these?”

He earnestly gazed at the artfully arranged snow lanterns on the stone table and benches, carefully examining each one.

Zhao Yān nodded.

“I rarely leave the palace and can’t take you elsewhere to appreciate the snow. After much thought, this place in the Eastern Palace has the most elegant snow scenery, so I wanted to invite you to come and relax together.”

As she spoke, she seemed to recall amusing memories, “When I was in Huayang, I loved making snow lanterns in winter. It’s the only thing I knew how to make. Unfortunately, it rarely snowed in Huayang, and most of the time, the snow would melt before reaching the ground. Tonight I’ve fully enjoyed myself. Do they look nice?”

Wenren Lin listened quietly and responded, “They look nice.”

Zhao Yān was just about to express dissatisfaction with his perfunctory answer when she saw Wenren Lin bend down to take her hands hidden in her sleeves, rubbing her cold, reddened fingertips before gently slipping the hand covers onto her knuckles.

This time his tone was more serious, carrying a hint of tender affection: “Not as nice as Your Highness.”

Zhao Yān’s fingertips warmed.

The pearl-white hand covers were tailored to her hand size from memory, neither too long nor too short, thin and soft, giving off a pearl-like subtle glow in the lamplight.

It was snowing, and Wenren Lin had originally come tonight to deliver these items.

“Are these hand covers?” Zhao Yān curled her fingers, finding this item on her hands curious.

She had seen hand covers before but rarely encountered ones so thin and soft, feeling no clumsiness when wearing them.

The winter is bitterly cold. Your Highness should wear these normally to avoid frostbite.”

Having said this, he squeezed her little finger through the hand cover as if in punishment, raising his deep eyes, “If you directly handle snow with your bare hands again, these beautiful fingers will eventually freeze off.”

Zhao Yān instinctively curled her fingers but still smiled carefree.

The palace attendants waited outside the yard. It was the dead of night, with only the snow lanterns illuminating the two figures under the plum trees.

Zhao Yān handed the hand warmer from her bosom to Wenren Lin, warming his slightly cool knuckles, then turned and strode to a plum tree in the courtyard. Through the hand covers, she gathered a handful of clean snow, packed it slightly, and then without warning threw it at Wenren Lin!

She had wanted to do this for a long time.

In a place where she needed no caution, with a person who required no restraint, to joyfully have a snowball fight.

However, the snowball didn’t touch him at all, as he casually tilted his head to avoid it.

“Stand there, no dodging.”

Zhao Yān loosely packed another handful of snow and feigned before throwing it at Wenren Lin.

Wenren Lin rolled up his sleeve, causing the snowball to circle within his wide, dark sleeve, neutralizing its force before accurately hitting Zhao Yān’s chest with a very light touch.

Zhao Yān stared in astonishment, her competitive spirit aroused. She rolled up her sleeve edges and formed an even larger snowball: “I don’t believe it! No using hands, no using feet either.”

Wenren Lin’s face remained calm, full of indulgence.

This time Zhao Yān used all her strength, trying to even the score.

As promised, Wenren Lin stood with his hands down, neither moving nor shifting, completely at ease.

Yet before the snowball could touch him, it shattered like jade flowers in midair, bursting into countless snow particles under the lamplight, enveloping them both in a shower of snowflakes.

Light, slightly cool, the face of Wenren Lin opposite seemed to become shadowy.

“How… how did you do that?”

Zhao Yān, with a head of gentle snow particles and a few fragments on her eyelashes, curiously examined him up and down, “Could it be some kind of sorcery?”

Wenren Lin laughed lightly and turned over his palm to show her.

Zhao Yān pried open his long fingers to see a tiny icicle wedged between them, likely plucked during his sleeve movement earlier. Something only about the size of a fingernail could generate such powerful impact in his hands, and Zhao Yān hadn’t even seen when he made his move. It was truly astonishing.

She admired and envied him.

“Last time, the Grand Tutor said you would teach me a set of sword techniques to strengthen the body. Does that still stand?”

Zhao Yān gripped his knuckles, expectantly.

With his hand being held, Wenren Lin had to lean down, using the tip of his nose to brush away the ticklish snow on her eyelashes until they fluttered uneasily. Then, with a successful smile, he said: “Please trouble Your Highness to pick two plum branches.”

Though puzzled, Zhao Yān complied, breaking off one red plum branch and one white.

“Your Highness must learn sincerely.”

Wenren Lin casually pointed to the red branch, twirling it between his fingers with a graceful sword flourish. Then, placing one hand behind his back, he began demonstrating a simple set of sword techniques for Zhao Yān, using wood in place of a blade.

This was the first time Zhao Yān had seen Wenren Lin perform swordsmanship.

Since it was a demonstration, he made the movements very slow, creating a kind of freehand elegance. The warm light outlined his dark robes as he seemed to both perform swordsmanship and casually sketch—light as returning snow, nimble as a swimming dragon.

Yet when the next thrust came, the unremarkable branch in his hand produced a sharp sword whistle, the air around them trembling with sound, shaking red plum blossoms loose in a flutter.

Zhao Yān was entranced, completely forgetting to respond.

Only when Wenren Lin straightened and completed his form amid the falling plum blossoms did Zhao Yān awaken as if startled, smiling as she applauded with small movements.

“Your Highness, come.”

Wenren Lin, seemingly seeing through everything, stood among the snow and flower rain like a stroke of thick ink.

Zhao Yān froze, then reluctantly inched forward, twirling the white plum branch.

She positioned her legs one before the other, assuming a starting stance, but momentarily deflated and sincerely pleaded: “Could the Grand Tutor demonstrate once more? Just now, I didn’t see clearly…”

“What was Your Highness looking at to be so distracted?”

Wenren Lin’s eyes held a hint of mischievous smile as he swept the flower branch across Zhao Yān’s arm, sliding to the back of her hand where he lightly tapped, “A restless mind deserves punishment.”

Despite his words, he still dutifully demonstrated again.

Because the basic techniques were simple, Zhao Yān learned quickly this time, and soon was able to follow Wenren Lin’s movements perfectly.

Their robes touched, drawing golden arcs of light under the snow lanterns, brilliantly shining.

One black, one white, wielding plum branches, the two shadows on the snow—one large, one small—were surprisingly harmonious.

Once Zhao Yān had memorized the movements, Wenren Lin stood back with his hands behind him to observe, occasionally correcting her posture from behind.

“A sword is much heavier than a flower branch. Your Highness needs to steady your wrist.”

He spoke softly, using his flower branch to press against her wrist, his voice almost transmitted directly against her ear shell, “Focus.”

The man’s breath brushed past, causing Zhao Yān’s ear shell to tingle, nearly making her hand tremble.

She forced herself to focus on her wrist, correcting and restarting over and over.

At some point, fragmentary snow began falling from the night sky again, becoming clusters of golden flecks when illuminated, drifting down onto the plum garden and into Zhao Yān’s eyes.

Her strength was too small, her foundation insufficient. No matter how she thrust, she couldn’t produce the wind sound that Wenren Lin could.

After several rounds, the tip of her nose was already beaded with sweat.

Wenren Lin effortlessly wrapped her wrist, taking the plum branch from her hand and saying: “Haste makes waste. Your Highness need not try so hard. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future.”

Zhao Yān panted slightly, turning her head to look at Wenren Lin with some surprise.

Perhaps her gaze was too revealing, for Wenren Lin brushed away the snow particles on top of her hair and asked, “What is it?”

Zhao Yān shook her head and smiled: “Nothing.”

So, there is a “future” after all.

She tucked this unexpected joy in the depths of her heart.

The two walked toward the corridor, with Zhao Yān looking back at the snow lanterns she had labored to make in the courtyard.

“What a pity. When I wake tomorrow, these snow lanterns will be covered by new snow.”

She sighed lightly, “I put so much effort into them.”

“Such trifles, and yet Your Highness grieves over them.”

Wenren Lin teased her, though his tone was gentle, “If Your Highness likes these little things, this prince will have people make ice lanterns to hang. Your Highness can have as many as desired. Even if in the future you want ice and snow lanterns in all four seasons, this prince can fulfill that wish.”

“The future?”

Zhao Yān stopped in her tracks, standing in the corridor, looking at him.

Seeing she hadn’t followed, Wenren Lin paused and turned back.

Their eyes met. Wenren Lin gazed at the scattered light in her eyes, beginning to ponder which of his previous words had been inappropriate to cause the little princess to react this way.

“Wenren Shaoyuan!” Zhao Yān called him by his courtesy name.

A breeze passed through the corridor, causing the bright palace lamps to sway, spilling golden light all over the ground.

She stood in the light, her eyes slightly curved as she called out loudly: “Do you know? You’ve begun to envision the future.”

This time, it was Wenren Lin’s turn to be stunned.

“You are such a difficult person to deal with, always aloof, saying things like ‘there is no future.'”

Zhao Yān strode over, covered in fluffy light, looking up at Wenren Lin, “But you’ve already begun to envision the future. I suddenly have some confidence in my choice. I think I can do it, Wenren Shaoyuan!”