Dark clouds obscured the moon. At the hour of Xu, a sudden rainstorm arrived unexpectedly.

Ripples appeared in the water jars in front of the steps, and the water lilies swayed gracefully in the fierce wind. The pink-white petals, dripping with glistening raindrops, added a touch of delicate, pitiful beauty.

The lamplight beneath the window appeared especially warm and peaceful on this dim, rainy night.

Wenren Lin chewed and swallowed a medicinal pill, gripping that waist so slender it couldn’t fill his hand, not allowing Zhao Yān to escape. That handsome face with its strong air of aggression was now full of playful tenderness. He bent down to compare with the definitions in “The Record of Harmony,” patiently demonstrating each point to her one by one, both in form and in color. After reading each passage, he would ask in her ear: “Is it like this, little Princess?”

Though the man’s voice was deep, enchanting, and tender like a soul-seducing spell, the back of his elegant, good-looking hand showed clearly defined tendons, his thumb almost pressing into the soft flesh of her waist.

At first, Zhao Yān could still respond with a few “mmm” and “ahh,” but later she was lost in another world, biting her lip and moaning that she “didn’t want to learn anymore.” But how could the dignified Prince Su abandon something halfway?

“Wenren Shaoyuan, I… have no strength left!”

“Since this prince has already taken medicine, let’s study two more passages.”

The night had grown deep, but Wenren Lin didn’t withdraw. Instead, he pressed her struggling wrist against the unfinished book and called out in a deep, husky voice: “Yan’er?”

It had been a long time since Zhao Yān had stayed up reading all night. Before long, she was so exhausted that she lost consciousness, with no memory of when she had bathed again, changed clothes, and gone to bed.

…

…

When she woke up and saw the spirited man sitting beside her, she could only bite her lip and silently grumble: Truly worthy of being called a rare and famous tool.

Thanks to this sudden rain, their departure for Huayang Palace was delayed by a day.

Sichuan was often cloudy and misty. After the rain, white veils wrapped around the green mountains, with ethereal mist swirling, like an exquisite ink painting unfolding before their eyes.

The carriage rumbled along. Zhao Yān, with a soft embroidered pillow supporting her back, leaned to one side and said: “To torment an injured person like this is simply inhuman!”

Wenren Lin chuckled softly. “Your Highness certainly changes face quickly. Who was it that actively studied ‘The Record of Yin-Yang Harmony’ the night before? This prince merely did his utmost to answer questions and clear doubts. If there’s no merit, at least there was effort.”

With one long arm, he embraced Zhao Yān, his warm, large hand covering her slender waist, massaging it with just the right pressure. He kissed her slightly cool earlobe and said, “Besides, lying down more is very beneficial for Your Highness’s waist injury. Otherwise, how could it appear so beautiful?”

Zhao Yān simply wanted to seal that hateful mouth of his!

Fortunately, they soon entered the Huayang territory. Seeing the familiar, ancient streets and smelling the spicy scent of pepper in the air, Zhao Yān was instantly revitalized, like a fish returned to water.

Since the national mourning period had just ended, Liu Ying was still fretting with the attendants about the lunch protocols.

“No one here recognizes us, so why bother with all these complicated rules? Abstaining from meat for a year serves no purpose except self-torment. But if, like those people in the Imperial Kitchen, we try to disguise fish and meat as tofu and white porridge to create fake vegetarian dishes, we’re only deceiving ourselves. It’s better to be honest.”

With that, Zhao Yān took the arm of Wenren Lin, who couldn’t stop smiling, and lifted the carriage curtain, saying, “Sister Liu Ying, don’t trouble yourself. I know of a place on East Street that serves exceptional yellow fish noodles. I’ll take you all to try it.”

The noodle shop wasn’t large. An oilcloth canopy was set up by the roadside for passing travelers to sit and eat, while inside were seven or eight tables. Though it was nearly noon, customers still came and went without pause.

The attendants all remained under the canvas awning outside, drinking soup and eating noodles, while Zhao Yān led Wenren Lin to an empty table by the window. They sat down, and she expertly ordered signature dishes like “Pine Mushroom Chicken” and “Yellow Fish Noodles,” then removed her veiled hat and said: “Add a plate of braised beef and Snow-soaked Tea for those tables outside.”

Yellow Fish Noodles was a hidden menu item, expensive and challenging to prepare, and usually only sold to regular customers.

The shopkeeper recognized Zhao Yān—a beautiful, fairy-like noble young lady was not a common sight. He hurriedly said: “You haven’t honored our humble shop for a year or two. Just the other day, I was wondering if you had moved to a bigger city.”

“Yes, I went to visit relatives and brought back a son-in-law from another place.”

Zhao Yān replied with a smile, pointing to Wenren Lin sitting across from her, his robe carefully arranged.

The shopkeeper saw that this young man was tall and strong, with first-rate handsome features, elegant and natural in his movements, carrying an indescribable air of nobility, and knew immediately that he was no ordinary person.

He cleverly bowed and repeatedly praised: “Truly a divine-like character! This humble one congratulates the lady and the gentleman. How about this: these pots of clear tea are my gift, as my best wishes for your happy union!”

The shopkeeper certainly knew how to be gracious and walked away smiling.

“Son-in-law?”

After the man left, Wenren Lin tapped his finger on the edge of the table, slowly repeating the word.

Zhao Yān rested her chin in her hand and raised an eyebrow: “What, do you have an objection?”

Wenren Lin knew she was taking revenge for last year when he made her act as his maid at Yuquan Palace. He nodded, appearing to ponder: “Last night I was still a guard, but after one romantic encounter, I’ve been promoted to son-in-law. It seems that with more diligent effort tonight, I should have another in-depth educational discussion with Yan’er. Another promotion is just around the corner…”

“Just eat your noodles!”

Zhao Yān irritably placed the chopsticks in Wenren Lin’s hand.

Sure enough, Wenren Lin laughed unrestrainedly.

The steaming Yellow Fish Noodles conveniently hid Zhao Yān’s blushing embarrassment. Each strand of noodle, made from yellow fish meat paste, was distinct and emitted a delicious aroma that could make one swallow their tongue swell.

Wenren Lin held the unrefined bamboo chopsticks, slowly picked up a mouthful and swallowed it, then frowned slightly, making a fist to cover his nose, and turned his head to cough softly.

Zhao Yān was startled and asked: “Does it taste bad?”

That couldn’t be right—even the imperial chefs in the capital’s palace would find it difficult to make such authentic flavors.

“No.”

Wenren Lin poured some tea and took a sip.

Only then did Zhao Yān realize that, as a Sichuan specialty, the Yellow Fish Noodles contained some Sichuan peppercorns.

The once all-powerful Prince Su, nightmare of countless court officials, actually couldn’t handle spicy numbing flavors. This was truly an extraordinary discovery.

Zhao Yān felt as if she had discovered an interesting secret, her eyes full of cunning delight at having scored a point. But as she continued to smile, she began to feel some sympathy. After all, Wenren Lin had always preferred bland food and avoided anything with a gamey smell. Though he had never explained why, Zhao Yān could guess it was related to the Yanluoguan siege battle years ago, where corpses had been strewn everywhere.

This shop’s Yellow Fish Noodles were only fresh and fragrant, without any fishy smell. Zhao Yān had thought it would suit Wenren Lin’s taste, but had forgotten about the Sichuan peppercorns.

“Stop eating. I’ll ask them to change it for you.”

Zhao Yān put down her chopsticks and said softly.

“There’s no need.”

Wenren Lin’s expression remained normal as he picked up another mouthful with his chopsticks and continued eating methodically.

He wanted to taste the flavor that the little Princess had enjoyed in her younger days, and even the slight numbing spiciness transformed into pleasure.

“Then drink some Pine Mushroom soup to counteract it. It’s also good for the stomach,” Zhao Yān said.

Wenren Lin took a clean bowl, first filled one for Zhao Yān, and only then picked up his own to taste, savoring it: “Not bad, very fresh and sweet.”

Only then did Zhao Yān smile with satisfaction.

After they had eaten their fill, Zhao Yān pulled Wenren Lin along the street for a walk to aid digestion.

“Your Highness knows this place like the back of your hand. It seems you must have snuck out to play quite often back then.”

Wenren Lin smiled, his thin lips somewhat more luxuriously red from the spicy numbness, adding to his handsomeness.

“Just… occasionally.”

Zhao Yān avoided discussing her childhood nonchalance and pointed ahead: “Cherries! Huayang cherries are very famous, but unfortunately, their skin is thin and flesh soft, easily bruised, making them difficult to transport. You can’t find them elsewhere.”

The cherry sellers were a pair of young sisters. The cherries were packed in small willow baskets, thoughtfully lined with glossy green cherry leaves, which enhanced the thumb-sized cherries—each one crimson and translucent, round and plump.

Zhao Yān had Shi Lan buy all the cherries, distributing them among the palace maids and attendants who accompanied them. She took the remaining basket onto the carriage herself and said with a smile: “En tao er.”

Wenren Lin imitated her tone: “En tao er?”

Zhao Yān was startled, then burst into uncontrollable laughter, gasping for breath as she said: “In Bashu dialect, cherries are called ‘en tao er.’ Want some?”

As the carriage set off, Wenren Lin pressed a finger to Zhao Yān’s lips, leaning forward to impose himself: “Yes.”

Whether the cherries were sweet or not, Zhao Yān didn’t know. She was certain that her lips at this moment must be even more luscious than the cherries.

They reached Huayang Palace before sunset. The bricks, tiles, grass, and trees remained largely unchanged from two years ago.

The eunuchs and palace maids who had stayed behind to clean were so surprised that they dropped their brooms, all kneeling in joyful greeting.

Zhao Yān instructed Liu Ying to reward them and had Shi Lan, who was familiar with the Huayang Palace halls, arrange the supplies and accommodations. She walked along the screen wall, through a doorway, and stopped in front of a side hall with half-open partitions.

Memories seemed to transport her back to that rainy early summer when a thinly-clad, frail young man stood under the corridor, pale-faced but gently saying to her, “Yan’er, happy coming of age.”

The breeze passed through the empty courtyard. Things remained the same, but people had changed.

Wenren Lin seemed to sense her momentary melancholy and took her hand, saying: “Where is Your Highness’s maiden chamber? Would you permit your future husband to… take a look?”

Zhao Yān pulled herself from her memories and smiled brightly: “It’s in the rear hall. I’ll take you there.”

Walking shoulder to shoulder, they circled winding corridors, past rockeries and ponds, until they saw a small pavilion hidden among bamboo paths. It had windows on three sides, with bamboo blinds half-rolled up, quite transparent and elegant.

Zhao Yān stopped and introduced: “That is Jingwen Pavilion, where the tutor taught lessons. Though it’s somewhat dull here, listening to the rustling sound of wind through the bamboo forest is quite pleasant. Would you like to sit for a while?”

Wenren Lin made no comment and walked forward with his hands behind his back: “Where did Zhou Ji teach Your Highness?”

Zhao Yān opened the door, sat down in a familiar spot, and said: “Before Zhou Ji passed the imperial examination and entered official service, he taught me here for two months, substituting for his uncle.”

Wenren Lin’s eyes grew cool, and he didn’t respond.

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Yān asked.

“Nothing.”

Wenren Lin stood by the window, raised his hand to lower the bamboo blinds, and turned to look down at her in the swaying light and shadow. “This prince was a few years too late and didn’t see how those frivolous butterflies participated in Your Highness’s past.”

Zhao Yān looked up, blinking her eyelashes, and then laughed: “What ‘frivolous butterflies’? Zhou Wanlan was such a pedant, just like a wooden block.”

“Your Highness knows him very well?” Wenren Lin deliberately elongated his tone.

Whenever he revealed this expression, he was planning something mischievous.

“Tsk, why so sour?”

Zhao Yān’s eyes curved in amusement as she pushed the basket of cherries toward him. “Come, come, Grand Tutor, have some en tao er to counteract the sourness.”

Wenren Lin didn’t look at the basket of cherries, gorgeous as red jade and tender with juice. In his deep eyes, he held captive only the small figure of Zhao Yān.

“Eating them this way is meaningless. Let’s try another method.”

Wenren Lin raised his hand to hold the back of Zhao Yān’s head. The sunset, filtering through the gaps in the bamboo blinds, gilded the silhouette of his profile with a layer of rich gold. His voice was exceptionally tender and intimate: “Summer has arrived, Yan’er. One should hold two cups of cherry sweetness, slowly biting and savoring them.”

Since he couldn’t participate in her past, he would make sure that every memorable moment of her future would be imprinted with his memory.