Su Jin fell asleep in Zhu Nanxian’s embrace.

Never in her life had she slept so well. There were no more heart-startling dreams, no chaotic and sorrowful memories of the past. Those days of wandering through the world’s storms and rains all dissipated into nothingness within this gradual warmth.

The furrows between her tightly knit brows were smoothed away, and the string that had been taut within her body for over ten years slowly loosened.

So much so that when she woke the next day, she had fallen ill.

The illness came on fiercely—dizziness, burning fever throughout her body, walking as if treading on clouds. When she stood up from the grass bedding, she stumbled and nearly fell into the fire pit before her.

Fortunately, Zhu Nanxian was quick-eyed and swift-handed, catching her. He lifted his hand to touch her forehead, the worry in his eyes simply overflowing. He immediately scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the stone cave, tersely telling Tan Zhaolin, who was still lying drowsily on the grass mat: “Move.”

Tan Zhaolin groggily opened his eyes. Seeing Su Jin already delirious with illness in Zhu Nanxian’s arms, he couldn’t care about the pain in his back. He scrambled up and asked: “What happened to our lord?”

Hearing the words “our lord,” Zhu Nanxian made a particularly displeased “tsk” sound. He carefully placed Su Jin on the grass mat and instructed Tan Zhaolin: “Watch over her properly for this prince.”

He picked up two grass mats from the corner and placed them at a moderate distance from the fire pit against the stone wall. Then he went outside the cave to gather dry grass, which he layered between the grass mats to block the cold from the ground.

Qiling, who had been sleeping in the stone cave, had also awakened at the commotion. She watched as Zhu Nanxian once again scooped Su Jin up horizontally and carefully placed her on that soft grass mat. She couldn’t help but rise and approach, curtseying as she called out: “Your Highness.”

Zhu Nanxian was busy using his own cloak to wrap Su Jin up thoroughly and securely.

Seeing that he seemed not to have heard, Qiling asked again: “Your Highness, what has happened to Lord Su?”

Only then did Zhu Nanxian notice someone was speaking to him. His handsome brows furrowed: “I don’t know how she suddenly fell ill.”

He turned to glance at Qiling: “You’re awake?” Then he asked: “Are you feeling better?”

Qiling’s face flushed slightly red. She lowered her eyelids and replied: “In response to Your Highness, I am much better. Thank you for Your Highness’s concern.”

“That’s good.” Zhu Nanxian stood up and nodded: “Then go outside and fetch some snow. This prince wants to boil hot water for Ah… for Censor Su, but I must stay by her side to care for her and truly cannot spare the time.”

Qiling was momentarily stunned. She looked again at Su Jin behind him and responded: “Yes, this subject will go at once.”

Zhu Nanxian worried that Su Jin might sleep uncomfortably. He removed his outer robe to fashion a soft pillow for her, then didn’t know what else to do.

He was the legitimate thirteenth son of the imperial family. From birth, he had been surrounded by supreme honor. From childhood to adulthood, others had always rushed to serve him eagerly—he truly didn’t know much about caring for others.

Zhu Nanxian sat helplessly beside Su Jin. He raised his hand to lightly touch her forehead—alas, still burning hot. He carefully drew her wrist out from under the cloak, attempting to take her pulse—alas, he couldn’t make sense of it, so he had to carefully tuck it back.

For a moment he considered riding out of the forest grounds to fetch a physician, but the round trip would take a full day. Setting aside whether Tan Zhaolin and the others could properly care for Su Jin, Fenglan Mountain was full of hidden dangers. If he left and exposed their whereabouts, allowing others to find this place and harm her, what would he do?

Zhu Nanxian’s eyes darkened. He thought of how yesterday Zhu Fourteen had dared to openly hurt her—it must have been with Father Emperor’s tacit permission.

Ashan truly couldn’t bear seeing his prince in such a bitter, mournful, sighing state. He propped himself up on one leg and hopped to Su Jin’s side, leaning in for a closer look before saying to Zhu Nanxian: “Your Highness, Lord Su’s condition looks like she’s dispersing accumulated illness.”

Zhu Nanxian was startled: “Dispersing accumulated illness?”

Tan Zhaolin, who had been ordered aside for being too rough-handed and told to stay put, heard this and said: “Hey, it really does look like that.” He glanced at Zhu Nanxian and moved slightly closer. He could see Su Jin’s face flushed, her eyes tightly closed, seemingly no longer lucid. “She was fine yesterday. What happened to make her disperse illness so severely?”

“In my subordinate’s hometown, there’s a saying that if a person is constantly laboring and working hard, nothing much happens. But what’s most feared is when one day they suddenly relax, stop thinking about anything, stop managing anything—when that tightly wound string inside breaks, all the accumulated illness rises up at once. So sometimes you see a person who seems perfectly fine one moment, then collapses the next.”

As Ashan spoke, he frowned again looking at Su Jin: “Strange though—when ordinary people disperse accumulated illness, at most they catch a cold or develop a fever. It’s extremely rare to see someone like Lord Su who loses consciousness immediately upon collapsing.”

Zhu Nanxian turned to look at him, asking worriedly: “Is it serious?”

Ashan said: “Since it’s ‘dispersing’ accumulated illness, the illness needs to be dispersed out. It shouldn’t be serious.” He continued with a smile: “I’ve long heard that being a censor is exhausting. With Lord Su’s collapse, it’s almost as if she’s dispersing ten-plus years of accumulated illness all at once. Perhaps she was frightened by that black bear, or maybe something else happened last night that caused the lord to suddenly drop her guard. Does Your Highness know?”

Zhu Nanxian was momentarily stunned.

He looked at Su Jin in silence, then after a moment said quietly: “She had a difficult time before.”

Then he reached out his hand and, through the cloak, grasped her hand in his palm, saying quietly but firmly: “It won’t be like that anymore.”

Ashan knew that the Thirteenth Prince and Censor Su were close friends—otherwise he wouldn’t have risked his life to save her yesterday. So he counseled: “Your Highness need not worry. Actually, being able to fall ill like this is a good thing. Dispersing all the accumulated illness from the body will make her healthier in the future.”

Zhu Nanxian asked blankly: “Truly?”

Ashan replied: “This subordinate dare not deceive Your Highness. However, if Censor Su doesn’t wake by tonight and continues sleeping like this, I fear it may be some other illness.”

Zhu Nanxian hurriedly asked: “Then how can she wake up?”

Ashan said: “Let this subordinate examine her.” As he moved to touch Su Jin’s forehead, Zhu Nanxian intercepted him mid-air, averting his gaze and saying: “This prince has already checked. Very hot.”

Ashan nodded: “Then it’s a fever. Since it’s a fever, she’ll be fine once she breaks a sweat.”

He looked around: “Unfortunately we have nothing here. We can only keep her bundled like this and give her some hot water to drink. The trouble is that after she sweats,” he paused, “with the current cold weather, Censor Su will be soaked through after sweating. She absolutely must change her entire outfit, inside and out, and be dried thoroughly. Otherwise, if dampness and cold enter her body and leave lasting ailments, that would be bad.”

Zhu Nanxian nodded: “This prince understands.”

Then he stood up and raised his hand to remove his garments. Ashan hurriedly stopped him: “Your Highness has already given your cloak and outer robe to Censor Su. If you remove another layer, and Your Highness falls ill, who will care for the lord?”

Tan Zhaolin said: “Then wear mine.” As he started to move, he pulled his injury and hissed in pain.

“Wear mine.” Qiling returned with the snow. Seeing the situation, she lowered her eyes to look—everything covering and pillowing Su Jin belonged to the Thirteenth Prince. After a moment of silence, she unfastened the crabapple-red cloak from around her neck: “At least it can ward off the severe cold for a time.”

Zhu Nanxian accepted it, saying earnestly: “Thank you.” He shifted his gaze to the snow she had brought back and used the phoenix-wing helmet to scoop some, setting it over the fire to boil. After thinking, he added: “Ashan, you and Fourth Miss go rest in the outer cave.” To Qiling he added: “I trouble Fourth Miss—if more snow is needed, this prince will fetch it myself.”

The white snow over the fire melted inch by inch. Qiling watched Zhu Nanxian personally attending to everything without a moment’s leisure. She suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of unwillingness. Some confusion arose in her heart, but she was too embarrassed to ask openly in front of all these people. She could only go to the outer cave with Ashan.

Zhu Nanxian still removed his inner garment and set it aside.

After the snow was boiled, he washed a winter green leaf clean, gathered Su Jin in his arms, and used the winter green leaf to scoop water, feeding it to her little by little. Each time he fed her only a small amount. After feeding her five or six times, he used his sleeve to carefully wipe the corners of her mouth clean.

He had originally intended to lay her back down, but couldn’t bear to follow his own heart. After a brief internal struggle, he found himself completely unwilling to let go. He allowed her to recline in his embrace, wrapped her tightly in the cloak, and watched closely to see if her forehead had begun to sweat.

Tan Zhaolin stood to the side watching Zhu Nanxian busily attend to his lord, dumbstruck. He finally understood one thing clearly—the Thirteenth Prince had probably taken a fancy to his lord.

Su Jin had once taught Tan Zhaolin that if he harbored doubts and wasn’t certain of the answer, he could actually test it out by asking about other matters. He had accompanied Su Jin on inspection tours for over a year and had watched her interrogate cases multiple times. With just a few indirect questions, the truth would come to light.

Tan Zhaolin hadn’t spent two years at Su Jin’s side for nothing.

He said: “Your Highness, I’m hungry.”

Zhu Nanxian replied: “You’re thick-skinned and sturdy—you won’t starve to death. Endure it.”

Tan Zhaolin carefully studied his expression, then asked with complete seriousness: “But what if our lord wakes up later and there’s nothing for her to eat?”

Zhu Nanxian paused. Only then did he gently lay Su Jin on the grass mat, pick up the longbow and quiver from the corner and sling them on his back. He instructed: “This prince will return in an hour. You stay here and watch over her, but you’re not allowed to touch her. Understand?”

Tan Zhaolin stood dumbfounded—how had he tested it out so easily?

Still not quite believing it, he added: “Your Highness, I’m injured and have to care for Lord Su. I can’t be without strength. Could you help me hunt a mountain rabbit?”

Zhu Nanxian replied with displeasure: “Do you think rabbits appear just because you say so?” He glanced at Su Jin with great reluctance. After thinking, he added: “This prince will look around for one.”