The orange-red embers flickered among ash fine as silver threads, and the room was warm as spring.

Zhang Zhixu steadied Chen Baoxiang, who was on the verge of tumbling into his arms, and understood in an instant what feeling she was describing.

He swiftly took her pulse. His expression turned grave. He retrieved several vials of medicine from the drawer and had her swallow them.

“How do you feel?” he asked, urgency in his voice.

The person before him had flushed cheeks, her body limp as loose mud, yet her mind was, remarkably, still clear. She lay against his knee and thought for a moment, then said, “It was those soy-braised pork buns. The ones Bi Kong gave me.”

She drew a couple of labored breaths and frowned. “She couldn’t wait any longer. She wanted us to share a husband and wife’s intimacy, and then use me to control you — to force you to give up the imperial marriage, even to defy the decree outright. A vicious way to bully people.”

Seeing the medicine pills take no effect, he produced silver needles and began working, trying to divert her attention. “Should this method not be called clever rather than bullying?”

The needles pierced skin, and she frowned. “Swap in anyone else and this scheme would never work. As you said — in a great household, if one doesn’t want to marry, one can simply keep someone on the outside. But you are Zhang Zhixu. You would never do that. She designed this trap to match your character exactly. If that’s not bullying, what is it?”

More than a dozen needles had been placed, yet the flush on her face showed no signs of retreating — and color had begun spreading across her body as well.

“It’s Wuhui.” Zhang Zhixu said through clenched teeth.

“What is Wuhui?”

“An extremely potent passion drug. No antidote.” He withdrew the silver needles. “If one tries to endure it by force, it is very likely to damage the internal organs and harm the meridians.”

Chen Baoxiang’s gaze darkened. “She left me no way out at all.”

She still needed to rely on her martial skill and physical strength to climb upward — she could not afford to ruin her body over this.

She forced herself upright and stepped toward the door.

Zhang Zhixu had still been feeling somewhat unsettled, but seeing her move like that, he laughed in exasperation. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Sir, are you willing to be manipulated and used as someone else’s game piece?” She bit down on the flesh between her thumb and forefinger, fighting to keep her mind clear. “Now that you can see the chessboard all around you, are you still content to walk along the squares?”

“You have a way to break through?”

“Of course — I just need to find someone else—”

Before the words had fully left her mouth, Chen Baoxiang suddenly felt the world tilt. The earth and sky overturned beneath her, and she was pressed down onto the soft pillow by someone in furious exasperation. “Chen Baoxiang, do you have the nerve to say that again?”

“……”

What — she was the one who had been drugged, she was the one losing her reason — how was it he who had lost his sense. Given their current predicament, to break through the scheme she naturally had to find another person to resolve it — was there truly any better option?

Chen Baoxiang looked up at his face in bewilderment. Seeing that he was genuinely and fiercely angry, she instead split into a grin, reached up to grab his lapel, and pulled him down — then kissed him squarely on the lips.

The fury on Zhang Zhixu’s face froze in place.

He looked down at her. It seemed as though he wished to stay angry, but the corners of his mouth pressed together.

Chen Baoxiang then wrapped her arms around his neck, caressed his lips, and her feverish body arched slightly upward. “Fengqing.”

The taut string in Zhang Zhixu’s mind snapped clean.

He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her in return, pressing her down into the soft pillows as they embraced. He carefully avoided the wound on her shoulder, and with an inexperienced touch he moved along her waist.

A familiar silhouette, a familiar sensation — yet the fierce rush of feeling was entirely unlike anything he had known before.

The room grew warmer still. The open window seemed to let in no breeze at all.

“I had never intended to accept the imperial marriage in the first place.” He murmured against her ear, stubborn in his explanation. “So for me, this was never a game of chess.”

Not a game of chess — but a matter of flowing with the current, of willing compliance.

The drug took full hold. Chen Baoxiang, urgent and restless, turned and pressed him beneath her, and whether or not she had heard his words was uncertain as she began tugging his sash loose in a careless tangle.

Cool, pale skin — refreshingly cold.

She pressed greedily close, the tip of her nose nuzzling against his neck, then kissed him again impatiently, murmuring low, “Fengqing, Fengqing.”

Zhang Zhixu answered each call, steadied her waist, and with a touch both inexperienced and yet oddly familiar, moved to ease her distress.

Chen Baoxiang trembled, like a drenched little creature, helpless and nestled against him, her waist shifting, soft sounds escaping her.

The gauze curtains swelled and wound in the breeze. Outside, a light rain began to fall, patter by patter — raindrops struck the broad plantain leaves, deepening the colors of every flower. Ripples stirred across the pond and would not cease.

At the height of the spring’s richness, Chen Baoxiang looked at the person beneath her and suddenly said, “This time, he finally came out of my mind.”

Zhang Zhixu startled.

The person who had occupied her mind before — had that not been Pei Ruheng?

Could it be she had said that deliberately to provoke him?

Resentfully he gripped her arm and pulled her down, intending to give her a firm bite — but when his teeth pressed against her shoulder, he could not help but ease the pressure at the last moment.

Chen Baoxiang had no thought to spare for pain. She felt as though she might float away, and quickly wrapped her arms around him, letting out a low, soft cry.

·

The long spring rain fell for a great while before it gradually stilled. The proud sun broke through the clouds, and then slowly sank to the west.

Zhang Zhixu looked at the person who had fallen into a deep sleep beside him, and let out a long breath. He himself, however, was still unsettled.

In this world, truly no one could know her body better than he did — but she evidently did not yet know his.

No matter. There would be time enough ahead.

He tucked the blanket carefully around her, then retrieved the sweet potatoes — which had nearly burned through by now — from the embers and set them on the table. He gathered his robes and went to the adjoining room to bathe.

The moment the door closed, the sleeping Chen Baoxiang opened her eyes.

She covered her face with the blanket in a rare flush of embarrassment, then, like a thief, tiptoed out of bed, draped her outer robe over her shoulders, picked up her embroidered shoes, and slipped out through the window.

Bi Kong was waiting in the small courtyard. The moment she saw the vivid color in Chen Baoxiang’s face, she clapped her hands. “It actually worked.”

A visible flicker of anger crossed Chen Baoxiang’s face. She walked past without a word in reply.

Bi Kong’s conscience pricked her, and she quickly said, “Her Highness said you no longer need to go to Xiaoyong Fang — you may report directly to the Front Court Imperial Guards under the Princess’s banner.”

Was this supposed to be a slap followed by a sweet treat?

Chen Baoxiang looked downward, still silent.

The usually compliant Chen Baoxiang had rarely shown such resistance, and Bi Kong was plainly unable to hold her ground. She kept glancing nervously toward the shadows.

The room stayed quiet for a moment, then a shadow guard stepped out from the corner and clasped his hands toward Chen Baoxiang. “Her Highness requests your presence.”

Chen Baoxiang composed her expression, changed her clothes, and followed the shadow guard outside.

She had expected to go straight to the Princess’s manor, but to her surprise, he led her left and right through winding streets until arriving at an unremarkable teahouse.

“You’re here?” Li Bingsheng was leaning elegantly against a second-floor windowsill and waved her over.

Chen Baoxiang gave her a proper, measured bow according to protocol, then stood stiffly half a zhang away from her. Her emotions were plain on her face — anyone could see her displeasure at a glance.

Though she was a subordinate in another’s service, when she had been wronged she had to make it known — otherwise the wrongs would keep coming. Chen Baoxiang understood this very well.

She did not like the method Li Bingsheng had used against Zhang Zhixu, nor did she like being treated as a tool to be discarded once used.

Li Bingsheng studied her expression with a hint of curiosity. “You are quite something. When we first met you seemed ruthlessly ambitious — not much genuine feeling for Zhang Fengqing, as if you only wanted to use him as a stepping stone to climb higher. Yet looking at you now, it seems you have changed.”

“This has nothing to do with Zhang Fengqing.” Chen Baoxiang replied coldly.

“Then you feel that I am unscrupulous and unworthy to be your master.”

“This subordinate would not dare say so.”

Li Bingsheng laughed. “You dared to injure guards of Baoxin Palace — what is there left that you don’t dare to do?”

She had faced over a hundred imperial guards, and not only won — she had become famous for it. Quite capable indeed.

From beyond the open window, faint sounds of reading aloud could be heard.

Chen Baoxiang glanced out, puzzled.

“Come here.” Li Bingsheng came back to herself, beckoned to her, and gestured for her to look below.