Ling Jingshu had spoken with great care, and Wei Yan answered with equal gravity: “Indeed. I will be vigilant.” He paused, then added with a low, teasing note: “Besides, I still need this life of mine to marry you—I have no intention of throwing it away.”

Ling Jingshu shot him a glance: “There you go again, talking nonsense. Words like life and death—don’t let them pass your lips so casually.”

It sounded inauspicious to her ears.

Wei Yan gave a dutiful nod, wearing the expression of a man who would happily defer to her in everything.

Ling Jingshu could not hold back a smile.

The night was deep and still, and to lie close and speak softly together was the most wonderful thing in the world.

At some point, Wei Yan had drawn close again, wrapping her in his arms. He murmured to her softly, leaning down every now and then to steal a kiss—he was entirely reluctant to leave.

The faint sound of the night watch drum drifted in from somewhere in the palace.

Without realizing it, the third watch had already come and gone.

No matter how reluctant she felt, Ling Jingshu had no choice but to push firmly against Wei Yan: “You have to go.”

Wei Yan let out a muffled sigh: “I know. I’m leaving now. A’Shu, I am truly reaching the end of my endurance. I want to marry you—properly, openly, to take you as my wife and never be apart from you again.”

His voice took on a note of anticipation: “The Emperor has lost all interest in women now, and his intentions toward you have faded entirely. If I were to go before the Emperor and ask him to bestow the marriage, there is a good chance he would agree on the spot. And if that is not enough, I can ask Elder Sister to petition the Emperor on my behalf.”

Given Wei Jieyu’s current standing in the palace, if she were to personally request this marriage for Wei Yan, the Emperor would surely not dismiss her.

Ling Jingshu’s heart leaped at the words. She thought carefully, then smiled with a touch of helplessness: “Let us wait a little longer. The situation in the palace is still tense and uncertain right now—something may erupt at any moment. For both of us, keeping a low profile and staying cautious is the wisest course.”

The Crown Grandson’s intentions were unclear, and Prince Yan was no one to be underestimated.

And both of them had, at one time or another, cast their eyes in her direction. At a time like this, if the Emperor were to publicly bestow a marriage upon her, Wei Yan would almost certainly become a thorn in both their sides.

Wei Yan reflected on this for a moment, and understood at once what Ling Jingshu was worried about. He could only laugh bitterly and sigh: “When it comes down to it, the fault is all mine for being so useless.”

Having rivals of such formidable rank and power was genuinely stifling.

Neither the Crown Grandson nor Prince Yan would be easily dismissed if either of them made up his mind to cause trouble for him.

Ling Jingshu smiled—just one sentence, and it smoothed away every shadow in Wei Yan’s heart: “But the person I chose is not the Crown Grandson, nor Prince Yan. It is you.”

Wei Yan’s eyes lit up in an instant. He pulled her close against him with feeling: “A’Shu, wait for me. One day, I will come to marry you with all the celebration and ceremony you deserve.”

Ling Jingshu answered with a soft, contented sound and rested her head against his broad, firm chest.

The following morning.

Ling Jingshu woke somewhat later than usual. But the color in her face was unusually vivid, and her eyes, when they moved, held a brilliance that was dazzling.

Bai Yu could not help but remark: “Young Miss grows lovelier every day.”

Young Miss had always been beautiful. But now every trace of youthful uncertainty had been shed, and she was like a gemstone that had been carefully polished—radiant, luminous, impossible to look away from.

Ling Jingshu gave a bright smile: “Of course in your eyes I am the loveliest. But don’t say things like that outside—people will laugh at you.”

Qiao Yun immediately chimed in with a grin: “Every soul in this palace has eyes. Even without Bai Yu saying a word, everyone can see it for themselves.”

Ling Jingshu was in a buoyant mood, and she smiled more than usual: “Just look at the two of you, competing to flatter me at the crack of dawn.”

The three of them—mistress and maids—shared a few cheerful exchanges, then reminded themselves not to waste time and made their way quickly to Wei Jieyu’s bedchamber.

The maid on door duty was in the middle of her morning report: “…Last night, just before the fourth watch, Imperial Physician Wei appeared from somewhere. He said he had drunk too much the previous evening and wandered into some unoccupied guest room where he inadvertently fell asleep. By the time he woke up, it was nearly the fourth watch. Imperial Physician Wei was quite mortified, and says he will come today to beg Her Ladyship’s pardon.”

For an imperial physician to fall asleep in a consort’s sleeping quarters—even in an unoccupied room—was entirely improper.

The matter could be made into something large or left as something small. If Wei Jieyu chose to pursue it, Wei Yan would not escape punishment.

Wei Jieyu, who knew perfectly well where Wei Yan had actually spent the night, felt a very strong urge to laugh as she listened to this meticulously constructed nonsense: “Very well, I take note of it. You may withdraw.”

The maid bowed and stepped back. Ling Jingshu stepped forward with practiced composure, gave a small curtsy, and said: “This servant greets Her Ladyship.”

Aside from a slight warmth behind her ears, she was entirely composed.

Wei Jieyu knew very well how easily Ling Jingshu could be made to blush. She made no mention of Wei Yan, not wishing to embarrass her: “You have come at the right time. Xin Yun has been on watch all night and is exhausted—let her go and rest. You shall attend me here.”

Xin Yun took her leave and withdrew.

Wei Jieyu waved the other maids out of the room, then spoke quietly with a smile: “In a little while, I will petition the Emperor for a special dispensation to release you from the palace. What do you think?”

As long as Ling Jingshu remained in the palace for even one more day, the matter of her marriage could not be raised.

At this rate, who knew when Wei Yan and she would ever see that day come. She was still young, but Wei Yan was no longer so. He was at an age where a man ought to have a wife and family.

The proposal was extraordinarily tempting.

Ling Jingshu wanted desperately to agree on the spot. But as she thought of the many layers of worry and uncertainty she carried, she could only smile with gentle helplessness: “Your Ladyship’s kindness means more to me than I can say. Wei Yan and I spoke of this very matter last night. My feeling is that we should wait just a little longer.”

Wei Jieyu raised an eyebrow, somewhat puzzled: “Why wait? The Emperor’s thoughts toward you have already cooled. As long as I speak, the Emperor will not go against my wishes.”

Ling Jingshu repeated to her the reasons she had given Wei Yan the night before: “…I will not hide it from Your Ladyship. I carry a persistent sense of unease. Something tells me that a major upheaval is coming. Wei Yan is now, in a sense, considered a man of the Crown Prince’s faction. Your Ladyship’s own words and actions draw considerable scrutiny. In all matters, caution must come first.”

Wei Jieyu thought it over, and could not help but acknowledge the soundness of Ling Jingshu’s reasoning: “Very well. We have waited this long already—a little while longer will not matter.”

“But it is the two of you who suffer most for it. Hearts already given, yet each must endure alone.”

Her poor brother, most of all.

A man of his age, still on his own, with no one to care for him through the cold nights and the quiet hours. And lying awake in the long dark hours, missing someone who could not be there. The thought of it filled Wei Jieyu with a deep and aching tenderness.

Ling Jingshu lifted her head and gave a quiet smile. Her eyes held a steady, unwavering resolve: “Please do not worry, Your Ladyship. This small measure of longing—I can bear it, and Wei Yan can certainly bear it too.”

Without hardship and rain, one cannot reach happiness.

She and Wei Yan would wait. They would wait until the storm had passed and the rainbow came.

Wei Jieyu looked at Ling Jingshu, whose expression was calm and certain, and felt a wave of warmth and joy rise in her heart.

With a woman like Ling Jingshu to walk beside Wei Yan through his life, she—as his elder sister—could at last set her heart completely at rest.

Neither of the two women speaking together had any inkling that at this very moment, a tremendous storm had already begun to break across the imperial court.