Late at night, Jiang Zhiyi returned to Yaoguang Pavilion with a heart full of unspoken words.

As soon as she entered, she found two maids sprawled in the warm chamber, sleeping soundly and oblivious to the world outside. This only added to the turmoil in her heart.

Recalling the wordless glances exchanged with Yuance during their journey back, Jiang Zhiyi passed through the warm chamber alone into her bedroom. She removed her cloak and collapsed onto the bed, gazing at the canopy above with complicated emotions as that congratulatory phrase echoed in her ears.

What did he mean by congratulating her for passing the test? Even if her previous actions had been inappropriate, couldn’t he have just honestly asked her about it instead of using such a hurtful method to test her—a test that even resulted in throwing away her token?

Was a person’s heart something to be tested so casually?

If her heart hadn’t been sufficiently sincere, genuine, pure, passionate, and resilient… what had been single-minded devotion might have been tested into fickleness!

Thinking about all the needless grievances she had suffered these days, and hearing that casually delivered congratulation, two voices repeatedly clashed in her mind.

One voice, carefree, said: How wonderful! It was all a misunderstanding, and Brother A-Ce doesn’t love someone else!

The other voice, furious, said: How dare he judge me, a Princess of the Second Rank! Unforgivable!

As she dwelt on these thoughts, time passed unnoticed. The fatigue of recent days pressed down on her like a mountain. Jiang Zhiyi lay on her bed and drifted into a foggy sleep.

This sleep was heavy, as if lead had been poured into her limbs, and her head was spinning in confusion. In her dreams, her body alternated between shivering with cold and burning with thirst.

When she regained a sliver of consciousness, her eyelids were too heavy to open, and she could only hear a jumble of sounds around her.

Footsteps, voices, the clink of a spoon against a bowl, rising and falling in volume—

“It’s all my fault. No matter what the Princess said last night, I should have stayed by her side. Now she’s caught a cold and developed such a serious fever…”

“I heard the Young Master’s cold has improved, and he can leave his room, yet the Princess has fallen ill. Could it be like that folk remedy says—as one waxes, the other wanes, the excess of yang and deficiency of yin…”

“But wasn’t that remedy already disproven?”

“With the floor heating so warm, how could the Princess catch a cold while staying in her room?”

The two maids frightened themselves with their superstitions, causing the ill Jiang Zhiyi to grow anxious as she listened.

Stop making her sick with mentions of her unlucky cousin! Didn’t it occur to you two that while you were sound asleep, your Princess might have been leaping across rooftops in the night winds of Chang’an?

Though these thoughts crossed her mind, she lacked the strength to open her eyes and speak. She only heard people coming and going, repeatedly changing the wet cloth on her forehead.

At some point, everything fell silent, and not a sound could be heard.

Half-awake and half-dreaming, a chill swept over her, causing her to curl up. Then she felt the edge of the bed sink, and a warm hand gently cradled her neck, slipping through her hair as calloused fingertips caressed the area behind her ear.

The rough calluses brushed against the thin skin behind her ear—not painful because the touch was so light, but it tickled.

She couldn’t help but shudder, and those fingers seemed to pause momentarily.

After a moment, warmth spread from behind her ear, gradually penetrating her body, flowing through her limbs and organs, slowly lifting her to floating clouds.

On those clouds, there seemed to be a hot spring. In its rising steam, her pores opened, and sweat soaked through her clothes.

She felt like a wet fish swimming in the hot spring, going deeper and deeper until it became suffocating. Just as she was about to run out of breath, she raised her head and broke through the surface—

Jiang Zhiyi slowly opened her eyes, breathing softly. She blinked in confusion at the canopy above, raised her hand to touch her flushed face, and turned her head to look around.

In the dead of night, in her bedchamber, there was no one except the maid sleeping by her bedside on night duty.

Jiang Zhiyi lightly licked her lips. In the absolute stillness, she could hear her heart beating, thump after thump.

The weather remained gloomy for three consecutive days, and Jiang Zhiyi remained bedridden for just as long. It wasn’t until the evening of the third day that her fever finally subsided completely.

After several days of sleeping heavily day and night, Jiang Zhiyi woke from a long daytime slumber as the lamps were being lit. The maids helped her sit up, and she felt stiff all over, as if her bones were twisted together and couldn’t stretch properly.

Gu Yu massaged her shoulders and back while Xiaoman helped her wash up.

Jiang Zhiyi allowed herself to be manipulated like a marionette. When her body felt somewhat more relaxed, she finally had the energy for idle conversation.

Recalling the soft, moist dreams of the past three days, she asked with feigned casualness: “You’ve all worked hard these past few days. Has anyone come to see me?”

Xiaoman replied: “The Young Master came the day before yesterday, saying he brought some good medicine he had used for his own cold. Don’t worry, we didn’t even let him through the courtyard gate, and we didn’t accept anything.”

Gu Yu nudged Xiaoman lightly.

Can’t you tell who the Princess is asking about? Why mention that unlucky Fang fellow for no reason!

Jiang Zhiyi let out a soft “Oh.” Then asked: “Anyone else?”

“No one else…”

Jiang Zhiyi pressed her lips together, leaned against the backrest, and lowered her head without speaking.

Gu Yu and Xiaoman exchanged a glance, both lightening their touch.

Gu Yu asked: “Princess, after I finish combing your hair, would you like me to prepare a hot bath for you?”

Jiang Zhiyi kept her eyes downcast and said nothing.

Xiaoman tried: “Princess, you’ve only had thin gruel these three days. Is there anything you’d like for dinner? I’ll have the kitchen prepare it.”

Still, they couldn’t coax her to speak.

As Gu Yu was pondering what else to say, her hand suddenly paused while combing the Princess’s hair. She made a sound of surprise: “Oh! Princess, why is the skin behind your ear so red? What happened?”

After bathing and having dinner, Jiang Zhiyi sat at her dressing table, pushed aside her hair, and had the two maids hold bronze mirrors in front and behind her so she could carefully examine the red marks behind both ears.

When Gu Yu first noticed this, all three of them were quite alarmed and quickly called for a female physician to see what was wrong.

The physician laughed and said the Princess wasn’t disfigured; rather, her delicate skin showed marks from moxibustion treatments, which would naturally fade in a few days.

Hearing this, the three were no longer frightened but confused—

What moxibustion? No one had given the Princess any moxibustion treatments!

According to the physician’s assessment of the marks’ depth, the treatment hadn’t been done just once but each day for these three days, causing the Princess to sweat and stimulating her circulation, thus shortening her illness.

But someone had been by the Princess’s bedside at all times, and none of the maids on duty knew anything about this.

Gu Yu and Xiaoman began their superstitious muttering again, but Jiang Zhiyi had a subtle inkling of the answer.

Only one person could enter the Marquis’s mansion as if it were uninhabited.

So, it wasn’t a dream after all…

Staring at the red marks in the mirror, the imprint seemed to spread like water, extending past her ear and coloring her cheek. The fever that had just subsided seemed to flare up again.

Jiang Zhiyi’s gaze flickered slightly, and she quickly looked away.

After a while, she couldn’t help but secretly look back at the mirror, touching her neck.

All those sensations had been real.

He had truly come.

And had cared for her three nights in a row…

The two maids watched in shock as her face turned completely red, their arms aching from holding the bronze mirrors until they began to shake.

Jiang Zhiyi came to her senses, coughed lightly, and waved her hand: “That’s enough, you may all leave now. There’s no need for night duty tonight. Tell the guards outside the room to retreat to the courtyard gate.”

“Princess, this…”

Jiang Zhiyi said, “With so many people guarding me, how is someone supposed to come and go freely?”

The two maids withdrew in embarrassment.

Jiang Zhiyi tried to suppress the heat in her face, checked the time, and began pacing around her bedroom. One moment, she walked to the back window to look out, the next, she stopped by the candelabra to study the candle flames. When she was tired of this restlessness, she returned to her bed and lay down.

After lying down for a short while, she got up again and adjusted her nightclothes and hair in the bronze mirror.

Returning to the bed once more, Jiang Zhiyi chose a dignified posture, covered herself properly with the quilt, gracefully folded her hands in front of her, and closed her eyes.

The water clock dripped steadily as the night deepened.

Having slept too much during the day, she now felt no drowsiness. Jiang Zhiyi counted with her eyes closed, from one to a hundred, then back from a hundred to one. She lost track of how many night watches had passed and began to grow impatient.

She had cleared the stage, but would he not come?

Just as she was about to open her eyes to check the time, a cool breeze blew in with a click.

Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes, which had just opened a crack, immediately shut tight again.

At the doorway, a furtive figure stepped over the threshold, peered at the sleeping person on the bed, smiled with a grin, and turned to quietly close the door.

The Princess’s fragrant boudoir was indeed different from those cloying places of pleasure. Even the scent was so enchanting…

Fang Zongming took a deep, intoxicated breath and tiptoed further inside.

He had nearly died, and his mother had been confined, yet they had gained nothing from it! Wouldn’t it be a waste to bear such accusations for nothing?

Tonight, with the Yaoguang Pavilion’s security greatly reduced and his dear cousin weakened by illness, the timing and circumstances were perfect for—

Just as this thought formed, something flashed in his peripheral vision, like a nimble black shadow leaping through the back window.

Fang Zongming’s steps faltered as he hesitantly turned his head. His eyes fixed on a pair of tall boots, and as his gaze slowly traveled upward, he suddenly met a pair of dark, intense eyes.

Someone suddenly appeared!

Fang Zongming silently gasped, turning to run, but stopped after just one step.

Wait… someone coming through the back window?

Weren’t they fellow intruders? What auspicious day was this?

Fang Zongming stood with his back turned, recalling the hasty glimpse he’d caught. It was a face somewhat familiar yet somewhat strange.

Familiar because this person seemed to have been his schoolmate at the academy; strange because he hadn’t seen this face for many years.

…Shen Yuance?!

Fang Zongming froze in shock. Just as he turned his head for another look, the man moved like a ghost, and in the next instant, a sword was held horizontally before his throat.

Fang Zongming looked down, shuddered, and raised his trembling hands.

At the bed, Jiang Zhiyi listened as footsteps approached, then stopped, then started again, only to fall silent once more. Her gracefully positioned hands could no longer maintain their poise. She slowly opened her eyes a crack to look.

With one glance, she sat bolt upright with a cry.

“Ah—!”

Why is this filthy creature here?

Jiang Zhiyi pulled up her quilt and shrank back to the corner of the bed, trembling.

Fang Zongming turned to look and stammered: “C-c-cousin, don’t be afraid! This Shen Yuance has snuck into your bedchamber in the middle of the night with who knows what intentions. I’ll deal with him!”

Jiang Zhiyi, pale-faced and breathing rapidly, cried: “What are you doing here? Get out!”

Both Yuance and Fang Zongming glanced at each other.

Fang Zongming looked warily at the still-sheathed sword at his neck, freed one surrendering hand, and pointed at Yuance: “Did you hear that? My cousin is asking you—What are you doing here?”

Yuance twisted his sword, knocking down the bed curtain hooks. As the curtains fell with a rustle, he turned the sword back and struck Fang Zongming’s abdomen with the flat of the blade.

Fang Zongming’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t even cry out in pain before collapsing to his knees. From above, he heard an icy voice: “She’s asking YOU—”