Luowei woke again — or perhaps became somewhat conscious — to find Song Lan sitting at her side.

It was nighttime by then, and no lamps had been lit in the hall, so Song Lan had not noticed the way her eyes had fluttered open and then closed again.

Luowei lay still, feigning sleep, feeling Song Lan’s fingers lightly brush across her cheek.

Regardless of the season, his hands were always this cold — she had held young Song Ling’s hand before, and his hands had always been warm, even slightly hot — but Song Lan, Song Lan was different: even when the two of them interlaced their fingers, both their hands were as cold as ice.

She heard his low voice, very soft, as though speaking to himself.

“You, after all…”

He had only spoken three words before stopping.

His wandering fingers were like a venomous serpent’s fuse. Luowei felt drowsy and disoriented, a wave of nausea rising within her that she could barely suppress. She thought that even if a truly venomous snake were crawling at her side right now, she probably would not feel this way.

But he was more venomous than a snake, and colder than a snake.

Song Lan sat silently at her side for a long while. Seeing that she showed no sign of waking, he finally turned and left.

Once the sound of his footsteps had completely faded, Luowei opened her eyes and involuntarily reached to touch her wound.

The wound had already been bandaged by the imperial physician, medicinal ointment applied, the faint bittersweet scent of herbal medicine lingering all around her.

She knew she should have awakened just now, taking advantage of Song Lan’s rare moment of distress to ask about Yan Luo’s fate — whether she lived or died — and to say a few words to distance herself from suspicion.

But in that moment, she had not dared to speak, perhaps because she feared to ask, or perhaps because she was simply too exhausted from the day’s events. She had no heart for sparring with Song Lan, and feared even more that she might betray herself before him.

A palace attendant pushed open the door and entered. Seeing that she was awake, the girl was about to call out for someone when Luowei broke into a rapid cough: “No — there is no need…”

This palace attendant was quite young. Seeing her coughing, she hurried to her side: “Your Highness, this servant will fetch the imperial physician for you.”

Luowei shook her head and clasped the girl’s hand gently: “That will not be necessary.”

She studied the girl for a moment longer, then her brow eased: “You are the one surnamed Li who was sent by Noble Consort Yu?”

Attendant Li appeared to be only fifteen or sixteen years of age. Hearing this, she nodded: “Yes. Sister Yan Luo told me many times before — if she were no longer serving in Qionghua Hall, I was to attend closely upon Your Highness in her stead. She even gave me the key token of the head palace attendant.”

Luowei gripped her hand and glanced at the medicinal ointment the imperial physician had left at her bedside: “Very well, Attendant Li. Since you are now in charge, first send away all the attendants serving outside the inner hall — follow the customary practice from when Attendant Feng was here. This palace’s injury is not severe; I am simply exhausted and wish to see no one.”

Attendant Li said: “Then who will attend to Your Highness’s wound?”

Luowei said: “When it is time to change the dressings, the imperial physician will come of his own accord. I merely need rest and no attendants. Keep only yourself here for the night watch.”

Attendant Li thought for a moment, then had no choice but to agree, bowing respectfully to her: “Your Highness, please be at ease. Sister Yan Luo has always treated this servant with great kindness. I will surely attend to Your Highness with all care and diligence.”

Yan Luo must certainly have been charged with a crime by now. During the day, while half-awake and half-dreaming, Luowei had heard people murmuring about “Attendant Feng” and this and that.

Yet this Attendant Li seemed unbothered by the matter, still stubbornly calling her “Sister Yan Luo.”

After Attendant Li withdrew, the hall suddenly became much quieter. In the darkness, Luowei steadied herself and sat up. She had intended to get out of bed and go into the inner chamber, but found herself too weak. In the end, she simply gathered the embroidered quilt around her and curled into the corner of the bed.

The silk was smooth and cool to the touch. Her mind drifted unbidden back to Song Lan’s demeanor just now, and a wave of grief swept over her, nearly impossible to hold back.

In those years past, the great families and civil officials of Biandu had stood in opposition, nearly bringing about a bloody coup. Yu Qiushi had put Song Lan forward as a chess piece; to save his life, and to prevent the fragile capital from being drenched in blood overnight, Luowei had softened for a single moment and placed Song Lan upon the imperial throne.

At first she had harbored no other ambitions — she only hoped to do her utmost to keep the political situation stable, and to swiftly uncover the true culprit behind the Thorn of the Tang Case. Once the true culprit was brought to justice, once Song Lan had grown, and once all things had settled, she would leave this place of blood and storms of her own accord, following her betrothed into death.

At that time, Luowei had never imagined what consequences that single moment of softness would bring.

Just as she had never imagined what kind of heart beat within the brother she and Song Ling had nurtured and raised with such care.

Luowei took two steadying breaths, forcing herself to draw back from old memories. She wiped the cold sweat from her brow and turned her mind to the present situation.

Yet this night brought hidden pain alongside her injury, cold sweat without cease, with no moment of relief.

She did not know when she had drifted off, nor when she had stirred back to awareness — nightmares cycling endlessly, tangled as loose threads.

It was perhaps near the end of the hour of the Rat when the distant sound of the night watchman’s drum jolted her from a familiar nightmare.

The moment she opened her eyes, Luowei heard the faint sound of footsteps outside her window.

Someone was there!

How could there be someone there?

Who would be so bold as to spy through her window? True, Attendant Li had dismissed the attendants from around the inner hall, but the guards on rotation at Qionghua Hall’s outer chambers still kept their watch, and the palace maids still held their night vigil. She oversaw the entire rear palace — her rules were strict — who would dare violate them under her very nose?

It seemed rain had fallen during the day. A damp night breeze drifted through the half-open latticed window. She leaned against the bed, and suddenly detected something familiar in that night wind — cool and quiet — the fragrance of jasmine and sinking sandalwood.

Luowei could not help but freeze for a moment.

And in that single moment of distraction, the footsteps outside the window came to an abrupt halt.

Then someone yanked open the latticed window in an instant and, like a ghost, was before her in the blink of an eye!

She dwelt within the Forbidden Palace — when had she ever encountered something so shocking?

Even in the most outrageous scripts at the pleasure quarters and storytelling houses, one rarely heard of anyone daring to infiltrate the empress’s bedchamber by night.

Where was Zhuque? Where were the Lin Guards flanking her? And the Imperial Guards patrolling the palace, the night-watch attendants…

Luowei was so frightened she was dumbstruck — too stunned even to cry out.

The intruder who had leapt through the window did not hesitate for a moment. He lifted the gauze curtain at her bedside and pushed through. Luowei reached instinctively for the hairpin resting on her pillow with her still-undamaged right hand — but the moment she raised it, he seized her wrist and gave it a gentle twist.

The hairpin simply slipped from her fingers.

Through the faint moonlight filtering through the window paper, she could make out the color of the intruder’s clothing — the attire of the Lin Guards’ flanking escort: embroidered gold, narrow sleeves, hair bound high.

So there existed such a figure within the Lin Guards — someone who could enter her hall without being detected, moving like a ghost, swift and silent?

Why had he come?

Luowei’s heart raced with alarm and fury, yet the man held her right wrist in his grip — the slightest pressure would wrench her other shoulder’s wound.

Had she not been injured today, she might have been able to exchange a few moves with him, or at worst made enough noise to alert those outside. But as things stood —

The man held her right hand in one of his, while the other reached over and covered her lips. He leaned in close and breathed a word in her ear:

“Hush.”

Luowei was so infuriated by his brazen behavior that she nearly lost her senses. Ignoring her wound, she made to pull free of his restraint.

The motion startled him. He quickly withdrew his hands and carefully settled her injured left shoulder back into place, his voice tinged with a note of helplessness: “Your Highness, it is me.”

A tone warm as a smile, languid and unhurried. The scent of jasmine and sinking sandalwood so very close. Hearing those words, Luowei stopped all her movements at once. Unable to make out the other’s face in that moment, she almost wanted to throw her arms around his neck and weep aloud.

The impulse flashed for only a moment before it cooled. Luowei steadied her heart, slowly removed the hand covering her lips, and asked coldly: “How did you get in?”

Ye Tingyan sat down at her side. He casually fished a pill of some medicinal powder from his sleeve and pressed it to her lips. Luowei refused to take it, and he grew somewhat annoyed, affecting a threatening tone: “Why, this is the most virulent poison in the world — swallow it and within moments you will bleed from all seven orifices. You die and I cannot hope to live either; I will be hacked apart by blades before I can leave the palace gates. We shall be a pair of ill-fated lovers in death. How fitting.”

Though he was talking nonsense, there was a certain logic to it: this was the Forbidden Palace. Though he had come without anyone detecting him, if he intended to harm her, Song Lan would dig up the earth itself to find the true culprit.

So Luowei parted her lips and obediently swallowed the fragrant pill.

After feeding her the medicine, Ye Tingyan did not withdraw his fingers — his thumb brushed intimately across her lips once or twice before sliding down to press beneath her chin.

He applied gentle pressure, tilting her face upward, and leaned in himself.

Only then could Luowei make out his pair of tender, peach-blossom eyes clearly. At this moment, those eyes held no trace of their usual laughter — only darkness, impenetrable, thoughts unknown.

“Learning of your assassination, His Majesty was furious and sent nearly half the palace guards to hunt for the culprit. In the end, they found Attendant Feng in a bed of lotus flowers at Huiling Lake, intent on drowning herself.” Ye Tingyan stared at her unblinking, his voice low and unhurried. “She failed to take her own life and was thrown into Zhuque Bureau. But she refused to say a single word. His Majesty summoned several senior officials to Qianfang Hall and, contrary to his usual manner, rejected their request to hand the matter over to the Ministry of Justice according to procedure. The meeting ended on poor terms.”

“I remained in the outer hall, waiting until all those men had left — even the Grand Preceptor who had spoken privately with His Majesty — before I went in to speak with him. His Majesty gave me a crimson command token and told me I need not leave the palace tonight. He instructed me to conduct a secret interrogation of Attendant Feng at Zhuque Bureau, and that if there was no answer by dawn, she was to be executed on the spot.”

Luowei’s heart clenched, nearly pulling at her wound. Heedless of her constrained position, she asked: “Why did His Majesty choose to send you?”

“I do not know either,” Ye Tingyan said, a faint smile crossing his face that seemed somewhat sardonic. “Perhaps there are matters he does not dare let the Ministry of Justice hear — in any case, I remained in the palace tonight, and when all was still, I suddenly thought of you. Is your injury severe?”

Luowei said stiffly: “I am fine.”

“The lotus flowers by Huiling Lake were blooming so beautifully. The search party destroyed quite a few of them — such a pity.” Ye Tingyan paid no mind to her answer and abruptly brought up something else, then continued on his own: “I recalled that last time you told me to come as a eunuch to serve you. I thought to find a yellow-robed palace attendant, but the more I considered it, the more irritated I became, so I changed into guard’s attire instead. At the risk of my own life, I have snuck here in the dead of night — I only came to look in on your injury. If all is well… then good.”

He kept stroking her cheek and neck with his hands, his voice perfectly calm, without a trace of the tender affection from before — yet somehow it made her shiver all the same.

Since that day at Xiuqing Temple, this was the first time the two of them had met in private. But there was no time to dwell on such things. Luowei struggled to catch his hand and forced a smile: “I am fine, it is only a minor injury — did you learn anything during your time at Zhuque?”

“I have a kind heart, so I have not yet begun questioning her,” Ye Tingyan replied tenderly. “For an interrogation, one ought to wait until past the hour of the Rat, when the night is at its darkest. Do you know — that is when a person is at their most vulnerable.”

He leaned closer and caught the scent of crabapple flower oil in her hair, mingled with the smell of medicine.

Luowei thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he simply buried his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder and held her close — an expression of what appeared to be immense longing.

He stroked her face, his fingers warm. In a daze, she was almost moved to tears by the illusion of it.

“You know better than I do how dangerous her identity is,” Ye Tingyan murmured at her ear, his tone light as a coax. “You must tell me the truth — why did you save her back then?”