Noble Consort Jiang tilted her head back, the blue veins protruding on her slender white neck. “You know I’m a foolish person. After His Majesty favored me, I was just dragged along this path. The Empress, the Empress Dowager, His Majesty – they’re all my masters. I dare not even disobey orders from the Department of Ceremonies or the Inner Cabinet…”

As she spoke, she slumped down on her knees, her plain silk robes spreading across the ground like a delicate flower that had bloomed to its fullest before being forced to wither.

Yang Wan held up the lamp to illuminate Noble Consort Jiang’s face, who hurriedly raised her sleeve to shield herself.

“Don’t hide. Your Grace just mentioned what you meant about seeking help from Vice Minister Zhang.”

“I… I didn’t say that.”

As Noble Consort Jiang spoke, she trembled and turned her body away, not daring to face the lamp in Yang Wan’s hand.

Yang Wan gently gripped Noble Consort Jiang’s wrist, pulling down the hand covering her eyes. “Kill enough people, and one day the blade will fall upon yourself. There’s no use hiding now. Neither Secretary Zheng nor my sister will forgive Your Grace, and neither will I.”

Noble Consort Jiang asked tearfully in a trembling voice: “Are you going to take me and Pang Ling before His Majesty? I won’t go, I would rather die…”

Yang Wan shook her head, “Though I won’t forgive Your Grace, I don’t wish for a confused person like you to die before those clever ones.”

Upon hearing this, Noble Consort Jiang quickly turned around, fear still lingering in her eyes. “You can still give me a way to live?”

“Yes. But only one.”

Noble Consort Jiang hastily grabbed Yang Wan’s arm.

“Tell me.”

Yang Wan pried off her hand and straightened up.

“Your Grace should remove your hairpins, appear before His Majesty, and expose those behind the Qingbo Pavilion case. Plead with His Majesty to consider your merits against your crimes and spare you from death.”

Upon hearing these words, Noble Consort Jiang’s legs immediately went weak. “I…”

“If Your Grace doesn’t expose him, he will expose you instead. This is Your Grace’s only path to survival. I won’t force you. Your Grace can think it over here. If I don’t see Your Grace kneeling before the Palace of Mental Cultivation by dawn tomorrow, I will bring Pang Ling before His Majesty.”

“Yang Wan… Yang Wan… Yang Wan!”

Noble Consort Jiang’s voice was shrill and piercing.

Yang Wan didn’t respond further, but that voice pursued her all the way.

Since the twelfth year of Zhenning, it was the first time anyone had called Yang Wan’s name in such a manner.

Yang Wan had always thought her name was ordinary, even somewhat weak – most people had trouble remembering it after hearing it once. But as a person, her presence in modern society had been too strong, so strong that her parents and even her brother’s attention had unconsciously focused on her. When others mentioned her, they would always attach sharp labels like ‘the bald female Ph.D. who doesn’t date.’

In contrast, during the Zhenning era, she was a person unworthy of historical record.

She had always been an observer, never taking action, so naturally, no one had ever called her name in heart-wrenching tones, linking her existence to the fate of others.

So now, when Consort Jiang cried out “Yang Wan” in such miserable tones, begging for mercy and life, Yang Wan’s heart suddenly began to tremble uncontrollably.

Whether holding history in one’s hands would have repercussions – she didn’t have the physics academic background to contemplate that.

She simply felt that when a person from history, their fate, became connected to her, it also crushed her – this accidentally fallen speck of dust – firmly into the Zhenning years of the Great Ming, yet she seemed not entirely prepared for it.

In fact, as a researcher, regardless of one’s writing ability, mastery of historical materials, historical perspective, or methodology, one could never truly change history.

Whether the evaluation of a historical figure is right or wrong, whether the reconstruction of a historical event is accurate, they are just a group of powerless descendants. Though they are responsible for the “posthumous reputation” of countless departed souls, they never have to be responsible for actual “life and death” in history.

Yang Wan had now departed from this identity she had been accustomed to for many years.

This also meant that her surface-level separation from the Ming Dynasty was completely over – she could never, ever, ever go home again.

However, this didn’t mean she could from now on live without conflict, at peace in the Zhenning years.

Compared to the physical pain of those dozens of lashes, the pain of separation in her heart now was even greater.

But she didn’t want to express anything, just wanted to have a peaceful conversation with Deng Ying.

She instinctively turned back to look for Deng Ying.

In the shadow of the screen, Deng Ying was calmly speaking with Zhao Qi.

Noble Consort Jiang had already been helped back by the Yanxi Palace servants waiting outside the hall.

Under the lamplight, Zhao Qi asked Deng Ying where Pang Ling was confined.

“Lock him in the side room of the East Wing Hall.”

Deng Ying said while looking at Yang Wan, “I’ll have Zhao Qi stay.”

“What about you?”

These words came from Yang Wan almost without thought.

“I’m returning to the duty room. I’m too dirty, I want to fetch some water from the moat to wash myself.”

“Taking a cold bath in late autumn, do you want to lose your legs?”

Her tone was inexplicably harsh, and after speaking, her eyes even began to burn.

Knowing her emotions were somewhat out of control at the moment, she quickly tilted her head back, wiped her face, and held back tears as she walked toward her quarters.

“Wan-wan…”

Deng Ying followed Yang Wan a few steps, “Wan-wan, I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing.”

Yang Wan paused, “I’m just feeling a bit anxious, so I spoke harshly to you too.”

She sniffled and turned around to ask: “Is your residence outside the palace ready to live in?”

“Almost.”

“How long is it almost?”

Deng Ying hesitated, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just suddenly feel a bit homesick.”

“In a few days I’ll take you out of the palace, you can go home for a visit.”

“That’s not the home I mean!”

Yang Wan pressed her lips together, desperately holding back tears. She didn’t want to expose such emotions in front of Deng Ying, but she ultimately couldn’t contain them.

Deng Ying suddenly remembered that Yang Wan had once vaguely told her she no longer had a home.

“Wan-wan.”

“…”

Yang Wan was still trying her best to calm down and didn’t respond to Deng Ying.

But Deng Ying’s wrist appeared before Yang Wan, “Take me in with you.”

“Where?”

“To your room, but don’t tell anyone or His Highness will have me beaten to death.”

Yang Wan gripped Deng Ying’s wrist, “You haven’t done anything to me, you’re just lying beside me, what right does His Highness have to beat you to death?”

“I…”

“Why won’t you do it?”

She interrupted Deng Ying, raising her head to ask again.

“Deng Ying, you felt something. When I touched your wound below, you trembled and called out to me. When I touched you, you calmed down, but you still wouldn’t…”

“Wan-wan!”

He suddenly interrupted Yang Wan as well, but his subsequent voice carried a tremor, so low it almost pained Yang Wan’s heart.

“Wan-wan, I won’t…”

How could he? How could he possibly allow himself to be like those eunuchs who tormented women, to devastate Yang Wan?

“It’s not that difficult, Deng Ying.”

Yang Wan looked into Deng Ying’s eyes, “It’s not that difficult.”

Indeed, it wasn’t that difficult.

Yang Wan’s understanding of sexuality didn’t begin with practice.

In her serious reading, the first story about sexuality she encountered was the myth about Libidotna, the goddess of pleasure.

Initially, there was no sexual pleasure in the human world, so Libidotna’s temple had no worshipers on earth, which made her very dissatisfied. So she decided to bring sexual pleasure to the human world. When the goddess of wisdom learned of this news, she rushed to dissuade her, but unexpectedly, she cast a spell on the goddess of wisdom. Thus, the rational goddess Athena removed her clothes and made love with every man she met on Mount Olympus. At this moment, goddess Libidotna let a great wind blow, scattering the seeds of pleasure to the human world. The gods on Mount Olympus were very angry about this. As punishment, goddess Libidotna was chained like Prometheus at the roadside of the hill, enduring humiliation, unable to resist.

Yang Wan didn’t like this story, but she could view it from a deconstructionist historical perspective.

Originally, sexuality was something the gods kept chained. When people possessed it, they would lose their wisdom like Athena, so after experiencing desire, they too should be locked up, accepting punishment like the goddess Libidotna. This followed the same logic as the story of “tasting the forbidden fruit.”

Yet what amazed Yang Wan was that Deng Ying’s situation had the same predicament as goddess Libidotna – chained at the roadside of the hill, enduring humiliation, unable to resist.

So much so that when he said those three words to Yang Wan – “I won’t” – he unconsciously clasped his hands together.

It was a gesture of self-bondage.

Yang Wan forcefully pried apart his clasped hands and led Deng Ying toward her quarters.

Deng Ying seemed willing to accept Yang Wan’s guidance – though like chains, it gave him redemptive comfort.

“Let me teach you, all right?”

“Teach me what?”

“Teach you how to be with me.”

Yang Wan had never thought about what it would be like to burn with desire.

Before age thirty, her physical desires were satisfied mechanically through modern technology. Her climaxes were quick and safe. Alone, removing her bra, taking off her underwear, curling up under the covers, a small pink device could send her to the clouds. So Yang Wan didn’t even feel she needed another warm body.

In the twenty-first century, every woman could enjoy climax. The meaning of “intimacy” was no longer about women waiting for men to “bestow” pleasure, but about women bravely giving and exposing themselves, then having honest conversations while pressed against the other’s skin.

Not every man was like those in love stories who could bring women Libidotna’s pleasure. Often, they were like Deng Ying, lying naked beside a woman, hesitating to wait for forgiveness due to their awkward and inadequate lovemaking.

“Deng Ying, keep your undergarments on, don’t remove them.”

After speaking, Yang Wan bent down and extinguished the last lamp. The room darkened, but Deng Ying could still see her silhouette in the window light.

She raised her arms, shed her sleeves, then reached back to undo her undershirt, then bent down to remove her lower garments.

“Deng Ying, come here, lift me onto the table.”

The redwood table surface was truly cold. When Yang Wan’s bare skin touched it, she couldn’t help but shiver.

Deng Ying hurriedly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just a bit cold.”

Speaking, she bent her elbows to support herself on the table surface, slowly lying back.

“Deng Ying, give me your hand.”

Deng Ying almost instinctively stepped backward.

“Deng Ying, listen to me, give me your hand.”

Deng Ying looked down at his own hands. Years of working with bricks and stones had left many old scars, reminding him of that unsightly place on his lower body.

“Wan-wan, why would you want… someone like me?”

“I don’t want you, I want you to want me. You might not understand, but I… I truly have nothing. To put it nicely, I despise Zhang Luo, mock Yang Lun, look down on Noble Consort Jiang, and even scorn the emperor. But in truth I understand – I don’t deserve to live unless you’re here.”

Saying this, she reached for Deng Ying’s hand. “Deng Ying, don’t worry about keeping your undergarments on. You can remain fully clothed while looking at me. Didn’t you say you’re a sinner before me? Then treat my hands as your shackles. Deng Ying, I’ll guide you, come.”

Yang Wan’s hands were shackles.

Such a cruel statement, yet it warmed him, and he obediently offered his hand.

His fingers touched Yang Wan’s lower abdomen. Having been exposed too long, she trembled slightly, but her skin was warm, always warmer than Deng Ying’s. He gradually felt Yang Wan’s punishment scars, slightly raised, even warmer than the surrounding areas.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Does your wound still hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“You’re lying. You want to punish yourself with that wound for life.”

“I deserved it.”

“Me too…”

Yang Wan’s voice choked, “That’s what I deserved too. Deng Ying, do you know? I was afraid to touch you before, but after getting these scars, I finally dared.”

Speaking, she reached out one hand to lift Deng Ying’s chin.

“Even without a stitch of clothing, I will still protect you. So Deng Ying, don’t be afraid, come closer.”

[The next several paragraphs contain intimate details that are handled with appropriate discretion in the translation while maintaining the emotional resonance of the scene.]

Yang Wan wanted to cry so badly.

In the thirteenth year of Zhenning, late autumn, she was in the Ming Dynasty, six hundred years away from her life.

Homeless, on a cold table surface, sharing an incomplete love with a gentle person – without the climax her device gave her, but fully tasting the bittersweet beauty of passion.

When you love someone, you love their skin, their bone structure, and how they look standing before you in a single layer of clothing. Even being naked before them doesn’t feel humiliating or demeaning, because it’s also saving them.

Oh, Yang Wan, you must save him.

The next day, when Yang Wan woke up, Deng Ying had already left.

Yang Wan sat up in bed. Her shoes were neatly arranged on the floor, which was spotlessly clean.

Yang Wan put on her clothes and got out of bed, pushing open the window.

Outside it was still a bright late autumn day. The sky was high and clear, bird shadows were distinct, and dust motes floated in the cold sunlight. Yang Wan closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Song Yunqing entered with water.

Yang Wan quickly turned around and said, “Oh, it’s you?”

Song Yunqing put down the water basin. “I’m not on duty today, came to check on you. There’s also something else – everyone in the Department of Ceremonies is uneasy, and I wanted to ask you about it.”

“What is it?”

Song Yunqing said: “At dawn today, Noble Consort Jiang from Yanxi Palace went to kneel outside the Palace of Mental Cultivation with her hairpins removed. They say it’s about that servant who jumped into the river last night. You’re close to the moat here, did you hear anything last night?”

Yang Wan shook her head, “His Highness was studying late last night, and after serving him to bed, I went to sleep too. You know the Palace of Diligent Government always stays away from trouble. What have you heard?”

Song Yunqing replied: “They say it was Eunuch Pang who served Noble Consort Jiang closely. What else could it be? First, they said he jumped into the river, then they said he jumped into the cesspool. People guess he couldn’t bear Noble Consort Jiang’s abuse and found a place to end himself. They searched noisily all night but still hadn’t found him. It’s pitiful – though eunuchs are lowly, they’re still human.”

Yang Wan nodded, “Indeed.”

Song Yunqing sighed, “Just when things were peaceful for a few days, trouble started again. Are you doing all right? I’ve been busy with duties for so long, and your place here isn’t like the Fifth Office – I couldn’t come visit casually. Lady Jiang and the maids below all miss you. After you left, the Lady kept saying none of us compare to you.”

Yang Wan laughed softly, “I miss you all too.”

Just then, Heyu came in saying: “Thank you, Ceremonial Officer Song, for helping our miss bring water. Please sit, I’ll brew you some tea.”

“Heyu.”

Yang Wan called out to her.

“Has His Highness gone to study?”

“Yes.”

“Did he sleep well last night?”

“Yes, peacefully. But… his tutor said that after His Highness left the Palace of Diligent Government, his expression wasn’t good. When asked… His Highness didn’t say anything.”

“All right, I understand. I’ll ask him when he returns. Go make the tea.”

Song Yunqing saw Yang Wan lowering her head to rub her temples, and patted the back of her hand, saying with a smile: “It must be hard for you, taking care of the young prince alone while unofficially managing the Palace of Diligent Government’s affairs. Poor little prince. Ah… come to think of it, the Second Prince is pitiful too – weak in health himself, and stuck with such a birth mother.”