The night was as dark as ink, with someone walking hastily along the long path outside the Eastern Palace.

Not far from the palace gates came the crisp sound of a whip cracking. A man on horseback appeared suddenly against the light of the palace lanterns.

The taut figure moved slightly, the shadow of bow and sword swaying gently as he was about to dismount.

The person hurrying along the path recognized him and quickly called out, “Your Highness!” then trotted over, “Where has Your Highness been? We’ve been searching everywhere!”

Dinian, the Commander of the Divine Guard, had been summoned to the palace today for an audience. The Crown Prince had gone with him to the Imperial Guards training grounds to practice archery and swordsmanship at sunset. Dinian had thanked the Prince and left the palace when night first fell, but the Crown Prince had not returned directly to the Eastern Palace, and none of his attendants knew where he had gone.

Ying Gua tilted on his horse, seeing the anxious expression on the newcomer’s face, then straightened in his saddle with a frown, asking, “What matter has you so flustered?”

The palace attendant said, “Half an hour ago, someone from Grand Tutor Shen’s residence came to the palace gates with a message for Your Highness, saying that Left Remonstrator Meng from the Chancellery has met with trouble.”

The palace lanterns hanging behind him were blindingly bright. Against that light, his features were indistinct, leaving only a face shrouded in the hazy night. After a long while, he slowly asked, “Is Meng Tinghui safe?”

He didn’t ask why it was someone from Shen Wuchen’s household who came to report, nor did he ask what had happened in the imperial city that would make the Shen family disregard propriety to report in the dead of night. He only asked—was she alright.

The palace attendant wiped away sweat with his sleeve, his voice softening: “The messenger from the Shen residence only gave a general account. I was in such a hurry I didn’t ask for details about Magistrate Meng’s condition before rushing to find Your Highness. But judging by the messenger’s expression, it seems Magistrate Meng is not seriously injured.”

Hearing this, Ying Gua straightened and urged his horse forward, his voice subtly cold: “What happened?” As he spoke, his right hand had already reached for the riding crop he had put away, his fingers gripping it tightly.

As the man turned and the horse moved, his profile became partially visible. The glow from the palace lanterns fell obliquely across his face, illuminating half of it—calm, unperturbed, and exceptionally stern.

The palace attendant seemed to find it difficult to speak, hesitating for a moment before stepping forward. Rising on tiptoes, he waited until the Prince leaned down, then quickly whispered a few sentences in his ear.

Before the final syllable had faded, a chilling crack of the whip sounded in the air. In the next instant, the black steed shot forward like an arrow, its long mane rippling through the night, leaving only clear moonlight on the ground.

The man’s deep, harsh commands to his horse came from ahead. The palace attendant shuddered all over, then hurriedly turned and headed toward the Imperial City Office outside the Forbidden City.

Passing through the cross gate, the horse’s four hooves pounded furiously against the ground, driven on by increasingly urgent whipping. The guards at the palace gates near Xuande Tower couldn’t dodge in time and were nearly knocked to the ground by the man and his horse.

The long imperial avenue was deserted, the sound of iron hooves striking the ground increasingly spine-chilling. The rapidly moving shadow didn’t stop for a moment, charging straight through the Northern Palace Gate of the Imperial City, heading directly toward the Shen residence in the eastern part of the city.

The night’s cold dew condensed on his brows, the coolness seeping down layer by layer, his heart filled with frost.

Throughout the journey, his mind contained only her eyes, clear and pure.

As the horse galloped, the cold sword at his waist hummed and trembled. His grip on the reins tightened, and the whip cracked more urgently, desperate to see her in the next moment.

The high gateway of the Shen residence appeared ahead, and the entire courtyard lit up. Servants at the door saw him riding up and hurried forward to take his horse, while others went inside to announce his arrival.

Ying Gua didn’t bother to rein in his horse. Before the animal had even slowed, he had already leaped off, striding several steps into the Shen residence. When he spoke to inquire about her, his tone was unusually calm: “Where is she?”

The servant answered, “In the Young Miss’s room.”

He was walking quickly when unexpectedly someone rushed out from around the corner of the corridor and collided with him.

“Your Highness?” The voice was both surprised and urgent and quite familiar.

His gaze swept directly over, and he saw it was Dinian. His expression changed slightly. “Why are you here?”

Dinian stepped aside to make way, walking with him toward the interior while saying, “It cannot be explained in a few words. Your Highness should first go see Magistrate Meng.”

Deep within the residence, with its winding corridors and turning paths, he walked with extreme familiarity. In a few strides, he arrived outside Shen Zhili’s chambers, where he saw Shen Zhili sitting on a bench in the corridor with her knees drawn up, her expression quite dark.

Seeing the two of them, she immediately stood up. “Your Highness.” She glanced at Dinian but said nothing more.

Dinian stopped outside, not entering.

Ying Gua took a couple of steps but paused at the doorway. He slowly untied the sword hanging at his waist, turned and handed it to Dinian, then looked toward Shen Zhili. “…Is she alright?”

Shen Zhili’s expression darkened further, her eyes filled with anger. After a long moment, she finally said, “She’s relatively well.”

Only then did he look back at Dinian. “How did she come to be brought to the Shen residence?”

Dinian raised an eyebrow with a matter-of-fact expression: “When I intervened to save her, I didn’t think too much about it. In that situation, I could hardly take Magistrate Meng back to the female officials’ quarters, could I?”

Ying Gua was silent, now understanding that it was indeed Dinian who had saved her. But he didn’t wish to inquire about the details at this moment, only slowly raising his hand to push open the door and walk in.

The room inside was quite warm. A long, fragrant curtain hung down from above, trailing on the ground, with light and floating plum blossom patterns, extremely delicate and beautiful, yet appearing desolate.

He stood at the doorway, unmoving for a long while, just looking at the person on the bed.

Through the gauze curtains, he couldn’t see, only the slender figure covered by a thin quilt, her pointed chin nuzzling against the soft silk. Upon hearing the sound, she moved slightly in apparent discomfort.

Then those eyes opened, looking straight at him.

He closed the door behind him and walked inside, his face expressionless, but his gaze never leaving her.

Meng Tinghui watched as he walked to the bedside, her expression also calm. She drew her hand out from under the covers to lift the curtain. “Your Highness.”

Her voice was as soft as it could be.

Ying Gua still said nothing, helping her lift the gauze curtain and hanging it on the hooks at either side of the bed. He slowly lifted his robe and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes were bright, her expression unusually serene. She spoke again: “Your Highness forgets, there should be distinction between ruler and subject.” As she said this, she tried to prop herself up, but as soon as she moved, her hand was suddenly pressed down by his.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said, his tone icy.

She lowered her eyes to look at his large hand covering hers. Her arm suddenly began to tremble slightly. When she looked up, she met his gaze, which was impossible to interpret or describe.

He stared at her, a shallow fire flowing through his heterochromatic eyes, anger surging, mixed with reluctant pity.

She was wearing Shen Zhili’s clothes. On her exposed neck were glaring bruises, clearly from someone forcefully grabbing and choking her. Her long hair was tied up high, and at the root of her right ear was swelling and redness where medicine had been applied, but blood was still seeping through.

As if unaware of the pain, she looked at him with eyes still as clear as ever, her lips curving slightly as she said to him: “This official is not seriously injured. It’s just that the plum-red wooden box Your Highness had sent to me was lost, and I haven’t had the chance to taste those snacks…”

Before she could finish speaking, he suddenly pulled her into his embrace.

She gasped softly, her heart surging with shock. Instinctively she pushed against him, but as soon as her hands pressed against his chest, he tightened his grip around her, not allowing her to move even an inch.

His burning breath pressed against her ear: “Meng Tinghui.”

Suddenly tears welled up in her eyes.

But she held back from making a sound. As her eyes lowered, tears silently fell onto his shoulder.

Where her hand pressed was directly over his left chest, warm. His heartbeat was steady and strong, striking her palm beat by beat.

He held her, not letting go.

Just like that rainy night more than ten years ago, when her whole body had been trembling, curled up in his arms, silent and still. After a very long time, she finally whimpered.

Hearing her sob, he loosened his hold slightly, moving his hand up to cup the back of her head, pressing it against his chest.

His long fingers passed through her tightly bound hair, touching the large swollen lump on the side of her head where she had been struck.

She groaned, her shoulders and neck trembling, clearly in extreme pain.

He immediately released his hand. Glancing sideways, he saw the blood at the back of her ear and the red marks on her face. In that instant, his heart burned with rage again, scorching his entire chest with pain, as if all his internal organs had been seared layer by layer, leaving them raw and bloody.

For years he had been said to be unfeeling and passionless. It seemed only today did he knew that the heart that grows within one’s body is capable of pain.