Night had fallen completely. No candles were lit in the inner palace, leaving the bedchamber in darkness.

The early summer night remained cool, with exposed skin feeling chilled. After their passionate encounter, the sweat had long since dried. Purple robes and red skirts lay tangled together in disarray, scattered everywhere.

Near her ear came his deep breathing, low and powerful, each breath stirring the lingering passion within her body.

She nestled in the crook of his arm, her entire body limp as mud. After resting for quite some time, she finally regained some strength. Struggling to prop herself up, she raised her hand to remove the half-loosened clothes on her body. Then she turned over his body, got out of bed naked, and went to find the official robes and skirts that had been torn and thrown on the floor by him.

Faint light from the palace lanterns spilled in from outside, illuminating the cold, hard palace floor tiles.

In the dim night, she lit a candle. She bent down by the vermilion wooden wardrobe, feeling around for the pieces of crimson inner robes, waistbands, and underskirts. Then she shook them open one by one and began putting them on.

Her buttocks ached terribly. With the slightest movement, she felt as if her lower body was being torn apart.

She breathed softly, steadied her mind, and then tremblingly fastened the buttons of her official robes. She squatted down again to search the floor for that rhinoceros horn belt. Her long hair cascaded down like a waterfall, swaying beside her bare, smooth calves.

Although her body was in such pain, her heart seemed to overflow with tenderness.

She hadn’t looked back once, knowing he must be awake, and further knowing that their recent passionate encounter hadn’t fully satisfied him. If he hadn’t taken pity on her for her first time, how could he have spared her so quickly, allowing himself to remain unsatisfied?

After searching on the ground for a while, her fingertips had just touched the corner of the belt when she was embraced from behind by a pair of long arms. Her ear felt a warmth—his lips had invaded.

She tried to dodge while pulling at the belt, saying: “Your Highness…”

But he pressed down on her hand and kissed her face, his voice slightly cool: “Did I give you permission to leave the palace?”

She stopped and said: “Your subject has been in the Eastern Palace for over two hours. The palace servants outside and Your Highness’s eunuchs all know. If I delay any longer, I fear more rumors will be circulating at court tomorrow.”

“Since you know this,” his hand slipped inside her official robes, “you shouldn’t be squatting here, with your waist and buttocks raised, teasing me.”

Her skin burned like fire wherever he touched, blazing deep into her flesh and bones.

She trembled slightly, her face flushing with color. Biting her lip, she said: “Your subject had no intention of teasing Your Highness…” Only after he mentioned it did she realize how provocative her posture must have appeared as she squatted on the ground searching for her clothes.

His lips pressed against the root of her ear: “Whenever I see you in these official robes, I want to strip you bare and press you beneath me.”

These words were so stimulating and provocative that the roots of her ears burned. She never knew that beneath his cold and dispassionate exterior lay such a fiery, consuming nature.

Seeing her slightly nervous state, he gave a low laugh, picked her up, and walked back, saying: “It’s barely nightfall. Walking out in these tattered clothes, do you want everyone in the palace—inside and out—to see? Later, after the palace halls extinguish their lights, I’ll let you go.”

She could only comply with his wishes. After he set her down at the edge of the bed, she hurriedly went to the low table at the other end of the bed, feeling around to light the palace candle. Turning back to see his seemingly displeased expression, she quickly explained: “If people outside see that there aren’t even candles lit in the chamber, wouldn’t that be inappropriate?”

As she spoke, she lowered her hand, accidentally sweeping down a memorial from the low table with a rustling sound.

Her gaze casually swept over it, noticing it was jointly submitted by several senior ministers from the Secretariat. She vaguely made out that it mentioned Minister Gu’s matter, and suddenly understood. After thinking for a moment, she raised her head and said to him: “Minister Gu has been ill at home for a long time. Has Your Highness not considered personally inviting him back to court? After all, the Wang Qi case has been concluded, and Minister Gu’s position in the Secretariat is too important to remain vacant for long.”

He looked at her without saying a word, his face illuminated by candlelight, alternating between brightness and shadow, making his pleasure or anger difficult to discern.

She continued: “Although I don’t know why Your Highness originally transferred Cao Jing to the Censorate, Cao Jing was quite upright in the matter of Wei Mingxian. I boldly make this request for him—would Your Highness consider transferring him back to the Chancellery to fill my previous position as Left Remonstrator?”

He suddenly moved, pulling her into his embrace, and said unhurriedly: “You’ve just reached the fourth rank, and already you know how to barter for official positions and curry favor?”

This statement was so blunt that her heart instantly chilled.

She looked up, feeling that this man’s expression was now unfathomable, his gaze cold, unlike the passionate person from earlier who had embraced and kissed her so fervently.

After a long while, she lowered her head and said, “That was not my intention.”

But he continued: “If not for your promise of promotion, how would Cao Jing have the courage to be the first to impeach Wei Mingxian?” He paused, then added: “First placing him in the Censorate, then to the Hanlin Academy—you even persuaded Fang Huai. You truly have skill.”

Although she was in his arms, his words sent chills down her spine.

His words seemed half accusation, half testing, with equal parts warning. Wherever she went, Huang Bo reported back to him, and with his keen mind, how could he not know what she had done? Her official position and residence were all given by his grace, and all her actions outside were only possible because she carried the reputation of the Crown Prince’s favor. He wasn’t wrong—that night, if she hadn’t promised Cao Jing a promotion afterward, how could he have rashly impeached Wei Mingxian? And the reason Cao Jing trusted her was because everyone knew she had the Crown Prince’s favor.

Although he treated her well, giving gifts and rewards beyond the norm, and showing deep affection and consideration during intimate moments, he wouldn’t tolerate her overstepping by even a fraction in political matters.

Though he gave her a reputation for intrigue, he wouldn’t permit her to use favor to secure official positions. He wanted her to know that everything he gave her was because he chose to give it, and if she tried to claim credit and demand rewards, she would be showing a lack of understanding of her place.

Thinking of this, she felt a twinge of sadness in her heart and said softly: “Your subject had no intention of disrespecting Your Highness.”

Anyone well-read in history knew that the rise and fall of favored officials depended entirely on the emperor’s likes and dislikes. He was good to her today because he wanted to be, but if one day he no longer wished to treat her well, how could she protect her position and her life?

In the middle of the night, this sudden shift from passion to coldness left her momentarily stunned, unsure of what to do.

Though he had not yet ascended the throne, the heavy air of imperial authority was unmistakable, instantly pulling her from the previous waves of intimacy.

After all, he was still cold-hearted.

He looked at her for a long time, slowly tightening his arms around her, and said: “I will grant your request and transfer Cao Jing to fill the vacant position of Left Remonstrator.”

She frowned, slightly startled, not understanding why he suddenly changed his tone. “Your Highness?”

He raised his hand to press her head against his chest and said softly: “If you would think less, I would be much more at ease.”

She murmured: “Your subject hasn’t overthought, I simply cannot fathom Your Highness.” She reached out to touch his left chest and added softly: “Your subject doesn’t know what to do to truly satisfy Your Highness.”

But he replied: “You’ve already done very well.”

She looked up at him. “But Your Highness just clearly reproached me for overstepping.”

His long fingers stroked through her long hair. “You did overstep, but I am pleased.”

She lay motionless in his embrace, her gaze following the small flame of the palace candle as it flickered. After a long while, she spoke again: “Your subject suddenly recalls that in the nunnery of my childhood, there was a dog. When it was first found, it was quite wild. The person who found it tied it to the wall, sometimes feeding it well, sometimes starving it for days. After a while, the dog gradually understood and became much more obedient before that person. The finder then let it guard the nunnery chambers at night. Because it could eat well every day, it was happy to appear fierce at the door to frighten away evildoers. It thought it could enjoy food until old age, but who knew, a few years later it was poisoned and killed by someone from outside, cooked and eaten. The person who had raised it didn’t seem particularly sad, just treated it as having lost a watchdog, and promptly went to find another abandoned dog to raise.”

As he listened, his gaze gradually grew cold.

She took a breath and continued: “At this moment, I feel somewhat like that dog.” She turned her face to meet his eyes and said softly: “But there is a difference between your subject and that dog. Your subject thinks, if I were that dog, even if I were to be killed and cooked, I would want nothing more than to have my flesh and bones served to the person who raised me, letting that person eat my meat, drink a soup made from my bones, and sleep on my fur.”

His expression suddenly turned angry, and he tightly gripped her waist.

She raised her delicate eyebrows slightly, fearlessly asking: “Your subject loves Your Highness this much, why does Your Highness grow angry?”