“What a strong-willed temperament your aunt had back then! Before she passed, she gripped my hand, too ill to speak, only looking at me with those eyes, tears streaming endlessly…

“Even when she drew her last breath, her eyes wouldn’t close.

“That such a vast Great Qian dynasty would require a six-year-old child to step forward and face the cruelest blades and swords in this world! In the end, I failed your aunt, and failed that child even more!”

…

Father’s tear-filled, grief-stricken expression in the Chengqing Hall still floated in his mind, accompanied by that hoarse voice tinged with unwillingness and resentment.

In these nearly twenty years, Yan Lin had never seen him like this.

As if all the emotions suppressed in his chest were released in that moment, ready to transform into searing lava that would incinerate everything.

The rain poured down torrentially, as if the entire Celestial River was being emptied, flooding the mortal world.

The vast capital city was now nothing more than a solitary boat.

He looked up at the pitch-black night sky beyond the eaves, with lightning occasionally streaking across it, then walked straight out into the rain!

Qingfeng, who had been following behind intending to accompany him back to his room, was stunned. After a moment’s hesitation, he quickly grabbed an umbrella and hurried after him, asking urgently: “Young Master, where are you going?”

Yan Lin’s voice was somewhat muffled in the rain: “Prepare the carriage. We’re going to Cengxiao Tower.”

Only then did Qingfeng realize he was going to see Second Miss Jiang.

But…

The raindrops falling on the umbrella were like ice pellets hammering down, seemingly ready to pierce through the umbrella’s surface.

Qingfeng couldn’t help but advise: “But it’s already so late, long past the agreed time, and with such heavy rain tonight, Second Miss Jiang surely wouldn’t have kept waiting for you and should have returned home already? If you go, it will likely be a wasted trip. If you’re concerned, we could just send someone from the manor to check.”

Yan Lin didn’t look back: “Even if there’s only the slightest possibility, I don’t want her to wait in vain.”

*

Perhaps because the sound of rain outside was too clamorous, after Jiang Xuening closed her eyes, the rain infiltrated her dreams, sketching out a torrential summer afternoon downpour.

She and the palace attendants hurried along the edge of the lotus pond.

The pavilion for shelter from rain lay ahead.

But when they arrived, someone was already sitting inside.

Thus that half-acre square pond and the pool full of rain-drenched lotuses all became this person’s backdrop.

Her body was dampened by rain as she walked in from outside the pavilion.

The surrounding scenery immediately melted away like ink wash painting.

What reformed was actually a mountain village thatched cottage. She sat on the only dry table, legs curled up, arms wrapped around her knees, blinking as she watched Zhang Zhe standing coldly in the corner, her heartbeat inexplicably quickening.

Then she heard her own voice, somewhat strained and hiding a trace of nervousness: “Do you… do you want to come sit together?”

Zhang Zhe turned to look at her.

Those were cold, clear eyes that captured her in an instant.

In this moment she wanted to reach out and touch those eyes, but amid the overflowing scents of earth and grass around her, somehow a trace of wine fragrance suddenly mingled in, drawing near from afar, gradually growing stronger.

Though it was merely wisps of scent, it was like a blade slashing through that rain.

Jiang Xuening suddenly plunged into a nightmare.

The lotus pond and pavilion at the summer retreat vanished.

The thatched cottage along their escape route after the assassination attempt also disappeared.

She stood barefoot on the cold floor of Kunning Palace’s sleeping chamber, using incense chopsticks to stir the ash in the burner, staring blankly.

There were no other palace attendants in the palace.

She felt cold, felt lost, felt afraid.

Sure enough, before long, footsteps came from outside the hall.

Only this time was different from before.

These footsteps were somewhat chaotic, somewhat unsteady.

When that figure appeared outside the door and forcefully pushed open the hall doors, the wind immediately carried a strong scent of wine inside. Jiang Xuening’s hand trembled, and the incense chopsticks she had been holding between her fingers immediately dropped to the floor.

A piercing sound.

Yan Lin’s face, having shed all the innocence of youth, carried several traces of confused intoxication, yet his eyes were brighter than usual, as if returning to his most triumphant youthful days.

He smiled at her: “Ningning, don’t be afraid…”

But she sensed unprecedented danger and retreated backward bit by bit.

Yet Kunning Palace wasn’t large to begin with, let alone this small sleeping chamber?

He pressed closer step by step, finally capturing her.

That rich wine scent immediately closed in on her, enveloping her nose and mouth, imprisoning her like a cage, invading, occupying, permeating…

In a daze, someone’s fingers brushed across her cheek.

That icy touch was like a scaled snake, making her hair stand on end with horror.

When Jiang Xuening, drowsing lightly on the noble consort’s couch, opened her eyes with the lingering fear from her dream, she only saw a backlit figure sitting before her couch. The youth’s silhouette was somewhat familiar, yet somewhat strange. Even dampened by cold rain, the faint wine scent on him lingered vaguely but persistently.

In this moment her pupils constricted sharply.

Completely instinctively, she retreated backward.

Only in the next moment did she recognize clearly that the youth before her still bore no traces carved by wind and frost, nor the deep suppression of bitter hardship at the frontier. Though he seemed somewhat unusually silent, he was not the Yan Lin from her previous life.

Yan Lin had arrived half a moment earlier.

The rain outside hadn’t lessened.

After entering Cengxiao Tower, he saw her lying asleep on the noble consort’s couch, her small palm-sized face buried in the thin blanket, looking increasingly delicate and adorable. At such a special time, it made his heart ache even more.

She must have waited a long time, hadn’t she?

Yan Lin realized he had just come in from outside and his fingers were too cold. Looking at her, he said softly: “Did I frighten you?”

Jiang Xuening blinked: “You’ve been drinking?”

Only then did Yan Lin realize he was indeed covered in the scent of wine. This thought brought him back to his conversation with Father in the manor. After a long silence, he lowered his eyes and said: “Earlier I accompanied Father to discuss some matters and had a few drinks.”

Zhou Yinzhi had already obtained the position of Chiliarch, and with the storm approaching, what could he and the Marquis of Yongyi discuss?

Jiang Xuening could guess the general idea.

She had originally intended to speak clearly with Yan Lin today, but at this moment, looking at him, she somehow couldn’t speak a single word.

There were no others in the room.

The maids had all withdrawn.

It was extremely quiet for a time.

Yet Yan Lin’s emotions continued to churn, making him feel like a reef on the shore, with waves crashing over him one after another. He couldn’t dodge, could only stand in place, enduring, bearing it.

If not for tonight, if not for Zhou Yinzhi, if not for the earlier conversation with Father, perhaps until some future day when facing the destruction of his entire clan and irredeemable catastrophe, he wouldn’t have realized what he had done wrong.

He still remembered the night of the Double Ninth lantern festival.

Ningning had turned to ask him: “Yan Lin, you always dote on me like this, protect me like this, but have you ever thought—if one day I no longer have you, what would it be like, and what should I do?”

He was the heir of the Marquis of Yongyi’s manor, doted on at home, favored by the Emperor, skilled in both civil and martial arts. Even compared to those wastrel sons in the capital who spent their days in idle pleasures while enjoying their fathers’ legacies, he had traveled to many places with his father and witnessed much suffering. He believed he possessed no less foresight than them, along with the ambitious aspirations inherited from his elders.

No hardship or difficulty had ever troubled him.

So he felt that everything he possessed was natural, unchangeable. Just as he had told Shen Jie: “If I dote on her, naturally I will marry her.”

Not until today did he realize that some things, though possessed from birth, might not last forever.

He doted on her.

He protected her.

He couldn’t suppress that eager heart, openly displaying his favoritism toward her before others, wishing the entire capital would know that Jiang Xuening would be his future wife.

But he had forgotten that circumstances change, and no one knows what tomorrow will bring.

Now, he only regretted not considering things thoroughly enough, being too rash in handling matters.

Yan Lin dared not think—

With her delicate nature, how would she cope with difficulties at home if she lost him? She needn’t have entered the palace as a study companion, yet he had sent her there—how would she face the dangers ahead? Everyone knew of their childhood connection and close relationship—if sudden changes occurred and the engagement fell through, how would she cope?

At times it was the oppressive sense of impending collapse and approaching storm; at times the regret for his own naive immaturity; mixed with heartache for this young girl he had cherished for years. Yan Lin felt as if something was blocking his throat, making it extremely difficult to produce any sound.

He forcefully pulled her into his embrace.

His hoarse voice trembled slightly: “Ningning…”

The instant the youth’s strong arms embraced her, Jiang Xuening’s body went rigid and tense: “Yan Lin—”

His face buried in the crook of her neck, trembling as he struggled to suppress it, pleading: “Don’t speak, Ningning, don’t speak. Be merciful to me. Don’t speak…”

In this moment, the youth’s posture showed rare vulnerability.

As if afraid of what she might say.

Jiang Xuening only felt something extraordinarily heavy pressing down on him. Looking out the window at the pitch darkness, with only the faint light from this private room casting its glow.

Her heart gradually softened.

Her tense body slowly relaxed, and finally she slowly reached out, placing her hand on the youth’s shoulder, telling him: “It’s all right, it will be all right.”

Had Yan Lin guessed what she wanted to tell him today?

Jiang Xuening wasn’t certain either.

In this quiet, deep rainy night, she merely recalled her own selfishness and baseness—

Within the inner residence, counting repeatedly, she had few people she could use. Even without Zhou Yinzhi, the Marquis of Yongyi’s troubles would still come through someone else. That being the case, using Zhou Yinzhi was better than not using him. At least knowing his background, she could still tip off the Marquis of Yongyi’s manor, letting the Yan clan prepare.

As for how she knew about the Marquis of Yongyi’s troubles, there was no need to worry.

Zhou Yinzhi was a deeply scheming “clever person” who would speculate that she learned the news from her father or other dignitaries, because no wall is impenetrable. Though Yan Lin was young, he was deeply familiar with some court matters. Even knowing she had prior knowledge of the manor’s troubles, he would only assume she learned from Zhou Yinzhi and then had Zhou Yinzhi relay the information.

Clever people dislike speaking plainly.

Moreover, this wasn’t an incomprehensible matter—they would construct the most reasonable explanation themselves, and thus she would remain hidden.

Her voice was soft, gentle, and soothing, inexplicably possessing a calming power.

Listening, Yan Lin tightly closed his eyes.

After a long while, he finally released her, his eyes somewhat moist, yet he laughed: “You waited for me a long time, didn’t you? It’s all my fault—I actually forgot to send someone to inform you in advance. When I came, I only hoped that upon reaching Cengxiao Tower, you would have already left, so my guilt would be less. But arriving here and seeing you still waiting—beyond guilt, my heart couldn’t suppress its joy. Ningning, aren’t I ridiculous?”

Jiang Xuening looked at him, not knowing what to say.

But Yan Lin, as if performing magic, produced something from his robes. Taking her hand, he tied it around her slender wrist, saying: “On the way here, I saw a flower-selling woman sheltering from rain under the eaves. Seeing these flowers, I don’t know why, but felt they resembled you. So I thought, if you were here, having arrived so late, I should have something to apologize with. Accept my flowers, and you mustn’t be angry with me anymore.”

The youth’s voice was as gentle as spring breeze.

What he tied around Jiang Xuening’s wrist was actually a string of snow-white jasmine flowers. The soft, blooming flowers were threaded on a thin string, adorned with just two glossy green leaves as decoration. Once tied, they hung from her wrist like two pieces of jade.

In the cold, lonely rainy night, fragrance suddenly suffused the air.

It was an extremely fresh, refreshing scent.

Few knew that jasmine could bloom in three seasons.

Only if cared for very well.

Late autumn and early winter jasmine was even rarer, like the youth’s sentiment—exceptionally precious.

Jiang Xuening suddenly felt a hatred for herself.

Seeing her silence, Yan Lin cupped her face to examine it, saying: “Are you really going to stay angry?”

Jiang Xuening shook her head.

It was truly too late.

Though Yan Lin was reluctant to part from their time together, he dared not let her return too late. Moreover, in these troubled times, he feared further damaging her reputation, so he prepared to send her home.

The two descended from Cengxiao Tower together.

Yan Lin held the umbrella, helping her into the carriage.

At this moment, Jiang Xuening stood under the umbrella, looking up at him. Her long, thick lashes trembled faintly in the shadows as she said softly: “Yan Lin, don’t drink wine anymore in the future, all right? I’m afraid.”

Don’t drink wine?

Yan Lin didn’t understand, wanting to say which ambitious man doesn’t drink? But lowering his eyes, he met her gaze—soft yet hiding fragility. Somehow a place in his heart seemed pierced with pain. So he smiled indulgently and dotingly, promising her: “All right.”