That night, he dreamed of nothing. When Shen Xiao woke, the sky was already close to midday. The first thing his mind reached for upon opening his eyes was the events of the night before.

I love you — she had finally admitted it.

Shen Xiao smiled and reached out to feel the space beside him, but found only cold, empty bedding where she had lain — her side of the quilt had long since gone cold, and she had left who knew how early.

Shen Xiao was taken aback, and a strange, unsettled feeling came over him immediately. The smile at the corner of his mouth slowly disappeared.

Was last night’s entire encounter nothing more than a dream born of long yearning?

All that “I love you” — had it been nothing but his own wishful imagination?

Perhaps because he had suffered so long that even a taste of sweetness felt too unreal to be trusted.

Shen Xiao stared blankly for a moment, then pushed himself upright. He turned to look around the room — but as his neck moved, a sharp sting radiated from it.

He reached up and touched his neck, and felt a row of deep, distinct bite marks.

He paused — and then laughed quietly to himself.

She certainly had not gone easy on him. Not the least bit gentle.

The anxiety and uncertainty of a moment ago, the reluctance to believe — all of it dissolved in an instant.

She had chosen this fierce, wild method to declare what was in her heart.

After a full night’s rest and a good deal of medicine, Shen Xiao’s spirits had recovered considerably, though the cough had not left him.

After falling into the river, his wind-cold ailment had been extremely severe. That it had not turned into consumption was already a stroke of fortune; but the coughing condition would likely not be easy to cure in any short span of time.

Shen Xiao got out of bed and picked up the clothes that had been kicked roughly to the floor the night before and put them on. He was wondering where Li Shu had gone so early when he glanced up toward the south-facing window and saw the silhouette of a person on the other side of the window paper.

Even with the window between them, he could recognise her.

He smiled and walked to the south-facing window.

*

Outside, under the covered corridor — though it was already midday, the sun showed not the slightest sign of breaking through. The wind and snow today were heavier than the day before.

Li Shu stood in the corridor, her brow furrowed. “How is the situation over in Luo Commandery?”

The guard lowered his head to reply: “With the heavy snowfall these past few days, news has been slow to travel. The most recent information is still the memorial Cui Jinzhi sent back to the court a few days ago, stating that the rebellion has yet to be suppressed.”

Li Shu heard this, and the crease between her brows eased slightly.

It would be best if the matter in Luo Commandery could keep Cui Jinzhi tied up for a while longer.

She was about to ask the guard something more when she heard the window behind her pushed open from within, followed by a light cough. Li Shu looked over, and Shen Xiao looked back at her. Having heard their exchange just now, he picked up the thread of conversation naturally and continued: “I would estimate it will take some time before the rebellion is put down. Marching in heavy snowfall is already difficult, and in the depths of winter, the Yellow River has frozen over completely. The displaced people have crossed the river and spread into Hedong Circuit. Although the refugees are a disorganised rabble without proper weapons and cannot face Cui Jinzhi’s forces in a direct confrontation, their strength lies in being scattered and in knowing the terrain. The way they strike here and feint there — that is what makes them such a thorny problem.”

Shen Xiao had followed the refugees and gathered evidence of their actions, and he understood their movements extremely well.

The guard quickly said, “Senior Official’s assessment is very apt.”

But Li Shu said nothing. Her gaze simply drifted over to where Shen Xiao stood behind the window.

He always held his posture perfectly straight — not the slightest bow or hunch — and now that he was even leaner than before, the whole of him resembled a blade that no force could break.

Every movement he made carried a natural, unaffected dignity.

And yet the bite marks on his neck were extremely conspicuous. Li Shu had bitten in a particularly cunning spot — positioned high on the neck — and though he had done his utmost to pull his collar up over it, it stubbornly refused to be concealed.

The more austere and upright his bearing appeared, the more those bite marks invited indecent imaginings.

The corner of Li Shu’s lips curved upward. She thought to herself: such a fine person — and he belongs to me.

A wave of joy rose inside her that she could not suppress.

She did not know what came over her, but Li Shu suddenly stepped forward. Standing on her side of the window, she and Shen Xiao faced each other directly. Before Shen Xiao had time to react, she reached out, took hold of his collar, and pulled him slightly toward her.

Her lips pressed against his. Last night she had learned a great deal, and this time it was no longer the simple, innocent press of lips she had offered before. She parted her teeth slightly and gave his lower lip a gentle bite. And after the bite, as though afraid she had hurt him, the tip of her tongue gave his lip the softest of licks.

Shen Xiao: …!

He was completely stunned!

A surge of heat rose up instantly — from the point of contact at their lips, spreading all the way to his ears and the back of his neck.

In… in broad daylight!

And furthermore… furthermore, in full view of the guard!!

Shen Xiao had spent years buried in the study of the classical sages, and at the very core of him, he was still a man of upright and composed character. The few encounters between them had all been the result of emotion that could no longer be contained. The last time, at the Jinyu Pavilion, he had been driven with no way to retreat and forced beyond the limits of his endurance; and the night before had been the result of separation at the edge of life and death.

Setting aside those two intense emotional turning points, in ordinary day-to-day company, Shen Xiao was still prone to shyness.

The kiss lasted only a moment before Li Shu released him. She looked at him with a smile; Shen Xiao’s face had gone red all the way down to the base of his neck, the warmth radiating off him enough to melt the snow hanging beneath the eaves three feet away.

Her Senior Official Shen — perfectly uninhibited in bed, wasn’t he.

Li Shu’s gaze burned with heat; it scorched Shen Xiao’s ears, and he had an almost overwhelming urge to turn and retreat back into the room — yet somehow his body seemed fixed firmly to the spot.

Throughout this entire relationship, Li Shu’s stance had always been unambiguous: she had consistently been fleeing. Li Shu was not a blank slate, nor was her past unmarked; because of that, she had always looked at people with a wariness kept beneath the surface, rarely ever exposing her true heart.

Shen Xiao had longed many times to see what it would look like when she truly opened herself up. Today, that moment had finally arrived. Though he found her boldness a little overwhelming, the last thing he wanted was to look away.

His ears were burning crimson — and yet he could not stop himself from letting out another quiet laugh.

The sensation at his lips still lingered. This woman — why did she enjoy biting people so much? She was practically born in the Year of the Dog.

“Then… this subordinate will take his leave now…?”

The guard had been involuntarily subjected to a full display of affection, had been thoroughly fed with second-hand sweetness, and had his head bowed so low it was practically touching the ground. He thought to himself that the princess had never been this cloying with Prince Consort Yang.

Li Shu heard this and finally moved her gaze from Shen Xiao. She waved a hand. “You may go. Remember to keep a close watch on any news from Cui Jinzhi’s side.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard answered, saluted, and hurried away.

With no one around them now, the heat in Shen Xiao’s face had gradually faded.

Picking up where Li Shu had interrupted the business at hand, he said, “But to speak truthfully, I would actually rather see Cui Jinzhi suppress the displaced people’s uprising sooner rather than later. Otherwise, there is no knowing how far and wide it might spread.”

He sighed, looking at the snowflakes drifting from the eaves. “You have not been out among the common people, so you do not know the hardships of winter. Four walls open to the wind and cold, and a single snowfall can take countless poor folk from this world. When life becomes impossible, and it is not the season for farming, idle hands quickly breed resentment and dark thoughts — people start cursing heaven and cursing earth. If an uprising among the displaced people were to pass through at such a time, stirring people up with promises and persuasion, the ranks would swell within the blink of an eye. And yet it is a pity that most of these people were originally impoverished farmers — given one road to survival, they might never have taken the path of rebellion.”

Li Shu listened, her expression going cold. “What does the Eastern Palace care about any of that? For the sake of consolidating its own power and position, what would they stop at? The displaced people’s uprising in Luo Commandery arose from nothing but fear that the Seventh Prince might earn great merit from managing the Yellow River and thereby shake the Eastern Palace’s foundations. The Crown Prince wished to undercut the Seventh Prince — yet in the end, he has fanned the flames against the very roots upon which Father’s dynasty was built. This is none other than his own doing come back upon him.”

“All the reasoning is sound,” Shen Xiao said with a sigh, “yet when the mighty clash, it is the common people below who suffer innocently.” He paused a moment. “That is why I say: for that position, the Crown Prince is not fit to sit.”

His brow and eyes had gone cold, his expression sharp.

“I will present everything the Eastern Palace has done in Luo Commandery. Let us see whether his position can hold!”

He looked at Li Shu, his tone utterly resolute. “Que Nü, I intend to petition directly to the Emperor.”

Someone needed to speak out about this matter.

But Li Shu had suddenly fallen silent.

The Emperor was gravely ill, the Crown Prince was governing in his stead, and the Eastern Palace’s power was greater than it had ever been before. For Shen Xiao to petition the Emperor directly — was it throwing an egg against a stone, or a cry that would reach the very heights of heaven? Both possibilities existed, and this was a gamble with their lives.

Li Shu suddenly seized Shen Xiao’s hand. She found herself hesitating and hanging back — afraid Shen Xiao might be put in danger again. Regained after being lost — how could she allow him to be lost and regained once more?

Shen Xiao seemed to know what she was thinking. He turned his hand over and clasped her palm, giving it a squeeze. “Trust me.”

Though even in his own heart he was not fully certain. Yet they had no retreat. This was their only choice.

He stroked Li Shu’s hair, his hand cupping the back of her head, lowering his face to look at her. “I have come through enough by now that I am always able to turn misfortune into something better. That goes to show that Heaven itself is watching over me.”

He smiled. “Think about it — right at the beginning, when you forced me into your bed and humiliated me the way you did, how did I end up? I passed first in the Imperial Examination. Then the matter of collecting grain during the great drought in Guanzhong fell on my shoulders — it looked completely without resolution — and yet in the end I was promoted in rank. This matter will be the same. I nearly lost my life in the Yellow River; now is the moment for them to answer for it with their own.”

Li Shu said, “So all this time, you have still been keeping score over the bed matter — and you are planning to settle three-year-old accounts with me?”

She half-jokingly steered the mood away from the heaviness that had begun to settle over them.

If they did not bring the Eastern Palace down now, then once the Crown Prince ascended the throne, it would be their own time of reckoning. There was truly no retreat. It was a case of burning the boats behind them — a fight to the death.

She was not a weak person; after a brief spell of worry, she returned to her usual calm.

She began to think aloud strategically: “No matter how important the evidence in your hands may be, it is worthless if Father cannot see it. But Father is gravely ill now and sees no one at all.”

“A few days ago I wished to enter the palace to enquire after his health. The memorial requesting an audience that I sent into the palace was sent back by the Crown Prince, who said Father is recuperating and must not be disturbed. It is not just me — the Seventh Prince has been treated the same way.”

Li Shu said this and let out a quiet sigh. “I must find a way to create a direct opportunity for you to stand before Father.”

She furrowed her brow. “And it must be done before Cui Jinzhi returns to the capital — the Eastern Palace must be brought down completely before that happens. Otherwise, with the military power in his hands, who knows what he might do…”

A gust of wind carrying snow swept in, and Shen Xiao coughed again. Li Shu caught herself and immediately began pushing him back inside. “Go in quickly — don’t let the cold get at you.”

She followed him inside and instructed the maid waiting in the main room: “Go and bring the ginseng broth.”

The maid quickly answered and went.

Li Shu then drew aside the bed curtain and entered the side bedroom. Shen Xiao had already closed the south-facing window. He was now standing before her dressing table, a blood-jade hairpin in his hand.

The pins and ornaments from the night before had not been tidied away; they were scattered across the entire table, gold and jade glittering. Beside them, the broken blood-jade hairpin looked dim by comparison.

Shen Xiao traced the break in the pin with his finger, where it had been wrapped in fine, close-wound red thread. For jade to be mended seamlessly, a master craftsman would have been needed — and at the time he had neither the energy nor the funds for that.

“What are you looking at?”

Li Shu walked over and asked. When she saw he was holding the blood-jade hairpin in his hand, she reached out to take it — but Shen Xiao pulled it away from her.

Shen Xiao looked faintly abashed. “Just throw this away. It was supposed to be a fine piece, but after breaking it is ruined.”

Li Shu glared at him and snatched it back. “You gave it to me, so it belongs to me. Who gave you permission to throw it away?”

She said, “This princess likes wearing this!”

Lifting her chin with an air of command, she said, “Put it in my hair.”

With that she sat down at the bronze mirror, treating Shen Xiao entirely as though he were a maid whose job it was to do her hair.

Shen Xiao sighed in resignation. He faced the back of her head and searched around for quite some time, not knowing quite where to pin it to best effect. He tried it on the left temple first, decided it did not look right, then moved it to the right temple; by the end of that, he decided it was still crooked and moved it again.

The neatly arranged hair bun had been worked into a messy, dishevelled state by all his fussing, with loose strands drifting across her face. Li Shu, exasperated, reached up and swatted his hand away, and in the end took the pin and put it in herself.

Her complexion had been very pale of late; in truth, the blood-red hairpin did not suit it particularly well and only made her skin look more sickly. But Li Shu lifted her chin and asked the man behind her, “Does it look nice?”

Shen Xiao looked down at her and smiled. “It looks nice.”

He leaned down and kissed her, his hands taking hold of her waist, turning her body to face him squarely, pressing her back against the edge of the dressing table so she could not move.

He was feeling bold now, was he?

Li Shu thought: just a moment ago he was flushing red because of a kiss, and now that there was no one else around, he had taken the initiative himself.

Shen Xiao was simply a deeply repressed man.

The kiss lasted a little while before he drew back, his breath falling warm against her face. The mood was thick and charged, as though in the next moment he might say something altogether suitable only for the inner sanctum of the bedchamber.

Yet Shen Xiao lifted his lashes and said, “Li Shu, you are a scoundrel who gets out of bed and pretends nothing happened.”

Li Shu blinked, and watched as Shen Xiao dropped that remark and released her, turned around, and walked away with perfect composure.

As he walked, he rubbed the bite marks on his neck and shoulder — they still ached. She had squeezed every last drop from him the night before, and then this morning had left him alone in bed.

And then the two of them had just been talking about serious matters — what serious matters? Their arrangement had long since fallen apart. Right now, they were plainly in an illicit affair — and since when did people in an illicit affair open their mouths and talk about serious business?

Shen Xiao had barely made it back to the edge of the bed and sat down when Li Shu came charging at him and knocked him back onto the mattress, climbing on top of him with an impressive air of authority. “Who did you just call a scoundrel?”

Shen Xiao’s gaze slid toward her. “You, of course.”

He began to enumerate her offences with perfect composure. “First time: before getting into bed, you promised a promotion; after getting out of bed, you cancelled it. Second time: in bed you said you liked me; out of bed, you pretended it never happened.”

Shen Xiao had an excellent memory; every scoundrel-like thing Li Shu had ever done, he had kept careful note of.

He reached up and pinched her chin. “You have finally fallen into my hands. The days are long — just wait for me to settle the score.”

Li Shu was left speechless. “You — petty!”

The two of them quarrelled and made mischief for a while before finally settling down to lie side by side on the bed.

The snow was falling heavier than before, and the room was utterly quiet. The sound of snow landing on the roof could be heard.

Li Shu’s thoughts wandered far away. She remembered when she was small, before her mother had passed. It had been winter, and for some reason — another year where she had been forgotten and left off the palace banquet roster — the princess from the Cold Palace had simply been overlooked. She had been a little sad, because the New Year’s banquet always had so many wonderful things to eat. Her mother, wanting to coax her, had lit the small brazier in the middle of the night and boiled a pot of plain water tofu.

Clear broth and sparse ingredients, but the steam had risen in gentle clouds. The warmth had seeped through her clothes and into her chilled skin, and the tofu had burned her tongue as she ate. The cold had melted from her body all at once.

She could still remember that feeling to this day.

The feeling of home.

Li Shu reached out and touched the hollow of Shen Xiao’s eye. “Shen Xiao.”

“Mm?”

“Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Let us spend New Year’s Eve together this year.”

“All right.”

He took hold of her hand where it was wandering across his face.

Before New Year’s Eve, there was the court banquet, which the palace held every year as a matter of course. In the outer court, a banquet was set for the imperial princes and the senior officials; in the inner palace, one was held for the princesses and the wives of the nobility.

The New Year’s gathering banquet carried enormous symbolic weight. Word had it that the Emperor had at least managed to regain some ability to move about — which meant he would certainly force himself to appear, however briefly.

It was the best opportunity to petition directly to the Emperor.