When Zhao Yan released Wenren Lin, her eyes were slightly red.

After regaining her composure, she inconspicuously withdrew her hands into her sleeves, trying to cover the heavy, ugly iron shackles. She, who had always been adept at playing innocent and eliciting sympathy, now feared others seeing the wounds on her wrists.

“Bring the key, prepare hot water and medicine,” Wenren Lin commanded those outside in a deep voice.

“I…”

Zhao Yan held the edge of his sleeve, as if finding it difficult to speak, and leaned close to Wenren Lin’s ear to whisper something.

Wenren Lin’s gaze darkened slightly, and he silently carried her to the small couch in the inner chamber, carefully wrapped the cloak around her, and rose to part the curtains and go out.

Outside, the footsteps of palace servants coming and going were hurried but orderly. A charcoal basin was placed, and the cold hall immediately filled with warmth. If not for the restraints still on her wrists, Zhao Yan would have almost thought she had returned to the Eastern Palace, with everything in perfect order.

Wenren Lin had returned. Had the matter in Luozhou been resolved?

Would his coming to see her be disadvantageous to him?

…

…

Just as she was thinking, footsteps approached, and Wenren Lin personally entered carrying hot water and cotton towels.

The water was still quite hot, so he first set the copper basin aside to cool, took a tray handed over by a servant with one hand, and walked to the couch to sit down. He placed Zhao Yan’s hand on his leg, unlocked the iron cuffs with a key, then moistened a cotton cloth in water and slowly cleaned the red, swollen wounds around her wrists.

When the broken skin was suddenly touched, Zhao Yan involuntarily trembled and curled her fingers.

Wenren Lin paused slightly, then made his cleansing movements even gentler, as light as a goose feather, performing the task meticulously and patiently.

But he remained silent the entire time, his eyes, which usually contained playful, shallow smiles, now as deep, dark, and cold as an abyss.

Zhao Yan had never seen Wenren Lin like this before. Beneath his deliberate composure, it was as if he were suppressing rolling, gloomy clouds.

She cleared her throat and found a topic to open conversation: “How long have you been back? Do you still need to go to Luozhou?”

“I’m not leaving anymore,” Wenren Lin said.

According to the original plan, the matter in Luozhou would not have been concluded so quickly. But someone had taken advantage of his absence from the capital to move against the young princess, so he had to use a more direct and brutal method, killing his way into the rebel stronghold and traveling day and night to bring back the rebel leader’s head and nail it to the palace gate.

Zhao Yan heard Wenren Lin’s voice remain steady and quietly sighed in relief.

A sharp pain shot through her wrist, and Wenren Lin held her hand, his thumb soothingly stroking the back of her hand, his voice very soft: “Bear with it a little.”

Zhao Yan indeed endured without moving.

Wenren Lin carefully applied medicine and wrapped bandages around her wrists in layer after layer, tying the excess into a knot.

He naturally raised his hand to stroke Zhao Yan’s head, as if in praise, then went to a nearby table where he took some fabric, removed the somewhat stiff silk linen inside, and replaced it with soft, clean down and cotton.

“This is…”

Seeing the familiar intimate items, Zhao Yan coughed uncomfortably.

“I heard that ladies in the palace make these themselves, so I couldn’t find better ones on short notice. But they are all made of clean, new silk. This prince made some modifications; Your Highness will have to make do with them.”

Wenren Lin’s expression remained normal as he carefully adjusted the thickness, then frowned slightly and, holding it in his palm, asked Zhao Yan, “Your Highness, please see if this will suffice.”

“It’s—it’s enough,” Zhao Yan said.

Wenren Lin placed the modified menstrual cloths on dry clothing beside the couch, tested the water temperature in the copper basin, and said, “The water temperature is about right. Your Highness should remove your undergarments.”

Zhao Yan was momentarily stunned, then realized what he meant and leaned on the edge of the couch, saying softly, “I can do it myself.”

Wenren Lin gazed at her in embarrassment without insisting and rose to go behind the screen.

The screen was thin enough for light to pass through, casting Wenren Lin’s tall shadow. He carefully washed his hands, dried them, and the cool sound of water flowed unhurriedly, bringing a sense of peace to the heart.

With her wrists freed from restraint, she felt completely relaxed. Zhao Yan slowly removed her silk trousers to the sound of water, exhaled, and supported herself on the edge of the couch to stand up.

After washing herself thoroughly, she put on new clothes and was about to stand when her knees weakened and she fell to the ground with a thud, feeling a piercing pain.

Almost simultaneously, Wenren Lin was before her, lifting her horizontally from where she was supporting herself on the floor tiles and gasping, placing her back on the couch.

He slowly rolled up Zhao Yan’s silk trousers, looked at the blue-purple bruises for a long time, and asked: “Who has been interrogating Your Highness these past days?”

Outside officials cannot easily enter the inner palace. Most of the time, it’s been palace guards and ladies-in-waiting conducting the questioning on the Emperor’s behalf.”

After just these few sentences, Zhao Yan could not control the soreness and heat in her throat, and her suppressed emotions threatened to burst forth again.

Beneath all her dishevelment, she discovered she was not as strong as she had imagined. Her fingers gripping the couch tightened, and she inhaled through her nose, saying: “Wenren Shaoyuan, don’t pity me.”

Her voice trembled slightly, falling on his ears and evoking a dense pain.

“Don’t interfere in this matter. Don’t allow them to fabricate accusations of joint culpability. I need to confront them myself.”

Zhao Yan exhaled deeply, revealing a sincere, faint smile. “But with you here, I feel much more assured.”

Only then did Wenren Lin withdraw his nearly out-of-control gaze, his cold, slender fingers passing over the medicine box nearby, selecting a bottle for improving blood circulation and reducing swelling.

“The night before I left the capital, Your Highness said you wanted to become this prince’s pride.”

Wenren Lin knelt on one knee and carefully lifted Zhao Yan’s leg, his eyelashes casting long shadows. “Your Highness already is.”

With that, he kissed her bruised knee, affectionate and reverent.

Wenren Lin’s lips had always been cool, but when he kissed her wound this time, she sensed a burning heat.

Zhao Yan suddenly recalled that when she had been holding back tears before, her lips would also uncontrollably grow hot.

She suddenly felt her heart swell, filled to the brim with warm emotion, and wanted very much to lean against him on this small couch, drawing from his stability and warmth.

And that is exactly what she did.

She had the most satisfying meal of the past half-month, eating and drinking her fill, then curled up on the couch, using Wenren Lin’s chest as a pillow, and sank deeply into sleep.

Late at night, with the moon and snow filtering through the window, casting shadows that slanted westward.

Wenren Lin opened his eyes, deep as lacquer, calm and unruffled.

The person in his arms slept soundly, still clutching a piece of his clothing in her hand, as if he would disappear the moment she let go.

Wenren Lin turned his head, lightly kissing the top of her hair with his pale thin lips, then carefully lifted Zhao Yan’s hand that rested on his abdomen, placing it back under the quilt, and rose from the couch, grabbing his cloak from nearby.

The ink-colored cloak spread like a dark cloud, and the shadows gradually receded from his body. The moonlight seemed to cover his face with a clear, moist mask.

The door opened quietly. Outside, a batch of new faces stood guard. They were there on Prince Su’s orders to protect Princess Changfeng’s safety, not to monitor her.

The palace guards and ladies-in-waiting who had been interrogating her had all been dismissed, on the grounds of “suspected connivance with palace maids attempting to harm Princess Changfeng before judgment has been passed.” Now, inside and outside Chaoyu Palace were cleaner and more reliable than the new snow in the courtyard.

Cai Tian stepped forward, presenting a fresh list in his hands, and reported in a low voice: “Your Highness, the key figures in court advocating for Princess Changfeng’s execution are all here. In my deep investigation, I found that most have broken imperial laws in some way. Even the few with clean official records have disciples or relatives who are not entirely innocent.”

Wenren Lin took the register and scanned it, his boots crushing the snow on the steps. “Prepare horses.”

Cai Tian followed close behind, hesitating for a moment before mentioning: “His Majesty, having heard of Your Highness’s return to the capital, is still waiting for you to report on your mission.”

“Then let him wait,” Wenren Lin said indifferently, his smile containing a chill.

Cai Tian had never seen the prince so temperamental. In the past, no matter how angry the master was, he would always remain composed, never showing joy or anger.

He knew full well that this time his master couldn’t even be bothered to pretend, and was truly ready to tear off the veil of pretense with the suspicious and distrustful Emperor.

Midnight was the most suitable time for arrests and interrogations.

At Chen Manor, Imperial Censor Chen Lun was dragged from his beautiful concubine’s bed in the middle of the night. Before he could even put his clothes on properly, he was forced to kneel before Wenren Lin.

“P-Prince Su.”

Chen Lun, his eyes stinging from the torchlight, turned his head to look at the man sitting in the round chair and, restraining his anger, asked, “Prince Su has returned from suppressing the rebellion, but instead of first paying respects to His Majesty, you come to my humble abode in this manner. What are your intentions?”

Cai Tian, standing nearby with his hand on his sword, said: “Last year on March 17, sir, under the pretext of your birthday, you privately kept an original painting of ‘Goddess of the Luo River by the Water’ gifted to you by a subordinate; on August 15, the Mid-Autumn Festival, sir, while drunk after a poetry gathering, you openly sold your calligraphy, accepting one thousand taels of silver; on October 9, you accepted a fine jade toad figurine as a bribe from a wealthy merchant from your hometown… Shall this humble one continue with the remaining items?”

As Cai Tian enumerated these offenses one by one, Chen Lun’s face changed from red to white, and he collapsed to the ground.

The Censorate’s job was to supervise all officials and maintain the integrity of the court, but in his position, how could he refrain from acquiring some personal assets?

He hadn’t accepted many gifts and had thought himself undetected, only now realizing that before Prince Su, even the color of his underwear couldn’t remain hidden.

Wenren Lin had no time to appreciate Chen Lun’s defeat. He placed the jade toad he had been playing with on the table and said, “This jade is truly excellent.”

Then he rose and went to the next house.

The dog barking startled several houses into lighting lamps. Hanlin Academy Scholar Lin Song, dressed and standing on his steps, pointed at the young man in jet-black robes and berated him: “What imperial law has this old official broken that warrants Prince Su’s mobilization of such forces?”

“Sir has been upright all his life, and this prince has long admired and respected you.”

Wenren Lin’s voice was even and slow, his gaze sweeping toward the Lin family’s only son, who was forced to kneel nearby, trembling with fear. “But unfortunately, sir’s household is disgraced. You’ve indulged your only son in mistreating his concubine, resulting in a fatal lawsuit. This prince has always despised evil and cannot tolerate such betrayal of imperial grace. Since the capital’s yamen cannot handle it, this prince will.”

With one command to “take him away,” Lin Song watched helplessly as his only son was put on a prisoner’s cart. His spine, which had remained straight for decades, instantly collapsed, and he sighed incessantly.

That night, court officials who had heard the news sat up burning their lamps, each fearing for themselves.

Those whose old accounts were being settled were mostly stubborn traditionalists who supported the princess’s execution. Some guessed Prince Su’s intentions, causing cold shivers down their spines.

However, these were merely guesses, after all, as these people had indeed committed wrongdoings, with indisputable evidence.

After the third crow of the rooster, a thin line of dawn appeared on the horizon, and the accumulated snow on the eaves glowed with blue-white arcs.

This criminal had slandered Princess Changfeng most viciously, even repeatedly submitting memorials demanding that the princess be publicly executed to uphold ritual propriety.

Now, however, he was so frightened he couldn’t utter a word.

Wenren Lin dipped the inkless vermilion brush in the fresh blood at the corner of the criminal’s mouth as he attempted to escape. After absorbing enough “ink,” he drew a line through the last name on the register.

A wet, dark red line crossed out the final name.

These people all deserved punishment and couldn’t be considered “innocent victims.” Eliminating such corrupt officials from the court could hardly be seen as “interfering in the ritual debate”…

He remembered every promise he had made to the young princess, every single one. The only promise he broke was perhaps his initial intent to “sit back and watch the chaotic world and the palace turning to dust.”

The dawn struggled free from the bonds of darkness, and daylight broke through.

It was time to return and apply medicine to the young princess. Wenren Lin closed the register and rode back to the palace.

Chaoyu Palace.

Zhao Yan had awoken and sat on the couch in a daze, with a strand of hair disheveled from sleep.

The space beside the couch was cold and empty; if not for her wrists being free and her wounds properly bandaged, she would have almost thought that seeing Wenren Lin yesterday was merely a dream.

Just as she stretched her waist, the door opened from outside. Morning light gleamed on the snow as Wenren Lin strode in, his body covered in cold air.

“Awake?”

He bent over, his knuckles following Zhao Yan’s temple to insert into her hair, slowly sliding through, straightening two strands of her sleep-tousled hair.

Zhao Yan smelled the damp moisture on him, indicating he had bathed and changed clothes, and asked with a shiver: “Where did you go when I woke and found you missing?”

“I went out to clear my mind a bit.”

Wenren Lin’s voice was calm, but his mood was visibly better than the day before, with very shallow laughter in his eyes.

Zhao Yan made an “Oh” sound, and although she found it strange, she didn’t ask further.

Wenren Lin patiently changed the medicine on her wrists and knees. During breakfast, he held the porridge bowl, blowing each spoonful cool before feeding it to Zhao Yan.

The guards stood far away in the courtyard, and Zhao Yan, after taking a few sips, could not sit still any longer. She whispered: “Let me do it myself! After removing the chains, my wrists feel much better, and I can at least hold a bowl and spoon.”

Wenren Lin sat at the edge of the couch, scooped some porridge, and gave her a cool glance.

Zhao Yan’s hand, reaching for the bowl and chopsticks, paused in mid-air, then curled back, wisely retreating.

“If this continues, you’ll eventually spoil me completely.”

Zhao Yan could only continue to act like a helpless invalid, mumbling, “It’s troublesome.”

She said this with her chin raised, the beauty mark below her eye distinctly visible, making it sound less like a complaint and more like a boast.

Wenren Lin laughed, raising a finger to wipe away a bit of porridge at the corner of her mouth, half-jokingly saying: “This prince often regrets not having been able to take care of Your Highness two years earlier.”

Zhao Yan looked at him suspiciously.

“Is this how you interrogate a prisoner?”

Fearing someone might impeach Wenren Lin for this, she smiled and raised her wrist, waving it: “Why don’t you put iron chains on me again? Something lighter, at least for appearance’s sake.”

“Finish your meal first.”

Wenren Lin seemed to see through the worry hidden beneath her smile, and with a calm expression, fed her another piece of salted cake, saying, “We’ll pretend after you eat.”

After the meal, as Zhao Yan was reading a book in the hall for leisure, she saw that subordinates had indeed brought a new pair of handcuffs as ordered.

These iron chains were only as thick as a little finger, hollow and light, and polished very smoothly, not likely to hurt the skin. Most importantly, the handcuffs were a ring larger than the previous pair. Zhao Yan tried comparing them with her hands and found that she could easily slip her hands in and out of the iron cuffs’ openings.

“Aren’t these… a bit too large?”

“When someone comes, just put your hands in for show.”

Seeing her slip her slender white hands in and out, Wenren Lin’s lips moved slightly. He raised his palm to cover her disobedient fingers, his cold, hard knuckles inserting between her fingers, interlocking on the table.

He approached from her side, his features profound, his principles upright as he said: “So Your Highness won’t complain about not being treated like a prisoner.”

Zhao Yan couldn’t help but laugh out loud. As she laughed, a warmth spread through her heart.

She knew that this was the greatest indulgence Wenren Lin could offer while still caring for her emotional state.

Perhaps from being suppressed for too long, Zhao Yan felt a stirring in her heart and, as if possessed, tilted her head to kiss the corner of Wenren Lin’s lips, asking: “Would a prisoner dare to treat a Grand Tutor like this?”

Wenren Lin paused, raising his dark, smiling eyes to look at her.

Zhao Yan instinctively wanted to back away, but Wenren Lin leaned closer, using their interlocked fingers to hold her firmly, his beautiful knuckles becoming prominent as he slowly tightened his grip.

“Overstepping your bounds will result in punishment, Your Highness.”

He said with a smile, but in his heart, he knew very clearly.

It was clear that he was her prisoner.

…

On this day, the debate that had been at a deadlock in court for half a month reached its peak.

The previous leaders of the opposition, many of whom had been arrested and questioned for their crimes, left the traditionalist faction that advocated for “Princess Changfeng’s suicide” severely weakened. They now placed their hopes on the great scholar of the age, Li Kexing, repeatedly inviting the old man to court to preside.

The group of humble scholars striving for their place cited classics and records, with literary works flying everywhere, triggering the greatest literary movement since the establishment of the Great Xuan.

At such a time, executing the princess required a sufficiently convincing reason. The court, exercising extreme caution, finally proposed a “court interrogation” to publicly debate her crime and punishment.

“A court interrogation—truly unprecedented in history.”

Hearing this news, Zhao Yan merely smiled lightly and said to Wenren Lin, “Do you think I’ll be recorded in the history books now?”

Even at this point, she could still laugh carefree.

Wenren Lin’s long eyebrows furrowed slightly as he pressed his fingers against his temple and asked: “Tomorrow’s court interrogation will put you under the accusation of hundreds. If one wrong word puts you at a disadvantage, does Your Highness know what will happen?”

Zhao Yan nodded and sighed softly: “I know. I will die.”

After a pause, her voice became more determined: “Though I face the accusations of hundreds, only in this way will they see me, will they hear me speak. Even with only half a chance of survival, I must try… to see if I can win.”

Wenren Lin said nothing, and Zhao Yan felt uneasy, worried he would be displeased.

But as he gazed at her beautiful, brilliant eyes, he suddenly broke into a smile.

Wenren Lin raised his hand to press against the back of Zhao Yan’s head, leaning forward to touch her cheek, whispering in her ear: “Then go try.”

He had promised that the young princess could do whatever she wanted, and he would handle everything—as long as he had breath left in his body, this promise would always stand.

If she couldn’t win, it was simple.

He would silence the entire court of civil and military officials.