At the end of the first month, a cold wave swept in.

The imperial city was covered with dense, cold clouds. The green buds that had just begun to emerge on branches were frozen in the frigid air that had persisted for days.

The Emperor suddenly ordered the recall of troops stationed in Luo Prefecture. Some speculated that Prince Su’s great achievements had caused the Emperor’s suspicion. With the withdrawal of Luo Prefecture’s troops, many refugees lost supervision and scattered toward the capital’s counties.

At the same time, accompanying this beautiful and delicate peach blossom snow, the court finally decided on the posthumous title for the late Crown Prince Zhao Yǎn and began construction on a new tomb beside the imperial mausoleum.

In Penglai Hall, Zhao Yān sat by the window, preparing paper and grinding ink.

“It’s all for the living to see. Zhao Yǎn wouldn’t care to move into a place built by burdening the people and depleting resources.”

Zhao Yān lowered her eyelashes and laughed mockingly, just as Shi Lan came in carrying a basket of charcoal.

Shi Lan stamped the snow off her embroidered shoes and complained softly: “Those sycophants made us wait several days, only to send such a small amount of broken charcoal. Although you’re confined to Penglai Hall, you’re still a legitimate princess under the Empress Dowager’s protection. Are they this perfunctory toward the Empress Dowager as well?”

Zhao Yān was resting her chin on her hand, focused on transcribing scriptures. Hearing this, she glanced at the charcoal in the basket, which was indeed pitifully scarce.

“This unexpected late winter snow came suddenly. The roads are blocked, refugees are everywhere, and very little charcoal can be transported into the palace.”

…

…

Besides, Zhao Yān had been neglected since childhood and had been expelled from the palace for many years, so she was accustomed to such treatment. It was merely a return to her previous life.

Having been a false Crown Prince for over a year, she did have some money, but most of it had been given to Liu Baiwei to support schools and aid disaster victims. Little remained, and even the snow sable fur coat she wore for warmth was a gift from Wenren Lin on the day of her court interrogation.

Shi Lan selected the most intact pieces of charcoal from the basket and placed them in the brazier. Looking at the rising flames, she sighed: “This servant just feels sorry for you. Being ignored in Huayang before was one thing—at least you had freedom. Now, after all you’ve done for the realm, how can His Majesty not show you any affection?”

“Enough now. This isn’t Huayang; don’t cause trouble for Grandmother.”

Zhao Yān smiled as she set down her brush, blowing on her fingertips for warmth. “I remember we still have some oranges and persimmons left from yesterday. Let’s secretly roast them on the brazier and eat them. We shouldn’t waste this spring snow.”

When Shi Lan heard about roasted oranges, it was as if she had returned to the carefree days in Huayang. Her face immediately brightened as she patted her skirt and stood up: “This servant will go get them right away.”

While Shi Lan was preparing, Zhao Yān stretched lazily, intending to go outside for some fresh air.

The spring snow was soft and fluffy, falling silently. Outside the palace wall stood a century-old peach tree about ten feet tall, with sturdy, vigorous branches. Peach blossoms covered with fresh snow extended over the wall.

Zhao Yān wanted to pick a couple of branches to freshen the ink-heavy air in the study.

She looked around and found a bamboo ladder left in the corner by an attendant who had been sweeping snow from the eaves. With effort, she moved it to the wall, secured it, and then carefully climbed up step by step.

The wall top was covered with snow-like clouds, offering a vast view. She could see the mist-shrouded Penglai Pool and a corner of Hegui Pavilion half-hidden in the gray forest not far away.

Zhao Yān missed her previous days traveling between the Eastern Palace and Chongwen Hall, burning incense while reading classics and histories, writing for posterity, seeing the vast sea of knowledge, rather than being confined to the rear palace.

She took a deep breath of cold air and reached out to break off a snow-covered peach blossom branch when she saw two female officials from the Department of Palace Etiquette passing below.

“By the Emperor’s verbal command, Princess Changfeng is requested to receive an edict.”

In a moment, a solemn female voice came from the entrance.

Zhao Yān hurriedly descended the ladder. Just as she reached the ground, the two female historians had already entered.

Unable to hide the peach blossom in her hand, Zhao Yān could only put her hand behind her back and turn around, saying: “What brings the two female historians here in this cold weather?”

The female historians ascended the steps, placed the tray they were carrying in the room, then stepped back and bowed, saying officially: “By the Emperor’s verbal command, unwilling to burden the Empress Dowager, he has specially ordered us two servants to oversee Your Highness’s etiquette matters, lightening the Empress Dowager’s burden.”

Zhao Yān looked at the items on the tray: a set of ceremonial robes with large sleeves made according to princess regulations, along with a matching set of jewelry and headdresses.

Sending ceremonial robes and accessories at this time was not a good sign. Claiming to lighten the Empress Dowager’s burden, they were coming to instruct and restrain her; their intentions were not benign.

Immediately, Shi Lan’s expression also tensed, and she even forgot to check on what was roasting on the brazier.

A burnt smell permeated the air, and the lead female official frowned deeply: “What is that smell in the room?”

It was the smell of burnt persimmons and oranges.

Zhao Yān, with her hand still hidden behind her back, secretly made a gesture to Shi Lan. Seeing Shi Lan quietly retreat into the room, she smiled and said, “It’s the smoke from wet charcoal burning.”

The female official was skeptical and was about to step forward to check when an attendant came in with a bow, asking: “Your Highness, it’s time to accompany the Empress Dowager in chanting scriptures and praying for blessings.”

Accompany Grandmother?

During these days of being “confined” in Penglai Hall, Grandmother had never required her to accompany her in meditation and praying to Buddha.

Zhao Yān’s thoughts shifted quickly, and she soon understood. Putting on a troubled expression, she said: “This princess doesn’t want to neglect Grandmother, but the female historians from the Department of Palace Etiquette say they must teach me proper etiquette on Grandmother’s behalf. Alas, this princess cannot be in two places at once. What should I do?”

“This servant dares not disturb the Empress Dowager’s spiritual practice. Your Highness should first accompany the Empress Dowager. The etiquette instruction can be continued tomorrow.”

As servants merely delivering messages and carrying out tasks, the female officials naturally didn’t dare to offend the Empress Dowager. They reminded her, “Your Highness must remember that within the palace, apart from the heating braziers, no additional fires are allowed,” then bowed and withdrew to report back.

After the female officials had gone far enough, Zhao Yān examined the familiar-looking young eunuch before her and smiled: “Prince Su has sent you to this quiet place? Where is he?”

“In reply to Your Highness, on this bitterly cold spring snow day, the prince specially ordered this servant to deliver a basket of silver-bone charcoal, which has already been given to your senior palace maid.”

The attendant bowed, neither servile nor arrogant, saying, “The prince is currently sitting in the side hall.”

Zhao Yān passed through the corridor and pushed open the door of the side hall. Indeed, in the cold snow light by the window, Wenren Lin sat in dark casual clothes, examining a chest before him.

Inside the chest was a brand-new set of silver-red gold-flecked gauze skirts, complete with three inner and outer layers, topped with a pearl-colored cloak and a pair of soft, padded, embroidered shoes… As Zhao Yān approached for a closer look, she discovered that even a pair of pearl-colored, soft, thin gloves had been brought.

“In this world, the most precious thing is to send charcoal in snow and clothes in cold weather.”

Zhao Yān touched the magnificent fabric, no less splendid than those tribute items in the palace, and couldn’t help but raise the corner of her lips. “Just how many more girls’ clothes do you have in your mansion?”

Wenren Lin also wore a faint smile.

His complexion was still somewhat pale and cold, but his eyes had returned to normal. He leaned forward to grasp her wrist and said: “Come here.”

His other hand loosely held her slender waist, and he lowered his eyes, clicking his tongue: “A bit thinner.”

“You can tell from this?”

Zhao Yān raised her hand to her waist, unable to perceive any difference.

“By the way, I don’t have much to give in return. This is for you.”

She handed him the freshly picked peach blossom branch. The golden stamens were still covered with crystalline, butter-like snow fragments, both gorgeous and pure.

Wenren Lin reached out to accept it, his fingertips lightly turning the branch. The cold beauty’s eyes reflected a touch of spring color as he said with a half-smile: “Not giving me pomegranate flowers this year?”

That single question pulled Zhao Yān’s memory back to a year ago: at the Hairpin Banquet, a group of noble ladies surrounded Zhao Yān, who was still the “Crown Prince,” asking for flower branches. Wenren Lin happened upon the scene, so she casually gave him the remaining early spring pomegranate flower…

Later, during their scuffle with the medicinal herbs, her blood-stained chest-binding cloth became entangled with that pomegranate branch, making it hard to tell which was more exquisite.

“It’s not yet the season for pomegranate flowers.”

Zhao Yān’s voice became somewhat unnatural, wondering what had become of that dirty binding cloth and pomegranate flower.

Wenren Lin understood tacitly. He plucked a peach blossom and placed it between Zhao Yān’s lips, then raised his hand to hold the back of her neck, tilting his head to kiss her.

His kiss was slow and deep, as if savoring something. At first, Zhao Yān could still engage in this exchange with him, but gradually her breathing became disordered, and she weakly collapsed into his embrace, until the cool snow foam on the flower’s stamens melted between their lips, their breaths intertwined, diffusing a faint yet soul-captivating floral fragrance.

Zhao Yān felt as if she were in the clouds, so much so that even her breathing trembled. At the crucial moment, it was Wenren Lin who released her first, his voice deep and hoarse: “Not now, the medicine isn’t ready yet.”

Zhao Yān, caught up in the excitement of the kiss, opened her eyes to breathe, confused and disappointed, thinking that the “medicine” he mentioned was the antidote for the poison. Her mind also cleared somewhat.

Those suffering from poison should abstain from sexual activities.

By the time the kissing subsided, Zhao Yān’s clothes were in considerable disarray. She simply went behind the folding screen to change into the new clothes Wenren Lin had brought.

It must be said that his taste had always been impeccable. The clothes were neither too loose nor too tight, the colors vivid yet not gaudy, bringing out the delicate and beautiful features of her youthful appearance to their fullest radiance.

“Does it look good?”

Zhao Yān spread her hands and twirled before him, her skirt blossoming like layers of lotus petals.

Wenren Lin gazed at her silently, his eyes following her swirling skirt as waves of laughter appeared in them. He said leisurely, “Your Highness looks good in anything.”

This statement might seem perfunctory at first hearing, but with his expression, it became strangely believable.

Zhao Yān confidently raised the corner of her eye, making the small red mole there come alive.

Remembering something, she sat beside Wenren Lin, habitually supporting her chin as she said: “Today, people from the Department of Palace Etiquette came and also brought new ceremonial princess clothes, saying they were ordered to teach me proper etiquette. Unsolicited kindness—I suspect Father Emperor still has the idea of sending me to Northern Wu. After all, once he suspects you, there won’t be any fierce general who can contend with Northern Wu. For Great Xuan to cultivate a war god who could replace you would require an extremely long time and luck. Sacrificing a daughter in exchange for even a small possibility of peace wouldn’t be a loss for him.”

Wenren Lin made no comment. He raised his finger to tuck a loose strand of hair at her temple behind her ear. “Is Your Highness afraid?”

Zhao Yān laughed, glancing at him sideways: “If you’re not afraid, what do I have to fear?”

She didn’t know what Wenren Lin’s plan was. She didn’t want to ask; she could only wait.

Wait for replies from Gu Xing and Liu Baiwei.

…

This late winter cold had frozen many refugees and livestock, also making the Emperor’s headaches increasingly severe, to the point where he could hardly sleep.

The palace was short of charcoal, which was unfavorable for recovery, so the Emperor temporarily decided to move to Yuquan Palace, complementing his treatment with hot spring therapy for half a month.

The Emperor’s leaving the palace for recuperation was no small matter. Many arrangements had to be made and duties handed over, keeping the entire palace busy. Unfortunately, this bustling activity did not involve Zhao Yān.

“For this trip to Yuquan Palace, besides Concubine Zhen, according to protocol, the Empress should also accompany to attend to His Majesty’s illness. Worried about leaving Your Highness alone in the palace, she has specially commanded this servant to come and serve you.”

Liu Ying bowed to the surprised Zhao Yān, her usually expressionless face showing a hint of warmth. “I hope Your Highness will accommodate this.”

Having gone through life and death situations together, Zhao Yān had long considered her one of her people. She smiled and said, “You are steadier than Shi Lan. I’m more than happy to have your companionship. But with Mother Empress leaving you here, does she still have someone capable by her side?”

Liu Ying rolled up her sleeves and arranged the desk, saying: “The Empress has female historians following her; there should be no major concerns.”

“Have they already left the palace?”

“In reply to Your Highness, His Majesty and the Empress departed at the Chen hour (7-9 AM). By now, they should have reached Daning Street.”

Zhao Yān nodded, suddenly struck by a bold idea.

With Father Emperor moved to Yuquan Palace and taking half of the imperial guards with him, the palace security wasn’t as strict as before—it was an excellent opportunity.

After pondering for a moment, she said, “I want to change into a palace maid’s clothing and sneak into Taiji Hall to check something. I know it’s dangerous, but only I, having been the ‘Crown Prince,’ know the layout of Taiji Hall. Just fifteen minutes—please help cover for me, Sister Liu Ying.”

Liu Ying said seriously, “Your Highness must have your reasons. This servant understands.”

At Prince Su’s mansion, behind the folding screen, the medicinal bath was bitter and clear, its floating white mist condensing into moisture on the ceiling beams.

“The number of refugees in the country has reached thousands. The county offices are unable to control them and have let them disperse.”

Cai Tian stood outside the screen, reading the intelligence reports one by one. “At noon, Princess Changfeng changed into a palace maid’s clothes and slipped out of Penglai Hall, heading in the direction of Taiji Hall.”

Within the mist, Wenren Lin opened his eyes and suddenly smiled.

The little princess was going to great lengths for his condition.

With a splash of water, Wenren Lin rose, shaking off the silver needles at his acupuncture points. His long legs stepped out of the bathtub as he grabbed a dry robe from nearby and put it on.

Taiji Hall.

Zhao Yān often exchanged clothes with Shi Lan and was adept at disguising herself as the other. With Liu Ying’s cover from the Empress’s side, getting through undetected wasn’t too difficult.

The difficulty was the tight timing—she needed to return to Penglai Hall before the female historians from the Department of Palace Etiquette arrived for instruction.

Now dressed as a senior palace maid, she carried a tray. Taking advantage of the changing of the imperial guard, she quickly ascended the stone steps with her head lowered, heading toward the warm chamber in the rear hall.

That was where Father Emperor rested and secluded himself, often sitting with Taoist priests to discuss and research immortality elixirs.

Zhao Yān gently pushed the door open a crack with her finger, confirmed that there were no attendants or palace women inside the warm chamber, then quickly pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Having visited a few times before, she knew where Father Emperor kept his pills, so as soon as she entered, she set down the tray in her hand and went straight for her target.

Zhao Yān knew that if Father Emperor had the antidote formula, it would be impossible for Wenren Lin, with his connections and methods, not to find any trace of it. Yet she still harbored a faint hope.

What if? What if Wenren Lin’s antidote was in Father Emperor’s hands?

With sweaty palms, Zhao Yān listened for any movement outside while quickly searching through the pile of bottles and containers, trying to identify useful pills.

She wasn’t worried about any poisons among the containers; Father Emperor wouldn’t risk hiding poison in his own regularly consumed elixirs.

But after going through all the bottles and containers, she couldn’t find the familiar cool, faint fragrance.

Having smelled too many pungent medicinal scents in a short time made her feel dizzy. She exhaled deeply, took a moment to recover, quickly restored the bottles and containers to their original positions, then stood up to scan the room, her gaze settling on the bookshelf against the wall.

Standing on tiptoe, she opened the stacked books, searching layer by layer, pulled open the lowest drawer, and quickly discovered something unusual.

From the outside, the drawer appeared seven inches tall, but when pulled open, its depth was only five inches. Lightly tapping the wooden board, she heard a hollow sound.

Having once studied the secret room blueprints of Huayang Palace for leisure, Zhao Yān almost immediately spotted a two-inch-deep compartment beneath the drawer.

She removed the books inside, pressed the loose part of the wooden board with her finger, and heard a faint click of a mechanism. The wooden board flipped open like a door, revealing a palm-sized sandalwood box inside.

Zhao Yān’s eyes lit up. She carefully took out the small box, shook it gently, then sniffed it lightly. Confirming there was nothing unusual, she suppressed her wild joy and cautiously opened the wooden box.

She was immediately stunned: inside the box lay several dark red pills, emitting a somewhat strange yet familiar scent.

They were similar to what Wenren Lin had once taken, yet they were not the same.

But Zhao Yān could almost be certain that she had smelled this kind of pill somewhere before.

Remembering something, her mind buzzed, and her pupils contracted sharply.

Her thoughts swirled like an undercurrent, suddenly pulling Zhao Yān’s memory back to the early summer of the previous year.

During the fire at Jinyun Manor, while pursuing Zhao Yuan’yu through the secret passage, she had cleared out many such pills from the secret alchemy room.

She remembered clearly—it was exactly this color and scent. There could be no mistake.

Zhao Yuan’yu had injured his reproductive organs in a fall from a horse, rendering him impotent. Following the instigation of the “Master” from the Shenguang Teaching, he had captured boys and girls to refine a “supreme secret medicine” in hopes of regaining potency and having children.

But why would Zhao Yuan’yu’s medicine appear in the Emperor’s warm chamber?

Just as she was pondering this, a series of hurried, chaotic footsteps approached.

Zhao Yān’s back chilled. She quickly restored the hidden compartment, abruptly stood up, and hid behind the hanging curtain.