Without the Emperor’s restrictions, Zhao Yān could now freely enter the Northern Palace.

Outside the wall, the century-old peach tree was still in full bloom, with clouds and mists rising gloriously.

Zhao Yān sat on the stone table, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at Wenren Lin sitting silently opposite her, curiosity in her smile. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

The breeze was gentle, making her gauze scarf float slightly. She still maintained her carefree, bright appearance, hiding the faint fatigue in her eyes very well.

Wenren Lin was pondering about the spring clothes collected in the Crane Return Pavilion—perhaps it was time to move them over for the young princess to try.

“This Prince is waiting,”

He reached out to pluck a fallen red petal from Zhao Yān’s temple, a faint smile in his eyes. “When will Your Highness order me to march?”

“You heard everything?”

Zhao Yān laughed. “Never mind what they say. No one can force you to do what you don’t want to do.”

Wenren Lin raised an eyebrow. He was usually elegant and steady, but this youthful gesture gave him an unrestrained, free-spirited quality.

…

…

“This Prince thought Your Highness came here to advocate on their behalf.”

“Lately, I’ve been doing quite enough. If they want you to lead the troops, they should come begging you themselves. Let them get anxious about it—I refuse to be the one taking the lead on this.”

Hearing her honest words, Wenren Lin laughed softly. Something seemed to amuse him greatly, and his laughter grew increasingly unrestrained until even his shoulders were trembling slightly.

Zhao Yān pretended to be displeased. “I’m telling the truth. What are you laughing at?”

“Well then, does Your Highness have another way to deal with Zhao Chengde?”

“I’m still thinking. The Shenguang cult is extremely skilled at manipulating people’s hearts. Zhao Chengde loves glory and achievement, making him easily exploited. If we could drive a wedge between them, perhaps we could buy some time.”

“There’s an even simpler method: kill Zhao Chengde and eliminate future trouble.”

In the silence, Wenren Lin gazed at Zhao Yān’s surprised eyes, the smile on his lips undiminished. “Give the order, Your Highness.”

In this world, only she could place gentle shackles on him.

Zhao Yān’s lips parted and closed, finding it difficult to speak.

She stood up, leaning on the stone table as she looked at Wenren Lin, trying to find some trace of jest in his eyes, which reflected only her small figure.

“You said you would no longer protect the Great Xuan in the slightest.”

“Your subject is not fighting for the Great Xuan, but only for Your Highness.”

Love can overthrow the world for one person, or save all living beings for one person.

…

Before dawn, sparrows chirped at Lingyun Temple. The morning’s blue-white cold mist swirled and dissipated, enveloping the heaven-reaching bodhi tree, with thousands of red silk ribbons swaying gently in the wind.

Inside the Hall of Heroic Spirits, the eternal lamps shone like the Milky Way. Wenren Lin, dressed in a red robe with black armor, quietly gazed at the rows of memorial tablets on the wooden frame, as if inspecting soldiers lined up for review.

He took the incense handed to him by the limping Yu Sui and placed it between his hands before his forehead, pausing momentarily.

The incense smoke swirled, dropping a bit of ash.

“Old master, I’ve put on battle armor again. I’ve come to show you all.”

Beside him, the lame Yu Sui kept wiping his tears, while Wenren Lin’s eyes remained deep and calm. “I’m most ungrateful and vengeful, caring nothing for the lives of others. These years, my hands have been stained with much blood. I had intended to come down soon to beg forgiveness from you, but now it seems you’ll have to wait a bit longer. I’ve fallen for a young woman—she is the most resilient and brightest girl in the world. I want to stand beside her as a clean man.”

After speaking these bland words, he casually inserted the incense into the bronze censer and turned to leave the hall.

At the corridor steps, a familiar slender figure sat in the fading lamplight, looking up at the bodhi tree with its fluttering red ribbons in the courtyard.

Hearing footsteps, she turned her head, her gaze meeting Wenren Lin’s.

“Why has Your Highness come?”

Wenren Lin slowed his pace as he approached, bending to examine the crystalline light sweat on her nose tip.

“I didn’t find you at the Crane Return Pavilion or Prince Su’s mansion, so I guessed you might be here.”

The Wenren Lin before her, clad in dark armor, displayed a frosty strength she had never seen before. Zhao Yān patted the hem of her skirt as she stood up, touching his cold chest plate with her hand. “Have you decided?”

“When this Prince left the capital before, I didn’t see Your Highness being so clingy.”

“It’s different this time. Before, whether you were on diplomatic missions to the Shu bandits’ lair or suppressing rebellion in Luo Province, it was all for your revenge plans. But this time…”

This time, there were no plots or schemes, no manipulating events. He was simply doing it for her alone.

Zhao Yān stepped forward. “How long will you be gone this time?”

“A month should suffice.” Wenren Lin smoothed her hair that had been tousled by the wind.

“Then take that Physician Sun with you, even though… it will be hard on the old man.”

Zhao Yān thought of something and called softly, “Wenren Shaoyuan.”

“Hmm?”

“Since I’ve come all this way, shouldn’t you… let me meet your family?”

“What is Your Highness saying?” Wenren Lin was somewhat surprised.

“I said, let me meet your family.”

Zhao Yān repeated herself, grasping his handsome, strong fingers beneath his dark iron bracers.

Wenren Lin lowered his eyes to look at her, his lips curving slightly upward.

This was Zhao Yān’s first time entering this hall. As she had guessed, it housed the memorial tablets of the Wenren family’s fallen relatives and friends. The last time, during the Zhongyuan Festival, when Wenren Lin came out from here, Zhao Yān had smelled the faint scent of incense ash on him. Thinking of the names hanging on the bodhi tree, with a little deduction, she understood that this Lingyun Temple was Wenren Lin’s place of mourning.

Seeing the numerous memorial tablets standing in rows with her own eyes, Zhao Yān realized she wasn’t as composed as she had imagined.

“General Wenren, Lady Wenren, and all the heroic spirits of the Great Xuan, I am Zhao Yān. I’ve come on behalf of my father… to apologize to all of you.”

After speaking, she took the incense handed by Yu Sui, knelt on one knee, and respectfully bowed three times.

She was somewhat nervous and didn’t know how to continue after saying this.

“You… you say something,”

She pleaded, bending her elbow to nudge Wenren Lin’s straight leg slightly.

Wenren Lin caught her by the elbow and pulled her up from the prayer cushion.

“Yes, this is Zhao Yān, the girl I just told you about—the one I’m very fond of.”

Wenren Lin ignored Zhao Yān’s astonished gaze, his eyes brimming with beautiful smiles as he spoke unhurriedly. “She’s different from Zhao Ji. She’s an upright and brave girl. It is I who admire her, pursuing her relentlessly, pretending indifference to capture her, and would go mad without her favor. I’ve brought her here for you to see. Are you satisfied? Even if you’re not, this Prince is pleased.”

He spoke with absolute seriousness, his words arrogant yet focused and tender.

Zhao Yān looked at him in shock, warmth belatedly rising to her cheeks. “Wenren Shaoyuan, what are you saying?”

“What? Isn’t this how ordinary men introduce their beloved to their parents?”

Wenren Lin pretended to ponder, then dismissed it with a smile. “This Prince has no experience in this matter either. Your Highness will have to bear with me.”

“Well… though my Grand Tutor speaks somewhat disrespectfully, I believe these are all truthful words.”

Zhao Yān inserted the incense into the censer and solemnly said, “Please, General and all of you, bless him to return safely from this expedition.”

The pale morning light illuminated the dark green moss on the temple gate. Cai Tian, Zhang Cang, and other eagle riders were already waiting quietly.

“Wenren Shaoyuan!” Zhao Yān called out.

As Wenren Lin turned, she lifted her skirt and ran forward, throwing herself into his embrace.

The man’s cold, hard armor pressed against her body, somewhat painful, but Zhao Yān embraced him even tighter, rising on tiptoe to pull down his neck and plant a soft, proactive kiss on his lips.

The morning breeze passed by, but the man’s strong, heavy armor remained motionless while the silk on her body fluttered like a butterfly.

Zhang Cang and Cai Tian coughed lightly and turned to look at the sky, while the eagle riders also uniformly turned their horses’ heads away, keeping their eyes straight ahead.

As the kiss ended, the sun rose over the eastern mountains, illuminating the world.

“This time, let me say these words to you: You just focus on moving forward. With me here, I absolutely won’t let you have any worries behind you.”

She paused, then continued more firmly, “Grand Tutor, I’ll be waiting for you to come home.”

The word “home” was simple yet warm.

Wenren Lin’s eyes were drowning in tenderness as he said deeply, “Alright.”

Zhao Yān was relieved. He never broke his promises.

…

By the end of February, the roadside willows were like smoke, and flowers bloomed in profusion.

The Emperor claimed illness, but the court was already boiling with ministers’ resentment. The Six Ministries and the Censorate knelt daily outside the Taiji Palace to plead, forcing the Emperor to pick up his brush and paper to admit his guilt before the assembled ministers.

After writing the last stroke of the brief few-hundred-word “Edict of Self-Reproach,” the Emperor once again vomited blood and fainted. Due to long-term consumption of pills and medicines, his blood was a striking dark red. The once lofty figure was now withered like a candle in the wind, ready to fall at the slightest push.

The dimmed Way of Heaven had finally welcomed the dawn’s light.

Since the rescue at Jade Spring Palace, the court ministers had gained more respect for Zhao Yān, even tacitly allowing her to use the former Eastern Palace guards for her processions. Now with freedom of movement, seeing that spring had returned, she sent Liu Ying with an invitation card to Liu Baiwei, thinking of visiting the Ming De Academy on Zhao Yǎn’s behalf.

“The clouds are so thick; I fear the weather will change this afternoon.”

Shi Lan adjusted Zhao Yān’s leather belt while looking up at the sky outside.

Zhao Yān attached a short dagger to her waist, examined herself in the bronze mirror from front to back, and said lightly: “It doesn’t matter. I’ll return after noon.”

Today she wore an apricot-white wide-sleeved dress, with a leather belt accentuating her slender waist, giving her something of a scholarly air.

Escorted by Gu Xing to the Ming De Academy, Zhao Yān alighted from her carriage to see Liu Baiwei in a light blue scholar’s robe, arguing with several other scholars about something, his raised eyebrows still as domineering and overbearing as ever.

To her surprise, Chou Zui was also there, his bamboo hat pulled low, hiding himself in the flower shadows of a crooked-necked jujube tree.

As Zhao Yān drew closer, she heard that the scholars were criticizing the Emperor’s unprecedented “Edict of Self-Reproach,” composing essays with veiled satire against the court. Their words were so scathing and their whips so deep that it made one blush with embarrassment.

Gu Xing couldn’t bear to listen anymore and asked somewhat awkwardly: “Your Highness, should your servant step forward to stop them?”

“No need.”

Zhao Yān listened with great interest. “This is far more interesting than the old, diplomatic nonsense from court. It’s better to guide than to block. The court cannot simply cover the mouths of scholars, especially since they’re not criticizing me, but the benighted ruler.”

Liu Baiwei noticed the commotion on her side, and his overbearing demeanor instantly vanished as he waved to her: “Your Highness!”

The scholars who had been arguing earlier were as if struck by lightning, turning in disbelief to look.

“Your Highness? Which Highness is this?”

“This age, this temperament… and that tear mole at the corner of her eye—who else could it be?”

“The twin sister of the late Crown Prince, Princess Changfeng?!”

“It really is Princess Changfeng! Why has she come here?”

Amid various discussions, the scholars spontaneously cleared a path, bowing one after another.

During the debate on ritual propriety, many of these poor scholars whom she had sponsored had spoken up for Princess Changfeng. But shouting support from afar was one thing; meeting the actual person was another. They had never imagined that the woman would have such a beautiful and exquisite face.

Some were curious, while others lowered their heads to avoid looking directly at her out of propriety.

“Please continue,” Zhao Yān folded her sleeves and walked forward, stepping on the rustling bamboo leaves.

No one dared to make a sound.

In their earlier fervor, they had spoken carelessly. In Liu Baiwei’s words, such talk could lead to imprisonment and the stripping of their scholarly titles.

“Did Your Highness hear what we said just now?”

“I did.”

“…”

Another moment of silence, then: “Your Highness doesn’t punish us?”

Zhao Yān said, “You made some valid points. Why should I punish you? However, to make the court see and hear clearly, mere criticism through writing is not enough. You must also propose practical solutions.”

Hearing this, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The sense of constraint they felt before a woman disappeared, and the atmosphere became lively again.

Zhao Yān looked up and inadvertently noticed a refined figure behind the second-floor railing, causing her to pause slightly.

She secretly turned her head and asked Liu Baiwei beside her, “Why is Zhou Ji here too?”

Liu Baiwei shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up. “Oh,” he said, “he’s been recovering at home, so he often comes here to sit. They say he wants to listen and observe, absorbing diverse perspectives to learn new things.”

How unusual for this little pedant to have such a day.

Zhao Yān narrowed her eyes, suddenly having an idea, and said to the scholars: “The court’s Hanlin official is upstairs. Why don’t you go find him and have a good debate with Zhou, the three-time top-ranked candidate?”

Zhou Ji, abruptly named, was somewhat stunned. He stood up properly and had just returned a bow when he saw the group of passionate young scholars wave their arms and surge toward him.

Liu Baiwei laughed, always eager to see chaos: “A battle of tongues against a group of scholars! Now we have a good show to watch. Your Highness, let’s go! Let’s join them!”

Zhao Yān looked at Chou Zui, who was squatting under the tree, drawing flowers with a branch. The flower shadows enveloped this strange man full of killing intent, as if casting an invisible barrier around him.

She raised her voice: “Chou Zui, you come too!”

The familiar words made Chou Zui pause the branch in his hand.

He seemed to struggle with thinking for a moment, then dropped the branch and stood up, completely unaware of the jujube blossoms all over him, following behind Zhao Yān with his long arms and legs.

Everything seemed to return to two years ago, on just such a spring day.

The Crown Prince and the scholars were listening and debating in the Mirror Reflection Tower, while Chou Zui and Shadow stood outside with folded arms, watching stars sink, the moon set, and the sun rise.

At noon, the wind picked up, bringing with it the faint earthy smell of pre-rain soil.

Zhao Yān, having watched enough of Zhou Ji’s verbal battle with the scholars, rose to get some fresh air. Seeing this, Liu Baiwei also quietly left his seat to follow.

“Only today did I witness Zhou Ji’s true ability—facing many opponents while maintaining scholarly etiquette, neither hurried nor impatient, cutting straight to the point. Truly, the manner of a distinguished scholar.”

Zhao Yān sighed. He was truly qualified to be an imperial tutor, yet had served as her lecturer for a year—a real waste of talent.

Liu Baiwei smoothly picked up the conversation: “Your Highness hasn’t seen his brilliance during the ‘ritual debate’ at court, which could rival Your Highness’s sharp questioning in court. I heard that for this matter, he even knelt before Minister Li in the snow to apologize…”

Zhao Yān was surprised: “Was there such an incident?”

Liu Baiwei was equally surprised: “He never told Your Highness about it?”

“He believes in doing more and saying less, and never mentions such things to others.”

After Zhao Yān finished speaking, both fell silent for a moment.

Zhou Ji was like bamboo in a courtyard—straight and upright, with his principles and integrity.

“Does Your Highness have something on your mind?” Liu Baiwei noticed her staring into the courtyard and asked instinctively.

Zhao Yān returned to her senses and spoke honestly: “I suddenly feel somewhat uneasy.”

Liu Baiwei frowned, his voice hardening slightly: “Are you worried about the one who went to battle?”

Zhao Yān shook her head and smiled: “No. I just feel that we’ve overlooked some problem.”

As she spoke, she looked toward Chou Zui, who was standing with his arms folded against a pillar. A spark suddenly flashed in her mind, creating ripples of thought.

“Those copper pellets,” she murmured.

Before the incident at the Jade Spring Palace, Liu Baiwei had disguised himself as a maid to see her, informing her that “Chou Zui had found a large quantity of copper pellet explosives stockpiled in a Shenguang cult stronghold.”

Zhao Yān had personally witnessed the power of these exploding copper pellets in Zhao Yuan’yu’s alchemy room—just one or two could cause a rock-solid secret chamber to collapse instantly, truly a miraculous weapon. Even if the Shenguang cult secretly stored just a few of these pellets, it would be enough to cause tremendous panic. Yet so far, there had been no movement of that mysteriously disappearing large quantity of explosives.

Considering the crafty planning of Concubine Zhen and the Shenguang cult, this was indeed abnormal.

Liu Baiwei also realized this, slapping his forehead: “Hiss, I completely forgot about this matter!”

Zhao Yān understood clearly that their condemnation of her father had diverted their attention. When people are immersed in the joy of victory, they easily let down their guard.

She stood up and walked toward Chou Zui.

“Chou Zui, tell me the names of the Daoist temples where you discovered the copper pellet explosives.”

Perhaps because her expression was so serious at that moment, Chou Zui struggled to recall for a moment, then muttered in his harsh, unpleasant voice: “South from the West Market, past four streets, there are camels. From here north for ten miles, halfway up the mountain… these two places.”

Chou Zui was illiterate and indifferent to everything except killing and Zhao Yǎn. This was the best description he could provide.

Zhao Yān turned to look at Liu Baiwei: “With these clues, can you find those two Daoist temples?”

Liu Baiwei had already rolled up his sleeves and held an ink-moistened brush between his teeth, quickly spreading paper and grinding ink in the adjacent tea room.

South of the West Market, past two streets is Longshou, past four streets is Yongping. The place with merchant caravan camels can only be this one… Lingxu Temple.”

Liu Baiwei closed his eyes to visualize for a moment, then drew a simple map of the capital city freehand. The brush tip grazed the paper, and with a swish, he circled a spot and wrote the three characters “Lingxu Temple.”

Then, with swift brushstrokes, he continued northward, sketching the crisscrossing main streets in just a few strokes. “Ten miles north, halfway up the mountain, should be Qingxia Temple.”

After saying this, he showed the paper with the two temple names to Chou Zui for recognition, asking: “Look, are the characters on the temple plaques like these?”

Chou Zui looked for a long time, then silently nodded.

Zhao Yān had long known that Liu Baiwei was skilled in calligraphy and painting, able to memorize a place after visiting it once, and could easily recall the map of the capital. But to see him find the locations of two explosive-hiding temples in half a cup of tea’s time still left her astounded.

“What talent!” Zhao Yān held the still-wet map, marveling.

No wonder Zhao Yǎn valued him so highly—there probably wasn’t a place in or around the entire capital that he couldn’t find or reach!

“I was poor as a child; it’s just a skill for making a living.”

Liu Baiwei raised an eyebrow as he put away his brush, displaying the carefree quality of a wandering knight sheathing his sword, concealing both achievements and fame.

“That person removed the explosives,” Chou Zui seemed to recall something, and spoke hoarsely.

“That person?”

Zhao Yān thought for a moment. “Was it Prince Su’s man?”

Chou Zui nodded: “No survivors left.”

“It’s not about survivors. The question is, with the Shenguang cult having many disciples and followers, and nearly thirty Daoist temples in and around the capital, why specifically choose these two places to hide explosives? Moreover, these copper pellets are small and easily concealed. With Concubine Zhen’s abilities, they wouldn’t be so easily confiscated completely by Prince Su’s mansion.”

Zhao Yān held the map up to the light, frowning in thought. “Liu Baiwei, can you identify any important places near these two hiding spots that could easily cause panic? For example, places crowded with people during the Shangsi Festival celebrations.”

“Near Lingxu Temple, only the West Market has more people, and then there’s a six-hundred-year-old temple… But even if those explosives were meant to be deployed in these two places, they couldn’t cause too many casualties or threaten the foundation of the country.”

Liu Baiwei thought for a moment, then bent down to point at Qingxia Temple to the north. “This place is even more sparsely populated—it’s already outside the city gate. What threat could it pose?”

“Perhaps to deal with Wenren Shaoyuan?”

“…”

Seeing Liu Baiwei silent, Zhao Yān averted her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“He allows you… to call him by his courtesy name?”

“Ahem, let’s focus on the important matter.”

“You two… never mind.”

Liu Baiwei folded his arms and turned his gaze away. “The Shenguang cult has suffered heavy losses and is like a stray dog. They have no strength to confront Wenren Lin on the battlefield. They chose these two places to manufacture copper pellets, surely with another purpose in mind.”

Their thoughts reached a dead end, and both frowned.

Just then, a calm, even voice came from behind: “Five miles south of Yongping Street is the Shengping Granary; one mile north of the city is the Jiaping Granary.”

Zhao Yān and Liu Baiwei were so lost in thought that the sudden voice startled them.

Looking back, they saw that Zhou Ji had somehow come out from the academy and was standing behind them, examining the map.

“These are the Great Xuan’s granaries. All the rice and grain collected from the country are stored here, to be used in times of famine and war.”

Zhou Ji raised his bandaged hand in salute and said calmly, “The Vice Minister of Revenue is my fellow student. I once heard him mention these two granaries. I mean no offense to Your Highness.”

Zhao Yān had no time to worry about offense or not. Something was truly becoming clear, like threading a needle.

She raised her hand to press her temple, following Zhou Ji’s train of thought deeper: “In case of war, would military provisions also come from these two granaries?”

“Yes.”

Zhou Ji answered, “The army moves after the provisions are prepared. The West Capital granary has been seized by the Shu army, and the county granaries can only sustain for a few days. They can only mobilize from the Sheng and Jia granaries.”

“When will the second batch of provisions be transported?”

“I am not a Revenue Department official and dare not be certain. However, it should be within these two days.”

Zhao Yān’s heart tightened. She grasped the map and quickly went downstairs, asking Gu Xing who was waiting in the corridor: “When did the capital’s city gates open?”

“For the past half month, the city has been clearing up the aftermath, guarding against overlooked bandits. The gates only opened at dawn this morning.”

Seeing Zhao Yān’s expression darken, Gu Xing hurriedly placed his hand on his sword and said, “Your Highness, is something wrong?”

“I understand now…”

“Your Highness?”

“The granaries are deeply buried underground, sealed with yellow clay to prevent fire and moisture. Using copper pellets to destroy them is the simplest and most effective method.”

Zhao Yān suddenly felt an icy chill in her heart. “So, the target of the Shenguang cult’s batch of explosives was not the common people or the royal family in the city, but the Great Xuan’s granaries.”

Hearing this, Liu Baiwei and Gu Xing also changed color.

The Shenguang cult had perhaps anticipated their defeat early on and had already set their sights on the Great Xuan’s granaries as a counterstrike bargaining chip.

The Great Xuan had been running deficits for several years, and it was now the season between harvests. An army without food is defeated, people without food rebel—the Shenguang cult’s move was extremely vicious!

Even a cornered beast will fight; its dying bite is the most ferocious.

Would the tragedy of eight years ago, when soldiers ran out of provisions and weapons, be repeated?

Zhao Yān clenched her fingertips, forcing herself to remain calm and not be influenced by emotions.

Tonight there would be heavy rain, not conducive to using explosives. After the rain cleared, provisions would be transported to the front lines…

So, if the Shenguang cult’s escaped members took advantage of today’s open city gates to sneak back into the city, their action must be planned for today.

It was already noon; there wasn’t much time left for the Great Xuan.

“I should have thought of this earlier. The city gates were closed for half a month for cleanup, until today when they reopened. The capital is peaceful, which is why I could leave the palace to come here.”

Realizing this, Zhao Yān took a deep breath. “Liu Baiwei, use your identity as the grandson of the Duke of Yingchuan to report to the Military Affairs Bureau. Immediately dispatch troops to rush to the two granaries. The rest will divide into two groups. Gu Xing, take longbowmen and go to the western Shengping Granary, riding at full speed. Unless absolutely necessary, do not be rash when encountering enemies—focus on delaying them.”

“And what about Your Highness?”

Both asked in unison.

“It will take at least half an hour for the Military Affairs Bureau’s men to mobilize—that’s too late.”

Zhao Yān abandoned her carriage and mounted a horse. Her light-colored skirt opened into a beautiful arc on the horse’s back. “Chou Zui will follow me. Assign a few deputies to accompany me to the northern Jiaping Granary. The matter is urgent—the crime of galloping through the city is pardoned!”