“We shall…”

Wenren Lin’s lips were warm, and his complexion was no longer that deathly pale that had been so painfully cold to the touch. It was as if snow and ice had just begun to melt—though still fragile, it showed the vitality of flesh and blood.

Mountains parted before their eyes and closed behind them. The morning light penetrated through the carriage curtains, falling upon his profile—his straight nose and thin lips, indescribably handsome and profound.

Zhao Yān felt as if she had awakened from a great dream. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer facing a solitary lamp against the rain or a cold moon reflected in the window, but rather the bright light of day.

She suddenly sat up, not bothering to fix her disheveled hair. Kneeling, she embraced Wenren Lin’s neck and pressed her cheek against his, laughing with a choked voice: “It’s warm.”

Wenren Lin responded by brushing the tip of his nose against her ear, accompanied by a deep, muffled laugh and a hot, pecking kiss.

His breath brushed against her ear, causing half of Zhao Yān’s body to go numb. She unconsciously gripped Wenren Lin’s collar and lightly coughed, asking: “Where are we now?”

Wenren Lin leaned forward to pour her a cup of tea, glancing at the scenery outside the carriage curtains. “We’re still twenty li from Changping Relay Station. We’ll reach the capital in five days.”

As he leaned forward, his tall figure pressed down, forcing Zhao Yān to hold him tighter to maintain her balance.

“We still have a long way to go.”

Zhao Yān held the teacup, drinking in small sips until it was empty, and sighed.

…

…

Wenren Lin inexplicably raised the corners of his lips.

“Indeed, the journey is still long.”

Wenren Lin raised his finger to wipe away the tea on her lips, while his other hand skillfully supported the back of her neck. “So, Your Highness, still have plenty of time to while away with me.”

He touched her lips with his own and said in a low voice: “During those days when I was unconscious, I heard Your Highness’s voice.”

Zhao Yān’s heart itched from his teasing touches, her breath becoming uneven: “Really?”

“Yes. Your Highness cried and begged me not to leave, secretly kissed me, called me ‘husband,’ and even touched me all over.”

Wenren Lin spoke slowly, maintaining an air of righteousness. “Taking advantage of someone in distress.”

“I did not!”

Only the first two statements this man made could barely be considered true—the rest were complete fabrication!

“I think you were confused and mistook your improper fantasies for reality.”

Wenren Lin laughed, neither confirming nor denying, and silenced any further protests from Zhao Yān with his lips.

The two had not been intimate for some time, and after several life-and-death situations, once their lips met, they became inseparable like glue.

Zhao Yān found herself sitting face-to-face on Wenren Lin’s lap, her waist and abdomen pressed tightly against his, almost as if he were trying to press her into his very bones. The long, slender hand at the back of her head gave her no chance to retreat, yet her upper body kept arching backward under the pressure of his increasingly deep kisses. Her collarbones formed beautiful hollows from the strain, rising and falling with her rapid breathing.

If not for Wenren Lin’s hand supporting the back of her head, she would have fallen backward. She had no choice but to grip tightly the thick, dark fabric of his official robe, heat spreading from her cheeks to her ears and neck.

“No, your body hasn’t fully recovered yet. Besides, we’re in a carriage, so… stop moving.”

In the brief interval between breaths, Zhao Yān pushed Wenren Lin slightly, her eyes filled with a misty, hazy look.

Wenren Lin continued to plant slow kisses, looking down: “Heaven knows who’s the one who can’t stop grabbing and moving.”

Zhao Yān was momentarily speechless. She released her grip on his chest, and just as she was about to rebut, he caught both her wrists with one hand and twisted them behind her back.

The carriage was already swaying, and with her hands pinned behind her, Zhao Yān no longer had the opportunity to grab his collar or shoulders for support.

Zhao Yān blinked, then simply raised her leg to hook around his neatly belted waist, using this to stabilize herself. However, this brought them even closer together, with no space between them.

Wenren Lin’s eye twitched, and his smiling eyes darkened.

“What are you doing? I said don’t move… mmph!”

Her breath was cut off as he captured her in another long kiss.

At noon, the convoy arrived at Changping Relay Station for a brief rest.

As soon as Zhao Yān descended from the carriage into the relay inn, she heard Physician Sun, leaning on his cane, clear his throat. His gaze swept over Zhao Yān’s unusually flushed lips before turning to Wenren Lin.

“The cold has invaded your sinews and bones for too long. You need extended recuperation to avoid leaving lasting damage. Now is the critical time for expelling the poison. You must avoid irritability and restrain your desires. Do not recklessly indulge because of your youth.”

Though these words were directed at Wenren Lin, Zhao Yān felt like a child caught doing something wrong. She hid behind Wenren Lin, the tips of her ears burning red.

When they resumed their journey, Zhao Yān deliberately went to the carriage behind with Liu Ying to avoid interfering with a certain person’s poison expulsion.

Soon, Cai Tian noticed that the gentle smile on his Lord’s face had significantly diminished. Most of the time, he sat with his finger pressed against his temple, eyes closed. Only when he heard Princess Changfeng’s laughter from the carriage behind would the corners of his mouth slightly curl upward.

“My Lord, we have discovered the whereabouts of the fleeing Northern Wu people.”

Cai Tian presented the newly obtained intelligence.

Wenren Lin took it and glanced at it, his dark eyes cold as stars.

Night fell, the full moon hung high, and the mountains were dark like blackened eyebrows.

Two hundred li to the north, in a dense forest, Wu Que chose a spot sheltered from the wind. He sat on the ground around a bonfire with his few remaining guards, waiting for others from the envoy to come and meet them.

With his arm bent under his head as a pillow, he gazed up at the hazy, fuzzy-edged full moon, leisurely humming a long, mournful Northern Wu folk song.

He was the son of a female captive, born a slave, and had attained his current position only by helping his father seize power. Now, the open negotiations with the Great Xuan had failed, the plan to assist in the Great Xuan’s internal strife had gone to waste, and many elite troops had been lost. He didn’t know how to face his father, the Khan, when he returned to Northern Wu.

A bearded strongman, seemingly understanding Wu Que’s concerns, held up a sizzling, oil-dripping roasted meat and muttered in their guttural language to comfort him: “Prince, do not be sad. Those brave warriors who followed you and died in a foreign land will all be protected by the Handa God. Besides, our journey was not entirely without gain. With the copper ball gunpowder formula that woman sold you, the Khan will surely be satisfied.”

“Gunpowder…”

Yes, there was still that.

Wu Que sat up straight and pulled out a parchment scroll from his bosom. It detailed the proportions for copper ball gunpowder in Central Plains script. With this magical weapon, Northern Wu would surely cut through the countries like bamboo, and who would fear the walls of the Xuan Dynasty?

However, the formula contained some obscure characters and uncommon materials that would require careful study upon return.

Just as he was thinking this, clouds obscured the moonlight, and shadows gradually encroached upon the forest.

Wind swept through the treetops. Wu Que’s ears twitched, and he suddenly stood up, instinctively stuffing the parchment back into his bosom and using sand to extinguish the bonfire.

The guards gathered like wolves, staring vigilantly at the mist-shrouded depths of the dense forest.

“Who goes there?!” the Northern Wu men shouted.

A dull thud as someone fell to the ground, then a pair of straight leather boots stepped over the body of the Northern Wu sentry. A dark lower garment moved slightly in the wind, parting the thin mist as it approached the Northern Wu men who stood back-to-back with weapons drawn.

A flock of cold birds fluttered, shrieking as they flew toward the sky.

The rough tree bark instantly shattered and scattered as Wu Que’s back slammed heavily against the trunk. He knelt on one knee, supporting himself with his knife, as a line of crimson slowly seeped from the corner of his mouth.

His wrist holding the knife trembled uncontrollably, forcing him to place his other hand on it as he shakily stood up.

He looked around at his guards, who were now held at knifepoint by Zhang Cang and others. The playfulness was gone from his golden pupils as his chest heaved: “You people of the Central Plains often say that even in war between two countries, envoys are not killed. What does Prince Su mean by this?”

Wenren Lin picked up a Northern Wu heavy bow from the ground, easily holding it in his palm. Unhurriedly, he said: “This Prince came here not for state affairs, but for a private grudge.”

“What private grudge?”

“It was with this bow that you injured the Princess Changfeng of the Great Xuan, wasn’t it?”

Wenren Lin plucked the bowstring with his finger, producing a hoarse, trembling sound that was particularly chilling in the night.

Wu Que’s expression changed slightly as he guessed whom Wenren Lin had come for.

More frightening than provoking a madman was provoking the woman a madman loved.

“It seems that’s correct.”

Wenren Lin nodded to himself. “With the Thirteenth Prince’s intelligence, he would not have done something as foolish as injuring Princess Changfeng and provoking the Great Xuan. So this must have been the doing of disobedient subordinates, harming the goodwill between both sides. Today, I shall help you clean house.”

He spoke with elegant, deep tones, showing no fluctuation in emotion, yet the bowstring in his hand precisely looped around the neck of a Northern Wu strongman who tried to resist stubbornly, and with a gentle twist—

The surrounding vegetation was stained with a viscous darkness that dripped along the veins of the leaves.

“You…”

Wu Que gritted his teeth and swung his knife. Wenren Lin stepped aside, releasing the heavy bow. His long sword left its sheath, illuminating the entire forest with a cold light.

Wu Que’s saber was cut in half at the waist. He staggered back two steps, and the parchment scroll fell from his bosom.

He hurriedly tried to pick it up, but a leather boot stepped on it first.

“Go tell your Khan that if he wants a marriage alliance in the future, he should send your princes to marry into the Great Xuan, to serve as servants and slaves.”

The man’s gaze was cold, his presence overwhelming.

Wu Que knew he was no match and had no choice but to grit his teeth, abandon the parchment, and disappear into the depths of the dense forest with a few leaps.

Wenren Lin picked up the parchment from the ground and, in the moonlight, scanned the text and diagrams on it. The smile at the corner of his lips was cold.

He used this priceless parchment as a rag, leisurely wiping the blood from his hands before casually tossing it aside.

The blood-stained parchment fell onto the glowing embers of the bonfire. Flames leapt up, instantly consuming it completely, reducing it to curled black residue.

“Clean everything up.”

What his little Princess desired was a world of peace and prosperity, freedom and joy—there was no need to preserve such an evil thing that would bring harm to people.

Riding at full speed back to the relay inn, they arrived as daylight broke.

Zhao Yān stretched her arms and twisted around in bed, revealing a slender, snow-white waist beneath her undergarments. Just as she sat up with sleepy eyes, she saw the man sitting by her bed, freshly bathed and dressed, watching her.

“Good morning, little Princess.”

…

They returned to the capital in mid-March, when gentle breezes brought warmth, and spring mountains seemed to smile.

Zhao Yān had not yet set up her princess’s residence. After much consideration, she decided to stay with the Empress Dowager in Penglai Hall—firstly for tranquility, and secondly because Penglai Garden in the Northern Palace was full of spring flowers, most suitable for recuperation. It was also close to Wenren Lin’s Hegui Pavilion.

However, before that, she first went to Kunning Palace to pay respects to her mother.

“It’s good that you’ve returned.”

Empress Wei still sat with dignified poise, her cold gaze flickering slightly as she looked at her daughter.

Mother and daughter still didn’t have many words for each other, but the previous tension between them had disappeared. Even with thousands of words that couldn’t be spoken aloud, there was a tacit understanding.

“This time, I’m deeply indebted to Mother’s assistance. On behalf of the Western Capital soldiers and Prince Su, I thank Mother.”

After speaking, Zhao Yān gave a bow.

Empress Wei rose, her voice softening slightly: “If you truly wish to thank me, then grant me one request.”

Zhao Yān spoke seriously: “What request?”

“From now on, between us, there’s no need for such formalities and thanks.”

Zhao Yān was stunned, then curved her lips into a smile: “Then Mother must also promise me one thing.”

“Tell me.”

“Please don’t try to compensate me. Candy lost in childhood, even if tasted again ten years later, will never have the same flavor. But your guidance for my future is far more useful than ‘dwelling on the past.'”

Empress Wei hadn’t expected her to speak such insightful words. After a moment of surprise, she felt a sense of relief.

“Where is he?” Empress Wei asked.

Zhao Yān knew whom her mother was asking about and curled the corners of her mouth upward: “He just returned to the capital and has many important matters to attend to. When he has free time, I’ll press him to come and pay his respects to Mother.”

At Changsheng Palace.

Dong, dong, dong, dong—clear, slow drumbeats echoed in the Emperor’s bedchamber.

The Emperor opened his eyes from a confused slumber, trembling as he turned his head. He saw no one in the hall, only an incense mist enveloping a tall, dark shadow.

The Emperor narrowed his dry eyelids, trying hard to discern the identity of this figure.

As his blurry vision gradually cleared, he finally saw who was sitting by the cradle, leisurely shaking a rattle drum.

Wenren Lin held the rattle drum in one hand, shaking it intermittently, while his other hand rested on the sleeping infant’s chest, patting gently.

That powerful-knuckled hand was so close to the baby’s neck that it seemed a slight pressure could crush the tender, fragile throat.

The Emperor’s cloudy eyes widened slightly, and broken, rasping sounds emerged from his throat.

This son was his last hope. When the child grew up and ascended the throne, he would naturally redress his father’s wrongs and restore a clean posthumous reputation.

At that time, he would still be remembered as the brilliant and martial emperor who revitalized the dynasty.

The Emperor’s eyes bulged with rage, seemingly in rebuke, but the erosion of the golden elixir poison and his stroke had confined him to bed, unable to speak.

“Your Majesty must be quite displeased to see me alive and well.”

Wenren Lin ignored his anger, resting his hand on the chair’s armrest as he smiled. “Rest assured, I’ve made a promise to Yān Yān not to harm the innocent. I’ve come today to kindly inform Your Majesty of a secret.”

The Emperor stared at him, his fingers clutching the bedcovers.

Dong dong—Wenren Lin turned the rattling drum.

“Has Your Majesty, suffering from the elixir’s erosion and having few children, never suspected that this son, who arrived with such auspicious signs, might have come too conveniently?”

Wenren Lin looked at the suddenly stiffened Emperor, feeling a surge of pleasure as he stood up and said, “Consort Xu was indeed pregnant, and it was indeed an imperial child. Unfortunately, because Your Majesty had been immersed in elixirs for too long, with poison entering your essence and blood, what Consort Xu gave birth to was a deformed stillborn.”

The Emperor’s eyes instantly widened.

“I don’t have the patience for fabrications. Believe it or not, as you wish.”

Wenren Lin unfolded a hidden testimony from the Imperial Medical Academy and let it fall lightly beside the Emperor’s pillow.

The Emperor tremblingly took the paper, bringing it close to his eyes to examine it, wishing he could pry each character off the page to scrutinize and verify.

[In winter, during heavy snow, Lady Wan accidentally slipped and fell, and felt the fetus cease moving. The next day, upon examination, no fetal pulse was detected.]

[On New Year’s Eve, at the Hour of the Rat, Lady Wan gave premature birth. At the Hour of the Tiger, the child was delivered. There was a cry of surprise in the room. We imperial physicians waited outside, peering in, but for a long time heard no infant’s cry. There was much movement of shadows inside the birthing chamber. Only after a quarter hour, when the Emperor arrived, did we hear an infant’s cry.]

On the first day of the lunar year, the wet nurse Yang, who had attended Consort Xu during childbirth, died suddenly. When her coffin was opened for examination in the second month, it was found she had been poisoned.]

Consort Xu’s pregnancy had stopped in winter, a fact she had concealed. She had gone into premature labor on the Emperor’s birthday, and a full quarter hour after the child was born, the room finally heard an infant’s cry. The day after the little prince’s birth, the wet nurse who had witnessed Consort Xu’s delivery mysteriously died…

All signs indicated that this child’s origin was suspicious.

With the abilities of the Shenguang Religion, creating a fake infant that could be easily controlled would not be difficult.

The Emperor stretched his neck, his fingers crumpling the testimony, drool flowing from his mouth as he rasped: “Feng… Feng Youde!”

Outside, Eunuch Feng, who had been on tenterhooks, heard the commotion and entered timidly, kneeling beside the bed and saying: “Your Majesty, what do you wish to tell this old servant?”

Wenren Lin chuckled, placed the rattle drum beside the sleeping infant, tapped it lightly with his finger, and rose to leave.

Behind him, the Emperor struggled to sit up, pointing toward the cradle: “Test… test the blood.”

Having said this with great effort, he fell back weakly.

Wenren Lin stood on the steps. Shortly after, he heard the heart-rending cries of the infant from within the hall. Then a porcelain bowl shattered on the ground, followed by a despairing howl from the Emperor.

The howl abruptly stopped, and Eunuch Feng’s panicked scream rang out: “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Someone come quickly—”

With his robes flowing gracefully, Wenren Lin raised his hand before his eyes, his five fingers slightly curling as if trying to capture a breeze passing under the eaves.

He suddenly wanted to go to Penglai Hall to see the Empress Dowager and the Empress.

To ask the two ladies for something he cherished.

The spring day was warm, with a gentle breeze and just the right amount of brightness.

Just as Wenren Lin arrived at the gate of Penglai, he saw Zhao Yān leaning against the palace wall, standing amidst a flurry of snow-like white pear blossoms, smiling at him.

“Where have you been? You were gone so long.”

Wisps of hair fluttered at her temples, her eyes sparkled with clear light, and her smile was unbelievably warm and sweet.

Wenren Lin unconsciously softened his gaze, stepped forward to take Zhao Yān’s hand, and lowered his eyelashes, casting long shadows. Standing there in the spring breeze filled with the fragrance of flowers, he leaned close to her ear and said in a low voice:

“Yān Yān.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s get engaged.”

“What?”

Zhao Yān was surprised by his words. She looked up to see the man’s features profound and affectionate, his eyes like deep pools, bewitching and captivating.

Her heart began to race uncontrollably. She lowered her head to straighten her temple hair, then quickly looked up again, raising her delicate eyebrows to ask: “Have you prepared your betrothal gifts, then?”

“What betrothal gift does Yān Yān want?”

Wenren Lin simply gazed deeply at her.

Zhao Yān felt that one day, she would drown in the depths of his eyes.

She raised her hand to her chin, pretending to ponder, and drawing from books like “Female Precepts,” she improvised: “You have the appearance of a husband, and you have the achievements of a husband. As for the virtue of a husband… well, chastity should be a man’s best betrothal gift.”

Wenren Lin’s eye twitched, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“That’s perfect, then. It seems Your Highness has no choice but to marry me, since this ‘betrothal gift’ of mine, Your Highness has already accepted—and once used, cannot be returned.”

Wenren Lin’s words held a deeper meaning. “So, when will Your Highness… welcome me into your home?”