Zhao Yān set down her brush and breathed warm air onto her cool fingertips.

She dried the ink, then handed the letter to Liu Ying, “I’ve written a letter in the Crown Prince’s name. Have someone deliver it to Huayang immediately by express courier. Shi Lan will know what to do.”

Shi Lan was one of her palace maids at Huayang Summer Palace. Because they were similar in build and age, and because she was clever and loyal, whenever Zhao Yān sneaked out to play, she would exchange clothes with Shi Lan, letting her stay in the palace to deal with the matrons’ inspections.

Before being summoned back to the capital, she had deliberately left Shi Lan at Huayang Summer Palace to attend the Empress Dowager, just in case.

After all, Princess Changfeng had left the palace at a young age. Who would know what the princess looked like now after so many years?

Liu Ying accepted the letter, contemplating, “About the Empress Dowager…”

Zhao Yān knew what she was worried about. Having a palace maid impersonate herself might fool people in the imperial city, but not the Empress Dowager, who had been with her for years.

Remembering the sandalwood prayer beads the Empress Dowager had sent through a matron before her departure, Zhao Yān exhaled slowly: “You underestimate Grandmother. Though she’s devoted to Buddha, she’s not an outsider. She knows better than we do what needs to be done.”

Liu Ying said no more, curtsying before going to make arrangements.

Earlier during the attack in the ward, Liu Ying’s protective reaction had been too practiced and timely, as if she had experienced it many times, and her body had formed an instinct.

…

…

But everyone in the Great Xuan knew the Crown Prince had been bedridden for years. Why would the masterminds behind the scenes be so eager to assassinate a weak youth who posed no threat?

Numerous questions gathered like dark clouds, weighing heavily on her heart.

Beside her, Liu Ji wiped the ink from her fingers carelessly, silent for a long time before suddenly saying: “Did Liu Ying tell you that this spring, when His Majesty was ill, he had the Crown Prince manage court affairs?”

Zhao Yān raised her eyes very slowly, stunned, as if understanding something.

Everyone had taught Zhao Yǎn to be benevolent and to shoulder the responsibilities of the heir… but no one had taught him how to protect himself.

“That maid is tight-lipped and stubborn. She wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Liu Ji quickly dismissed her question, venting her frustration by picking up the sweet pastries from the table and stuffing them into her mouth one after another.

Zhao Yān suddenly remembered that her brother also loved sweets, because he had been forced to drink so many medicinal decoctions since childhood that he’d grown tired of bitterness.

Zhao Yān nodded, then shook her head very slightly: “Enemies won’t spare me because I’m afraid, just as they didn’t spare Zhao Yǎn because of his weakness. From the day I returned to the palace, I understood that if I didn’t want to be swallowed by the flood, I must grab every piece of driftwood and swim against the current.”

Due to the assassination attempt, the Eastern Palace was in chaos, with Imperial Guards coming and going, patrolling, and inquiring about details.

Zhao Yān rubbed her eyes as if tired, rose, and walked to Liu Ji’s small couch, turning carefully and slowly lying down.

She gently closed her eyes, murmuring: “We can’t forget him, too, Liu Ji. That fool shouldn’t have met such a fate.”

Her voice was soft yet firm, hiding an inner resilience.

Liu Ji paused, looking back to see Zhao Yān tightly wrapped in her fox fur coat, her slender figure slightly curled.

She remembered Zhao Yǎn once saying that his twin sister was the most restless sleeper, kicking off her blankets countless times throughout the night.

Yet the young woman before her slept with the quiet alertness of a newborn.

Liu Ji stood up and pulled a corner of the blanket to cover Zhao Yān.

After much thought, she finally moistened her brush with ink and began to sketch on the fine paper, relying on memory.

…

At Prince Yong’s mansion, the doors and windows of a secluded side hall were tightly shut.

With a crisp “slap,” Zhao Yuan’yu spun like a top, then swayed back to his feet, holding his face without daring to speak.

“Let me ask you, who leaked the route of the Crown Prince’s return from the sacrifice ceremony?”

Prince Yong paced back and forth, his finger almost jabbing his son’s face as he said in a suppressed voice, “After what happened last year, I warned you not to act rashly or impatiently! Why don’t you listen? It hasn’t even been half a year, and you’ve committed such a treasonous act again! And now you’ve become entangled with outlaw gangs… you… You’re going to be the death of me!”

A huge handprint immediately appeared on Zhao Yuan’yu’s sour, cockfighting-like face as he complained defensively: “Everything I’ve done has been for Father’s sake.”

“For my sake? Hmph, I think you’re trying to ruin your old man.”

To please the Emperor’s fondness for immortality and the Dao, Prince Yong also wore Daoist robes daily. However, lacking the qualities of an immortal, the robes stretched awkwardly across his bulky frame, making him look quite ridiculous.

He scolded: “The Emperor has no children, and the Eastern Palace Crown Prince has the appearance of a short life. It’s just a matter of waiting a few years.”

“Father may be patient, but aren’t you afraid that the short-lived Crown Prince might produce a grandson for the Emperor before he dies? After all, at his young age, he already has beautiful maids and favored concubines attending him day and night.”

Zhao Yuan’yu sneered, “In a few years, he could have produced several children. Father, aren’t you afraid the duck might fly away after it’s cooked?”

“Rebellious son!”

Prince Yong raised his hand to strike again, and Zhao Yuan’yu quickly raised his sleeve to dodge.

Seeing his son’s cowardly behavior, Prince Yong grew even more furious. If only his legitimate son had some inner and outer cultivation, with half the intelligence and dignity of the Crown Prince, the Emperor might not have despised him to the point of refusing to acknowledge him as his son. How had things deteriorated to this desperate state?

Prince Yong’s iron palm clenched into a fist, his gaze sweeping over his son: “Before meddling in others’ affairs, you’d better manage your soft worm!”

Zhao Yuan’yu’s face changed dramatically as his sore spot was touched.

Born with strong carnal desires, he had bedded countless women before even turning twenty. But ever since he had fallen from his horse during last year’s spring hunt and injured himself there, even his beard had grown increasingly sparse.

He was terrified!

Not only could he no longer enjoy all those beautiful women, but how could a man who couldn’t perform become the next Crown Prince? He could only desperately take medicine, desperately consume it, and had even tried the aphrodisiacs offered by the female Daoists. Several women had been exhausted to death, yet his manhood remained uncooperative!

To his father, he appeared to be a dissolute son drowning in female companionship, but only he knew how panic-stricken he truly was.

Not daring to reveal the truth, he swallowed his pride and answered “Yes,” then left the side hall, looking dejected.

A middle-aged man resembling an advisor emerged from a corner and bowed to him. With just one glance at the slap mark on Prince Yong’s heir’s face, he knew Prince Yong had been truly angered this time.

He said, “Young Master was indeed too hasty this time.”

“You’re lecturing me, too!” Zhao Yuan’yu’s suppressed anger flared up again.

“Young Master, please calm down. What I mean is that once an assassination attempt fails, there shouldn’t be a second attempt, to avoid leaving evidence.”

The advisor looked around cautiously before whispering secretively, “If Young Master wishes to eliminate that person, why resort to such inferior methods as conspiring with tigers?”

Zhao Yuan’yu asked impatiently: “According to you, what would be the superior method?”

“Doesn’t he have quite a reputation for virtue? Killing the spirit is the best strategy. Nothing would be better than tarnishing his reputation and making him appear unworthy of his position. That would highlight Young Master’s qualities.”

The advisor revealed a knowing smile, “In just over a month, there will be the Spring Banquet. The Crown Prince will certainly attend. Young Master, why don’t you…”

He moved closer and whispered in his ear.

Zhao Yuan’yu narrowed his eyes, his mood greatly improving.

“Hmm, that’s a good method.”

Eager to arrange this matter, he happened to notice a man squatting on the stone steps in front of the woodshed.

The man was about thirty years old, standing nine feet tall with ape-like arms and a wasp-like waist. He wore dirty, tattered black-blue martial robes, and his mud-stained boots had a hole, exposing his blackened big toe.

He squatted on the stone steps, cradling a large bowl, shoveling down leftover food that lacked even a trace of meat, like a starving wild dog.

In Zhao Yuan’yu’s eyes, this man indeed deserved to be treated like a dog.

He walked over and kicked the man from behind, contemptuously calling out: “Hey, go summon the female Daoists from Hongxiang Temple! This young master has business for them!”

The man, having received his kick, remained as immovable as a rock.

Only after stuffing the last mouthful of day-old food into his mouth did he wipe his mouth and stand up. He picked up the curved sword beside him and pulled up the frayed black triangular cloth around his neck to cover the scars on his face, then departed in silence.

The man hadn’t said a word, but the advisor sensed a chilling aura and couldn’t help but advise: “Young Master, keeping this man may lead to future trouble.”

“What trouble could there be? He’s just a servant of three surnames—he follows whoever feeds him.”

Zhao Yuan’yu scoffed, grimacing as he stretched his foot that hurt from the kick, “Of all the men I keep, this dog is the most obedient and useful.”

Recalling the man’s background, the advisor wanted to speak but held back, finally just shaking his head with a sigh.

…

Zhao Yān slept heavily through the night.

Early the next morning, an old eunuch from the palace brought the Emperor’s verbal edict summoning the Crown Prince to appear before him at Taiji Hall.

Zhao Yān hadn’t expected the summons from Taiji Hall to come so quickly. Thinking about Wenren Lin’s examination of her the day before, she dared not think too deeply and just ordered Liu Ying to tighten her chest bindings even more.

In the sedan chair heading to Taiji Hall, Zhao Yān wore purple robes with a golden crown. Looking in the mirror, she applied fine makeup powder to her lips and asked: “How does it look?”

The makeup covered her naturally rosy lips, giving them a sickly pallor. With her chest bound so tightly, her breathing was short and weak. The bandaged knife wound on her neck was also seeping pale red. Anyone who saw her in this “sickly state” would feel pity.

Liu Ying nodded: “You truly look frightened and gravely ill.”

Only then did Zhao Yān feel somewhat relieved.

Inside Taiji Hall, incense swirled and candles burned brightly as always.

As Zhao Yān slowly entered the hall with the support of a small eunuch, about to sink unsteadily to her knees, she noticed another person standing behind the thin curtain.

Wenren Lin had one hand behind his back and the other holding a candelabra, helping the Emperor light each of the hundred eternal lamps on the wooden rack, one by one.

Their eyes met, and he gave her a slight smile, revealing an ambiguous expression.

The warm light fell on his flawlessly handsome face, making the candlelight dance faintly in his pitch-black eyes, transforming his immortal-like smile into something eerie.

Zhao Yān’s breath caught, and her mind exploded with a thunderous boom.

Why was Wenren Lin here?

Had he come to inform the Emperor?

Did the Emperor know everything and have summoned her for questioning?

A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind in an instant. Zhao Yān’s throat went dry, and it took almost all her strength to control her trembling voice as she calmly said: “Your son pays his respects to Father Emperor.”

As she kowtowed with her palms pressed against the ground, she momentarily couldn’t tell which was colder—her fingertips or the stone tiles.

“Rise.”

The Emperor sat cross-legged on a round cushion and slowly said, “I heard from Prince Su that you were ambushed in the ward yesterday…”

So it was indeed about this matter. Zhao Yān’s fingers instinctively tightened.

“…Were you injured?”

The Emperor paused before completing his sentence.

“Thank you for your concern, Father Emperor. They’re just minor injuries and are no longer serious.”

She responded weakly, her peripheral vision directed at her reflection on the stone tiles, trying to gauge the Emperor’s expression.

“That’s good.”

The Emperor nodded and opened his eyes, saying, “I intend to hold a special examination next month to select talents for the court. Those who pass will be treated to a Flower-Pinning Banquet. As the heir, this task will be your responsibility.”

Zhao Yān was startled, her eyelashes trembling slightly: Just for this matter?

“And you.”

The Emperor looked toward Wenren Lin, who was intently lighting the lamps, “I remember you’ve been of marriageable age for two or three years, but still have no wife. I will have the Empress select several unmarried noble ladies to attend the banquet. At that time, you should also choose and see if there’s anyone suitable to your liking.”

Wenren Lin lit the last eternal lamp and extinguished the candle in his hand.

Standing amid the faint lamp shadows, he resembled an immortal who had stepped out of a painting, calmly saying: “Yes.”

Though he agreed verbally, his eyes peered through the thin curtain at the small Crown Prince, who was anxiously staring at his toes.

Zhao Yān was indeed anxious.

She didn’t believe that Wenren Lin had just happened to stroll to Taiji Hall. However, despite her tense anticipation, the Emperor mentioned nothing else beyond assigning her the responsibility of organizing the Flower-Pinning Banquet for the successful examination candidates.

Zhao Yān was puzzled but could only obediently accept the command and withdraw.

No sooner had she left Taiji Hall than Wenren Lin followed her out.

“Crown Prince.”

That deep, elegant voice came from behind. Zhao Yān closed her eyes briefly, resigned to stopping and turning around with a light cough to return the greeting: “Does Prince Su have other matters?”

Wenren Lin stopped in front of her, his cool gaze lingering on the bandage at her neck where crimson was seeping through. After a moment, he reached out his hand: “This blood, it hasn’t stopped yet?”

Seeing his fingers about to touch her neck, Zhao Yān instinctively covered her neck and stepped back half a pace: “My constitution is weak, so I heal more slowly than others.”

Yeah, right. This was special medicinal water she had applied before leaving, just to make herself look pitiful and evoke the Emperor’s paternal affection.

Wenren Lin withdrew his hand that had paused mid-air and looked down at her.

“Why does Your Highness act like a mouse seeing a cat when encountering this prince?”

He suddenly smiled and bent down to ask in a very low voice, “Could it be because you’re a gir—”

Zhao Yān’s heart contracted violently.

“—frequently disobedient, feigning illness to skip lessons, and afraid this prince might report to the Emperor?”

He smiled as he completed the sentence.

Zhao Yān’s heart, which had jumped to her throat, paused briefly before plummeting back down.

She parted her lips, and after a long moment, hoarsely squeezed out: “I’m not… pretending to be ill.”

Wenren Lin nodded with an “Oh,” then slowly said: “Not pretending to be ill, just pretending to be a m—”

Zhao Yān tensed again.

“—Pretending to be miserable, that’s all,” Wenren Lin said softly.

“…”

Zhao Yān was already dumbfounded, her lips tightly pressed together, her heart skipping beats, frantically pounding in her chest.

Wenren Lin turned his head away and laughed softly. Despite his appearance being as gentle as spring wind melting snow, his eyes were tinged with malicious pleasure.

Zhao Yān’s fingers tightened and loosened, then tightened again inside her sleeve. She silently repeated three times, “He kills without blinking, I can’t fight him; he kills without blinking, I can’t fight him; he kills without blinking, I can’t fight him.” Only then did she manage to display an obedient and weak smile, respectfully saying: “I admit my mistake. I will not disappoint Grand Tutor in the future.”

After a pause, she sincerely added: “At the Flower-Pinning Banquet, I will certainly select a virtuous and kind wife for Grand Tutor as a token of my respect.”

Wenren Lin’s eye corner lifted, somewhat surprised.

“Then Your Highness must choose well, as ordinary beauty won’t catch this prince’s eye.”

He looked into Zhao Yān’s eyes, his dark pupils capturing her slender figure, and said meaningfully, “In this prince’s opinion, Your Highness’s twin sister, Princess Changfeng, would be an excellent choice.”