Zhao Yān noticed that Wenren Lin’s appearances before her had sharply decreased recently.

Her daily martial arts lessons had been replaced by a newly appointed Assistant Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince, whose teachings on military strategy were not only obscure and difficult to understand but also disorganized in chess instruction.

Wenren Lin would occasionally appear once or twice, then mysteriously disappear for six or seven days. During their few meetings, he was calm and leisurely to the point of aloofness, leaving immediately after lessons without letting his gaze linger on Zhao Yān for even a moment.

Logically, Zhao Yān should be happy that Wenren Lin was no longer watching her closely.

But for some reason, she felt inexplicably uneasy, sensing that something wasn’t quite right.

Thinking carefully, it seemed that ever since that day at Chongwen Hall when Wenren Lin deliberately mentioned the “soft jade,” she had been worried, and her temperament flared up, unable to resist talking back, after which Wenren Lin’s eyes had noticeably cooled.

Zhao Yān had gone over her words from that day several times, but couldn’t identify which phrase had triggered his taboo. After all, when she had struck him after the flower-pinning banquet out of fear, Wenren Lin hadn’t even taken it to heart!

During those days, although Wenren Lin loved to intimidate her, he had done so with a smile. Zhao Yān was nervous, but she could sense that Wenren Lin had no obvious killing intent.

Now, with Wenren Lin appearing and disappearing unpredictably, who could say what might happen?

Zhao Yān struggled for days over whether to take the initiative to test the waters or wait and observe.

…

…

Until the end of April, when a major unsolved case shocked the court and society, temporarily diverting Zhao Yān’s attention.

In Cheng’en Hall, bright sunlight streamed through the window, casting swaying flower shadows.

Zhao Yān and Liu Ji sat on a luohan bed, studying an open map of the suburbs.

After the winter banquet at the end of the year, the Sichuan rebels had retreated, satisfied with cartloads of plundered gold, silver, jewels, and supreme rewards, leaving behind scorched earth for thousands of miles and countless refugees seeking shelter outside the capital.

“At first, around the beginning of the year, male children and young girls started disappearing from the refugee camps, gradually extending to children from poor families in the suburban areas,” Liu Ji said, tracing her finger from the suburban area on the map to the western city gate, then continued, “At that time, the court had just avoided war through pacification and needed to stabilize public sentiment and maintain a facade of peace. The Prefect of the Capital suppressed the matter, casually executing two human traffickers before hastily closing the case.”

But the turmoil hadn’t stopped there; the masterminds behind it had become so rampant that they extended their claws to officials’ households.

Zhao Yān nodded and shared the information she had gathered from Pei Sa that morning: “In April, young sons and adolescent daughters of officials in the capital began disappearing one after another, including Censor He’s son born in his old age, and the young sister whom Assistant Minister Cen of the Ministry of War cherished like the apple of his eye.”

Suddenly, every household in the capital feared for itself. Memorials were sent one after another to the Taiji Palace, forcing the Emperor to end his seclusion early and preside over the court.

Liu Ji nodded and, following Zhao Yān’s guidance, located the residences of Censor He and Assistant Minister Cen on the map, drawing circles at the corresponding locations with a vermilion brush, then connecting all the red dots.

“The locations of the incidents seem to revolve around this area in the suburbs. I’ll have Gu Xing investigate who owns this land.”

Watching Liu Ji’s actions, Zhao Yān suddenly asked, “Liu Ji, how do you know so much? Not just about state affairs and court politics, but even the residences of officials.”

She smiled, “Even I don’t know these details.”

Liu Ji’s brush tip paused slightly before moving away casually. Propping her chin, she said, “Otherwise, why would your brother have gone to such lengths to keep me by his side?”

Zhao Yān looked at Liu Ji’s bold and spirited features and also raised her hand to support her chin, saying, “I’ve always felt that Liu Ji is unlike ordinary women.”

Hearing this, Liu Ji raised her eyebrows high in disbelief: “Your Highness suspects me?”

“If I suspected you, on the day you exposed my true identity, I would have allowed my mother to deal with you.”

Zhao Yān moved closer, looking into her amber pupils, “Besides, Sister Liu Ji truly shines when discussing matters, with a broad vision, certainly different from ordinary women.”

Zhao Yān’s praise was utterly sincere, making Liu Ji unusually self-conscious. She raised her hand to rub the tip of her nose and said, “Me? I’m just pretending. Your Highness is the one truly different from ordinary girls. If an ordinary fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl faced such a dangerous mission, she would probably be frightened to tears before even sitting on the Eastern Palace’s perilous seat.”

Her gaze evaded for a moment before meeting Zhao Yān’s again with righteous indignation: “Your Highness says you don’t suspect me? Since the flower-pinning banquet, Your Highness has often seemed distracted, clearly troubled by something.”

Liu Ji had a knowing expression and snorted lightly, “Your Highness has worries but keeps them from me, clearly showing a lack of trust in me.”

Zhao Yān had always thought she had hidden this secret extremely well. Even Liu Ying deliberately avoided the topic, fearing to say something that might distress her mistress.

So Zhao Yān pretended nothing was wrong, dealing with affairs inside and outside the Eastern Palace, never expecting to be seen through by the usually careless Liu Ji.

Troubles are often like this—when no one cares, you feel you can endure them. But once someone opens a crack, you desperately want to pour everything out.

Zhao Yān rested her chin on her palm, lowered her gaze, blinked, and said, “Recently, I have indeed encountered a perplexing problem.”

Liu Ji raised her palm upward, curling her fingertips to gesture for her to speak.

“It’s a story that Lecturer Zhou mentioned recently at Chongwen Hall.”

Zhao Yān nervously cleared her throat, pondered for a moment, then said softly, “It’s said that in Hedong, there was a prominent family whose young master did something against propriety, accidentally witnessed by an arch-enemy. In his panic, the young master compounded his error by doing something even more terrible with that enemy. So the enemy used this as leverage, bringing it up from time to time to threaten the young master… What do you think is the solution to this predicament?”

Liu Ji was puzzled—Zhou Ji was a gentleman from a noble family; aside from political theories, would he tell the Crown Prince such stories of intrigue among great families?

Her eyes shifted, and she smiled, “That’s simple. Find a way to eliminate the enemy.”

Zhao Yān frowned slightly, “But what if the enemy is someone in a high position who cannot be challenged?”

“Then find a way to discover his weakness, seize his leverage to maintain a balance of power.”

“He’s decisive, ruthless, and meticulous, seemingly without any vulnerabilities.”

She was stunned for a long time before asking Zhao Yān, “This high-ranking, powerful enemy who rarely meets his match, yet stoops to threaten a seemingly impressive but hollow young master—what does he gain from this?”

“Perhaps he wants to control the young master and swallow up the family property?” she speculated.

Liu Ji folded her arms and countered, “Then why doesn’t he just use this opportunity to kill the young master and take his place?”

“Look, generally when we use leverage to threaten someone, it’s because that person poses a threat to us, or we can use this leverage to gain greater benefits. But the enemy in Lecturer Zhou’s story doesn’t need such underhanded methods to achieve his goals, and it would even be more convenient to kill the young master.”

Liu Ji spread her hands, unable to understand, “So what does he gain by keeping the young master on a string? This doesn’t make sense.”

Zhao Yān felt as if this question had struck her soul, creating a clear, resonating “ding” in her mind.

Indeed, with Wenren Lin’s overwhelming power, second only to one person above thousands, to obtain anything, he didn’t need the Eastern Palace’s help at all.

What benefit would he gain from pressuring her?

A flash of insight passed through her mind but disappeared like a moon in water or a flower in a mirror before she could grasp it.

In May’s plum rain season, the entire capital was shrouded in misty, fresh rain, like a wet ink painting.

After half a month of continuous rain, today was finally clear. The fallen petals of spring had already turned into fragrant mud and disappeared completely, nourishing the lush green foliage on the walls.

Summer had finally arrived.

In eighty days, it would be the first anniversary of Zhao Yǎn’s death. Today, after finishing her lessons, Zhao Yān specifically went to the Taiji Palace to pay her respects and subtly proposed to preside over the Confucian ceremony at Mingde Hall like last year, to comfort the next batch of talented pillars of the Great Xuan.

Several lives had been lost in connection with Mingde Hall, and Chou Zui had yet to show himself. She had to go there personally, no matter what.

The Emperor remained silent for a long time before casually saying, “The capital’s situation is unstable. The Crown Prince need not go to such trouble. Stay quietly in the Eastern Palace, study the sages, and temper your character.”

It was a direct refusal.

Although Zhao Yān was unwilling, she knew she couldn’t rush for quick results, so she said, “Your son obeys,” then gathered her sleeves, bowed, and withdrew from the hall.

After the arrival of summer, the sun had become somewhat harsh.

Liu Ying came to ask, “The sun is at its peak. Does Your Highness wish to return to the Eastern Palace by sedan chair or carriage?”

Zhao Yān looked at the azure sky and gently shook her head. “I wish to walk for a while.”

After such a long period of rain, Zhao Yān felt as if water could be squeezed from her bones, and it would be good to dry out in the sunshine.

Liu Ying took a paper umbrella from an attendant and opened it, slightly shading her mistress.

The two walked slowly along the long palace path, one in front and one behind.

As Zhao Yān was thinking about how to legitimately leave the palace, she heard a faint “meow” from the palace wall to one side.

Zhao Yān stopped and looked up, shading her brow with her hand. She saw a snow-white cat yawn with its bottom raised, then swish its tail like swaying water grass before turning to jump down from the palace wall and disappear.

Wild cats in the palace without care would likely not survive the bitter winter. Moreover, this cat was sleek and glossy, not looking ownerless.

Curious, Zhao Yān instinctively climbed the steps and passed through the drooping flower gate with her sleeves gathered.

Tree shadows danced overhead as she walked through the dappled sunlit path in the courtyard. There, under the corridor, sat a familiar tall figure. His crimson official robe contrasted strikingly with the green foliage throughout the courtyard.

Wenren Lin sat with his legs crossed on a beauty chair under the corridor, with a small silk pouch on his knee. He was holding two pieces of dried meat, leisurely playing with the cats.

Under his dark official boots, seven or eight cats of various colors had gathered, all circling and swaying their heads following the movement of his fingers.

Wenren Lin seemed to have found great amusement in this. Only when the cats were meowing with hunger did he mercifully toss the dried meat with a wave of his hand, his frost-white slender fingers drawing a dazzling arc in the sunlight…

The image of the ruthless Prince Su playing with cats was bizarre, no matter how one thought about it, yet when seen with one’s own eyes, it conveyed a pleasing harmony.

Shouldn’t he be busy investigating the disappearances of boys and girls? How did he have time to feed cats?

In her astonishment, Zhao Yān couldn’t help but watch a little longer, oddly feeling that Wenren Lin’s cat-teasing movements seemed familiar.

Not just familiar, but almost empathetically so.

As she peered through the gaps in the leaves, Wenren Lin casually wiped the meat scraps from his fingertips and said with a measured tone, “Since when did the Crown Prince develop a habit of peeping at others from corners?”

Discovered, Zhao Yān’s heart skipped a beat.

Since there was no avoiding it, she simply walked out from behind the tree shadow with grace and nodded to Wenren Lin, “I just saw a beautiful odd-eyed cat dart across the wall top and followed out of curiosity. I didn’t expect Prince Su to be here as well.”

As soon as she finished speaking, that yellow-green odd-eyed white cat emerged from a nearby flower bush, affectionately jumped onto Wenren Lin’s lap, and left several dusty paw prints on his meticulous official robe.

Wenren Lin’s expression remained unchanged as he allowed the cat to climb his broad chest and leap onto his shoulder.

“These little creatures have unknown origins. When fed, they show affection and allow people to play with them. When there’s nothing to gain, they turn and leave, unlike dogs with their tail-wagging flattery.”

Wenren Lin raised his hand to scratch under the chin of the white cat on his shoulder, but his gaze penetrated half the courtyard toward Zhao Yān, saying with a half-smile, “Doesn’t Your Highness find it interesting?”

Zhao Yān didn’t quite understand the deeper meaning in his words and vaguely replied after a moment, “Yes, very interesting. Then I won’t disturb Prince Su’s elegant amusement.”

She slightly gathered her sleeves and turned to leave.

Wenren Lin let out a short laugh, raised his hand to lift the snow-white cat from his shoulder, then calmly brushed away the paw prints and cat hair from his body before calling out, “Zhang Cang.”

Zhang Cang appeared from some corner, cupping his fists, “Your subordinate is here.”

“Go tell Eunuch Zhang of the Taiji Palace that all future requests from the Crown Prince to see the Emperor or leave the palace are to be refused.”

“Yes.”

Zhang Cang knew that this was a crucial moment and that they couldn’t allow the young Crown Prince to get involved and disrupt the situation. But after holding back for a while, he couldn’t resist asking quietly, “Is Your Highness not going to Chongwen Hall? It’s been over half a month since you’ve seen the Crown Prince. Don’t you want to…”

Meeting Prince Su’s cold black eyes, Zhang Cang wisely swallowed the latter half of his sentence.

“Previously, I indeed overestimated her.”

Wenren Lin poured out all the dried meat from the silk pouch, saying expressionlessly, “Now it seems, she’s nothing special.”

…

Gu Xing had returned to the Eastern Palace to report.

Seeing that he had come in person rather than sending a message by carrier pigeon, Zhao Yān knew he must have made significant discoveries.

Indeed, as soon as Gu Xing entered the study, he saluted and said, “This humble servant has recently observed Prince Yong’s heir frequently passing through the city gates, always with guards escorting numerous wooden boxes. At first, I thought he was transferring gold and silver private property, until yesterday, when I found an opportunity to get closer. I was shocked to discover that all the boxes had ventilation holes drilled into them.”

“You mean the boxes were transporting living things?” Zhao Yān propped her chin in thought, connecting this to the boys and girls who had been disappearing over the past few months. A terrifying conjecture emerged in her mind, making her hair stand on end.

“Not just that.”

Gu Xing paused, lowering his voice, “This humble servant also saw Prince Su entering and exiting Prince Yong’s residence, seemingly in secret contact.”

Zhao Yān straightened up urgently, “Do you know the purpose of their private interactions?”

Gu Xing shook his head, “Prince Su is extremely vigilant, and his deputy commander is also an exceptional expert among thousands. My abilities are insufficient; we’ve been discovered, and it will be difficult to get close again.”

Hearing this, Zhao Yān’s heart sank slightly.

Could those wooden boxes transported by Zhao Yuan’yu contain the missing children?

With Wenren Lin’s capabilities, having approached Prince Yong’s residence, it was impossible for him not to have discovered some clues…

Regardless of what Wenren Lin intended to do, Zhao Yuan’yu was Zhao Yān’s enemy, and she couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

She needed to find a way to leave the palace.

Not only did she need to leave the palace, but she also needed legitimate reasons to contact the core of this case.

But her proposal today had been rejected by her father. Throughout the entire court, the only person who could help her achieve this wish was possibly…

Zhao Yān recalled the image of Wenren Lin leisurely playing with cats and remembered the smile that gently suffused his eyes each time he made her nervous and blush.

“What does he gain by keeping the young master on a string?”

Zhao Yān suddenly felt that the question Liu Ji had asked her now had a clear answer.

She sat quietly in the study until sunset, thinking deeply.

As her thoughts became clearer, her gaze gradually became more determined. Finally, she let out a long breath and stepped out the door, following the golden-red twilight.

Outside the door, only Liu Ying was faithfully on guard.

“Liu Ying, have Li Fu deliver a message to Prince Su’s residence. Tell him I have a difficult problem I can’t solve and request Prince Su to come to the Eastern Palace to explain it to me.”

Zhao Yān’s eyes reflected the splendor of the sunset, the corner of her mouth slightly lifted as she said gently, “Also, get me a set of rouge and powder, as well as girls’ clothes.”

After thinking for a moment, she added under Liu Ying’s astonished gaze, “They should fit me properly.”

She might as well gamble that he had an interest in her.

…

The doors and windows of the Eastern Palace’s sleeping chamber were tightly closed, and all attendants had been dismissed.

Zhao Yān looked at her familiar yet strange reflection in the mirror, raised her hand to adjust her hair bun, and said, “That’s enough, no need for too many hairpins.”

After all, they would have to be removed later, which would be troublesome.

Liu Ying held the jade comb, hesitating.

Zhao Yān looked at her through the mirror and reassured her, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

She was no longer the little princess who trembled at the slightest teasing. She had to secure her leverage.

Liu Ying bit her lip and put down the comb, saying, “This servant is accustomed to serving the Crown Prince and doesn’t know current women’s makeup styles. Let me invite Liu Ji to help.”

Liu Ji was quite loyal and didn’t ask Zhao Yān what she was up to, simply picking up the rouge from the dressing table and beginning to apply it.

Zhao Yān didn’t know how the final result would look, only that when the red makeup was completed, even Liu Ji stared in a daze for a long time.

She sat at the desk in the sleeping chamber, resting her chin on her hand, even the folds of her skirt carefully arranged. From sunset until the first lanterns were lit, she finally heard Liu Ying’s respectful greeting outside the hall door.

The next moment, the door was pushed open, and familiar, steady footsteps entered.

Wenren Lin wore a dark informal robe, with broad shoulders and long legs, walking with his hands behind his back around the screen, only to see the graceful young woman sitting amid the brilliant lamplight.

She had a flowing gauze shawl over her arms, a pomegranate-red dress spreading like flower petals at her knees, her black hair trailing down. Her delicate hand lightly supported her chin, revealing a snowy white forearm, like a perfect painting or snow gathered in the moon…

It was an appearance he had never seen before.

Wenren Lin merely raised an eyebrow slightly before approaching her with his usual composure.

He gazed down with half-lowered eyelids and asked flatly, “Your Highness has gone to such trouble to invite this Prince. Which part do you not understand?”

As he spoke, he picked up the vermilion brush from the brush stand and bent over to look at the article laid on her desk.

Zhao Yān raised her eyes, the lamplight gathering in them, clear and bright, rippling with luster.

She didn’t answer but gently moved a familiar brocade box to Wenren Lin’s side and opened it with a click, revealing the warm, lustrous white jade.

Zhao Yān blinked very lightly, striving to stay calm as she said, “I’ve come to return the jade… to the Grand Tutor.”

The vermilion brush between Wenren Lin’s fingers suddenly paused, drawing a vivid red mark across the paper.