“Yesterday, Prince Su said, no matter what I want to do, as long as I don’t get in the way.”

Zhao Yan gazed at Wenren Lin’s half-lowered, dense eyelashes and said softly, “I don’t know what Prince Su seeks, but what I’ve always sought has never been imperial power or position, merely self-preservation. Since there’s no conflict of interest, why be so harsh toward me?”

Wenren Lin was amused by Zhao Yan’s choice of words. He examined the rouge-dyed red moon on the fan and said, “Does Your Highness truly believe so naively that this prince only seeks power and position?”

Seeming to realize what he had just said, Wenren Lin paused briefly. He had never been one to let his guard down so easily before. Had he been too indulgent with the little princess lately?

Wenren Lin slowly closed his fan, the smile in his dark eyes fading somewhat: “Your Highness need not waste effort trying to extract information. This prince doesn’t fall for such tactics.”

Seeing that he wouldn’t yield to either gentle or forceful approaches, Zhao Yan opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“No matter what I say, Prince Su will never be satisfied. I already spent half the night sleepless, then came down the mountain in this scorching heat to deliver a fan, thinking I might please Prince Su for a moment, only to be scolded for no reason.”

Zhao Yan frowned slightly, took the veiled hat from the table, and put it on firmly. “I’m leaving.”

Wenren Lin glanced at the glaring sunlight outside and said, “Stop.”

Zhao Yan ignored him. The next moment, her arm was seized.

…

…

Wenren Lin slowly lowered his gaze, pulling her back in front of him. “You’re allowed to use little schemes, but I’m not allowed to expose them? Your Highness, why are your teeth so sharp and unreasonable?”

As he spoke, he meaningfully tapped his shoulder with his fan, causing the pair of warm jade fan pendants to collide with a crisp sound.

Zhao Yan inexplicably recalled the two teeth marks she had left on his shoulder when she couldn’t endure their entanglement at Hegui Pavilion, causing her cheeks to flush.

“Wasn’t Prince Su initially interested in sparing my life because my personality differed so greatly from my brother’s?”

Lying to someone like Wenren Lin was not a wise move, so Zhao Yan didn’t hide anything anymore. She turned her face away and said, “This is simply my nature. When others repeatedly harm me, I must bite back.”

With her lip rouge wiped away, the small cut on her lower lip was particularly noticeable.

Wenren Lin recalled the scene from last night in the bath: the little princess with her black hair floating like clouds, forced to open her lips and tongue, suffocating to the point of repeatedly pounding his shoulders with her fists.

The gloom in his heart dissipated. Wenren Lin bent down, pressing his fan against her lips, and asked languidly: “Then why didn’t you bite back last night?”

Zhao Yan’s teeth did indeed itch, but she wasn’t about to fall into his trap so easily. She calmly said, “If I had bitten back, how would I know Prince Su wouldn’t make things difficult for me?”

Wenren Lin showed a very faint, surprised expression: “The little princess has grown wiser.”

Zhao Yan softly retorted, “To live up to expectations, I must sharpen my teeth even more…”

Wenren Lin nodded with an “mm,” smiling as if seeing through her thoughts, “This prince will wash himself thoroughly, ready to offer his neck.”

Zhao Yan was startled, looking at him with increased suspicion.

This time, Wenren Lin was genuinely in high spirits, with pleasure hanging at the corners of his eyes and brows. He instructed the servants outside: “Have the kitchen prepare some food for Her Highness to gnaw on.”

Lunch was still light fare as usual, though a bowl of sweet and refreshing sour plum soup was added beside Zhao Yan.

After lunch, as the sun began to slant, Wenren Lin personally escorted Zhao Yan back to Yuquan Palace.

The carriage passed through green shade and cicada songs. The pale sunlight gradually transformed into a rich golden color, penetrating through the mountain forest to cast strips of light.

Seeing Wenren Lin resting with his elbow bent against his forehead, Zhao Yan couldn’t help asking: “Does Prince Su dislike meat and spicy foods?”

Seeing Wenren Lin slowly open his eyes, she supported her chin and said matter-of-factly: “This isn’t prying. I simply want to understand Prince Su better, to make fewer mistakes in the future, lest I die without even knowing how.”

Wenren Lin avoided answering directly, tapping the folded fan on his knee: “As long as Your Highness obediently follows instructions, you naturally won’t die.”

The carriage stopped at the right moment—they had arrived at Yuquan Palace.

Zhao Yan reached for the veiled hat on the table, but Wenren Lin took it first.

He then gently placed the hat on Zhao Yan’s head, leaning slightly forward and turning his face to the side. His long fingers held the ties, threading and knotting them with the utmost elegance.

Zhao Yan was forced to slightly raise her chin, looking at Wenren Lin’s calm, handsome face so close to her.

“Do you remember the warnings I gave you at the villa?” he asked.

His cool fingerbones occasionally brushed against her jawline. Zhao Yan swallowed and said softly, “I remember.”

“Good. This prince is willing to indulge you only when you obey.”

Wenren Lin raised his hand to adjust the angle of the veiled hat, then carefully smoothed the hanging veil.

With vision obscured by a layer of gauze, his features became indistinct, only his deep voice coming through clearly: “Otherwise, even if Your Highness begs with tears, this prince will never come to your rescue.”

Zhao Yan alighted from the carriage with Liu Ying’s assistance. Back at Guanyun Hall, she sat for a long while in the evening sunlight streaming through the window before slowly coming to her senses.

When she opened her eyes again, they were clear and resolute. She picked up her brush, moistened the ink, and wrote down the information from the register and the land deeds from memory.

At the hour of the Dog, the brilliant lights of Yuquan Palace adorned the mountains, resembling a realm of immortals.

At Tingyu Pavilion, Liu Ji looked at the freshly-inked register before her with astonishment and asked: “Where did you get this? It’s even more detailed than the official government records.”

Zhao Yan gently waved her fan, paused, and said: “You need not know that. I’ve already had Gu Xing investigate the buyer of the deed, but there’s something about this register that feels off to me. Please help me examine it.”

“Are all the missing people listed here?”

“About seventy or eighty percent. Time was limited, so I only remembered this many.”

Liu Ji scanned it carefully, then furrowed her spirited brows: “There’s something strange about the dates when these children and young girls disappeared.”

She hopped on one leg to get a vermilion brush, then sat back at the table and circled several dates for Zhao Yan to see. “Every time disappearances become frequent, it’s during the first and last few days of the lunar month, while mid-month is peaceful… doesn’t Your Highness find that odd?”

Zhao Yan slowed her fan-waving, thinking aloud: “Unless mid-month is some special time when they cannot commit crimes.”

That’s right—according to intelligence previously gathered by Gu Xing, whenever the middle of the month approached, Zhao Yuan’yu would quietly slip out of the city, returning only after several days.

There must be a connection between these two matters.

“Could it be they abduct people according to the almanac, considering mid-month inauspicious for travel?”

Something came to mind, and Liu Ji hopped to the inner room, rummaging through boxes and cabinets before hopping back with a half-worn, yellowed booklet.

Zhao Yan rose to support her, asking curiously: “What book is that?”

“The Grand Records of Yin and Yang.”

Seeing Zhao Yan’s confusion, Liu Ji displayed rare awkwardness, raising her hand to her nose and coughing lightly, “It’s about… bedchamber affairs.”

Zhao Yan was stunned, then slowly widened her eyes.

“Why would you bring such a book to Yuquan Palace?”

“A female attendant gave it to me before… well, I was interested in studying it myself.”

Liu Ji frankly admitted, rubbing her slightly reddened ears, “This book states that a man’s yang energy is strongest during mid-month. If a couple wishes to conceive a child, those days are most suitable for conjugal relations…”

When she saw Zhao Yan leaning her head over, Liu Ji hurriedly closed the little yellow book.

“Your Highness is a young lady and shouldn’t read such things. If Zhao Yan knew, he would surely jump out and berate me severely.”

As soon as she finished speaking, both of them froze.

If they could truly have Zhao Yan standing before them alive to scold them, wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Seeing Liu Ji’s remorseful expression, Zhao Yan couldn’t help but smile: “You’re also female, so why can you read it?”

“I…”

Liu Ji averted her gaze, muttering, “I don’t count.”

After this diversion, Zhao Yan’s thoughts became clearer. She returned to the main topic: “So you’re saying that during mid-month, when yang energy is strong, those abducted young girls aren’t being captured because they’re taken for intercourse and childbearing?”

No, that doesn’t make sense.

Girls who haven’t reached adulthood aren’t fully developed, which is disadvantageous for childbearing. If they wanted to abduct someone, they should capture adult women. And what would explain the disappearance of boys under four years old?

Unless their purpose wasn’t childbearing, but rather…

“Harvesting yin to supplement yang.”

Liu Ji continued, “This book says that virgins have the purest essence, most suitable for cultivation. That would explain why young children disappear: The Great Xuan reveres the Dao, promoting the belief that humans possess the five visceral energies, with the heart containing the most yang. The blood from a child’s heart is renowned as pure yang energy, rumored to have the effect of reversing yin and restoring yang…”

These few words wove a bone-chilling theory.

Zhao Yan finally understood why Wenren Lin forbade her from interfering in this matter, and why, despite Prince Su’s estate uncovering many clues about the disappearances, they had delayed in arresting suspects and closing the case.

Because this case involved the doctrines of the Shen Guang sect, and at the pinnacle of the Shen Guang sect stood the current emperor. If the world learned that someone was taking lives and slaughtering young children under the pretext of seeking immortality and enlightenment, putting the truth of the case in plain sight would undoubtedly be slapping the emperor’s face.

Perhaps Wenren Lin was weighing his options. Or perhaps he had other intentions.

But Zhao Yan couldn’t wait any longer. If Zhao Yuan’yu was truly the mastermind behind this, and the Emperor wanted to whitewash the situation while Prince Su’s thoughts remained unfathomable… who else in the entire Great Xuan could bring Prince Yong’s estate to justice?

The scorching summer night suddenly felt bone-chillingly cold.

Zhao Yan set down her fan and asked solemnly: “Liu Ji, which days this month have the strongest yang energy?”

Liu Ji calculated on her fingers: “The eleventh through the thirteenth, these three days.”

Less than five days remained. Zhao Yan’s heart sank.

Seeing through her thoughts, Liu Ji remained solemn for a moment before speaking: “Back then, Zhao Yan had finally reached the position where he could manage court affairs and had several useful subordinates, yet even so, he still lost his life. Now, Your Highness has only two hundred Eastern Palace guards brought by Gu Xing, plus one hundred Imperial Guards who are meant to protect but supervise…”

Zhao Yan understood Liu Ji’s meaning: she had too few people at her disposal. If she reported to the Emperor, he would likely drag things out and seek to smooth over the incident.

“To take action against Jinyun Manor, I don’t necessarily need to step forward personally.”

Zhao Yan raised her eyelashes, bathed in warm candlelight, and said softly, “There are people in court who want to rescue those children more desperately than we do.”

Liu Ji was startled, then realized: “Your Highness means Vice Minister of War Cen Meng?”

…

His young sister Cen Yu had been missing for twenty days.

Cen Meng, with bloodshot eyes and unkempt beard, wandered through streets and alleys. Having asked too many people along the way, his voice had become so hoarse he could barely speak, and could only anxiously gesture with his little sister’s portrait.

Even his colleagues said that a fresh fourteen-year-old girl would obviously be sold to certain establishments, and even if found, she would likely be unrecognizable—better to accept her fate.

This enraged him so much that, disregarding their past friendship, he violently punched the speaker in the face.

That was his little sister!

Their parents had died early, leaving only his sister, still in swaddling clothes, to depend on him. He had carefully raised her, spoonful by spoonful, sheltering each other through storms and hardships. Everyone else could resign themselves to fate, but not him, as her brother!

For assaulting a colleague, Cen Meng was suspended from duty for half a month. He took advantage of this “extended leave” to travel from place to place, eating rough meals and sleeping outdoors, searching for his sister’s whereabouts. Days passed, several horses died of exhaustion, and he became gaunt and dark-skinned. He had even searched the small boats that purchased slender beauties from Yangzhou, nearly losing his life in the process, yet he still hadn’t found the slightest trace of his sister.

If only he had taught his sister some martial arts, Cen Meng thought with eyes full of regret and pain.

His sister had admired the chivalrous jianghu life and constantly pestered him to learn martial arts, but he had objected, saying she lacked the demeanor of a proper young lady. He forbade her to dance or practice with staffs, causing her to run away from home in anger…

If he had properly taught her self-defense skills, or if they hadn’t argued that day, none of this would have happened.

After several days and nights without sleep, Cen Meng toppled from his horse.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself lying in a post station with a letter pressed on the table, accompanied by a map marking the location of Jinyun Manor.

After reading the letter’s contents, Cen Meng was both shocked and suspicious.

He had been convinced his sister was kidnapped, so he had limited his search to brothels and slave traders who purchased concubines and maids. He never imagined that someone would abduct so many children and young girls for the absurd reason of “harvesting yin to supplement yang.”

Cen Meng had doubted the identity of the letter sender, but his sister had been missing too long for him to hesitate. This thread of hope could very well be his sister’s only chance at survival!

Realizing this, he immediately informed fellow victims Magistrate He and Director Hu of the Court of Judicature, and together they mobilized nearly a hundred officials and guards to converge on the ghostly Jinyun Manor, deciding to act first and report afterward.

But when they rushed up the mountain that night, they saw only fires burning throughout the manor.

Magistrate He, unable to bear the crushing of hope, nearly fainted, and the hastily assembled group fell into chaos.

“I hear crying.”

Cen Meng raised his hand for silence, then his bloodshot eyes brightened as he dismounted, saying, “Children are crying inside! Hurry, save them!”

Thick smoke rose skyward, like ghostly shadows hovering around the distant mountainside.

Zhao Yan was putting on her clothes while leaving Guanyun Hall, frowning as she asked, “What’s happening?”

Gu Xing returned, panting heavily, to report: “The Vice Minister of War and his group went up the mountain to search for people, but when they arrived, Jinyun Manor was already on fire.”

Zhao Yan laughed coldly: “They intend to burn everything—people and manor alike—to destroy all evidence.”

The mountain lacked water, and with the wind blowing, the fire would inevitably spread across the entire mountain. The small group Cen Meng had brought was far from enough to fight the fire!

Should they watch helplessly as Zhao Yuan’yu escaped and all evidence was destroyed in flames?

Zhao Yan stood at the gate of Yuquan Palace, looking down from above. In the cool summer night breeze, her apricot-white robe floated like that of an immortal.

Her eyes reflected the red flames on the distant black mountain. With a calm gaze, she took a deep breath and commanded: “Prepare horses! Bring everyone we can use to Jinyun Manor!”

At the Prince’s estate, in the Western Mountain villa.

Wenren Lin was practicing calligraphy in his study with his hands behind his back. The window paper faintly reflected the glaring fire from the distant mountainside.

Cai Tian hurried in, reporting solemnly: “Jinyun Manor is on fire. It appears they’re trying to escape.”

Wenren Lin’s brush moved like flying dragons and swimming serpents as he replied calmly: “Isn’t Cen Meng there to rescue people?”

“But the evidence…”

“Let it burn. This prince still has use for Zhao Yuan’yu as a chess piece.”

“Yes.”

Remembering something, Cai Tian lowered his voice, “The Crown Princess has also gone there.”

The folded fan fell to the ground.

Wenren Lin’s brush stroke faltered, and the fine jade brush snapped into two pieces in his fingers.