Zhao Yān didn’t remain unconscious for long. When she awoke, she was in a carriage, lying in Wenren Lin’s arms.

Her hearing returned first, the chaotic sound of rain once again enveloping her from all directions, then her vision gradually cleared.

Rainwater rolled down Wenren Lin’s pale jaw, dripping onto Zhao Yān’s forehead.

In the dim light of the carriage, his damp outer robe appeared a deep red, as if soaked in blood.

After a sharp ringing in her ears, memories of pursuing Zhao Yuan’yu flooded back. Zhao Yān gripped the short dagger at her side, struggling to sit up.

Wenren Lin placed his palm on her shoulder, applying gentle yet irresistible pressure.

His eyelashes were also wet, clumped together in small tufts, concealing the emotions in his eyes.

Pressed down by him, Zhao Yān realized her entire body was trembling with exhaustion. She could only gasp helplessly: “Zhao Yuan’yu…”

Wenren Lin gazed at the almost incandescent stubbornness in her eyes. After a long moment, his fingertips gently stroked her rain-soaked pale cheek, coming to rest on her bloodless lips.

“This prince doesn’t believe a defeated dog’s life is more important than Your Highness.”

…

…

Wenren Lin’s voice was low, carrying an elusive hint of tenderness. “This prince admires Your Highness’s spirit. But occasionally I think, if Your Highness’s temperament could be as soft as these lips and tongue, that would be nice.”

He only wanted the little princess to yield slightly, to obediently hide behind him.

But when that beast approached the small, shivering princess in the rain with curved knives, undeniably, a moment of murderous intent erupted in Wenren Lin.

To get something from Wenren Lin, one must pay a corresponding price—she understood this.

So Zhao Yān struggled to raise her trembling fingertips, unhesitatingly pressing down on Wenren Lin’s neck, pressing her cool, moist lips against the corner of his mouth.

Water dripped from Zhao Yān’s hair. She closed her eyes briefly, then determinedly pressed closer, her lips awkwardly and inexpertly pressing, then pursing, attempting to pry open his teeth, eventually nearly biting.

She loosely embraced Wenren Lin’s neck, still tightly gripping the short dagger that supported all her anger and hatred. A sacrificial light kiss, appearing both decadent and startling on this desperate rainy night.

Wenren Lin held her waist with one hand, the other still maintaining its raised position as he slightly lowered his eyelids.

The sound outside gradually ceased. In the narrow space, only the rustling of clothing could be heard. Just as Zhao Yān was about to give up, Wenren Lin’s raised hand finally settled on the back of her neck, gently pushing her away before she suffocated herself.

He gazed at Zhao Yān’s unwilling, slightly flushed face for a long time before asking hoarsely: “Zhao Yān, what have you taken this prince for?”

This was the first time Wenren Lin had called Zhao Yān by her true name, with a somewhat gritted-teeth quality.

A flush appeared on Zhao Yān’s pale face, but she couldn’t answer.

Her vision blurred, her breathing shortened, and even the arm hanging around Wenren Lin’s neck fell limply.

The skin under his palm was burning hot. Wenren Lin finally noticed something wrong and raised his hand to her forehead.

She dreamed of when she was six or seven, peering through the window lattice of Zhao Yǎn’s chamber, standing on tiptoe.

The Imperial Physicians conscientiously surrounded Zhao Yǎn’s sickbed, diagnosing his pulse. The Empress Mother kept constant vigil by her son’s side, occasionally caressing his pale little hand with her vermilion-tinted jade fingers. Even the Emperor made time in his busy schedule to visit, his expression revealing rare tenderness.

Little Zhao Yān watched for a long time, her big eyes showing concern for her brother, but even more so a child’s pure envy.

She turned and ran back to her room, deliberately removed some clothing, and sat barefoot at the hall entrance, blowing in the wind and praying. She naively believed that if she fell ill, she would also receive the Emperor and Empress Mother’s meticulous care; if she took the illness upon herself, her brother would recover.

“When will you ever stop worrying me?”

The Empress Mother merely looked at her thinly clothed daughter, wearily rubbing her brow.

She dreamed of her fifteenth birthday, of Zhao Yǎn’s rain-dampened, sickly face.

His dark pupils were gentle and generous as he bent to pick up the green sandalwood jewelry box. “Yan’er, brother doesn’t pity you. Brother just doesn’t know how to make up for even a fraction of the grievances you’ve suffered over the years.”

“You do!”

The young girl blurted out, “Zhao Yǎn, you already have so much… If possible, I would rather exchange identities with you.”

One statement became prophecy, turning into a nightmare she couldn’t shake.

Why had she said such things? Zhao Yān had questioned herself more than once.

If she hadn’t uttered that “curse,” if she hadn’t spoken those heartless, hurtful words, would Zhao Yǎn still be alive and well?

But there are no “what ifs” in life. She could only move forward bearing the shadow of memory, each day impersonating Zhao Yǎn was heaven’s punishment for her ignorance.

Until this rainy night, when she heard Zhao Yuan’yu confess everything to her ears.

“What if it was me!”

“Zhao Yǎn… You should have died on the way back from the palace!”

The ferocious laughter in the thunderstorm shook her to the core.

So Zhao Yǎn had not weakly died of illness, nor had he died from her so-called “curse.” She hadn’t killed Zhao Yǎn.

She dreamed of herself pursuing her enemy with a short blade, but never catching up. Zhao Yuan’yu’s maniacal laughter echoed from all directions as rolling flames engulfed her—unbreakable, inescapable.

“Zhao Yuan’yu… don’t run!”

She seemed to be in a furnace, hoarsely struggling against an invisible enemy, utterly exhausted.

Until something cool pressed against her forehead, like a stream of cold spring water flowing through, dispersing the sneering and burning of her nightmare.

Zhao Yān uncomfortably nuzzled her cheek toward that cool spring, begging for more. Until her entire body curled up against it, her damp eyelashes finally closed as she wearily sank into peaceful darkness.

When she awoke again, it was broad daylight.

The rain had cleared, leaving a blue sky filled with birdsong. The summer sun shone through the oil-green leaf gaps, casting a patch of bright light on the windowsill.

Having slept face down for too long, Zhao Yān felt top-heavy. For a moment, she couldn’t tell what day it was; only the familiar furnishings told her she had returned to Guanyun Hall in Yuquan Palace.

Her upper garment was half removed, exposing her chest binding and shoulders. Someone sat at the foot of the bed, gently massaging the sore spots caused by her excessive sword-wielding. A faint scent of medicinal oil floated in the air.

The technique was so gentle and appropriate that Zhao Yān assumed the person applying medicine was Liu Ying. She coughed lightly and said hoarsely: “Liu Ying, give me a cup of water…”

The massaging hands paused briefly. After the sound of water being poured, the person rose and walked to the table, pouring a cup of warm tea.

However, the slender fingers that held the cup before her eyes did not belong to Liu Ying.

Zhao Yān looked up along the dark sleeve and was startled, immediately grabbing the cool silk summer quilt to cover herself.

The duel in the rainy night had drained her strength, and she was just recovering from a high fever. Her arms were particularly sore. When she abruptly propped herself up, she let out a muffled groan. The soft black hair behind her ears fell in strands, covering half her cheek.

Wenren Lin sat at the edge of the bed with his usual expression and said: “Which part of Your Highness have I not seen?”

That was true. Zhao Yān relaxed slightly and reached out to take the cup from Wenren Lin.

Wenren Lin didn’t move, so Zhao Yān had to silently withdraw her hand, allowing Wenren Lin to bring the tea to her lips.

Was he angry?

Not only had she ignored his warnings and interfered with the missing persons case, but she had ended up in such a miserable state… He should be angry.

Zhao Yān sipped the tea from Wenren Lin’s hand in small mouthfuls, trying to discern some clue from his impassive face.

Wenren Lin didn’t even look up. After finishing the water, he asked: “Do you want more?”

Zhao Yān shook her head, and he put the cup back on the table, then grasped her ankle.

Zhao Yān trembled but remained still.

Wenren Lin rolled up her trouser leg, revealing the scrape on her knee, sustained when she fell to the ground when Chou Zui appeared.

Wenren Lin skillfully took some wound medicine and carefully applied it to the red, scabbing injury. It was a bit cool and a bit painful. Zhao Yān pursed her lips and shrank back slightly.

Only then did Wenren Lin raise his eyes and ask softly: “Now you know to be afraid?”

“I’m not afraid,” Zhao Yān said hoarsely.

Even if it happened again, she would make the same choice, unhesitatingly swinging her blade at Zhao Yuan’yu.

Wenren Lin rested his hand on the bed and asked casually: “Has Your Highness considered what would have happened if this prince hadn’t intervened in time?”

Zhao Yān gripped the bedding tightly.

She knew Wenren Lin must have been concerned and surely had people secretly watching her. Leading the Eastern Palace guards to personally pursue Zhao Yuan’yu undoubtedly involved an element of gamble.

“I must kill him,” Zhao Yān said firmly.

“To kill a sewer rat, you’re willing to lower yourself to get close to this prince?” Wenren Lin asked.

Only then did Zhao Yān recall the fragmentary scenes in the carriage. Watching her enemy escape before her eyes, the helpless hatred drove her to instinctively grasp at any available strength.

“To the Grand Tutor, he’s just a sewer rat. To me, I wish I could drink his blood and eat his flesh…”

Receiving no response, Zhao Yān turned her head away, digging her nails into her palm: “How could the Grand Tutor understand the bond between siblings?”

Wenren Lin’s fingertips paused briefly, then withdrew his hand.

He stood straight, looking at Zhao Yān with eyes like a bottomless, cold pool. He nodded and smiled: “Indeed. All my siblings died at Yanluoguan in the 10th year of Tianyou. I truly don’t understand well.”

This was the first time he had mentioned his family, narrating shocking facts in a cold, calm voice.

Zhao Yān’s heart inexplicably trembled.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something more, but Wenren Lin grabbed a cotton towel to wipe his hands and walked away.

In the sunlight, his dark silhouette against the overlapping mountains resembled millennia-old ink-black ice—tall, sharp, cold, and indestructible.

Once he had gone far enough, Liu Ying finally lifted the curtain and entered, arranging exquisite porridge and food in a row.

Zhao Yān hugged her knees and asked: “Liu Ying, how long was I asleep?”

Liu Ying answered straightforwardly: “Your Highness rarely falls ill. This is the first time you’ve had such a high fever. You slept for a full two days and one night.”

Had she been unconscious for so long? Two days and one night—enough time for Zhao Yuan’yu to flee far away.

Zhao Yān gritted her teeth in hatred.

Liu Ying observed Zhao Yān’s expression and said softly: “It was Prince Su who carried Your Highness back and personally treated you with medicine.”

“Was he… here the whole time?” Zhao Yān asked somewhat dazedly, recalling the comforting coolness from her dream.

“Prince Su would sit by Your Highness’s bedside for a while at night, but was rarely seen during the day.”

Liu Ying made no mention of what Zhao Yān had experienced the night she went missing after the fire rescue, only saying, “Liu Ji made a fuss about coming to visit Your Highness, but was stopped by this servant.”

Zhao Yān took the small bowl of emerald-green chicken congee that Liu Ying handed her, stirring it gently before finally speaking: “I saw Chou Zui. He’s now following Zhao Yuan’yu.”

Liu Ying was stunned, suddenly stepping back and kneeling upright.

“Why are you kneeling?”

Zhao Yān asked in confusion, “Are you going to stop me from investigating further?”

Liu Ying shook her head forcefully, clutching her sleeve: “This servant wishes nothing more than to join Your Highness in slaying our enemy.”

“Enemy…”

Zhao Yān murmured, her eyes suddenly wet, as if all those things she had persevered through alone finally found resonance.

“You finally admit that the Crown Prince was murdered?”

Liu Ying nodded, raising her slightly reddened eyes, and said word by word: “It was Chou Zui who killed the Crown Prince!”