Most of the time, Wenren Lin’s patience was unnaturally strong.

Even when occasionally stooping to serve, his hands were accustomed to controlling everything, his gaze lowered yet dark and calm.

Zhao Yān had mentioned she didn’t quite like the way he remained detached, that composed and profound observing manner, which made her feel an almost shameful embarrassment.

But this time was different. Wenren Lin propped up one long leg as he reclined, his snow-white garment loose, one hand casually resting on his knee, the other arm around Zhao Yān’s waist, his eyes lowered as he kissed and nipped meticulously.

The hall was dark, only vague outlines of objects discernible.

Zhao Yān wanted to see Wenren Lin’s expression in the moonlight, but suddenly felt a pain on her lips as the man’s deep, hoarse voice came: “Pay attention.”

“…”

Zhao Yān’s palms were hot with fine sweat. After a long moment, she bit her lip and struggled to say, “I can’t, I can’t manage…”

“When this Prince serves Your Highness, my hands are never idle.”

Wenren Lin raised the hand resting on his knee, easily enclosing both of Zhao Yān’s wrists in one palm, teaching her how to properly hold the brush suspended.

…

…

“Your Highness is clever,” Wenren Lin praised in her ear.

In the darkness, sensations were infinitely magnified. Zhao Yān’s arms ached terribly, and just as she was about to speak up to avoid further practice, her lips and tongue were completely sealed.

A forceful yet tender kiss; she could only tilt her head back, forced to accept it. Wanting to push him away, she found her hands still bound in his grasp, and that cup of wine immediately transformed into hot sweat seeping out.

Zhao Yān didn’t know how long it had been before Wenren Lin finally released her.

Her lips were as red as dripping blood, her entire being as if dragged from water, helplessly leaning against the man’s broad chest, taking small gasps for air.

There was a rustling sound beside her as Wenren Lin rose, moving with ease through the dark hall.

When he returned, he had already donned his official robe, everything in order, holding a pot of tea found from somewhere. He moistened a cotton cloth with the cold tea, took Zhao Yān’s slender white hand, and unhurriedly wiped it clean.

In the dimness, his neat official robe appeared a heavy dark red, and when he raised his eyes, his deeply handsome features were accentuated by this dark red attire.

“Your Highness has dampened the hem of this Prince’s robe.”

His voice carried a hint of languor, as if merely stating a fact.

Even the night couldn’t conceal the blush on Zhao Yān’s cheeks. She uncomfortably curled her fingertips, only to be gently yet firmly pressed down by Wenren Lin. The cool dampness of the cotton cloth after wiping took away the numbness and heat from her fingers.

He said: “Your Highness wears another’s skin, so unavoidably there will be some wild bees and butterflies around. But for these matters, you can only come to this Prince, do you hear?”

“Now you don’t want me to stay clear-headed?”

“Asking Your Highness not to have too many expectations of this Prince doesn’t mean avoiding me. Your Highness has misunderstood. Whose fault is that?”

“Either way, you’re in the right. Indulging yourself, yet making things difficult for others.”

A person like Wenren Lin, strong enough and ruthless enough, not to mention their entangled experiences through so much together, maintaining an ordinary mindset toward him was truly difficult.

Perhaps knowing his thoughts would clarify where his unreasonable contradictions came from.

Zhao Yān simply raised her eyes and asked: “I’ve always been unable to guess, what exactly does the Grand Tutor want to do?”

Wenren Lin slowed his wiping, gazing at Zhao Yān’s thoughtful expression, and asked in return: “Has Your Highness ever considered removing this disguise and living the peaceful life that Princess Changfeng should have?”

Zhao Yān was momentarily stunned.

With Prince Yong and his son punished, Consort Xu’s child only four months along, new policies not yet implemented, and the imperial family without heirs… she couldn’t imagine what awaited the Great Xuan if she withdrew now.

“I’ve thought about it, but not now.”

Zhao Yān reclined on the arhat bed, her figure’s curves visible beneath the young man’s robes, and spoke frankly, “I want to do what I can within my abilities. Besides, ‘beware of trickery when battles go too smoothly’—that’s what the Grand Tutor taught me. I feel something isn’t right, and I need to clarify it.”

Wenren Lin chuckled lightly, enticing as he said: “This Prince can do these things for you. Your Highness needs only settle your heart and entrust yourself to this Prince.”

Zhao Yān scrutinized Wenren Lin in the moonlight, trying to discern the truth in his words.

“I refuse.”

She pressed her lips together, speaking clearly and soberly, “I don’t want to place my life in another’s hands. I belong only to myself, and I can do these things myself.”

An expected answer.

Wenren Lin looked at her exceptionally clear eyes and couldn’t help but raise a finger to press the small red mole at the corner of her eye.

“This Prince loves this resilient spirit within Your Highness’s gentleness.”

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “It makes this Prince want to enfold Your Highness in my embrace and torment you thoroughly.”

Zhao Yān suddenly widened her eyes, gathering her clothes: “You don’t want to… again?”

“Your Highness.”

Zhang Cang’s voice timely sounded from outside the hall, with a hint of awkward constraint, “The Emperor requests your presence at Taiji Hall.”

Wenren Lin placed the damp cotton cloth on the small table, picked up the breast binding and wrapped it around Zhao Yān again, asking: “Will Your Highness return to the banquet, or the Eastern Palace?”

“Eastern Palace.”

Zhao Yān didn’t hesitate, raising her arms and saying in a muffled voice, “I don’t have the strength now…”

“Don’t have what?”

Wenren Lin tied the breast binding securely, deliberately asking.

“Don’t have the strength!” Zhao Yān had to repeat herself, enduring the embarrassment.

Wenren Lin laughed with pleasure, his chest slightly vibrating with the sound.

“Your Highness’s stamina needs improvement.”

Still laughing, he added, “Next time, this Prince will teach Your Highness a simple sword technique, which can both strengthen the body and provide self-defense.”

Zhao Yān remained silent. Great, now she had no excuse to avoid him.

“Your Highness may rest here for a moment; someone will come to clean up.”

Wenren Lin carefully fastened her jade belt for her, then raised his hand to rub the top of her head before standing and leaving.

With the sound of the door opening and closing, Wenren Lin instructed outside: “The Crown Prince is drunk; prepare a carriage to send her back to the Eastern Palace.”

Moments later, Liu Ying entered with a lantern, calling: “Your Highness?”

“Don’t light the lamp,” Zhao Yān was thin-skinned, fearing she might see something.

The bed was still damp in a small patch, but fortunately, it was covered with a jade mat, which would dry soon.

Zhao Yān sat up, rubbing her fingertips, and said: “Go fetch a basin of clean water, I need to wash my hands again.”

Liu Ying obediently withdrew with the lantern, closing the door, and the hall fell back into peaceful darkness.

Zhao Yān sat with her legs bent on the arhat bed, her arm resting on the screen, her fingertips gleaming with a soft white light in the moonlight. Her palms were rubbed red, seemingly still retaining an unusual sensation. She couldn’t help but clench her fingers and bury her burning face in the crook of her arm.

What was this? Why did they always resolve grievances in this manner?

The key was that she still quite… it was truly inexplicable.

Just as she was thinking, a series of light, hurried footsteps came from outside the window.

Someone was there? Zhao Yān unconsciously perked up her ears.

A somewhat flustered, deep voice said: “Since Daoist Master Huang’s death, the master has lost his eyes and ears, and can only pass messages under the pretext of banquets.”

“Huang” was Priest Shen Guang’s secular surname, but who was this “master”?

Zhao Yān tensed instinctively, quietly rising and supporting herself on the backrest of the arhat bed, carefully poking a small, inconspicuous hole in the window.

Through the narrow field of vision, she could see a patch of garden rockery path, the stones appearing white in the moonlight.

A man resembling a Daoist priest stood holding a whisk, with his back to Zhao Yān, conversing with another person. The other person was hidden behind the rockery, not even a hem of their robe visible, making their identity unrecognizable.

After saying something inaudible, the first person spoke again: “Rest assured, once that person from the Xu family gains His Majesty’s trust, he will be more useful than Daoist Master Huang.”

After the conversation, he held his palm upright with the thumb and index finger bent, murmuring something softly.

Zhao Yān was too familiar with this gesture! In the secret chamber at Jinyun Mountain Villa, the female Daoist who blew up the pill-making room had saluted in exactly this way, muttering something about “Divine Light descends, the Infinite Immortal Master…”

Was the Divine Light Sect still rampant? Did “the Xu person” refer to Xu Maojun?

Zhao Yān knelt by the window, deep in thought about the Divine Light Sect’s intentions, when she was startled by the sound of Liu Ying opening the door, causing her to stumble.

Liu Ying hurriedly bowed to apologize: “This servant deserves death; I forgot to knock.”

“I was lost in thought, it’s not your fault.”

Zhao Yān moved to sit at the edge of the arhat bed, carefully washed her hands, then soaked the used, damp cloth in clean water until all traces were washed away, finally letting out a long breath.

She put on her boots and got off the bed, still a bit weak in the legs when she landed.

“Be careful, Your Highness.” Liu Ying quickly offered support.

Zhao Yān waved it off awkwardly, steadied herself with lowered eyes, and couldn’t resist silently criticizing Wenren Lin.

…

During the intermission of the Imperial Lectures, civil officials gathered in small groups, some chatting and laughing, others gazing into the distance.

Zhao Yān sat with her chin propped on her hand, lost in thought as she watched the white mist of incense flowing over the table.

Over these days of Imperial Lectures, the contending of various schools of thought had shown her the importance of a nation’s literary culture; there was indeed another battlefield within brush, ink, and compositions.

She had an idea and leaned over to tap Liu Baiwei’s table with her brush, saying softly: “I have an idea. If we could use Mingde Hall as a model to widely establish academies, teaching our ideas, we could gradually gather like-minded people. Gathering water forms a stream—wouldn’t that be better than fighting alone?”

“Indeed, we discussed a similar proposal with the Crown Prince last year.”

Liu Baiwei elegantly twirled the folding fan in his hand and raised an eyebrow: “However, does Your Highness have money?”

“…”

Zhao Yān’s expression turned wistful as she pressed the brush to her nose, saying, “Let me think of a way… By the way, what have you discovered about Xu Maojun’s background?”

“Just as Your Highness guessed, this person had no representative works before, only rising to prominence after the imperial examination. His character is arrogant, yet his writings are surprisingly restrained—elegant but lacking in force.”

Liu Baiwei’s eyes flickered as he closed his fan, saying, “I’ll go test him.”

With that, he rose and walked to Xu Maojun’s table.

“With all these talents gathered at the Imperial Lectures, how can we not have poetry to enliven the occasion? Editor Xu, dare you compose linked verses with me?”

Liu Baiwei was direct, flamboyant, and unrestrained. Xu Maojun hesitated before saying, “Why should I compose linked verses with you?”

“Are you afraid?”

“Nonsense! After ten years of diligent study, how could I fear you?”

“Good. Then let’s use ‘Autumn’ as the theme, and ask everyone to judge, shall we?”

Scholars all love literary contests, and seeing the excitement, they loudly voiced their approval.

Zhao Yān noticed Xu Maojun clenching his fists under the table and knew he was showing fear. She gave a faint smile, rose, and lifted the gauze curtain to enter the eastern wing room.

Huo Zhenzhen, restless by nature, had wandered off somewhere, leaving only Fourth Princess Zhao Shen and one personal palace maid in the eastern wing room.

Seeing Zhao Yān enter, Zhao Shen nervously put down her brush and covered the still-wet paper on the table with a book.

Even with just a glance, Zhao Yān still saw the characters “calm waves send autumn” on the paper—a half-written poem.

She was responding to Liu Baiwei’s poem.

The nearby palace maid curtseyed, her eyes darting toward Zhao Shen, appearing even more nervous than the princess.

Zhao Yān guessed that her Fourth Sister had not fared well under Consort Xu’s care, and that those around her wouldn’t be loyal servants. She spoke to the maid: “I would like some Junshan Silver Needle tea. Go brew a pot.”

The maid hesitated, but serving the Crown Prince was a great honor she dared not refuse, so she quickly curtseyed and went to make arrangements.

Having sent the maid away, Zhao Yān sat down opposite Zhao Shen, smiling warmly: “I’ve been busy attending the Imperial Lectures and haven’t had the chance to properly greet Fourth Sister.”

“Thank you, Crown Prince.”

Zhao Shen, though the elder sister, lowered her head like a younger sister, nervously pinching the edge of her sleeve, saying, “Pei…”

Zhao Yān knew who she wanted to ask about and said: “Pei Sa isn’t here; he’s still confined at home.”

Zhao Shen let out a soft “Ah,” her concern carefully restrained, not daring to reveal even a hint.

With her birth mother sentenced to death, her right ear deaf, being passed from one guardian to another, who knew what Consort Xu had done to shape Zhao Shen into such a humble and introverted character…

Zhao Yān measured her words carefully, asking: “Does Fourth Sister know why Pei Sa attacked Editor Xu?”

Perhaps due to her hearing impairment, Zhao Shen’s reaction was always half a beat slower than most people’s. After a moment, she replied gracefully: “I know.”

Zhao Yān looked at the paper hidden under the book. Given her Fourth Sister’s temperament, exposing this secret would only make her wary and embarrassed, potentially counterproductive.

After pondering for a moment, Zhao Yān asked softly: “I didn’t come today for anything else. Fourth Sister is a princess of the Great Xuan—do you want to marry such a man?”

Zhao Shen was momentarily stunned.

“What kind of princess am I?”

Zhao Shen’s delicate eyelashes lowered, her gentle voice carrying the calmness of someone who had seen through everything: “What’s so good about being a princess of the Great Xuan? I have no other choice.”

The Great Xuan had five princesses: the eldest sister’s prince consort was executed for presumptuous comments about court politics while drunk—her happiness became the first sacrifice in political struggles; after the Battle of Yanluo Pass, the second sister was forced to marry a Northern Yi prince and died on the way to her political marriage; the third sister became a nun and was still praying for the Great Xuan’s blessing in the temple…

As for the youngest sister, Princess Changfeng, she was not yet ten years old when she left the capital.

In comparison, Zhao Shen felt she was already fortunate. As Consort Xu said, a woman’s greatest value was in supporting her husband’s family.

Born into such a world, understanding too clearly only brought pain. So Zhao Shen didn’t think too much, didn’t ask for too much, just read books, daydreamed, and obediently followed arrangements.

“Fourth Sister, it’s fine to be shy, but when it’s time to stand up, you mustn’t shrink back; when it’s time to express your thoughts, you mustn’t remain silent. I only ask that Fourth Sister search your heart—is this marriage what you desire?”

Zhao Yān smiled, saying gently, “I don’t know what difficulties you face, but there are countless paths in the world; you just need to take that first step. For everything else, you have me and Mother Empress.”

Zhao Shen’s heart stirred, and she raised her eyes in a daze.

The “young man” before her was still slender but had less of the sickly air and more brightness, with just the right amount of warmth.

Zhao Yān pressed her advantage: “Don’t be afraid. If things can’t go well, can they get any worse?”

“Fourth Princess, you…”

The curtain was lifted, and Xu Maojun entered with sweat covering his forehead.

Seeing the “Crown Prince” present, Xu Maojun awkwardly stopped, bowing while wiping his sweat.

Zhao Yān wore a polite smile: “Editor Xu arrives at just the right time. Your Daoist prayer text the other night was excellent. I heard Father Emperor intends to promote you to the Ministry of Revenue?”

Xu Maojun could barely contain the smile at the corners of his mouth as he bowed to heaven: “His Majesty shows favor; your subject is unworthy.”

“Editor Xu is being modest. Yesterday, Father Emperor was still troubled by the Luozhou floods, saying that whoever could present a Daoist prayer text to calm heaven’s wrath would be richly rewarded.”

Zhao Yān shook her head slightly, appearing troubled, “Unfortunately, among so many people, not one submission was presentable.”

Xu Maojun’s face indeed lit up with joy.

Seeing it was about right, Zhao Yān gave Zhao Shen a deep look before lifting the curtain to leave.

Liu Baiwei was sitting behind his table playing with his fan. Seeing Zhao Yān return, he chuckled softly: “He couldn’t continue the verse and fled. How did it go on Your Highness’s side?”

“I’m ninety percent certain; this Xu Maojun is suspicious.”

Zhao Yān sipped her tea and whispered, “I’ve set a trap to see how Fourth Sister chooses. If that doesn’t work, we’ll use another method…”

Just as she finished speaking, the rest period ended, and the officials returned to their seats.

Suddenly, from outside came an announcement: “His Highness Prince Su arrives—”

The officials who had been chatting merrily instantly fell silent, and the Remonstrance Official who was to lecture was so startled he nearly dropped the notes in his arms.

“Prince Su? Why has he come?”

“Did we say something offensive, and he’s here to hold us accountable…”

Zhao Yān watched in surprise as Wenren Lin walked leisurely into the hall, moving with perfect ease through the standing officials toward the empty seat beside her.