Despite not sleeping all night, Wenren Lin showed no signs of weariness.

Seeing Zhao Yān in a daze, he concealed his smile and moved closer.

“Did I frighten you? Your nose is red.”

Wenren Lin extended his hand to Zhao Yān, applying slight force to easily pull her up from the stone steps.

“No, it’s probably just the wind.”

Zhao Yān smiled, her soft fingertips sliding across his palm before she lowered her head, pretending to brush off the dust from her cloak.

In the early morning hours, the stars had not yet faded, and the horizon showed a dim line of blue-white.

Wenren Lin was tall with long legs, and even when strolling casually, he exuded an indescribable frosty presence. The somewhat rough jade pendant at his waist swayed slightly as he deliberately slowed his pace to walk shoulder to shoulder with Zhao Yān.

Walking beside him, Zhao Yān felt that all the biting wind on the palace path was blocked, giving her a sense of stability and reliability.

“What did you say to Father Emperor?” she asked.

…

…

Wenren Lin raised the corner of his mouth slightly.

Wei Yan was skilled at gauging hearts, and even at the end, he didn’t forget to plant a thorn. Wenren Lin naturally wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the Emperor keeping him behind alone meant he truly wanted to hear the opinion of this “orphan” on the imperial trial. The Emperor simply wanted to clarify whether he had been pushing things forward behind the scenes.

So, he only answered with one sentence: “This subject trusts Your Majesty will give the world an explanation, and defers completely to Your Majesty’s sacred judgment.”

“Just that?”

“Just that.”

“I thought you would strike while the iron is hot and urge Father Emperor to sentence Wei Yan to death.”

Zhao Yān pondered, then added, “I was wondering why I couldn’t find that maid’s whereabouts all this time—it turns out she was in your hands.”

Wenren Lin gave an ambiguous smile: “By the time Your Highness figures out the whole story, that maid will likely have become nothing but bones.”

“…Indeed.”

Zhao Yān felt somewhat defeated. The puzzles she struggled to solve were effortless for Wenren Lin.

She didn’t ask why Wenren Lin hadn’t told her earlier about the witnesses in his possession, why he hadn’t revealed the entire plan, or why he wouldn’t simply sweep away all thorns for her…

Sometimes, Zhao Yān felt that Wenren Lin understood her.

Truth needed to be explored by oneself, and blood feuds needed to be cleared by oneself. Wenren Lin taught her how to become strong, reminded her how to protect herself and counterattack, accompanied her stumbling journey with a profound gaze, but never treated her as a caged bird, restricting her in the name of care.

They each had their own goals, sometimes converging, diverging. Though the path was difficult, Zhao Yān felt it was solid.

Seeing Zhao Yān gathering her sleeves, sometimes raising her eyebrows, sometimes deep in thought, her expressions lively, Wenren Lin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your Highness need not feel inferior. The Eastern Palace was as precarious as morning dew. Having returned to the capital for a year, reaching this point is already quite remarkable.”

He raised his hand and naturally patted Zhao Yān’s head, “In the future, even if this Prince is not around, Your Highness will be able to protect yourself.”

Though his tone was indulgent and praising, Zhao Yān didn’t feel particularly happy hearing it.

“By the way, may I ask you a question?”

“Ask.”

“Why did the Grand Tutor choose tonight to expose what Uncle did years ago?”

Was it merely because she had counterattacked, their goals aligned, and Wenren Lin took the opportunity to put pressure on her uncle?

Wenren Lin stopped walking and looked down at Zhao Yān.

His obsidian eyes in the night were as deep as a cold pond, emitting a faint cold light, but his voice was quite gentle: “Because what this Prince wants is not just his life. Now that the time and place are favorable, naturally I don’t wish to wait any longer.”

Zhao Yān unconsciously asked: “Then what does the Grand Tutor want?”

Wenren Lin didn’t answer. His gaze swept toward the sedan chair waiting outside the palace gate, and he smiled: “Your Highness should go back and get some good sleep. The area under your eyes has turned blue from exhaustion.”

Zhao Yān instinctively touched the area beneath her eyes.

To prepare for the Winter Welcoming ceremony, she had stayed vigilant the previous night without proper sleep, and last night she had stayed up all night again. She was indeed reaching her limit, her head faintly aching as if hammered.

“What about you?” she asked softly.

“This Prince will first escort Your Highness back to the Eastern Palace,” Wenren Lin replied.

Zhao Yān got the answer she wanted, lowered her eyes, and laughed: “All right.”

Back in the Eastern Palace, Zhao Yān felt as if she were floating, exhausted and powerless. After a simple wash, she unclasped her cloak and tossed it aside, then collapsed sideways onto the couch, pulling the corner of the blanket over herself carelessly.

Wenren Lin walked over, bent down to remove her boots, and heard her tired, mumbling voice: “Uncle hasn’t confessed. I suspect he still has some tricks up his sleeve. For example, dragging things out until Father Emperor’s birthday celebration, when a general amnesty might be declared…”

Her voice grew slower and softer, her eyelids so heavy they seemed stuck together, yet her mind still worked on these matters.

Wenren Lin placed her feet in the bedding, carefully tucked in the blanket around her, then leaned on the edge of the bed and said, “Don’t worry. Words can flay a person before the knife is even unsheathed. How could an evil person like this Prince let an enemy die easily?”

Zhao Yān’s consciousness was hazy, and she lacked the strength to analyze the deeper meaning of his words. She only vaguely felt that Wenren Lin probably hadn’t played his final card yet.

She instinctively moved further into the bed, making room for half the blanket, letting Wenren Lin lie down to rest as well.

Wenren Lin sat on the edge of the bed, only to find a pair of arms wrapping around him like vines, embracing his strong waist with its cold sword belt. She even moved closer, finding a comfortable position on her own, her breathing quickly becoming deep and steady.

Wenren Lin gazed at the soft figure curled up beside him, his gaze moving from the mole at the corner of her eye to her crimson lips, his eyes suffused with tender warmth.

He raised his finger to stroke her temple, leaned down to lightly kiss the tip of her ear, and whispered leisurely: “Sleep.”

…

It wasn’t until several days later that Zhao Yān understood what Wenren Lin meant by “words can flay a person.”

The news that Marquis Ningyang Wei Yan had killed Wenren Cang out of personal grudge, indirectly causing the tragic deaths of nearly a hundred thousand soldiers at Yanluo Pass, spread rapidly. The nation was shocked, and public outrage erupted.

First, military generals like Huo Feng, who had been friendly with the Wenren family, requested a thorough investigation. Then, young Confucian scholars, led by those from the Mingde Academy, raised their voices in protest. Finally, the families of countless fallen soldiers spontaneously traveled to the capital from all over.

Outside the palace, ten thousand people knelt silently—from octogenarians to small children with hanging locks—all dressed in mourning clothes, supporting each other as they knelt outside the palace gates, demanding justice for the hundred thousand heroic spirits who had built a wall with their bodies and refused to surrender even in death.

The case escalated, and public opinion flowed like water—the slightest disturbance could cause huge waves.

Memorials poured in like snowflakes. The Emperor hadn’t slept for several nights in a row and, under public pressure, was forced to accelerate the Ministry of Justice’s interrogation process.

Three hearings were held within four days, leaving Wei Yan almost no room for maneuver.

Perhaps he also understood that at this point, the Emperor could only appease public anger and give the world an explanation with his life.

This morning, when Zhao Yān woke up, Gu Xing came to report that the gates of the Ningyang Marquis’s mansion had been splashed with dog blood and rotten vegetables by angry commoners. Even the stone lions had been destroyed, leaving everything in disarray.

Gu Xing said: “This servant is concerned that this matter might implicate Your Highness.”

Gu Xing’s worries were unnecessary. The “Crown Prince” was also a victim in Wei Yan’s case. Far from transferring their anger to the Eastern Palace, the common people praised the Crown Prince for putting righteousness above family ties and for being brilliant and martial.

The only problem now was that Wei Yan’s confession still made no mention of poisoning the Crown Prince by forging a letter.

After much deliberation, Zhao Yān decided to visit the Ministry of Justice’s prison herself.

The north wind was biting, the winter sun dim, and the bare branches cast dancing shadows on the palace walls.

Under Shunyi Gate, many bereaved families of fallen heroes still knelt in petition. At the very front was an elderly couple supporting each other, as thin as bent, withered branches, occasionally wiping away the turbid tears that seeped from the corners of their eyes. Behind them were widows holding children and half-grown orphans. When one person fainted and fell, others spontaneously filled the gap, just as their sons, husbands, and fathers had continued one after another on the battlefield, building a wall with their flesh and blood to exchange for peace for those who remained…

But those soldiers didn’t die at the hands of the enemy—they died from the schemes of their people! If General Wenren Cang hadn’t been killed, if they had successfully lured the enemy that day and buried the main enemy force in the collapsed mines… then perhaps tens of thousands of people could have returned alive to reunite with their families.

Zhao Yān alighted from her carriage and looked at the people kneeling in the bitter cold wind outside the palace gates, unable to hide her sorrow.

Behind each numb, grief-stricken face was a broken family.

“Have they been kneeling here all this time?” she asked.

“Your Highness, they’ve been kneeling for five days now. When one group falls, another replaces it. They are all here to seek justice for the fallen soldiers.”

The Minister of Justice bowed deeply in greeting, respectfully saying, “That elderly couple has had three sons, all of whom perished successively in battle. Now they are lonely and pitiable. And those women at the end of the third row are all young widows in their twenties. Their husbands went north to battle right after marriage, and not even their corpses could be returned… It’s truly heartbreaking.”

As the cold wind swept by, Zhao Yān’s eyes grew moist.

She closed her eyes and said softly, “Go prepare some items to keep them warm, and boil some ginger soup to drive away the cold. Any expenses needed can be drawn from the Eastern Palace. Tell them that the court will punish the evildoers severely and will not let those who sacrificed themselves for the country be disappointed.”

The Minister of Justice repeatedly said “Yes” and went to make arrangements.

Zhao Yān composed herself and followed the lamp-bearing official into the Ministry of Justice prison.

Inside the prison, a cold, putrid smell assaulted her face. Zhao Yān saw Wei Yan confined in the innermost cell.

He had grown thinner but didn’t look particularly disheveled. His hair was tied with a cloth band, his prison clothes neat, still elegant and clean.

He knelt behind the only broken table in the cell, polishing an inexpensive bamboo flute with wool felt, his movements slow but precise, as if he were resting among clouds and stones rather than imprisoned.

Those hands, gentle as jade, had once taught Zhao Yǎn to practice calligraphy with a suspended wrist, had once lifted her onto his shoulders with a smile. Warm memories were severed by reality, and now she found those hands terrifying.

Seeing her standing outside the cell with a complex expression, Wei Yan put down the bamboo flute and spoke first: “His Majesty has compassion for prisoners, allowing me to play music in jail to pass the time. Whatever the Crown Prince wishes to ask, please ask all at once.”

Zhao Yān looked at his composed demeanor and calmly asked: “Does Uncle not feel afraid or ashamed when hearing the crying of the soldiers’ families outside the door?”

Wei Yan replied serenely: “What’s done is done. What use is fear now?”

“You’re willing to confess now.”

“Yes. Wenren Lin wants to kill me with public opinion. At this point, I have no power to turn the tide.”

Wei Yan’s gaze held a serene understanding of everything. “I might as well be honest, at least to ensure Yue is not implicated.”

The more deeply and heavily he loved, embracing the moon, the more ironic Zhao Yān found it.

She said slowly, “Uncle is not worthy to speak Aunt’s name. To commit atrocities in the name of love is to defile love itself.”

Wei Yan paused as he was about to wet his brush with ink, and after a while, let out a soft sigh.

“You all believe I moved against Wenren Cang to steal Yue.”

“Wasn’t that the case?”

“No, of course not. When I met Yue, Wenren Cang had not yet been betrothed to her. At fourteen, I became the head of the Marquis’s household, having a title but no substantial fortune. As a poor youth, I wasn’t welcomed among the noble families. I once submitted poems and essays to prestigious families, seeking connections, only to be met with merciless mockery. My heartfelt works were scattered everywhere, trampled into the mud, while they laughed uproariously… Would Your Highness care to guess who humiliated me?”

Zhao Yān suddenly felt cold, pressing her lips tightly together.

On the day of the Double Ninth Festival when she visited the Ningyang Marquis’s mansion, she saw many scholars and literati submitting poems outside the gate, receiving favorable treatment.

At that time, Wei Yan had said: “When this subject was young and self-recommending, I was rebuffed. I wouldn’t want them to experience the same contempt.”

“It was the two Wenren brothers. At that time, General Wenren was a pillar at His Majesty’s side, and the Wenren family commanded great respect in the capital. Rejected by them, I naturally became an object of ridicule. Only Yue dared to stand up and defend me with a few words. It was then that I resolved never to let down Yue, nor talented people across the land.”

Wei Yan gazed at the narrow, cold light outside the window and continued slowly, “But before I could grow up, Yue became engaged to Wenren Cang. The person I despised most took away the woman I regarded as the bright moon… I just wanted to take back what belonged to me.”

“Belonged to you…? What do you take Aunt for?x”

Zhao Yān could barely control her voice as it rose, trembling as a fellow woman.

Wei Yan was startled, then said self-mockingly: “Yes, I am base. But after committing one wrong, I had to use countless other wrongs to cover it. I couldn’t turn back, nor did I ever regret it. The only one I’ve wronged is Yue.”

How could someone who had once possessed light be willing to return to the dark swamp?

He climbed upward relentlessly, even if it meant stepping on mountains of corpses and bones. As long as he could grasp that beam of light, revitalize the Ningyang Marquis’s mansion, and trample underfoot those who had once looked down on him, he would stop at nothing.

This obsession beneath the facade of a gentleman sent a cold chill through Zhao Yān’s heart, not to mention what Aunt must feel, having been deceived for eight years of marriage?

“Even if you moved against the Wenren family out of personal grudge, why target me?”

Zhao Yān secretly clenched her fingers. “At Mother Empress’s birthday banquet, Uncle could imitate a hundred different ways to write ‘longevity,’ and you once taught us siblings, knowing our handwriting intimately. That day at the Ningyang Marquis’s mansion, Aunt said Princess Changfeng’s calligraphy had greatly improved, which means you’ve seen her recent writing. With Uncle’s calligraphic accomplishments, imitating my sister Zhao Yān’s handwriting must have been effortless.”

Wei Yan didn’t deny it, saying: “That letter—you indeed guessed correctly.”

With the truth before her eyes, Zhao Yān involuntarily stepped forward and said hoarsely: “Now all clues point to you, but I don’t understand your motive. Was it because the Crown Prince’s new policies… affected your interests?”

To her surprise, Wei Yan merely shook his head and laughed lightly upon hearing this.

“For scholars, governing the world is heaven’s principle. The Crown Prince worked for the country and people, and though it damaged the fortune I had accumulated over half my lifetime, his heart is commendable. I am not that narrow-minded.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Has the Crown Prince forgotten or truly doesn’t know?”

Wei Yan stood up, walked slowly forward, and said across the prison bars, “Last year, before the summer retreat, the Crown Prince came to the Ningyang Marquis’s mansion to play Go with me and said something.”

Zhao Yān maintained her composure and said steadily: “…Which statement are you referring to?”

Wei Yan stared fixedly at Zhao Yān and said slowly: “The Crown Prince said that the battle at Yanluo Pass that year likely had internal problems.”

Though she was prepared, Zhao Yān’s mind still roared, and she nearly lost her footing.