Behind Chongwen Hall was a chamber with a heated couch for imperial princes and their tutors to rest.

Empress Wei hurried over, the ornamental pendants on her phoenix crown having lost their usual dignity.

Zhang Xu, the Imperial Physician under the Eastern Palace’s command, was already waiting in the hall. Liu Ying and Li Fu surrounded the small couch—one wiping the face, the other offering water—not allowing other palace maids or eunuchs to approach.

Through the gap between the two figures, one could see Zhao Yān lying unconscious on the couch, tightly wrapped in fox fur, with a swollen red mark on her forehead and faint traces of blood from one nostril.

“What happened?” The Empress sat on the edge of the couch, dismissing the remaining attendants.

Li Fu occasionally let out a sob, kneeling as he answered: “His Highness was playing chess with the Grand Tutor when, for some reason, blood began flowing from his mouth and nose, and he suddenly fainted.”

Her Highness had merely shed a few drops of blood from her nose, yet this young man described it as if she were at death’s door. But if it hadn’t been made to sound serious, they wouldn’t have been able to escape from Prince Su’s scrutiny today.

Empress Wei’s expression grew heavy as she reached out to touch the bruise on Zhao Yān’s forehead. Those tightly closed, delicate eyelashes trembled imperceptibly.

The Empress’s fingertips paused, and she exchanged a glance with the young Imperial Physician, immediately understanding everything.

No one in the palace knew that the Minister of Imperial Sacrifices, Rong Shiqing, was an old acquaintance of the Empress from their youth, sharing a friendship strong enough to die for one another. Since the Imperial Physicians Office was under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Imperial Sacrifices, it wasn’t difficult to select a reliable, discreet physician to conceal the truth.

…

…

Zhang Xu had just come of age, yet he was a once-in-a-century talent in the Imperial Physicians Office. Naturally quiet and solitary, he was ostracized by his peers for his somewhat unorthodox research directions. Such a person was most suitable to be recruited for the precarious Eastern Palace.

The throat-altering medicine that Zhao Yān drank daily was concocted by him.

“The warm charcoal in the hall was excessively hot, damaging the lung qi. The Crown Prince is also too physically weak and couldn’t withstand the sudden rush of fire to the heart, which led to the fainting spell.”

As he spoke, he had already prepared a prescription and handed it to Li Fu to procure and brew the medicine.

The small eunuch standing guard outside the door pricked up his ears, listened, and then immediately withdrew without a trace of emotion, hurrying to Chongwen Hall to report.

After all uninvolved persons had left, Empress Wei ordered Liu Ying to close the doors and windows tightly. Her complex gaze fell on the unconscious patient on the couch.

The Empress composed herself and said lightly, “How long do you intend to pretend?”

The long eyelashes trembled like crow feathers several times, and Zhao Yān pretended to gradually regain consciousness. Her eyes scanned the surroundings before she whispered: “Where is Prince Su?”

Liu Ying stood by the door crack for a while, ensuring there were no suspicious persons outside, before returning to report: “Prince Su sat in the hall for a moment, then left.”

Only then did Zhao Yān fully open her eyes, lift the fox fur, and sit up, exhaling a long breath of scorching air from her lungs.

If she had continued to stay in Chongwen Hall, she would surely have developed a summer illness in the middle of winter.

But the blow to her head was genuine—she had struck the chessboard hard. Zhao Yān lightly touched the red swelling on her forehead and immediately sucked in her breath from the pain. The corners of her eyes reddened, making the small tear mole appear even more delicately crimson and alluring.

Behind the screen, Imperial Physician Zhang Xu stood like a wooden post, indifferent to everything around him. He prepared a blood-activating, swelling-reducing ointment, presented it, then packed his medicine box and prepared to leave.

So sensible and undemanding—no wonder he had been chosen by the Eastern Palace.

After Zhang Xu had also left, Empress Wei finally shed her facade of “maternal affection,” reverting to her usual coolness: “I’m amazed you thought of that. If Prince Su had taken advantage of the moment to feel your pulse, you would already be finished.”

Zhao Yān supported her painfully throbbing head, muttering uncomfortably, “Besides, Wenren Lin isn’t stupid. With the heir apparent fainting during his lesson, he would naturally want to avoid suspicion…”

The Empress’s tone grew more severe: “This is no child’s play. Can you be so fortunate every time?”

Zhao Yān’s blood surged, and her nose, which had just recovered, began to itch again. She quickly tilted her head back against the couch, her eyelashes casting a long, pitiful shadow.

“Please don’t blame Her Highness, Your Majesty. Prince Su lit the charcoal for chess and pressured her step by step. Her Highness had no choice.”

Liu Ying couldn’t help stepping forward to kneel and explain.

Years of constant vigilance had made her forget how to speak in a gentle, soft manner.

Her throat moved several times, but in the end, she only managed to say this moderately weighted sentence.

Liu Ying rose to bring a flower-shaped mirror, using a smooth jade piece to scoop a bit of ointment, applying it lightly and carefully to the wound on Zhao Yān’s forehead, then bandaging it with a clean, soft cloth.

The young boy with red-rimmed eyes, the pure white bandage low on his brow, appeared even more delicately pale and pitiable.

Empress Wei couldn’t help but think of her dead son, unable to hide her sense of disorientation.

For the next two hours, only silence remained in the room.

To complete the act, Zhao Yān drank the medicine and lay in the chamber for half a day before the Imperial Messenger from Taiji Hall arrived.

The old eunuch came to convey the Emperor’s consolation, instructing the Crown Prince to rest well and take care of his health.

This meant the Eastern Palace had an excuse not to attend lessons for the next few days.

Finally able to temporarily escape the shadow called “Prince Su,” Zhao Yān felt the world brighten—the blow to her forehead had not been in vain.

Returning to the Eastern Palace, the lanterns were just being lit, illuminating everything brightly.

Stepping down from the sedan chair, Zhao Yān exhaled deeply, feeling refreshed.

Just as she turned past the corridor, she saw the commander of the Eastern Palace guards approaching, reporting: “Your Highness, a woman named ‘Liu Ji’ requests an audience.”

Hearing this name, Liu Ying’s expression changed slightly: “You let her in?”

These Eastern Palace guards were newly assigned and didn’t know the previous circumstances. They hurriedly explained: “She holds the Eastern Palace token. To see it is like seeing Your Highness in person. We subordinates didn’t dare obstruct her.”

Zhao Yān was completely confused.

She remembered that, except for Liu Ying, all other personnel in the Eastern Palace had been replaced. Who was this “Liu Ji”?

Judging from Liu Ying’s expression, she seemed quite tense about this person’s appearance.

Just as she was about to ask, the main door of Cheng’en Hall ahead was kicked open from within with a thunderous sound.

Zhao Yān looked over in surprise to see a beautiful woman clad in fine silk striding out. She stood imposingly at the steps, angrily saying: “Zhao Yǎn! You sent me away for months—what scheme are you up to?”

Zhao Yān was truly startled, not only because this beautiful woman dared to directly call the Crown Prince by name, but also because of Liu Ying’s whispered words in her ear:

“This person is Liu Ji… the Crown Prince’s… concubine.”

Concu… concubine?

Her frail, helpless brother, only fifteen years old… already had a woman in his chamber?

As she was shocked and doubtful, the beautiful woman noticed the bandage on her forehead and immediately tensed.

“Hey, how did you get hurt? Who did this?”

She stepped forward naturally, raising her hand to touch Zhao Yān’s forehead, but was blocked by the guards’ halberds two steps away.

Liu Ji had never received such treatment before and immediately raised her eyebrows: “Blind fools, you dare block even me?”

To be fair, Liu Ji was a woman who appeared special at first glance.

Her features were grand, with facial features that had more exotic depth than ordinary women. Tall and healthy in stature, her powder and rouge couldn’t conceal her heroic spirit. Even her voice was full and strong, without any of the delicate gentleness typical of ladies in the capital.

Impetuous and fiery, she possessed a beauty that was bold and thorny. The legendary “pride in beauty” was probably the magnificent sight before her eyes.

Zhao Yān sighed, thinking that since coming to the Eastern Palace, there hadn’t been a moment without heart-stopping events.

However, since this was someone who had intimate contact with Zhao Yǎn, she needed to be even more cautious in her response.

“I accidentally bumped my head. It’s already been bandaged, so you needn’t worry,” Zhao Yān cleared her throat and, following Liu Ying’s meaningful glance, reluctantly continued, “I’m a bit tired. I’ll go bathe and rest first.”

Liu Ji looked at her suspiciously.

After a moment, she pushed aside the halberds in front of her, saying: “Let me attend to Your Highness’s bath and change of clothes.”

Seeing that the beautiful woman was two or three inches taller than herself, Zhao Yān quickly tilted her head back and retreated a step, saying: “That won’t be necessary. I have Liu Ying to attend to me.”

A flash of surprise crossed Liu Ji’s eyes. She glanced at Liu Ying, gradually revealing a hurt expression: “Your Highness used to bathe and sleep with me, didn’t you? Why have you become so distant after I went home for just one visit?”

“…”

Zhao Yǎn, I underestimated you.

The freshly bandaged spot on Zhao Yān’s forehead began to throb again.

“Liu Ji has traveled for months and must be tired. You should rest well.”

She pretended to be considerate, finding an excuse to brush it off.

Liu Ji gazed at the Crown Prince’s retreating figure, pondered for a moment, then suddenly asked an irrelevant question: “Will Your Highness still go up to the tower to light lanterns with me tonight?”

Zhao Yān instinctively glanced at Liu Ying, then vaguely said: “Not tonight. Next time.”

Liu Ji said no more, watching as she slowly walked away.

…

Without Wenren Lin’s oppressive presence, Zhao Yān enjoyed two rare lazy mornings, with her only headache being how to properly send Liu Ji away.

“Liu Ying,” Zhao Yān deliberated for a long time before calling, “Tell me in detail about this Liu Ji.”

In Prince Su’s mansion, the candle stands cast flickering shadows.

Wenren Lin wore his usual dark casual attire, practicing calligraphy at his desk.

“The Crown Prince again excused himself from Chongwen Hall today, citing a headache,” Left Vice General Zhang Cang reported in a low voice, with much indignation.

Wenren Lin himself seemed unaffected, his eyes as calm as water, reflecting the soft warmth of candlelight.

Zhang Cang pondered what his lord might be planning now.

The little Crown Prince had first ruined his lord’s chess game, then feigned illness for several days, leaving his lord waiting in Chongwen Hall. More incredibly, the typically decisive and ruthless prince showed no anger, leisurely returning to his mansion to read books and practice calligraphy.

His master’s head was almost emanating a saintly halo. The last time things were this calm was before he plotted the extermination of the entire Yi Marquis clan.

As he was contemplating, a knock came from outside the study.

“Your Highness, Physician Sun has arrived,” said Cai Tian, another personal guard of Prince Su’s mansion.

Wenren Lin unhurriedly finished his final stroke before straightening and putting down his brush.

“Prepare the carriage. Ask Physician Sun to accompany this prince to the palace.”

He examined the still-wet ink, took a handkerchief, and slowly wiped his fingers, calmly saying, “The Crown Prince is suffering so. As the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor, this prince should personally pay a visit of concern.”

Zhang Cang looked at the time outside in surprise.

It was the hour when people settled for the night, when lanterns dimmed—precisely the time when people were most relaxed and off-guard.

They usually chose this time to raid houses and capture people, always successfully.

Understanding what was happening, Zhang Cang shuddered.

His Highness’s… true intent lay elsewhere.