The Prince Jing’s manor stood majestic and tranquil, showing no trace of the lingering New Year’s festivity.

The bedchamber was spacious. As the door closed, Yu Lingxi found herself enveloped in Ning Yin’s shadow.

“What are you doing?” Yu Lingxi’s throat tightened.

Wasn’t he supposed to be showing her a personal seal he had carved? Why was he removing his clothes?

“Looking at the seal.”

Ning Yin loosened his belt with one hand, a faint smile flashing in his dark eyes. “Isn’t the young lady most skilled at teasing?”

Yu Lingxi was pressed against the couch, thinking his eyes looked both wild and beautiful. He was likely deceiving her again, wanting to stamp some seal on some unspeakable part of her body.

Given her special physical condition today, self-produced and self-consumed, perhaps they wouldn’t even need ink.

Yu Lingxi was surprised by her impropriety at this moment, but with Ning Yin, any impropriety seemed reasonable.

“These few days really won’t work.”

She placed her hands against Ning Yin’s shoulders, then reconsidered and softened her voice, gently saying, “I’m uncomfortable, not in the mood for pleasure.”

Ning Yin unhurriedly massaged her waist dimples, showing no intention of letting go.

“Let’s go to the bath pool.”

His cold, handsome face showed little desire, yet it made one’s heart itch.

“These days… I can’t bathe either.”

Ning Yin raised an eyebrow slightly, taking Yu Lingxi’s hand and placing it on his chest, letting out a very light scoffing laugh. “The young lady eagerly wanted the seal, and now the young lady is being delicate.”

“I don’t want to be like this either, but who can control bodily matters?”

Yu Lingxi mumbled quietly, then got up saying, “I’ll sleep in the outer room.”

She usually slept obediently, but during these special days, she slept restlessly, moving about at night. In her previous life, to avoid provoking the madman, she would voluntarily sleep separately during these few days each month.

Before she could fully rise, her wrist was grabbed, and she fell back onto the edge of the couch.

“Sit still.”

Ning Yin’s voice was calm but carried an undeniable authority.

He rose to open the door and gave a few instructions. Soon, palace maids and attendants arrived carrying silver basins and hot water, along with towels and undergarments.

Yu Lingxi glanced over and even noticed two soft, neatly folded… menstrual clothes on top of the clothing pile.

She coughed lightly and looked away.

The attendants set down the washing items in a row, then bowed and quietly withdrew, closing the door behind them, as practiced as puppets on strings.

Ning Yin unhurriedly removed his outer robe, and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a section of fair, firm forearm.

It wasn’t until he sprinkled dried flowers into the silver basin to ward off cold, kneeling on one knee beside her skirt, that Yu Lingxi realized what he intended to do.

So surprised was she that her first reaction was to curl her toes backward.

“There’s no need, I can do it myself.”

Ning Yin merely raised his eyes slightly, and Yu Lingxi stopped moving.

Her skirt was pushed up above her knees, revealing her inner trousers and luminous, well-proportioned calves. Then her slender ankles were grasped by warm, large hands, removing her embroidered padded shoes and silk stockings.

Yu Lingxi’s feet were small and exquisite as if carved from fine jade, with toes bearing a faint blush. Ning Yin gripped them, comparing them with his palm, curiously concluding: “How are the young lady’s feet formed? They’re not even as wide as my palm.”

He seemed addicted to calling her “young lady” today, his languid, deep tone bewitchingly seductive.

Yu Lingxi curled her toes: “Cold.”

“I want to eat lotus seeds now,” Ning Yin suddenly said, looking at her feet.

Yu Lingxi was puzzled, but Ning Yin just laughed, pinching her little toe.

Yu Lingxi understood, her ear roots burning: “How is it like lotus seeds?”

“Not quite the same, the young lady’s toes are much whiter and more delicate than lotus seeds.”

Ning Yin mischievously pinched them again before reluctantly immersing her feet in the hot water.

The perfect warmth enveloped her, and Yu Lingxi let out a comfortable sigh.

Ning Yin took a nearby cloth and wiped his hands.

His knuckles were long and powerful, with just the right tendons visible on the back of his hand, slightly protruding, rugged yet beautiful. Not as frightening as his veins elsewhere…

“What is the young lady thinking about? Your face is red.”

Ning Yin maintained his hand-wiping motion, giving her a sideways glance.

His eyes were so deep and beautiful, that Yu Lingxi felt as if her thoughts were transparent, instinctively covering her cheeks.

Then she heard a wicked yet pleased soft laugh. From Ning Yin’s slightly curved eyes, it wasn’t hard to see that this fellow was teasing her again.

Yu Lingxi lowered her hand, bashfully splashing her feet in the silver basin.

With a splash, several drops of water splattered onto Ning Yin’s jaw.

Yu Lingxi gasped, hurriedly raising her sleeve to wipe it off apologetically, though her eyes rippled with sly laughter: “Did I get you wet?”

Ning Yin didn’t even blink, using his fingertips to wipe the water from his jaw, saying languidly: “It’s not the first time you’ve made me wet. I’m used to it.”

Yu Lingxi froze for a moment, then curled her toes, wishing she could splash the entire basin of water onto Ning Yin.

“Hurry and bathe, change your clothes. Don’t catch a cold,” she urged, supporting herself on the edge of the couch.

Ning Yin rubbed the water on his fingers, smearing it bit by bit onto Yu Lingxi’s skirt before standing up in his full robes and heading to the washroom.

Yu Lingxi soaked her feet until they were thoroughly warm, washed her body clean, then removed the white jade auspicious cloud hairpin from her hair, loosened her clothes, and rolled onto the bed.

A low cabinet stood at the bedside. Yu Lingxi remembered that in her previous life, Ning Yin had such a cabinet by his bed, though she didn’t know what it contained.

Yu Lingxi instinctively reached out but hesitated when touching the drawer, withdrawing her hand.

Feeling cold and tired these past two days, she yawned, turned toward Ning Yin’s pillow, and calmly closed her eyes.

In the washroom, lamp shadows flickered, light rippling like scales.

Ning Yin, with his black hair loose, slowly emerged from the waist-deep bath pool. Water droplets traced down his stark white chest, and through the steamy mist, the character “Lingxi” appeared as vividly red as blood.

He briefly toweled himself dry, donned his robe, and walked toward the bedchamber.

Opening the door, with candles flickering, the person on the bed was wrapped in quilts, sleeping quietly like a budding flower.

Ning Yin leaned against the bedside, extending his finger to press at the corner of her mouth, pushing it upward slightly.

“So foolish,” he said in a low voice, with some tenderness. “Going to request from Yu Huanchen.”

Yu Lingxi was awakened by the disturbance and murmured, grasping his finger: “Stop it, go to sleep.”

Ning Yin chuckled softly, bit her earlobe, lifted the quilt, and lay down, forcefully drawing Yu Lingxi into his embrace.

In this position, Yu Lingxi fell off the pillow and had to adjust her angle, nestling closer into his embrace.

The lamplight was intimate; Ning Yin’s open collar revealed a large expanse of firm whiteness. Yu Lingxi vaguely glimpsed a very faint red mark, seemingly some kind of inscription.

However, when she struggled to focus through her drowsiness and opened her eyes to look carefully, that red mark disappeared.

Perhaps she had seen wrong?

She rested her head on that chest, and after a while, closed her eyes again.

The night passed with sweet, dreamless sleep.

…

Just as dawn was breaking, Yu Lingxi awoke.

The space beside her was indeed empty and cold to the touch.

“Where is the Prince?”

Yu Lingxi got up, yawning, her black hair against snow-white skin, possessing a unique languid charm that captivated even the palace maids entering to serve her.

“In reply to the lady, the Prince went to the palace at the fifth watch,” the palace maid respectfully answered, not a word too few, not a word too many.

Yu Lingxi supported herself on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to clear her mind, thinking: Could it be that the matter of the remnant faction is not yet resolved?

At the Ministry of Rites, the hall was solemn.

The Chief of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau and the Minister of Rites stood respectfully on either side, watching Prince Jing sitting leisurely in the main seat, wiping nonexistent sweat from their chins.

The Chief of the Astronomical Bureau spoke first, presenting the carefully selected dates with both hands: “According to this old official’s calculations, the sixteenth day of the eighth month, with beautiful flowers and a full moon, clear skies, and fine weather, is an auspicious date seen only once in ten years, suitable for marriage and moving into a new home…”

Ning Yin’s fingers tapped intermittently, and he raised an eyebrow: “The eighth month?”

“Uh…”

The Chief paused, hurriedly moistened his finger with his tongue, quickly turned a page, and said: “The eighth month is, is a bit late. This old official has prepared two more dates. The ninth day of the fifth month is also auspicious.”

Seeing that Ning Yin didn’t even raise his eyes, the Chief, stroking his beard, added: “The twelfth day of the fourth month would also be suitable.”

Tap, tap… Prince Jing laughed.

Though he was a man of celestial beauty, his laughter somehow sent a chill down one’s spine.

The Minister of Rites gave a meaningful look, and the Chief finally tremulously said: “Perhaps the eighteenth day of next month?”

The eighteenth?

Ning Yin made a mental calculation: one month, sufficient time to clean up thoroughly.

The tapping fingers stopped, and the Minister of Rites immediately bowed and said: “This official will go arrange the Three Letters and Six Etiquettes, and tomorrow present the ceremonial list to Your Highness for review.”

“This Prince will only marry once. I trouble the two ministers.”

Ning Yin rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and leisurely exited the hall.

Who could bear the weight of Prince Jing’s phrase “I trouble you”?

Nominally a courteous remark, it was pressure. Anyone who dared to mess up Prince Jing’s “only” wedding feast would find that even ten heads would not be enough to lose.

The Minister of Rites and the Chief knelt anxiously to see him off, saying in unison: “We will spare no effort!”

In the second month of spring, willows hung their silken strands by the Qu Jiang Pool in the south of the city, swaying with new green.

A child holding a pinwheel ran past an alley corner, nearly colliding with an approaching carriage.

His arm was grabbed, and the child looked up blankly to see a solemn, handsome face.

“It’s just a child, no need to be tense.”

A deliberately hoarse voice, very light yet deep, came from within the carriage.

Only then did Xue Song release his grip and say toward the carriage: “Yes, Mas…”

Mindful of bystanders, Xue Song stopped speaking.

From inside the carriage extended a hand as beautiful as a woman’s, still bearing some wood shavings, which gently placed a few candies in the child’s hand.

“Go play,” said the person in the carriage.

The child, delighted with the treats, ran off happily. The carriage curtain closed again, slowly heading north.

Xue Song looked around, instructed guards to stay outside and keep watch, then entered a secluded courtyard.

Reaching the innermost part of the courtyard, he nodded slightly, indicating for the attendant to unlock the door.

With a creak, blinding light poured in, and the figure in moon-white clothing by the window instinctively squinted.

“Are the willows sprouting? There’s an early spring breeze in the air.”

Xue Cen turned his gentle face toward Xue Song.

Xue Song closed the door, and the bright spring sunshine vanished instantly, leaving only endless cold darkness.

“I told Father and Grandfather that you’ve gone out to study and will be away for more than a month.”

Xue Song placed a sandalwood box on the table, looking at the papers covered with the characters “Lingxi,” his brow tightly furrowed. “All is well at home, you needn’t worry.”

“I never knew that Brother had established such a separate courtyard.”

Even confined in this limited space, Xue Cen still retained the pride of a scholar, saying softly: “Will Brother’s actions truly keep the family safe, or will they bring eternal unrest?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

The veins in Xue Song’s neck bulged slightly as he said sternly, “Someone like you, raised in a honeypot, given high expectations from childhood, naturally wouldn’t understand how the shadow beneath your feet feels.”

Xue Cen started, looking at his now-unfamiliar brother, murmuring: “What are you saying, Brother?”

“You’re the gentle one, you’re the one everyone admires, you’re the one engaged to the Yu family… since childhood, you’ve had all the advantages, of course, you wouldn’t understand my feelings.”

Xue Song said coldly, “I am supposed to be the eldest grandson of the Xue family, yet people only know the bright and clear-skied Second Young Master Xue. Who remembers that the Xue family has an unremarkable eldest son? I struggled to enter officialdom, climbing to the position of Deputy Minister of Revenue through my abilities. Has Father or Grandfather ever looked at me properly or given me even half a word of praise?”

“So Brother secretly found another patron behind the Xue family’s back?”

Xue Cen’s eyes reddened slightly. “Brother learns about the deposed Crown Prince’s movements from Grandfather, gathers information about the Yu family from me… all this to provide convenience to your true master behind the scenes. Brother, can you face the relationships of family and friendship that you’ve exploited?”

Xue Song’s face showed not a trace of emotion.

“A great man exists in the world for nothing but fame and profit. I want to prove to Grandfather that my choice was right.”

Xue Song turned away, saying word by word, “I am the pillar of the Xue family.”

“Brother…”

“Prince Jing Ning Yin and Yu Lingxi are engaged.”

Xue Cen’s unfinished words stuck in his throat, his face quickly paling.

He had long anticipated this day, but hearing the news still felt like a sharp knife twisting painfully in his heart.

“Your childhood sweetheart, a wife who hasn’t yet entered your door, will soon be married to someone else.”

Xue Song wore a mocking smile at the corner of his mouth. “Prince Jing is just like his father, foolish, and cruel, yet pretending to be peaceful, only knowing how to snatch others’ wives. And you, Cen, you can only hide in a corner and cry like a coward.”

“Stop it…”

“In the future, when you see your childhood sweetheart, you’ll have to kneel and call her ‘Princess Consort’… no, a weak and incompetent person like you probably wouldn’t even dare to see her face.”

“Stop it!”

Xue Cen clenched his fists, his voice trembling: “Stop it, Brother.”

Having achieved his goal of seeing Xue Cen on the verge of collapse, Xue Song softened his voice: “Don’t you want to take back all this, Cen?”

Like a muffled thunderclap in his heart, Xue Cen suddenly raised his reddened eyes.

Xue Song opened the sandalwood box, revealing a pair of exquisite dragon-phoenix glass cups inside, as well as a black porcelain vial already prepared.

He said: “You go to congratulate her on her wedding. She won’t guard against you.”

Xue Cen stepped backward, stumbling to fall into a chair.

“No…”

His bright face was now bloodless, and he said in disbelief: “What are you going to do, Brother?”

“Don’t worry, she won’t die. My target is Prince Jing.”

Xue Song said gravely, “After Prince Jing dies, you can take her and flee far away.”

Xue Cen still looked at him in disbelief, as if meeting this brother born of the same mother for the first time.

“You are my brother, I won’t force you.”

Receiving no response from Xue Cen, Xue Song put away the glass cups and medicine vial. “Since you no longer want her, I need not keep her alive. After this is done, I’ll release you.”

Xue Song carried the sandalwood box toward the door.

From behind came the sound of a table and chair overturning. Xue Cen desperately called out: “Brother…”

Xue Song stopped in his tracks.

“Swear that you won’t use me to harm her,” Xue Cen’s jaw trembled.

“I swear,” Xue Song said without hesitation.

After a long silence, Xue Cen slowly closed his eyes.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his tears, his voice as rough as sandpaper: “…Very well, I agree.”