Emperor Xiaochang was by nature stern and upright, with no taste for music or entertainment. His reign had reduced the grand troupe of musicians and performers that had flourished for forty years under Emperor Mingzong to less than half their original number — enough only for sacrificial rites, grand celebrations, and state banquets. The Emperor furthermore had no desire to see the Crown Prince lose himself in idle pleasures and dissolute amusements. Li Chengyu was obedient, heeding the advice of his Grand Tutor and Grand Ceremony Director Guo Lang, and for these past several years had restrained his desires, forcing himself to abstain from such things entirely. At most he would slip in secretly to offer guidance when the ladies of the Eastern Palace played the qin or blew the flute — just enough to satisfy his craving.

Yet a person’s innate nature and preferences are not so easily changed.

Thus Pu Zhu had determined that playing the Phoenix Terrace melody — his most beloved piece — was the simplest and most effective way to attract his attention. If she then deliberately struck a wrong note at a critical passage while brushing the strings, one day would not be enough, but give it two days; and if two were insufficient, then by the third day, he would surely be driven to unbearable restlessness and compelled to appear before her. It was a calculated plan, every step unfolding precisely as she had anticipated.

Even that trivial creature, the bee, had played its part, arriving at the most opportune moment to lend her cause assistance. She had been on the verge of smoothly achieving the modest preliminary goal she had set for herself — when, out of nowhere, this utterly unexpected turn of events had occurred.

Pu Zhu widened her eyes and locked gazes with the person who stood at a distance, hands clasped behind his back, regarding her with cold indifference. Her heart surged with a mixture of shame and indignation, and her peach-blossom cheeks flushed crimson as a pig’s liver all at once.

“Look, look, look! I killed it!”

The little prince’s triumphant shout rang in her ears. Pu Zhu gave a start and immediately came back to her senses, realizing she had lost her composure.

What was she doing? It was nothing more than a small, unexpected mishap — how could she lose herself like this right before this person’s eyes? Would that not be as good as confirming her own guilty conscience?

If she could not even get past this moment, what was there to speak of for the future?

She immediately withdrew her gaze and turned her head away.

The little prince was waving his chubby hand at her, displaying the honey bee that had met its sorry end at his hand, his face radiating with the pride of accomplishment.

Pu Zhu patted her hair as a pretense at composure and murmured her thanks in a low voice — a reaction entirely fitting with the look of lingering fright she ought to have shown in this moment.

The little prince had arrived at the prefectural city that very day in the company of Prince Qin Li Xuandu, and the Crown Prince himself had gone out of the city to welcome them back. Here by this spring pool amid flowering trees, with a beauty playing music for him like a jade figure — and now this boy had come bounding in to interrupt what had been his first encounter with this charming young lady at the qin. The Crown Prince felt considerably put out, though he could hardly show it toward this child who was, in terms of seniority, his own younger uncle. Adhering to the principle that simply going along with and indulging the boy was never wrong, he smiled and said, “Why, it’s Huaiwei! How did you come to be here?”

Huaiwei glanced at the young woman before him — the one who had just been mercifully spared a bee sting thanks to his own timely intervention — and cleared his throat, his expression shifting to one of solemn dignity. “Is this any way to behave? Should you not be calling me Little Uncle?”

Li Chengyu had no intention of addressing this yellow-billed brat from beyond the frontier as “uncle,” least of all in front of this young lady. He laughed it off airily. “Commander Yang is hosting a banquet tonight in your honor. The hour must be nearly upon us — have you told your imperial uncle where you’ve gone? Mind he doesn’t worry himself searching for you!”

Huaiwei twisted his mouth and gestured for him to look behind him, muttering, “He won’t let me go anywhere alone! Even follows me when I relieve myself! Had I known it would be like this, I’d have been better off staying in Yinyue City…”

Only then did the Crown Prince notice Li Xuandu, and he gave a slight start.

This imperial uncle of his had been born only three or four years before him.

Eight years ago, when the sixteen-year-old Prince Qin had been galloping freely down the main avenues of the capital in the careless manner of a young man in his prime, the Crown Prince had been nothing more than an unremarkable, underage imperial grandson in the household of Prince Jin, scarcely noticed by anyone.

Toward this imperial uncle whose life had been one of dramatic highs and catastrophic falls — who even now was spoken of behind his back for the treasonous crime of staging an insurrection against the throne, yet who had escaped death only through his extraordinary good fortune in receiving imperial pardon — Crown Prince Li Chengyu harbored feelings of the most complicated nature.

For a long stretch of time before Li Xuandu’s disgrace, he had been the person Li Chengyu most admired and looked up to.

To have been appointed as a general of the Yingyang Guard of the Northern Palace at sixteen — that was not something any man could achieve on talent alone, no matter how exalted his birth as an imperial son. He had not merely held that position; on one memorable occasion, armed with nothing more than a command token bearing his seal — without even showing his face in person — he had somehow commanded even the Emperor’s most loyal personal troops to turn against their sovereign.

What extraordinary personal charisma must a man possess to accomplish such a thing?

In his private life as well, this young imperial uncle had taken good care of the imperial grandsons, often bringing them to the Imperial Gardens, personally teaching them to ride horses and shoot arrows. Whatever gifts and rare treasures the imperial grandfather bestowed upon him would almost invariably have been redistributed to their hands by the very next day.

Li Chengyu remembered that he had been shown particular favor. Among the imperial grandsons, he had been the eldest in years but, having grown up in fear of his strict father Prince Jin, his nature had become introverted and timid; he had sometimes even been bullied by younger grandsons from the household of Prince Chu. He remembered one occasion when Li Xuandu happened upon this scene and personally administered a lesson to those offending grandsons from Prince Chu’s household.

In those days, this young imperial uncle in his brilliant silks astride his prancing horse had been, in Li Chengyu’s eyes, a figure no less than a divine being.

But of course, all of that was in the past.

Even now, Li Chengyu would sometimes recall those days hunting deer in the Imperial Gardens and feel a certain wistfulness — but that was all it amounted to. What remained in his heart now was mostly regret and wariness.

He himself was no longer the person he had once been, and this imperial uncle was long since not the young man he had once been.

From the day Li Xuandu had turned traitor and in fact betrayed the imperial grandfather, the Crown Prince had known: his idol had toppled.

Li Chengyu paused, then quickly broke into a smile, walked over, and called out “Fourth Imperial Uncle” in a tone of respectful deference.

“When did you arrive here as well?”

Li Xuandu smiled and nodded to the nephew who had once followed at his heels as a small child. “I turned around for a moment and Huaiwei had disappeared. I was afraid he might cause trouble and came to look for him.”

Li Chengyu had already heard about the near-assassination of the little prince outside the Jade Gate Pass. Though Liu Chong’s faction had been wiped out, there was no guarantee that no loose fish or fellow conspirators remained at large. To ensure the little prince’s safety, Li Xuandu had been eating, sleeping, and staying by his side, never letting him out of his sight for a moment.

The compound of the Commander’s Residence was large and unfamiliar ground — no wonder he felt uneasy enough to come searching. Li Chengyu played along with him: “With your imperial highness to protect the little prince, we can all rest easy.”

Li Xuandu’s gaze drifted toward Huaiwei, who was circling around Pu Zhu, and he asked, “Has the Crown Prince decided on a departure date?”

Li Chengyu’s assignment had already concluded, and the plan was to return together once they had arrived. Now that they were here, the departure date should be within the next day or two.

But he suddenly felt a sense of reluctance to be done with it.

He turned and caught a sidelong glance of that apricot-colored silhouette, then hesitated and said, “Your imperial highness and Huaiwei have traveled a long road and must be exhausted. Since you are here, why not rest for a day or two? If we set off only after you have fully recovered your strength, you would still reach the capital in time for the Grand Empress Dowager’s birthday celebration. What does your imperial highness think?”

Li Xuandu had already taken in every detail of his nephew’s turning and lingering glances. He said nothing, only smiled slightly. “Our imperial grandmother has been longing desperately to see Huaiwei — yearning for him day and night would not be an exaggeration. I had hoped to set off sooner. You had best come along as well.”

He paused. “If that is truly inconvenient, you may decide your own return date. I will set out tomorrow with Huaiwei in the lead.”

Li Chengyu said nothing, only turned his head again to gaze at that slender figure.

Li Xuandu narrowed his eyes slightly, then turned and called out to Huaiwei, “We’re leaving!” His tone was perfectly flat.

Pu Zhu had not turned around and could not see Li Xuandu’s expression. But she did not know if it was her imagination — she kept feeling that his voice, which carried no trace of emotion on the surface, seemed to conceal beneath it a faint current of anger.

She quickly murmured a low urging to the little prince: “He’s calling you. Go back!”

But the little prince refused to leave.

Before encountering Li Xuandu, he had been confined every day to the small cage-like carriage on the camel’s back. After meeting Li Xuandu, he was still confined to the small carriage every day — and what was worse, even the privacy of relieving himself had been lost to him. He had been miserable with boredom. Just now he had been drawn by the sound of the qin, and had snuck away when Li Xuandu’s guard was down to follow the music — only to encounter such a remarkably pretty young lady. He wanted her to stay with him and play, and had absolutely no intention of leaving so soon.

“My name is A’Shibi, but my mother gave me another name — Huaiwei. What is your name?”

The little prince propped his plump hands under his double chin, his body draped over the head of the qin, and nudged his head toward her in a friendly way, speaking to the young lady in hushed, confidential tones.

But Pu Zhu had no mind at this moment for entertaining a little child. She felt her thoughts scattered and unsettled.

What terrible luck.

She had managed to draw Li Xuandu over here. Given things as they now stood, staying here was not only useless but liable to ruin everything.

Very well — if they would not leave, then she would leave first, put an end to this scene that was working against her, and consider other options afterward.

She quickly steadied herself and rose to her feet, just about to turn and take her leave — when, unexpectedly, the apricot blossom oil in her hair attracted yet another bee, and not just one — three bees flew in at once, circling and buzzing incessantly over her head.

In truth, Pu Zhu was not afraid of small insects. After so many years of exile on the frontier, she had grown accustomed to earthworms and cockroaches, to say nothing of a few bees.

But two pairs of eyes were watching her from behind.

Earlier, when a single bee had appeared, she had turned pale with fright and needed the Crown Prince’s protection. Now three had come at once — what was she to do?

She was caught in a predicament with no easy escape — fortunately, A’Shibi Huaiwei immediately crowded over, crying out with excitement, “Don’t move! I’ll help you!”

She had been seated on the stone bench before; now that she was standing, Huaiwei’s height was not quite sufficient. He told her to hold still while he jumped up repeatedly, extending his hand to swat at the bees.

Pu Zhu did not know whether to laugh or cry. She thought to herself that this would do well enough — she was just about to sit back down and let the little prince help her resolve this awkward situation, when suddenly Huaiwei, as he came down from one of his jumps, slipped in the soft earth and lost his balance. He stumbled backward several steps, right to the very edge of the pool, where the ground sloped downward, and began to fall backward.

“Ah — ah — ah — ah —”

He was crying out, flinging both arms in wide circles, attempting to use this method to save himself and recover his balance. But things looked grim — he was on the verge of tumbling into the pool behind him.

Pu Zhu was seized with alarm.

Spring had recently set in, bringing more rainfall. It had rained for several nights running, and just the previous night another rain had fallen, leaving the pool brimming full.

There were, in truth, people in this life she would sooner or later have to eliminate — but there were also two people who could not, under any circumstances, come to harm.

Those two were Jiang Yi — and this little prince.

The Grand Princess’s eldest son had died later of a sudden illness; that fate was likely beyond changing. But for deaths caused by accidents, as had now been proven, things could be entirely changed.

In this life she still needed this little prince to inherit the throne and help the Grand Princess consolidate her hold on the western frontier.

If because of her, he came to harm even earlier than in his previous life — if something were to happen to him…

Without a moment’s thought, Pu Zhu threw herself toward the little prince with all her might, seized him by the arm, and with every ounce of her strength managed to drag him back from the brink.

The little prince kept his footing and came to no harm. But Pu Zhu herself met with misfortune again. She had underestimated the weight of Prince A’Shibi Huaiwei. After pouring every bit of her strength into pulling his already-backward-tilting body back upright, when she let go her arm she lost her own balance, and the earth at the water’s edge was very soft and loose — her foot slipped, and with a loud splash, she plunged headfirst into the water.

Pu Zhu could not swim at all. The moment she fell in she sank straight down like a stone plunging into depths, finding nothing underfoot to stand on.

The water rushed over her head in an instant. She opened her mouth to call for help, and water surged into her mouth and nose. She choked beneath the surface, terrified beyond measure, closed her eyes, and could do nothing but thrash wildly.

The little prince stared wide-eyed as the water swallowed her completely, and then came to his senses. He hopped frantically on the bank, crying out, “Terrible! Terrible! Someone is drowning!”

When the little prince had been teetering on the verge of falling in, the two men who had been talking at a distance had both rushed over; by the time they reached the scene, the little prince was safe and unharmed, while she had fallen into the water instead.

Li Xuandu ran ahead and was the first to reach the bank. He bent down and stretched out his hand, about to seize that small hand wildly thrashing above the water’s surface — when Li Chengyu also arrived, reached out, grabbed hold, gathered his strength, and hauled her out of the water.

Li Xuandu’s outstretched hand paused above the water’s surface for a moment, then slowly withdrew. He straightened his body and watched as the little prince, exclaiming and calling out, helped Li Chengyu pull her to the bank.

She would not stop coughing. Her entire body was soaked through, her dress clinging awkwardly to her shapely figure, her neck and one shoulder exposed, entangled in dripping wet long hair.

Snow-white shoulders. Ink-black hair. A sight that seized the eye and could not be looked at directly.

Li Xuandu naturally had no interest in looking, and turned his face aside — only to catch an unexpected glimpse of his little companion Huaiwei, whose eyes were wider than ever, staring fixedly without end. He could not help frowning slightly, and was just about to go over and turn the boy’s head in another direction, when the Crown Prince had already swiftly removed his outer robe and considerately wrapped it around her body. When she had finished coughing and had expelled several mouthfuls of muddy water trailing green algae and duckweed, he asked, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” His eyes were filled with anxious concern.

She was pale, her wet eyelashes trembling lightly, and she weakly shook her head, struggling to rise and kneel in thanks to the Crown Prince for saving her life.

The Crown Prince was pained to see it, and called out to the attending servants, commanding them to summon a physician at once. Then he gathered her up from the ground into his arms and strode swiftly away.

Li Xuandu and the little prince stood at the water’s edge and watched the Crown Prince carry her away, her figure disappearing swiftly through that gate. After a long moment, Li Xuandu lowered his gaze. Huaiwei looked up. The two exchanged a glance.

“Fourth Brother, why did you not save her? Why did you not carry her?” The little prince spoke with a drawn-out, mournful tone, sounding rather aggrieved. “If I were a grown man, I certainly would not have let my nephew seize such an opportunity.”

Li Xuandu appeared not to hear him.

“We are leaving. If you go running off causing trouble again, I will not let it pass lightly!”

He said this coolly and walked away.

Huaiwei hunched his neck down into his shoulders and hurried after him.