The Emperor was very pleased with the day’s military training exercise. He not only rewarded the meritorious personnel of the victorious Alpha Army, but also awarded the soldiers of the Beta Army who had fought with all their strength yet ultimately fell short of victory. Prince Qin Li Xuandu was granted the honorary title of Special Advancement Glorious Prosperity Grand Master. The general who had actually commanded the battle, Jiang Chao, was promoted one rank, conferred the title of Light Chariot Commander, and awarded the honorary title of Third-Rank Illustrious Valor General. The remaining meritorious individuals were each rewarded accordingly.

Among the many who received commendations, the most eye-catching was Centurion Cui Xuan. This low-ranking Imperial Forest Guard officer from He Xi leaped, in the span of a single day and night, to the fifth-rank Valiant Cavalry Lieutenant, and was awarded the title of Military Virtue General.

The honorary rank and title he received were naturally not particularly grand — as for those bearing the mere honorary title of Military Virtue General, there were so many in the capital that they were as common as dogs walking the streets. But that was not the point. The point was that the Crown Prince held this newly risen young officer in very high regard. Upon meeting with him and learning that he was the only person in the Imperial Forest Guard over the past two years to have broken through the Ten-Man Assault, the Crown Prince immediately removed his own cape and personally fastened it around Cui Xuan’s shoulders.

What an extraordinary honor. That this man would enjoy glory and wealth in the future went without saying.

By comparison, though the Beta Army as a whole also received rewards — even ordinary soldiers were granted wine and meat at that evening’s victory banquet — compared to the other side, having fought a battle they could not win, they felt utterly disgraced, every one of them unable to muster any spirit.

Night fell, and the victory banquet continued.

Li Xuandu made his social rounds, drank a few cups of wine, and then used his still-unhealed arm injury as an excuse — citing his physician’s orders against excessive drinking — to rise from the victory banquet and take his leave of the Crown Prince and the others, retiring early.

Emerging from the large central command tent of the barracks, he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned his head and saw Han Rongchang rushing out after him.

Han Rongchang’s face was flushed red; he had clearly drunk quite a bit, and with a thick tongue he muttered a few words of low-voiced comfort before cursing: “That old dog Chen Zhude — not wanting to offend the Crown Prince, yet fearing to lose face, he played the trick of fleeing before battle. Fortunately he had the sense to know shame, and tonight also knows he has no face to show himself, not daring to appear. Otherwise I would certainly spit right in his face. What a wretched thing you had to bear — being forced to shoulder such a pile of dog dung!”

Li Xuandu smiled and said, “What is wretched about it? I simply failed to scheme as well as the Alpha Army and lost — a loss I accept wholeheartedly.”

Han Rongchang looked at him with suspicion, and seeing his expression calm and composed, shook his head and said, “All right, all right. I was worried you might take it to heart. Since you’re fine, that’s for the best.”

As he spoke, he recalled the Centurion Cui Xuan who had so brilliantly distinguished himself today — formerly one of his own subordinates — and could not help but add: “This Cui Xuan — I had heard about him from subordinates long ago. They said he once single-handedly killed his way through the Ten-Man Assault, exceptionally fierce and brave. But in my many years of experience, men of such ferocity usually have uncommon temperaments. In a bureau like the Imperial Forest Guard, tasked with imperial escort and protection, the higher the position, the more one needs to be steady and balanced. The most taboo thing is being fond of fighting and aggressive, full of hot-blooded impetuosity. I was afraid I couldn’t keep him in check — I wanted to blunt his sharp edges a bit more, wait until he was properly tempered before promoting him. I never expected he would first distinguish himself on his own. Today he showed considerable tactical thinking and also courage. Well and good — a place like the Imperial Forest Guard, where noble family scions cluster together doing nothing but eating and waiting, is no place to keep a man like that. I expect it won’t be long before even I will have to bow to him as an equal.”

Having drunk several extra cups that evening, he grew more talkative. Recalling how he himself had once been so proud and dominant, yet now everything went against him and he could only drown his sorrows in wine, he could not help but sigh again: “This is truly what they call the terror of the young! We old ones are no good anymore — we must make way for the rising stars…”

His words trailed off. He glanced at Li Xuandu, saw his expressionless face, and hurriedly patted his arm to make amends: “Wrong, wrong! It’s just this brother-in-law of yours who is no good anymore! Your Highness, you are still very much capable! At least you have newly married an ideal Princess Consort — that counts as spring wind success that makes others envious…”

This pat landed precisely on Li Xuandu’s still-unhealed arm, and seeing him seem to wince in pain, Han Rongchang immediately withdrew his hand: “This brother-in-law says no more! You get back quickly — wouldn’t want to delay your spring night…”

Li Xuandu, knowing he was drunk, had someone support him off to sleep, then departed himself. Arriving at a fork in the road, he stopped.

At this moment, across the open field before him, red campfires flickered and jumped everywhere. To the left, in the direction of the detached palace, lights blazed brilliantly.

He stood still for a moment, and in the end did not go to the West Garden where she had arranged to meet him yesterday morning before leaving. Instead he turned and went back to where he was staying, and approaching the tent, saw the faint glow of lamplight through the curtained door — Luo Bao had no doubt lit the lamp in advance to welcome his return.

Li Xuandu lifted the curtain door and immediately felt a gust of warm air mixed with a rich floral fragrance rush over his face.

Inside the tent, it seemed a brazier had been lit, along with that flower fragrance he was not unfamiliar with — one he did not particularly enjoy smelling.

The floral scent was already heavy, and when heated by the warmth it became even more overpowering.

The season was already late autumn; the nights brought frost, and the air genuinely felt slightly cold, especially living in this kind of field tent, which felt even colder than being indoors.

But even in winter he never used floor heating or a brazier — let alone in this season?

Struck unexpectedly by this warm fragrance, his breath caught. He paused at the curtain door and raised his eyes to look inside.

Sure enough, there she was, kneeling beside the writing desk, black hair and snow-white skin, dressed in a pomegranate-red ru skirt, her arms draped with gradient-hued cloud and rosy mist gauze half-sleeves. She held one of his yellow-covered Daoist texts, turning the pages absently, her mind and spirit clearly elsewhere — floating off to some unknown place — looking utterly bored and listless. Suddenly hearing movement at the door, she raised her eyes, her gaze brightening immediately as she tossed aside his Daoist text.

“Your Highness, you’re finally back!”

Pu Zhu’s face broke into a smile as she immediately rose to welcome him, her steps light and quick.

She had finally waited for him to return.

The joy on Pu Zhu’s face was not feigned — it came entirely from the heart.

Last night she had waited alone here through an entire sleepless night. This daytime, he naturally could not return. In the evening, Pu Zhu had heard in the West Garden the results of both sides’ training exercise.

The result needed no guessing; what mattered was how the loss had come about. When she learned the specific details, she let out a breath of relief, knowing he had certainly gotten through without issue.

She was eager to explain to him the unexpected encounter with Shen Yang the previous evening, and also feared that Huaiwei might make trouble in the West Garden. She also had a vague feeling that because of the unexpected incident that had occurred the previous evening, even if he returned, he probably would not go to the West Garden to find her again. If he would not go, then she would come to him. So she had Ningfu keep watch over Huaiwei and not let him sneak out again, then bathed and changed her clothes, and came here to wait for him again. When night fell, she felt a little cold and asked Luo Bao to bring a warming brazier. Unexpectedly, that eunuch looked down on her to such a degree that even this trifling errand he seemed reluctant to carry out — at first hesitating and hemming and hawing as though unwilling. It was only when she got angry that he hurriedly complied, and in the end delivered this warming brazier. The charcoal burning inside was the finest palace-grade silver charcoal, its flame blue-white with not a trace of smoke.

The tent gradually warmed, and Pu Zhu’s mood improved again. Finding Luo Bao irritating to look at, she sent him away, dismissed the maidservants back to their quarters as well, and continued waiting alone. Now, finally seeing him return, how could she not be delighted? She rushed to his side, discovered he was standing at the doorway staring at the brazier, and quickly said: “I felt a little cold, so I had Luo Bao get a warming brazier. With it lit and warm like this, it’ll be comfortable for you when you return. Come inside.”

Li Xuandu finally still said nothing and walked in.

Now that he was back, Pu Zhu had things to do, and being intent on pleasing him, she was naturally even more diligent. First she helped him remove his battle armor, asked him about the day’s events, and seeing that he seemed reluctant to speak — saying only that everything was fine — she feared that pressing further would irritate him. She stopped pressing and instead asked if he was hungry.

“Not hungry.”

When Li Xuandu entered, he had noticed that the positions of the bed and writing desk had been switched, and he could not help but glance at them.

Pu Zhu immediately explained: “I felt the bed’s original position wasn’t right — lying down at night, I don’t know where, but a draft keeps sneaking in, cold and chilly. This spot is much better, so I had the positions switched. Your Highness won’t mind, will you?”

Li Xuandu looked at her, said nothing, and simply made a sound of acknowledgment.

Pu Zhu knew that matter had passed without issue.

Reading his mood and expression, she felt his spirits seemed a little low — he had barely spoken since coming in, and it was almost entirely her talking to herself. She had been thinking of arranging for him to bathe and change first, but fearing he might misunderstand and think she was still angry about yesterday’s incident, she was eager to explain. So she poured a cup of warm tea, brought it before him, watched him drink it, and then leaned to one side and said softly: “Yesterday I thought Huaiwei was in the falconry kennels with Young Master Han, and I was quite anxious, so I went to look for him. Unexpectedly, halfway there I ran into Shen Yang. Wasn’t it the last time I told you about what happened at the Cheng Garden? At the time I hadn’t thought carefully enough — I actually left footprints in the courtyard of the fire site, and he has been suspicious of me ever since. Just then the ground was muddy and I accidentally dropped one of my shoes; he took my shoe in order to compare it with my footprints, then used words to probe me. I knew I could not evade it, so I admitted that I had indeed been in the courtyard at the time, but clarified that I had not overheard his secret and did not know whether he believed me. I was just about to retrieve my shoe when you arrived.”

“Your Highness—”

She called to him, moved to stand before him, and gently took hold of his two hands, her eyes gazing steadily at him.

“At that moment, fortunately Your Highness arrived in time. Otherwise I would not have known what to do.”

Li Xuandu was silent. Pu Zhu steeled herself and leaned into his embrace, her hands clasping tightly around his waist, looking up at him.

“Why does Your Highness look at me like that?”

The two faced each other, one looking down, one looking up, their four eyes meeting.

“Is that all?”

After a moment, Li Xuandu asked, his voice light and floating, impossible to read for pleasure or displeasure.

She hesitated a little, and after a brief pause, decided she should still tell him a bit more about what had happened at the time — but she could not tell him everything.

If she mentioned nothing at all about that scene, as it appeared to others, it would carry some ambiguity. If he did not believe her and concluded she was deceiving him, that would be terrible — all her previous efforts would be wasted.

But she also could not let him know everything. Given that Shen Yang’s attitude toward her at the time had been something close to naked threats combined with enticement, if he found out about it, and if he concluded that she had been the one to tempt Shen Yang first, she would have no way to defend herself even with a hundred mouths.

Pu Zhu said softly: “His attitude toward me — I felt it was somewhat strange… I was terrified at the time… I just hoped you would come…”

She hunched her shoulders, burrowing back into his embrace, her face pressed against his chest, not moving.

After a while, just as her heart was beginning to grow uneasy, she felt a palm gently fall on her head, stroking her hair, and his low voice sounded at her ear: “I understand. From now on, don’t go wandering off on your own. We still have a few more days here — I’ll have Ye Xiao follow you.”

Pu Zhu finally relaxed completely. It was all right.

He was clearly no longer angry with her.

She came out of his embrace, her face bearing a smile: “Your Highness has been tired all day — you must be exhausted. Go and bathe.”

Li Xuandu nodded slightly and was about to call Luo Bao when Pu Zhu added: “Your Highness’s arm still hasn’t healed. Let me attend to Your Highness’s bath.”

Li Xuandu was momentarily taken aback and watched as she turned to call for Luo Bao.

Luo Bao entered, glanced at the charcoal brazier, then looked toward Li Xuandu with an expression as though wanting to say something but holding back.

Li Xuandu said, “Never mind. Just bring the water.”

…

Wisps of pale white steam floated above the water’s surface. Pu Zhu attended Li Xuandu’s bath.

This was the first time she had done something so intimate for him.

As she wiped his back and his arms with a cloth, carefully avoiding wetting his wound, she quietly studied him.

After wiping his back, he reclined in the bathing tub, his head slightly tilted back, eyes closed and motionless, as though he had fallen asleep.

The water vapor slowly condensed at the tips of his eyebrows and the ends of his lashes. His damp face was incomparably handsome.

Pu Zhu could not help but look at him several times. She sensed that his mood was still somewhat low, and that fatigue was written across his face.

She guessed it might be related to today’s two-army training exercise.

Even Chen Zhude had gone out of his way to avoid this task — what he had been made to take on, one could well imagine how difficult it had been.

But then again, this was for the better — for her, it was actually a good thing.

The harder the Emperor or Li Chengyu pressed him, the more difficult his circumstances, the easier it would be in the future to incite him to rebel.

If everything went smoothly for him, he would simply muddle through the rest of his life like this — and that would not do.

But seeing him like this, brooding and weary-faced, Pu Zhu felt a pang of reluctance in her heart, and thought she ought to let him rest early.

Then reconsidering, she found that notion improper.

If she sympathized with him now and thought of his interests, who would sympathize with her if she found herself in trouble in the future?

The outcome she had suffered in her previous life remained vivid in her memory. She remembered that after he rose to power, he not only failed to come save her in repayment of her kindness, but also lived in perfect harmony with his cousin…

Oh right. In this life, that cousin of his from the Que Kingdom was still waiting for him.

In her previous life, she had been Empress and had been magnanimous and broad-minded.

In this life, naturally she would be the same.

As long as she bore him a son and confirmed that the Que Kingdom cousin would not threaten her position, she would at that point graciously step aside for them, she thought coldly. All the pity for him that had welled up in her heart a moment ago instantly vanished without a trace.

Who cared whether his spirits were high or low, whether he was tired or not. Last night of this month had already been wasted, and tonight was the last night — if she did not make an effort, she would have to wait until next month, by which time they might already be in the Que Kingdom!

When a person steels herself, she can do anything.

Just now, when helping him wipe his back, she had gathered her skirt at the waist to avoid getting her clothes wet, leaving only a small inner garment on her upper body, her two arms and a section of slender waist exposed.

Such close and devoted personal attendance — yet it had not drawn even a fraction of his attention.

Pu Zhu watched his face from behind and quietly let go of her hand.

The snow-white cloth slipped from her fingertips and rippled on the water’s surface, like a flower slowly blooming open; it soaked up water and drifted, slowly sinking beneath the surface.

She extended her jade-white arms, reaching through his sturdy shoulders from behind around his neck, plunging into the water, encircling his chest, her hands gently caressing, her body following her hands and pressing against his shoulder and back. She lowered her head, opened her mouth, and lightly bit down on the Adam’s apple at his throat — made especially prominent by the tilt of his head.