After Physician Wu left, Cheng Chang sat alone on the couch for a while.

He wasn’t the type to dwell too long on matters without a clear conclusion — he’d grown accustomed to not overthinking things left unresolved.

Back at Mingyin Temple, facing death, he had also felt some connection to his modern body. The strange phenomenon of the demonic possession had already begun then; had Yun Xi not arrived in time, he might well have been pulled back to the modern world already.

Perhaps his current discomfort was simply an aftereffect of the strain of crossing between timelines.

With this thought, Cheng Chang decided further worry would serve no purpose, and instead closed his eyes for a short rest.

This brief rest turned out to do him good — the muddled, hazy feeling cleared away entirely, and even the earlier chill in his body seemed to fade.

Cheng Chang dressed himself properly, left the room, and called over Zhang Dahu and Sun Haiping, meaning to ask about the recent situation in Jinling these past few days. He had only said a few words when someone from outside came to announce: “Your Highness, General Yunhui has come to visit.”

Before Cheng Chang could react, Zhang Dahu, without waiting for his master’s instruction, hurried out to greet her, saying warmly to Yun Xi as she approached hastily from outside the courtyard: “General Yun, you’ve come!”

“Have you just come from the palace?”

“Are you tired?”

“There’s freshly made smoked plum soup in the main house — shall I bring you a bowl?”

Yun Xi, having heard that Cheng Chang had woken, had her thoughts entirely fixed on him and paid little attention to Zhang Dahu’s words. Entering the courtyard, she caught sight of that clear, elegant figure beneath the eaves and hurried forward: “Third Young Master, when did you wake? Do you still feel unwell anywhere?”

Cheng Chang glanced at Zhang Dahu, taking in the way he had rushed out like a shot and then trailed dutifully back behind her, but said nothing of it, and instead said gently to Yun Xi: “I woke this morning. I heard your brother inherited his title today — why have you come to the mansion instead?”

Yun Xi said: “I was worried about you, so once the succession ceremony was over, I didn’t go with my brother to the Western Hills Camp.”

Just as she finished speaking, someone beside her called out, “General Yun” — it was Zhang Dahu, who had gone on his own initiative to fetch the smoked plum soup from the main house and brought it over for her.

Yun Xi had come to the mansion in such a hurry that she was genuinely thirsty. She took the soup and drank down half of it at once, saying to Zhang Dahu: “Thank you.”

Zhang Dahu hadn’t forgotten Cheng Chang either, and held out the other bowl of smoked plum soup to him: “Young Prince.”

Cheng Chang glanced at Zhang Dahu.

In truth, ever since receiving a stern reprimand from Cheng Chang, Zhang Dahu had reined himself in considerably these past days. That he was overstepping again today was likely because he’d heard Yun Xi had been promoted to third-rank Cloud-Banner General, having single-handedly turned back Prince Ling’s rebel forces against overwhelming odds.

Seeing Zhang Dahu practically bursting with admiration, barely able to contain himself, Cheng Chang did not take the bowl offered to him. Instead, he took the one in Yun Xi’s hand, and with perfect naturalness, drank down the half she had left, then handed the empty cup back to Zhang Dahu: “You may go.”

Zhang Dahu stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then, full of wounded feelings, gave a small “Oh” and walked off.

It was just past noon, and the princely mansion was very quiet. A patch of drifting cloud shielded the sun’s glare, and a cool breeze stirred gently all around. Cheng Chang took Yun Xi’s hand: “Let me take you for a walk.”

Cheng Chang’s residence within the princely mansion, like Wangshan Cottage, was also called Fufeng Hall — with lush gardens, pavilions and terraces, the scenery quite lovely.

As Yun Xi walked along, taking it all in, she couldn’t help but say: “This place is really grand!”

Cheng Chang said: “From now on, this garden will be yours. Take some time to get used to it — wherever you don’t like, I’ll have the craftsmen change it.”

He paused. “Or, if you don’t want to live with the elders, the two of us could move out on our own instead. I’ve already had people build a practice ground at Wangshan Cottage — I’ll take you to see it another day.”

Hearing this, Yun Xi said quickly: “No need, no need. As long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy wherever we live. Besides, if we start renovating Fufeng Hall, it’ll surely take extra time — by the time everything’s settled, it’ll practically be autumn.”

Cheng Chang seemed not to understand: “By the time everything’s settled?”

He looked at her, perfectly straight-faced: “Settled for what? What needs to be settled?”

Yun Xi paused, about to explain, then suddenly realized he was deliberately playing dumb. “You know exactly what needs settling.”

Cheng Chang said: “No need to rush so much. I’ve already calculated the timing — going through the full three letters and six etiquettes of the marriage rites, at the earliest it won’t be done until July.”

Yun Xi realized she’d been drawn into his little trap again, and remembering her brother’s advice that young ladies ought to maintain some reserve, quickly said: “Why would I be rushing? I’m not in a hurry at all.”

“Really not in a hurry?”

“Really not.”

Cheng Chang nodded: “All right, then.”

He stopped walking, looked at her, then leaned down and brushed his lips gently across hers, whispering by her ear: “Actually, I’m quite in a hurry.”

Yun Xi’s heart skipped a beat; her lips felt as though they had been kissed by the softest breeze in the world, his fresh, warm breath grazing her ear, tickling and numbing all at once.

She looked up at Cheng Chang — this man, how to put it — the gentleness in his brow and eyes was like misty green mountains after rain, and yet sharp and clear-cut all the same; his singular, peerless bearing was such that even the scar on his cheek only seemed to add to his allure.

Cheng Chang took Yun Xi’s hand again and led her back the way they’d come: “How are things in the palace?”

Yun Xi said: “Ever since His Majesty returned from Mount Pingnan, he’s been bedridden with illness, so the court sessions these past few days have all been presided over by Wang’an — the Crown Prince, I mean. As soon as he returned to the palace, he immediately had the Three Judicial Offices, the Household Guard, the Imperial Guard Bureau, and the Palace Front Command work together to investigate Prince Ling’s case. Progress has been swift, and many of Prince Ling’s followers have already been caught. But His Highness has been fair about it — those who were merely forced to follow Prince Ling without actually taking part in the treachery or the rebellion itself have only been punished with a fine on their salaries and a period of confinement for reflection.”

Cheng Chang asked: “What about Prince Ling’s coffin?”

“It’s also being kept at Prince Ling’s mansion,” Yun Xi said. “Because His Majesty is gravely ill, the Crown Prince is worried that dealing with Prince Ling’s remains might further burden his health, so for now the matter of the body has been set aside.”

Yun Xi went on, sighing. “Prince Ling’s mansion has fallen into complete chaos these past few days. Some of his former retainers and clients have fled; others have been quietly seized by people who knew of their involvement and handed over to the Three Judicial Offices to earn merit. Once the Crown Prince learned of this, he had the Household Guard station men inside and out to secure Prince Ling’s mansion just yesterday.”

Hearing this, Cheng Chang fell into thought.

With Prince Ling dead, it was only natural that his former faction would grow fearful for themselves, and such chaos was to be expected.

But as for Emperor Zhaoyuan — Cheng Chang knew this man well. That old fox was the type who, even facing death tomorrow, would still cling to power with both hands today. Could this ordeal at Mount Pingnan really have left him so utterly disheartened?

But Cheng Chang didn’t press for further details, and instead asked Yun Xi: “Now that Yun Luo has inherited the title, does he plan to return to the northern frontier?”

Before Yun Xi could answer, Su Tai came hurrying in from the outer courtyard: “Your Highness, General — this subject has just received word—” He paused, glancing at Yun Xi, “—the Fang woman has taken her own life.”

Yun Xi was startled: “The Fang woman? Fang… Fulan?”

“Yes, it’s the former young lady of the Fang household, Fang Fulan,” Su Tai said. “After the General expelled her from the Marquis of Zhongyong’s household, she had been living in a villa belonging to Prince Ling’s mansion. Before the chaos at Mount Pingnan, she once threw herself into a lake, but Prince Ling saved her that time. This time she took poison to end her life. Since she was once a member of the Marquis of Zhongyong’s household, no one at Prince Ling’s mansion dared to handle her body without authorization, and instead sent someone to the Western Hills Camp to ask General Xuanwei’s wishes on the matter. When this subject learned of it, and knowing General Yunhui was currently at the mansion, I came to report it to you.”

Having said this, Su Tai paused briefly, then added: “Fang Fulan’s two half-brothers are currently held in the Ministry of Justice’s prison. This morning, someone went to the cell to ask whether they wished to claim her body for burial, but upon learning of the grave charges against Prince Ling, they were determined to distance themselves from her entirely, even saying… that as long as it might lessen their own charges, they wouldn’t mind if her body were simply thrown into a mass grave.”