For a moment, neither Cheng Chang nor Yun Xi spoke.

The heavy scent of blood by the water’s edge seeped into the winter cold, taking on a chilling, bone-deep edge.

After a long while, Yun Xi said, “I… was born in Jinling, then grew up on the northern frontier. I went to the battlefield twice with my brother. The year I turned thirteen, not long after our family moved back to Jinling, barbarian invaders struck the Tage Steppe. My father, recommended by the late Crown Prince, went to fight them. Later, my brother married my sister-in-law into the family, and my father died defending against the enemy on the frontier…”

She spoke without clear beginning or end, as if aimlessly rambling.

But Cheng Chang understood what she was struggling to express.

The real Third Young Master had been targeted because of some “tremendous secret,” and that secret, it turned out, was somehow connected to her.

Yun Xi’s mind was in turmoil. She couldn’t understand where, in her own clear and straightforward life so far, something could have gone wrong enough to implicate the Third Young Master in this danger.

She blamed herself deeply, wanting to explain, yet not knowing where to begin.

Cheng Chang said, “Perhaps the secret doesn’t concern you at all, but rather—”

“Third Young Master.”

Before Cheng Chang could finish, a guard rushing over interrupted him.

Following the guard’s gaze, Cheng Chang saw, not far off, a figure leaning against a camphor tree with arms crossed, watching them at leisure.

It was none other than Wei Jie.

Everyone present, including Yun Xi, possessed considerable martial skill and sharp hearing, yet not a single one of them had noticed when Wei Jie had arrived.

Seeing that he’d been spotted, Wei Jie sauntered over lazily, remarking, “Yanfu Palace’s security may be lax, but the Junior Prince of Nan’an in the Capital Garrison Office actually does his job properly.”

He smiled and glanced toward the camphor grove. “If the Third Young Master lingers any longer, I’m afraid people will be arriving soon—”

No sooner had he spoken than the sound of searching footsteps indeed drifted over from the distance.

Cheng Chang hadn’t understood at first why Wei Jie would mention Cheng Ye, but a moment’s thought made it clear — tonight was the Grand Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet, so extra men from the Capital Garrison Office had been stationed at Yanfu Palace, and Cheng Ye currently commanded that very office.

A guard asked, “Third Young Master, shall we clear away the bodies of these black-clad men?”

“No need,” Cheng Chang said.

Wei Jie scoffed. “It wasn’t your household that did the deed — why bother clearing up after it?”

He crouched by the water’s edge, about to examine Mao Jiu’s body closely, when a voice called out from beyond the camphor grove, “Junior Prince, the sound seemed to come from over here.” Then, with a bow, “Your Majesty.”

Your Majesty?

Yun Xi and Cheng Chang both froze at once. Why had Emperor Zhaoyuan come as well?

Wei Jie frowned and clicked his tongue, then looked closely at the ground again. Mao Jiu was dressed in Western Region dancer’s clothing, with a gaping bloody wound in his abdomen — clearly not one of the black-clad group.

He thought for a moment, then decisively kicked Mao Jiu’s body into the lake.

Yun Xi exclaimed in shock, “What are you doing?”

Wei Jie glanced at her and explained impatiently, “The imperial family has an heir now!”

The remark seemed to come from nowhere, but in a flash, Cheng Chang understood completely.

Though Emperor Zhaoyuan and Prince Cong were brothers of the same clan, the distinction between sovereign and subject still stood between them.

Cheng Chang had been ambushed repeatedly over the past several months, and Emperor Zhaoyuan’s attitude had remained deliberately ambiguous, clearly favoring protection of the “noble one.” In the past, if the “noble one” had gone too far, Emperor Zhaoyuan might have meted out punishment, or investigated in secret. But things were different now — with the imperial family finally having an heir and the succession soon to be settled, Emperor Zhaoyuan would certainly not risk moving against a prince who might one day sit on the throne, all for the sake of a mere prince’s son.

Furthermore, the guards hidden here tonight had been Cheng Chang’s own doing, meant precisely to find Mao Jiu and expose the “noble one.”

A conflict erupted between a prince’s son and an imperial prince was something Emperor Zhaoyuan would never want to see. For now he could still tolerate it, still maintain the appearance of impartiality — but if Cheng Chang failed to conceal his ambitions and pressed forward step by step, even if he eventually managed to expose the “noble one,” he might not survive the imperial wrath that would follow.

Therefore, tonight’s incident had to look, at least on the surface, not too unseemly — better to appear as the weaker party, framed simply as an assassination attempt.

Wei Jie glanced again at the bloodstains covering Cheng Chang and Yun Xi, thought for a moment, then casually picked up a dagger dropped by one of the black-clad men and said to Cheng Chang, “Bear with this.”

Firelight could already be faintly seen through the trees. Cheng Chang nodded. “Fine. Quickly!”

Wei Jie rolled up his sleeve and immediately raised his hand to stab toward Cheng Chang’s shoulder.

Just as Yun Xi realized what was happening, it was already too late to react in time — she instinctively lunged to seize the dagger. Striking two inches below Wei Jie’s wrist with the side of her hand, she caught him off guard and knocked the force from his grip.

The dagger flew free into the air. Yun Xi seized the moment to snatch it, then turned the blade on herself and slashed it fiercely across her own shoulder.

She was well trained in martial arts and struck with careful precision — the wound was neither too shallow nor too deep.

But the pain was unavoidable. Blood surged out at once. Yun Xi let out a muffled groan, and the dagger slipped from her hand, clattering to the ground. She pressed one hand to her shoulder while bracing herself firmly on the ground with the other.

All of this happened in the span of a single breath.

Cheng Chang stood frozen.

The deep red blossom of blood bloomed before his very eyes, spreading down her frost-blue robe.

Blazing and searing, fierce as flame.

He said, stunned, “You…”

But before he could finish, Wei Jie cut in. “Is your brain made of water? It’s normal for you to have blood on you if you’re wounded, but how do you explain all this blood on him if you slash yourself instead?”

The firelight drew closer, and voices called out from within the grove, “Junior Prince, over here!”

There was no time left.

Wei Jie gritted his teeth and struck the back of Yun Xi’s neck with both hands.

The blow landed hard. Yun Xi’s vision darkened, and unable to support herself any longer, she pitched forward. Cheng Chang caught her by reflex, holding her arms as he let her lean slowly against his shoulder.

His chest tightened with an indescribable feeling. After a long moment, he asked, “You… why…”

Why did you take that blade meant for me?

“The Third Young Master’s precious life… must not be harmed,” Yun Xi murmured, not yet fully unconscious. “I’m used to taking knocks… it’s nothing…”

Blood trickled down her shoulder, one drop falling onto the back of his hand. The moment that searing warmth touched his skin, it seemed to lose all its heat, transforming instead into a gentle warmth that quietly seeped along the lines of his hand, into his veins, coursing through his whole body, and finally settling into his heart.

Cheng Chang slowly lowered his eyes.

He found it almost amusing.

She said his precious life mustn’t be harmed — did she know his heart was already riddled with wounds? In that other world, under shadowless surgical lights, he had opened and closed countless chests, lying on operating tables as routinely as eating a meal, waiting each time for a life to end. Every single time, he had felt only hopelessness.

Walking this difficult, solitary path through life, he had never once hoped for it to bear fruit.

Accustomed to cold instruments stitching wounds upon his heart, his chest riddled with jagged scars, he had long since stopped fearing pain.

Even the agony of having his heart carved out, he could endure with composure — yet this trickling warmth seeping into his chest was, for the first time, something he found he couldn’t quite bear.

“Junior Prince, the Third Young Master is here!”

A line of torches wound through the camphor grove as Cheng Ye, leading the Capital Garrison guards, arrived at the lakeside. Seeing Yun Xi, he paused, wanting to step forward to support her, but hesitated and stopped himself. He waved a hand, ordering the guards to secure the area, then reported to Emperor Zhaoyuan and Prince Cong, who had arrived close behind. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, we’ve found the Third Young Master. Lord Wei and Colonel Yun are here as well.”

Emperor Zhaoyuan made a sound of acknowledgment.

Wei Jie cupped his hands and reported, “Reporting to Your Majesty, the Third Young Master was just attacked. This official and Colonel Yun heard the commotion and rushed here.” He pointed to the scattered bodies on the ground. “These black-clad men were the ones who attacked the Third Young Master. Colonel Yun was wounded protecting him.”

Emperor Zhaoyuan’s gaze fell on Yun Xi, cradled in Cheng Chang’s arms, but he said nothing.

After a long moment, he said slowly, “The Yun family’s daughter of the Marquis of Loyalty and Valor’s household has saved Chang’er from danger time and again. Someone—”

“Here.”

“Take her to be treated by the imperial physicians.”

Several palace attendants stepped forward, wanting to take Yun Xi from him, but Cheng Chang wouldn’t release his hold. Try as they might, they couldn’t pull her from his arms.

“This…” One of the attendants, at a loss, was about to report this difficulty when he glanced back and saw Emperor Zhaoyuan’s stern expression. He immediately used more force, finally pulling the now-unconscious Yun Xi away from Cheng Chang.

Cheng Chang watched blankly as the attendant carried Yun Xi away, standing motionless for a long moment before finally rising to his feet. He bowed to Emperor Zhaoyuan and Prince Cong and said, “Thank you for your concern, Imperial Uncle, Father. Mingying is unharmed.”

Prince Cong said nothing.

Emperor Zhaoyuan ordered, “Wei Jie, Cheng Ye — investigate this immediately. Find out who dared lay hands on Chang’er within Yanfu Palace!”

Wei Jie and Cheng Ye both cupped their hands and assented.

Having given the order, Emperor Zhaoyuan’s expression softened slightly, and he said to Cheng Chang, “Your great-grandmother has been asking after you at the banquet, worried sick. Fortunately, you’ve come out of this unharmed. Today is her birthday, after all — we mustn’t spoil the mood. Come, return with me.”

As he spoke, he noticed the bloodstains covering Cheng Chang’s fur cloak, and gestured for an attendant to remove it, personally taking off his own cloak to drape over Cheng Chang’s shoulders instead.

Such was the way of the imperial family — always maintaining an appearance of peace, no matter what conflicts raged behind closed doors, everything must appear harmonious on the surface.

The moment Cheng Chang returned to Kunyu Garden, the Grand Empress Dowager, supported by Yu Ling, hurried to meet him, taking his hand and asking anxiously, “Why were you gone so long? Are you all right?”

Cheng Chang said, “Don’t worry, Great-Grandmother. I just went for a walk around. I’m fine.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” The Grand Empress Dowager patted her chest, then said with a smile, “They just brought out the jade lotus soup — I remember it’s your favorite, so I had Ling’er keep it warm over a small stove especially for you, waiting for your return. Ling’er, hurry and bring the soup bowl to Chang’er.”

Yu Ling assented and, bowing gracefully to Cheng Chang, went to the table to fetch the bowl, saying, “Third Young Master, please.”

Cheng Chang nodded and took the bowl, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over her.

Yu Ling wore a sky-blue robe and skirt today.

Cheng Chang recalled that Yun Xi had worn frost-blue that day — both shades of blue, yet somehow it had suited Yun Xi far better, complementing the jade pendant at her forehead and the hairpin flower at her temple, clean and radiant. He had glanced at her several times during the banquet, though she, absorbed in the meal, hadn’t noticed at all.

He recalled the scalding blossom of blood on her shoulder, and couldn’t help looking away, glancing instead toward Yun Xi’s seat.

It sat empty.

She hadn’t returned yet. She probably wouldn’t be back so soon.

Seeing Cheng Chang’s distracted expression, the Grand Empress Dowager glanced toward Emperor Zhaoyuan.

Their eyes met, and Emperor Zhaoyuan gave the Grand Empress Dowager a slight nod. The Grand Empress Dowager let out a nearly inaudible sigh, then took Cheng Chang’s hand and said with a smile, “Chang’er, your great-grandmother has a wish. I wonder if you’ll grant it?”

“You’ve already come of age, and to be honest, you’re not young anymore. Yet your household still lacks a proper consort — that simply won’t do. The sooner you take a consort, the sooner your imperial uncle can name you heir. You and Ling’er grew up together, after all — there’s a bond of childhood friendship between you. Since you have no one else in mind at present, why not let your great-grandmother arrange it, and have your imperial uncle grant you and Ling’er a marriage, as a birthday gift to me? Would you be willing?”

Hearing this, Cheng Chang froze, staring blankly at the Grand Empress Dowager.

Emperor Zhaoyuan also smiled and said, “Yes, Chang’er is no longer young, and he’s made great progress lately — it’s time he took a consort. And since this is Grandmother’s wish, how could I possibly refuse? Chang’er, your great-grandmother is asking you something.”

Cheng Chang didn’t answer right away.

Having drifted for half his life between life and death, coming and going through the mortal world at will, he had always been indifferent to matters of fate and affection.

This was the first time — love, creeping in bit by bit, had begun to take root in the barren soil of his heart, sending out tender shoots.

His life remained as uncertain as ever, but amid the enveloping fog, a lamp seemed to have been lit ahead.

Its light was faint and cold, and yet it seemed to carry an overwhelming resolve — to gather a handful of spring sunlight and bring it to him, even in this bitter winter.

Cheng Chang couldn’t help but smile.

Though he kept that smile hidden deep in his heart.

He clasped his hands and bowed deeply. “Reporting to Your Majesty, to Great-Grandmother — Mingying… is unwilling.”