Chapter 39: Angry

Zhao Yan didn’t remain unconscious for long. When she woke up, she found herself in a carriage, lying in Wen Renlin’s arms. Her hearing returned first, the noisy sound of rain swirling around from all directions once again, followed by gradually clearing vision.

Rainwater dripped from Wen Renlin’s cold, pale jaw, falling onto Zhao Yan’s forehead.

In the dim light of the carriage, his damp cloak revealed a heavy, dark red color reminiscent of blood.

After a sharp neighing sound in her ear, memories of chasing Zhao Yuanyu flooded Zhao Yan’s mind. She grasped the dagger beside her, struggling to sit up.

Wen Renlin placed his palm on her shoulder with a gentle yet irresistible force.

His eyelashes were also damp, clumped together, veiling the emotion in his eyes.

Pressing her down, Zhao Yan felt weak and trembling all over, only able to gasp futilely, “Zhao Yuanyu…”

Wen Renlin stared into her eyes, almost fiery with stubbornness, for a moment, then lightly brushed her rain-soaked pale cheek with his fingertips, landing on her lips, now devoid of color.

“I don’t think the life of a defeated dog is more important than Your Highness’s,” Wen Renlin’s voice was deep, with a hint of tenderness, “I admire Your Highness’s spirit. But sometimes, I wonder, if Your Highness’s temper could be as soft as these lips, it would be nice.”

He just wanted the little princess to yield and obediently hide behind him.

But when the wild beast with a curved knife approached the trembling princess in the rain, undeniable, Wen Renlin had a momentary surge of killing intent.

To get something from Wen Renlin, one must pay the corresponding price, she understood that.

So Zhao Yan struggled to lift her trembling fingertips and pressed down on Wen Renlin’s neck without hesitation, imprinting her slightly cool and damp lips on the corner of his mouth.

With water dripping from Zhao Yan’s hair, she closed her eyes, pressed tighter, clumsily and awkwardly kissed, trying to pry open that stubbornness, until it almost felt like biting. She weakly embraced Wen Renlin’s neck, still tightly gripping the dagger that held all her anger and hatred. A sacrificial light kiss, in this desperate rainy night, appeared both magnificent and heart-wrenching.

Wen Renlin held her waist with one hand, the other still in a raised position, lowering his eyelids slightly.

As the rain gradually stopped in their cramped space, only the rustling of fabric could be heard. Just when Zhao Yan was about to give in, Wen Renlin’s raised hand finally fell on the back of her neck, gently pushing her away before she suffocated herself.

He gazed at Zhao Yan’s unwilling and slightly flushed cheeks for a long time before hoarsely asking, “Zhao Yan, what do you take me for?”

This was the first time Wen Renlin called Zhao Yan by her real name, with a hint of gritted teeth.

A crimson flush appeared on Zhao Yan’s pale face, but she couldn’t answer. Her gaze was unfocused, her breathing short, and even the arm hanging on Wen Renlin’s neck lost its strength.

Feeling the burning skin under his palm, Wen Renlin finally realized something was wrong and raised his hand to cover her forehead.

She dreamed of when she was six or seven years old, leaning on the window sill of her brother’s sleeping quarters, tiptoeing to look inside.

The imperial physicians were diligently treating her brother, Zhao Yan, who was lying on the sickbed, while her mother accompanied him, occasionally rubbing his pale little hand with her delicate fingers. Even the Emperor, in the midst of his busy schedule, came to visit, showing a rare tenderness.

Xiao Zhao Yan stared blankly for a long time, her big eyes filled not only with worry for her brother but also with childish envy.

She turned and ran back to her room, intentionally removing some clothes, sitting barefoot in front of the palace door to pray for a breeze. She naively thought that if she got sick, she would also receive the meticulous care of her parents like her brother did; if she could transfer her illness to herself, her brother would recover.

“When will you stop worrying me?”

Her mother just looked at her thin clothes, tiredly rubbing her forehead.

She dreamed of her fifteenth birthday, when Zhao Yan’s face was wet with rain.

His black pupils were gentle and broad as he picked up a sandalwood jewelry box, “Xiao’er, brother isn’t pitying you. Brother just doesn’t know how to make up for the grievances you’ve suffered over the years.”

“You are!”

The girl blurted out, “Zhao Yan, you already have enough… if possible, I would rather exchange identities with you.”

Her words became a prophecy, ultimately becoming the nightmare she couldn’t shake off.

Why did she say such things? Zhao Yan questioned herself more than once.

If she hadn’t uttered that “curse” back then, if she hadn’t said those heartless and hurtful words, would Zhao Yan have been able to live well?

But there are no “ifs” in life. She could only bear the shadow of memories and move forward step by step. Every day she pretended to be Zhao Yan was a punishment from the heavens for her ignorance.

Until this rainy night, she heard Zhao Yuanyu admit everything with her own ears.

“It’s me, so what!”

“Zhao Yan… you should have died on the way back to the palace!”

The fierce laughter in the thunderstorm shattered her heart and liver.

It turned out that Zhao Yan didn’t die from weakness due to illness, nor did he die from her so-called “curse.” She didn’t kill Zhao Yuanyu.

She dreamed of chasing the enemy with a short blade in her hand, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t catch up. Zhao Yuanyu’s mad laughter echoed from all directions, and she was engulfed by rolling flames, unable to cut through or break free.

“Zhao Yuanyu… don’t run!”

She felt like she was in a furnace, struggling with an unseen enemy, exhausted.

Until a coolness touched her forehead, like a cold spring flowing through, dispelling the sinister laughter and burning in her nightmare.

Zhao Yan uncomfortably nudged her cheek towards that cold spring, yearning for more. Until her whole body curled up and pressed against it, she closed her damp eyelashes, exhausted, and fell into the peaceful darkness.

When she woke up again, it was already bright outside.

The rain had stopped, the sky was clear, birds were chirping, and the summer sun filtered through the oily green leaves, casting a bright light on the window sill.

Zhao Yan had been sleeping face down for too long, feeling dizzy and light-headed. For a moment, she couldn’t tell what day it was, but the familiar furnishings told her that she was back in the Yuquan Palace’s Guanyun Hall.

Her upper garment had slipped halfway, revealing her corset and shoulders. Someone sat at the end of the bed, gently massaging the sore spots caused by her excessive sword swinging. A faint scent of medicinal oil wafted in the air.

The massage was so gentle that Zhao Yan thought it was Liu Ying. She cleared her throat lightly and hoarsely said, “Liu Ying, give me some water…”

The massaging hand paused slightly, followed by the sound of splashing water. The person got up and went to the table, pouring a cup of warm tea. But the long, slender fingers that held the cup and handed it to her clearly did not belong to Liu Ying.

Following the dark sleeve up, Zhao Yan couldn’t help but stare blankly, immediately grabbing the bundle of summer quilt to cover herself.

The duel in the rainy night had drained her strength, and with the fever subsiding, her arms were particularly sore. Suddenly sitting up, she groaned, and strands of soft black hair fell down, covering half of her cheek.

Wen Renlin sat calmly at the edge of the bed and said, “Your Highness, I’ve seen every part of you, haven’t I?”

Indeed, Zhao Yan slightly relaxed her body and reached out to take the cup Wen Renlin handed her. Wen Renlin didn’t move, so Zhao Yan silently withdrew her hand, allowing Wen Renlin to feed her the tea.

Is he angry?

She not only ignored his warning and intervened in the missing case but also made herself so miserable… he should be angry.

Zhao Yan sipped the tea gently from Wen Renlin’s hand, trying to discern any clues from his calm face.

Without even lifting his eyes, Wen Renlin asked after feeding her the water, “Do you want more?”

Zhao Yan shook her head, and he placed the cup back on the table, grasping Zhao Yan’s ankle.

Zhao Yan trembled, holding back from moving.

Wen Renlin rolled up her trouser leg, revealing the abrasion on her knee—the one she got when she fell to the ground with Chou Zui. Wen Renlin skillfully applied the wound medicine, carefully smearing it on the red scab, which felt a bit cool and a bit painful. Zhao Yan pursed her lips and shrank back a little.

Wen Renlin finally raised his eyes and asked softly, “Are you scared now?”

“Not scared,” Zhao Yan replied hoarsely.

Even if it happened again, she would make the same choice without hesitation, swinging her sword towards Zhao Yuanyu.

Leaning on the edge of the bed, Wen Renlin casually asked, “Have you ever thought, what if I hadn’t intervened in time?”

Zhao Yan clenched the bedding.

She knew Wen Renlin must be uneasy and would have people secretly watching her. Sending the Eastern Palace Guards to pursue Zhao Yuanyu personally might also involve some risks.

“I had to kill him,” Zhao Yan insisted.

“To kill a rat from the gutter, for that you don’t mind lowering yourself to get close to me?” Wen Renlin asked indifferently.

Only then did Zhao Yan remember the fragmented scenes in the carriage. Helpless with rage at watching her enemy escape, she subconsciously wanted to seize any power she could.

“To the Grand Tutor, he’s just a rat from the gutter. To me, I hate that I can’t drink his blood and eat his flesh…” 

Without getting a response, Zhao Yan turned her head away and pinched her palm, saying, “Family bonds, how could the Grand Tutor understand?”

Wen Renlin’s fingertip paused slightly, and after a moment, he withdrew his hand.

He sat up straight, looking at Zhao Yan, his gaze like a bottomless cold pool, nodding and smiling, “Yes. My siblings died at Yanluo Pass in the tenth year of Tianyou, so I don’t understand much.”

This was the first time he mentioned family, recounting horrifying facts in a cool and calm voice.

Zhao Yan couldn’t help but feel a slight tremor in her heart. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something more, but Wen Renlin wiped his hands with a handkerchief, got up, and left.

Under the sunlight, his dark figure reflected overlapping mountains, like ink ice that hadn’t melted for a thousand years, tall, cold, and unbreakable.

Once he was gone, Liu Ying lifted the curtain and came in, arranging the exquisite porridge neatly.

Zhao Yan hugged her knees and asked, “Liu Ying, how long have I been asleep?”

Liu Ying replied dutifully, “Your Highness rarely gets sick. This is the first time you’ve been so severely feverish. You slept for two days and one night.”

She slept for so long? Two days and one night, enough for Zhao Yuanyu to escape far away.

Gritting her teeth in hatred, Zhao Yan asked, “Did he… stay here all this time?”

Liu Ying observed Zhao Yan’s complexion and whispered, “Prince Su carried Your Highness back and personally treated you with medicine.”

“He… has been here?” Zhao Yan was a little dazed, recalling the coolness from the dream.

“Prince Su would come to Your Highness’s bedside for a moment at night, but rarely during the day.”

Liu Ying didn’t mention what happened on the night Zhao Yan saved the fire. She just said, “Lady Liu wanted to visit Your Highness but was stopped by the servants.”

Taking the small bowl of green bean chicken porridge handed by Liu Ying, Zhao Yan stirred it gently and finally spoke, “I saw Chou Zui. He’s with Zhao Yuanyu now.”

Liu Ying was stunned, suddenly taking a step back and kneeling down.

“Why are you kneeling?” Zhao Yan asked in confusion, “Are you going to stop me from investigating?”

Liu Ying shook her head vigorously, clutching her sleeves and said, “I wish I could be with Your Highness and kill the enemy together.”

“The enemy…” Zhao Yan murmured softly, her eyes suddenly moistening, as if all the things she had been holding onto for so long finally found a response.

“You finally admit that the Crown Prince was murdered?” 

Liu Ying nodded, lifting her slightly red eyes, and said word by word, “It was Chou Zui who killed the Crown Prince!”

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