The name has been updated from ‘Wen Renlin’ to ‘Wenren Lin.’ Apologies for the error.

Chapter 63: Holding the Waist

Wenren Lin was always so calm and composed, as if nothing in the world could shake him. Zhao Yan leaned against his chest, and the sadness in her heart gradually subsided.

Cai Tian drove the carriage towards the western gate of the city outskirts.

After turning through countless streets, the sounds of people faded away, and the carriage came to a stop in a secluded place.

Zhao Yan snapped out of her thoughts, propped herself up, and leaned over Wenren Lin’s body to lift the carriage curtain. She saw that the carriage had stopped at the entrance of a Buddhist temple. The ancient trees were dense, and the moss-covered mountain gate bore the words “Lingyun Temple.”

The light of the setting sun spilled through the open curtain, casting a beautiful golden-orange hue on Zhao Yan’s eyelashes and the strands of hair at her temples.

She squinted like a cat and asked, “Why have we stopped here?”

Wenren Lin felt the soft body loosely resting in his arms. After a moment, he raised his hand to gently stroke her waist and said casually, “Your Highness can rest in the carriage. I need to meet an old acquaintance.”

An old acquaintance?

Since the brutal battle seven years ago, Zhao Yan hadn’t known that Wenren Lin still had any old acquaintances.

“Can I go in with you?” she blurted out.

Realizing that this small request might be slightly “overstepping,” especially since Wenren Lin was someone who kept his thoughts and personal boundaries tightly guarded, Zhao Yan added softly, “No other meaning, I just want to take a look inside. If it’s inconvenient, forget it.”

Wenren Lin looked at her with his deep, inscrutable eyes, then fetched a veil hat for her to wear. Holding her hand, he helped her step out of the carriage.

Today was the Ghost Festival, and a Ullambana basin was placed in front of the mountain gate.

Due to the Emperor’s favor towards the Shenguang Sect, Taoist temples had spread throughout the capital, and everyone claimed to be disciples of Shenguang. As a result, Buddhist temples like Lingyun Temple had become increasingly desolate, with few visitors. The temple was exceptionally quiet.

Zhao Yan followed Wenren Lin through the mountain gate, where an elderly monk with a limp, accompanied by a young novice, stepped forward and clasped his hands in greeting. “We were unaware of Your Highness’s arrival and failed to welcome you properly.”

The old monk was thin and frail, with a limp and a long scar across his eye that caused his eyelid to droop unnaturally. Despite his kind words, his appearance was somewhat eerie.

Wenren Lin tilted his head slightly and instructed, “Your Highness, feel free to look around, but don’t wander too far.”

Zhao Yan nodded and said, “Alright.”

Wenren Lin gestured for Cai Tian to stay behind as a guard, then followed the old monk past the release pool and the eastern cloister to a rear courtyard that was off-limits to outsiders. They stopped in front of a hall dedicated to the spirits of the fallen.

Pushing the door open, a cold breeze rushed in. The wooden shelves were filled with spirit tablets, and the flickering lights of countless eternal flames swayed like a sea of shadows.

Once the door closed, the old monk’s eyes reddened, and he struggled to kneel on one knee, offering a military salute to Wenren Lin. “Your subordinate, Yu Sui, pays respects to the Young Master!”

“Rise, Uncle Yu,” Wenren Lin said.

Wenren Lin simply raised his hand and gently supported the old monk, helping him stand steady. “I am no longer the young master of the general’s manor.”

“As long as you are here, the military spirit of the Wenren family remains unbroken. You will always be this old general’s young master.”

The old monk wiped the corner of his eye with his sleeve and continued, “Today, the Rong family came again. They lit a stick of incense from afar beneath the Bodhi tree…”

Seeing that Wenren Lin remained silent, the old monk tactfully said no more. He took out an incense stick and respectfully offered it to him.

Wenren Lin accepted the incense stick, leisurely straightened it, and then lit it over the oil lamp. Amidst the curling wisps of blue-white smoke, his expression appeared obscure and inscrutable.

On the wooden shelves, each memorial tablet and each flickering lamp represented a heroic soul who had fallen in battle.

Out of a hundred thousand soldiers, only three hundred and sixty-one had their remains brought back to the capital.

When Zhao Yan used to follow her imperial grandmother, she often endured the hardships of vegetarian meals and Buddhist prayers. Back then, she found it all rather dull, but now, returning to the ancient Garan Temple, she felt a sense of nostalgia.

Taking advantage of the empty courtyard, Zhao Yan lifted the veil of her hat and looked around. Behind the Buddha Hall, she caught a glimpse of a massive tree towering into the sky, its branches adorned with fluttering red ribbons.

Curiosity piqued, Zhao Yan made her way through the corridors and a small gate, only to find a centuries-old Bodhi tree standing tall in the stone courtyard, its lush branches and leaves spreading wide.

Zhao Yan had never seen such a colossal tree before and marveled in awe. Its gnarled branches and robust trunk were so thick that it would take six or seven adults holding hands to encircle it. The dense canopy covered most of the courtyard, blocking out the sky and making it impossible to see the top.

The branches were laden with red silk ribbons, likely tied by devotees making wishes.

Curious about what was written on the ribbons, Zhao Yan was about to step forward when she suddenly noticed a graceful figure standing beneath the Bodhi tree.

The figure looked strangely familiar.

Zhao Yan quickly halted her steps and hid behind a lacquered pillar, peeking out cautiously. She couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise, “Auntie?”

Rong Fuyue, dressed in a moonlit, plain-colored gown, wore no makeup yet still radiated an unparalleled beauty. She held an incense stick at eyebrow level, closed her eyes in devotion, and then respectfully placed it into the beast-footed incense burner.

Was Auntie here to pay respects to her parents? But why choose this secluded little temple?

Before Zhao Yan could ponder further, Rong Fuyue gently pushed her maid’s hand aside and left through a side door.

Shortly after, the sound of a carriage departing echoed from outside.

Only then did Zhao Yan step out from behind the pillar and walk into the shade of the lush, cloud-like canopy.

A breeze stirred the Bodhi tree’s leaves, causing the red ribbons to flutter like cascading rosy clouds, a sight both majestic and breathtaking.

“Your Highness, would you like to write down your wishes and hang them on the branches?” Cai Tian asked from behind.

“Can I?”

“For others, naturally not. But for Your Highness, you may write as many as you wish.”

With that, Cai Tian instructed a young monk to bring over silk ribbons and ink, laying them out on the stone table.

A thousand thoughts rushed to Zhao Yan’s mind, but when she put brush to paper, only eight simple words emerged: *“Loyal souls unyielding, sparks of hope eternal.”*

Some had died defending solitary cities, holding their banners and swords, falling on cold, desolate battlefields. Others had used their blood as ink and their bones as brushes, collapsing just before dawn… The spirits of soldiers and the integrity of scholars together upheld the crumbling foundation of the Great Xuan.

She wished only that the loyal souls would remain unyielding and that the sparks of hope would burn eternally. *Spirits, return home.*

Zhao Yan clasped the ribbon between her palms, closed her eyes, and focused her thoughts.

Wenren Lin emerged from the Hall of Heroes, turned the corner of the corridor, and was met with this scene.

Beneath the sky-shielding Bodhi tree, the setting sun pierced through the leaves, casting beams of light. The slender figure in ivory-colored, close-sleeved attire stood within those beams, palms pressed together, eyes closed, head bowed in devotion, the red ribbon fluttering in the wind between her fingers.

She was as bright and vivid as a celestial being descending to earth, capable of dispelling all shadows.

Zhao Yan opened her eyes as the setting sun gathered its last rays. The temple bell tolled with a deep, resonant sound, startling the weary birds into flight as they returned westward.

She looked up at the dense branches above, searching for an empty spot to hang her ribbon. However, after circling the stone platform around the Bodhi tree, she found that all the branches within reach were already adorned with ribbons, each bearing unfamiliar names. The emptier branches were too high, just beyond her fingertips.

Zhao Yan stood on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far as she could, but the branch she had her eye on swayed teasingly in the wind, just out of reach.

Beads of sweat formed on her nose as she considered asking Cai Tian to fetch a small stool for her. Just then, she felt a firm grip around her waist.

In the next moment, she was lifted into the air by a pair of strong arms, her head brushing against the lush canopy of green leaves and red ribbons.

Her veil hat was swept off by the branches, drifting to the ground like a wisp of cloud. Startled, Zhao Yan turned her head and saw Wenren Lin, who had effortlessly hoisted her up.

He was exceptionally tall, his arms steady and unwavering, not even a hint of a tremor. His dark eyes held a faint, amused smile as he looked at her. “Is this enough? Or do you need to go higher?”

With that, he gave her a slight upward boost, as if ready to lift her even further.

Zhao Yan’s face flushed, her heart racing. “It’s enough, it’s enough!” she hurriedly replied.

She turned her attention back to the task at hand, carefully and reverently tying the red ribbon to the empty branch she had chosen, smoothing it out meticulously.

Once she was done, Wenren Lin gently lowered her back to the ground, his arms steady and controlled.

Zhao Yan’s heart, however, continued to flutter, refusing to settle.

“What did you write?” Wenren Lin’s deep voice murmured near her ear.

Though he had let her feet touch the ground, he hadn’t released her slender waist, instead shifting his hold to loosely encircle her.

Zhao Yan’s ear tingled, and she shivered slightly, turning her face away. “You’re tall enough to see for yourself,” she replied softly.

Wenren Lin chuckled, glancing up at the red ribbon she had tied. It fluttered gently in the breeze, the delicate calligraphy faintly visible.

“This branch is off-limits to anyone else,” Wenren Lin instructed Cai Tian.

Zhao Yan was taken aback by his assertiveness, both amused and exasperated. “There’s no need for that. It’ll look odd if it’s left empty.”

“It won’t be empty,” Wenren Lin said, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he gave her waist a light squeeze. “I’ll hang my name next to yours.”

Zhao Yan looked up at him, unsure whether he was joking or serious.

—

At the Ningyang Marquis Manor, Rong Fuyue alighted from the carriage with the help of her maid, only to find that Wei Yan, who had supposedly gone to the palace on business, had returned ahead of her. He stood in the courtyard, gazing at the moon.

Seeing his wife return, Wei Yan smiled warmly and stepped forward to greet her. “Ah, Yue, you’re back.”

He didn’t ask where she had been, as if her return to his side was all that mattered. Rong Fuyue stood frozen for a moment, then whispered guiltily, “I’m sorry, I…”

“Silly Ah Yue, I’ve told you before—no matter what you do, you never need to apologize to me.”

Wei Yan pulled his wife into his arms, gently stroking her temple as he spoke softly, “Are you hungry? I’ve asked the kitchen to prepare your favorite lotus pastries. Would you like to try one?”

Tears welled up in Rong Fuyue’s beautiful eyes as she nodded gently. “Alright.”

—

Half a month before the Crown Prince’s birthday, gifts from various families began arriving at the Eastern Palace. On the day itself, the palace was bustling with activity, and the courtyard was nearly overflowing with presents of all sizes.

Although Zhao Yan had repeatedly urged for simplicity, tradition dictated that a small banquet be held in the Western Inner Garden, where she would gather with her father, the Empress, the princesses, and other royal relatives.

“After the gifts are accounted for, send each family an additional bolt of gold-adorned gauze as a return gesture. Follow the same protocols as when the Crown Prince’s residence was still active,” Zhao Yan instructed as she adjusted her jade hair crown in the bronze mirror. After a moment of thought, she added, “Before returning the gifts, make sure to inspect them thoroughly. Be vigilant against any underhanded tricks—someone might tamper with them.”

Liu Ying, likely recalling how Crown Prince Zhao Yan had met his end, lowered her voice. “Understood, Your Highness.”

The banquet was set up near Penglai Garden. Aside from the Changshou Princess and her family, the two unmarried princesses, the young Prince of Yingchuan, Liu Baiwei, and Zhao Yan’s study companion, Pei Sa, were also in attendance.

The Emperor did not appear in person, instead sending his chief eunuch to deliver a few words of praise. Empress Wei and Consort Zhen were present, seated separately without any interaction.

As the atmosphere grew tense, Zhang Cang suddenly entered the garden with a group of servants carrying a large box. He bowed to Zhao Yan and announced, “His Highness, Prince Su, has prepared a humble gift to celebrate Your Highness’s birthday. Please accept it!”

Everyone craned their necks, eager to see what grand gift Wenren Lin had sent. Even Zhao Yan was curious.

Zhang Cang opened the box, revealing its contents: a pile of ancient books and scrolls.

Each book was at least an inch or two thick—thick enough to be used as a brick!

This was no “humble” gift; it was substantial indeed!

Wenren Lin, as her tutor, was perhaps a bit too dedicated. The sheer volume of books suggested that even burning the midnight oil wouldn’t be enough to get through them all.

Zhao Yan immediately felt a headache coming on. Clenching her palm, she forced a smile and said, “Thank you for Prince Su’s kind thoughts! I will study diligently, burning the midnight oil if necessary, and live up to everyone’s expectations.”

The last few words came out with a hint of gritted teeth.

“Our prince said that Your Highness would surely understand his good intentions,” Zhang Cang replied with another bow. “He is currently occupied with official duties but will personally come to offer his congratulations once his tasks are complete.”

Empress Wei, unimpressed by Wenren Lin’s gift, shot a glance at the eunuchs, signaling them to move the large box of books farther away.

Palace maids and eunuchs filed in with trays of wine and delicacies. One young eunuch, carrying a tray of wine, kept his head bowed and moved hurriedly, nearly colliding with the Marquis of Ningyang and his wife, Rong Fuyue, as they entered Penglai Gate.

Wei Yan instinctively raised his arm to shield Rong Fuyue, but in doing so, he was the one who ended up being bumped by the eunuch. Wine splashed onto his sleeve, soaking it.

The young eunuch immediately dropped to his knees, begging for forgiveness. Wei Yan, however, calmly waved his hand and said, “Today is the Crown Prince’s joyous celebration. Let’s not let a small mishap spoil the mood. Rise.”

The eunuch scrambled to his feet and hurriedly carried the tray to the banquet table.

Li Fu, the head eunuch, led a team to meticulously inspect each dish and drink brought by the palace servants, ensuring there was no poison before allowing them to be served.

Just then, Wei Yan, who had just taken his seat, noticed something amiss. He let out a low, puzzled sound.

“Uncle, what’s wrong?” Zhao Yan, sitting nearby, asked with concern.

Wei Yan frowned as he looked down at his empty waist. “My palace token is missing. It was just there a moment ago…”

At his words, the expressions of those around him changed.

The palace token was a pass that allowed members of the imperial family and nobility to enter and exit the palace gates. If it fell into the wrong hands, who knew what kind of trouble it could cause?

“Uncle, don’t worry. Try to recall who you encountered or where you might have left it,” Zhao Yan said soothingly. Then, in a low voice, she instructed Liu Ying, “Take some people and search the area. Make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Liu Ying obeyed, leading a group of eunuchs to search the vicinity. The guests and guards also began checking their surroundings to ensure nothing was overlooked.

Wei Yan glanced at the wine stain on his sleeve, as if suddenly realizing something.

But it was already too late.

The young eunuch who had served the wine now wore a grim expression. He pulled a thin dagger from his sleeve and lunged straight at Zhao Yan!

“Crown Prince, did you like the inkstone I gave you?” Huo Zhenzhen, holding a wine cup, approached Zhao Yan to chat, completely unaware of the cold glint of the dagger aimed at her.

By the time anyone noticed something was wrong, it was almost too late.

Zhao Yan’s pupils contracted as she instinctively pushed Huo Zhenzhen aside. The blade grazed Zhao Yan’s sleeve, heading straight for her heart.

Before the dagger could reach her, it was intercepted by the sudden appearance of another blade.

Zhang Cang had drawn his sword and kicked the eunuch, sending him flying a full zhang (about 3.3 meters) away. The eunuch crashed to the ground, coughing up blood.

The young eunuch struggled to lift his head, his eyes widening in terror as he saw a pair of black leather boots before him.

He looked up further and saw the strikingly handsome face of Wenren Lin.

Prince Su had arrived.

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