Chapter 86: Good Morning, Little Highness.

Wenren Lin had once stayed in the Eastern Palace until the hour of the Tiger (around 3–5 a.m.), sitting in a chair flipping through scrolls to pass the time, occasionally glancing at her sleeping face on the couch—unruly and unguarded.

After returning from purgatory eight years ago, he had never shared a bed with anyone. It reminded him too much of his youth, lying among corpses.

Wenren Lin gently hooked her finger with his and gave it a slight twist, lowering his gaze to look at her. ‘Staying the night—this isn’t proper.’

He was clearly the most unrestrained man in all of Da Xuan, yet he spoke of ‘propriety’ with such a disciplined expression that Zhao Yan almost wanted to laugh.

She lay on her side, a strand of hair falling across her lips, looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

‘What does it matter? Even if you weren’t also the Crown Prince’s tutor, and didn’t need to assist the Eastern Palace day and night, no one would dare impeach you for staying.’

‘Just now, Your Highness boasted about saving me—this is clearly an attempt to lure me into ruin.’

Standing against the candlelight, his features appeared even more striking and profound. ‘Then again, if I were to accompany you day and night, it would undoubtedly show the court my dedication to supporting the Eastern Palace. Your Highness’s path ahead would be much smoother.’

Zhao Yan paused.

She had indeed thought this way before. But after experiencing so much, her perspective had broadened. She realized that relying on others was not as reliable as becoming strong herself, and so she had let go of that thought.

They say, ‘A traveler returns on a snowy night,’ but Wenren Lin seemed more like a wanderer drifting through the mortal world. Zhao Yan had asked him to stay not out of sentimentality, but because she couldn’t bear to see him travel alone between the palace and his residence on such a cold, snowy night, with no place to truly call home.

‘I only asked you to stay because it’s already midnight, and you have to lecture at the Chongwen Hall in three hours.’

Zhao Yan furrowed her brows, let go of his hand, and pulled the covers over herself. ‘If the Grand Tutor has concerns, I won’t insist.’

With that, she turned over, facing away from him.

She hadn’t bound her chest or tied up her hair. Even through the thick bedding, the delicate curves of a woman’s body were still discernible. Wenren Lin’s eyes softened with amusement. He lowered the bed curtains to block the light, and then came the sound of footsteps fading away.

Zhao Yan, facing the inside of the bed, perked up her ears. She heard the door open and close, and sat up in surprise.

He really left?

She sat there dazed for a while, then yawned sleepily.

Oh well, sleep is the most important thing in the world. So she lay back down with a huff and closed her eyes, ready to follow the Duke of Zhou into dreams.

Not long after, the palace doors opened again—this time much more quietly, even the footsteps deliberately softened. Zhao Yan, thinking it was Liu Ying coming in to help her bind her hair and check the charcoal and windows, murmured sleepily, ‘Did he leave?’”

The person behind her didn’t respond.

The bed curtains were lifted, and the mattress behind her sank slightly. Then, a cool medicinal candy was pressed against her lips. Wenren Lin’s low voice came through: “Open your mouth.”

Zhao Yan’s drowsiness instantly vanished halfway. She turned her head abruptly, but Wenren Lin seized the moment to slip the pill into her slightly parted lips.

A familiar bitter taste spread through her mouth.

Now fully awake, Zhao Yan covered her mouth and swallowed the pill with the tea Wenren Lin handed her, then rinsed her mouth. She remembered now—after their entanglement tonight, she hadn’t yet taken the contraceptive.

“You went out just now to get this?” Zhao Yan asked.

“Indeed. Only when it comes from my own hand can I be assured.”

Wenren Lin placed the teacup back on the bedside cabinet and turned to look at her. “What do you think, Your Highness?”

“…” Zhao Yan said nothing.

Wenren Lin reached out to wipe a drop of water from her lips and reminded her, “Don’t take random medicine again.”

“I know, I know.”

Zhao Yan responded with embarrassment. Must he bring up that humiliating incident again?

She lay back under the covers. Seeing Wenren Lin still sitting at the bedside watching her, looking completely at ease, she couldn’t help but clear her throat. “Why do you keep staring at me?”

Wenren Lin’s gaze fell on the space between her body and the edge of the bed, a smile deepening in his eyes. “I was wondering when Your Highness would make some room for me.”

Realizing what he meant, Zhao Yan scooted inward like a worm wrapped in the quilt, leaving half the bed empty.

Wenren Lin gently gathered her hair from the pillow to keep it from getting caught, then took off his black boots and lay down beside her.

The heavy bed curtains fell like a waterfall, sealing tightly. In the dim light, the night lamp cast a faint halo on the fabric, outlining Wenren Lin’s profile—sharp and handsome, with deep-set brows, a straight nose, and thin lips.

Sharing a bed with someone was a curious feeling, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them. Even though they had already done far more intimate things, the mere presence of another body made her unconsciously soften her breathing.

Zhao Yan watched him with fascination until Wenren Lin raised his hand to cover her eyes and said in a low voice, “Close them.”

Zhao Yan blinked, her lashes brushing against his palm like feathers. In the complete darkness, sleep soon returned.

She obeyed and closed her eyes. Before long, her breathing became slow and steady.

After a while, Wenren Lin finally moved his hand away and turned his head to look at her. His eyesight was excellent—he could still see clearly in the dark. Even the slight flutter of the young princess’s eyelashes was visible to him, delicate and graceful.

The corners of Wenren Lin’s lips twitched slightly. He rested both hands on his chest and closed his eyes.

In his dream, the thick stench of blood overwhelmed him.

Cold rain poured from the sky. Soaked and shivering crows perched on broken halberds, tilting their heads to peer at the corpses piled on the ground. From the cracks between the layers of bodies, a bloodshot young eye peeked out. In its ashen iris, the rain streaks beneath the rolling black clouds reflected dimly, devoid of any light.

Blood mixed with rainwater flowed down, reeking of damp decay.

“Father is gone. Live well.”

“Ah Lin, Second Brother’s life doesn’t matter, but this city must not fall. If we abandon it, the lives of hundreds of thousands behind us will be lost! If the defense line breaks, Da Xuan is doomed!”

“We are willing to fight to the death with the general! Our bones may not return home, but not an inch of our land shall be lost!”

“Ah Lin, don’t move. Be good! Second Brother doesn’t hurt, really… it’s just a pity about the new clothes Mother made…”

“Form a wall of flesh! Protect the young general!”

“Young General, live on! As long as you live, our brothers won’t have died in vain!”

Scene after scene surged forth. At last, a faint light rose in the eye beneath the corpses. He parted his cracked lips with difficulty, catching the pale red rainwater dripping from the armor of the dead.

The rain was so foul it made one retch, but the boy had no choice but to swallow it, clinging desperately to any chance of survival.

He had to live—to return to the capital alive and avenge the nearly one hundred thousand soldiers who had died in vain.

The nightmare shattered. The night was as dark as ink.

Wenren Lin’s eyes snapped open. He instinctively caught the arm that had swung toward him.

It was a slender wrist, the skin soft and warm. The chill in his eyes had not yet faded as he turned his head expressionlessly.

Because the “Crown Prince” was frail, the palace was kept warm with ample charcoal. Zhao Yan had kicked off the covers in her sleep, half her body exposed. Her fair cheeks were flushed with the warmth of slumber.

Her hair was slightly tousled, her collar loose, and the delicate curves of her collarbone and chest faintly visible. A beauty lay beside him, fragrant and warm—not a heap of rotting corpses.

The darkness in Wenren Lin’s eyes gradually faded, replaced by a gentle ripple.

He tucked Zhao Yan’s arm back under the covers and pulled the quilt over her again. Just as he was about to get up, he heard her murmur drowsily, “You’re still not asleep?”

Wenren Lin had no choice but to stay still and replied softly, “I am.”

“Don’t think too much, there’ll be a way…”

Zhao Yan mumbled to herself, instinctively seeking a cooler spot, burrowing into his embrace. Her forehead gently pressed against his chest, her fingers clutching his lapel as she slept soundly.

The soft warmth of a woman pressed against him, dispelling the chill in his heart.

Wenren Lin didn’t pull away. He bent his arm to pillow his head, his other hand idly stroking the waist of the girl in his arms. Though he had startled awake from a dream, he felt no trace of sleepiness.

Perhaps in the midst of a snowy day, everyone craves warmth.

At least this time, he wasn’t alone, sitting on a cold bed, toying with a short blade until dawn.

…

At the hour of Mao (5–7 AM), the sky was still dark.

Zhao Yan’s cheeks were being kneaded, and she groggily opened her eyes, momentarily dazed.

Wenren Lin was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, his dark hair half-bound with a hairpin, half-loose. He propped his elbow on the bed, resting his head as he lay on his side, watching her. His long, calloused fingers pinched her cheek, then rubbed her earlobe, thoroughly enjoying himself.

This was the first time she had opened her eyes in the morning to see Wenren Lin, truly having shared a bed with her in the Eastern Palace for an entire night.

“Morning…” Zhao Yan murmured.

“Morning, little Highness.”

Wenren Lin looked refreshed, smiling at her. “Not awake yet? Time to wash up, eat, and head to Chongwen Hall.”

“It’s only Mao hour?”

Zhao Yan stretched lazily under the covers, her slender arms extending, her legs unconsciously kicking, the graceful curves of her chest rising and falling.

Last night, she hadn’t bound her hair or chest, and without those constraints, she had slept deeply and soundly, feeling as though she’d only just closed her eyes before being woken.

Zhao Yan sat up groggily, about to shed her clothes, when she remembered the person before her wasn’t Liu Ying but a terrifyingly vigorous man. Undressing privately with him was one thing, but dressing required Liu Ying’s supervision—having an outsider watch would hardly be proper.

She hesitated for a moment, rubbing the tip of her nose. “Why don’t you step out for a bit? I’ll call Liu Ying in to help me change.”

Wenren Lin raised an eyebrow. “So, Your Highness is burning bridges after crossing the river?”

“What are you talking about? With a great Buddha like you standing here watching me change, I’m afraid Liu Ying will be frightened.”

Zhao Yan met his deep, smiling gaze, her face flushing. She pushed him, saying, “Ugh, just go already.”

Wenren Lin easily caught her fingertips with his palm, gave them a squeeze, then leisurely stood, brushing off his sleeves. He grabbed the heavy cloak from the wooden rack nearby and stepped into the outer room.

Liu Ying, right on time, entered the hall alone with clean clothes, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

Zhao Yan gathered her long hair, wrapping her chest binding in circles while lifting her arms to dress. Yawning softly, she said, “Prepare some menstrual cloths for me. I might need them in the next couple of days.”

Liu Ying didn’t ask further. She fastened the ties on Zhao Yan’s robe and simply said, “Yes.”

The roads were slippery from the snow, making it impossible to ride in a sedan chair. Besides, there was the troublesome literature exam today, which required early preparation at the Chongwen Hall.

There was no time for breakfast. Zhao Yan quickly got ready and hurried out of the Eastern Palace.

A thin layer of snow covered the ground like frost, her breath turned to mist in the air, and there was no sign of Wenren Lin anywhere.

Just as Zhao Yan thought Wenren Lin had left in anger, feeling a twinge of guilt, she spotted a dark figure standing by the side gate.

Zhang Cang had brought a carriage and was bowing with clasped fists, reporting something to Wenren Lin.

“No need to prepare the carriage. I’ll travel with Prince Su,” Zhao Yan instructed Li Fu. As she spoke, a faint smile appeared in her eyes. She stepped forward and respectfully saluted Wenren Lin with her sleeves drawn together. “Many thanks to the Grand Tutor for your tireless efforts in answering my questions.”

She looked serious and courteous, leaving no room for suspicion. But Wenren Lin clearly saw the sly, lively smile at the corner of her lips behind her raised sleeves.

He stood with his hands behind his back and replied solemnly, “With Your Highness’s cooperation, the mountains echo and the valleys respond—it’s not hard at all. If Your Highness doesn’t mind, you may accompany this prince to Chongwen Hall to continue our discussion of the difficult questions.”

He emphasized the word “discussion” with a subtle tone, implying something more.

Zhao Yan’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, but she maintained her composure and smiled. “Very well, thank you for your trouble, Grand Tutor.”

Wenren Lin made a gesture of invitation with one hand. Zhao Yan took the hand warmer Liu Ying handed her, tucked it into her sleeve, and boarded Wenren Lin’s carriage.

As the carriage dipped under her weight, Wenren Lin followed closely behind, lifting his sleeve as he sat beside her.

Zhao Yan sat upright, the very image of a self-disciplined crown princess. Only when Zhang Cang cheerfully stuffed two oil-paper-wrapped parcels into the carriage and let the curtain fall again did Zhao Yan finally breathe a sigh of relief and lean against the carriage wall.

“I thought you had left early,” she said.

Wenren Lin removed his cloak and replied casually, “I went to change clothes, and I had something to instruct the servants to do.”

“You changed clothes?”

Zhao Yan gave him another look and saw that he had indeed changed into a dark red and black everyday robe. Because he had been wearing a cloak earlier, no one had noticed the change.

“Why didn’t you change this one too?” Zhao Yan pointed to the cloak draped over his arm.

Wenren Lin glanced down at it, a mysterious smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Since Your Highness perfumed it for me, of course I must wear it a bit longer before changing.”

“When did I ever perfume it…”

Zhao Yan suddenly remembered—last night, Wenren Lin had wrapped her in that cloak after her bath. The scent on it wasn’t perfume at all—it was clearly her own…

Realizing this, Zhao Yan awkwardly looked away and muttered while propping her chin, “What a strange habit.”

Wenren Lin chuckled, a low, alluring sound that rumbled from deep in his chest.

Zhao Yan wrinkled her nose as the warm aroma of breakfast reached her. Before long, she couldn’t help but glance back. Holding her stomach, she looked at Wenren Lin and asked, “Are you hungry?”

Wenren Lin saw right through her little ploy. He leaned over and unwrapped one of the oil-paper parcels, revealing steaming, fragrant crab roe pastries.

Zhao Yan had planned to grab a quick bite at Chongwen Hall, but now her appetite was fully awakened.

She opened her mouth slightly, and Wenren Lin casually fed her a piece, the gesture as graceful as when he fed dried meat to a cat.

Zhao Yan bit into the crab roe pastry. Their eyes met, and her heart warmed. “I can do it myself,” she said.

Wenren Lin’s fingertip brushed lightly across her lips before he took a piece for himself.

The carriage began to move, the curtains swaying gently with the rumble of the wheels.

Daylight had fully broken. Morning light pierced through the icy mist, slanting down from behind the distant mountain ridges, casting a golden veil of warmth over the snow-dusted eaves and the imperial city. The icicles beneath the palace walls sparkled with dazzling brilliance.

Zhao Yan held half a pastry in her hand and couldn’t help but lift the carriage curtain slightly. Facing the light, she praised, “What magnificent mountains and rivers—so beautiful.”

Wenren Lin shifted his gaze—not to the snowy palace walls, but to her relaxed and radiant face.

The light fell into her eyes, layer upon layer, like a watercolor blooming…

“Indeed, very beautiful,” he said, quietly gazing at her.

Outside Chongwen Hall, Pei Sa was surprised to see Zhao Yan and Wenren Lin arriving one after the other.

He first saluted Wenren Lin as a student, then bowed with clasped fists to Zhao Yan and asked, “Did Your Highness and the Grand Tutor meet by chance? How did you come together?”

This was a first.

Zhao Yan glanced at Wenren Lin with a hint of guilt and replied softly, “We were just headed the same way.”

Pei Sa was about to ask more, but Zhao Yan sensed something was off and changed the subject. “Wasn’t it supposed to be Lecturer Zhou’s class at this hour?”

Wenren Lin casually sat down in the grand tutor’s chair and said lazily, “He won’t be coming today.”

Zhao Yan was just about to ask “Why?” when the head eunuch of Chongwen Hall approached with small, respectful steps and reported, “Your Highnesses, Prince Su, Lecturer Zhou sent word that one of the carriage wheels broke midway, making it difficult to proceed. The exam papers were also soaked by snow. He won’t be able to reach Chongwen Hall for a while. Once he changes clothes and rewrites the exam, he will come to apologize.”

How convenient.

Zhao Yan suddenly recalled the scene at the Eastern Palace gates earlier, when Zhang Cang had been reporting something to Wenren Lin. She couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously.

Could that task he assigned have been this?

“If he can’t come, I can teach in his place,” Wenren Lin said, lifting his gaze from the chair and tapping the armrest with feigned reluctance. “Your Highness, shall we begin?”

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