Zhao Yang stood listless, the wound on her cheek grotesque in the firelight. A woman’s face was everything. Qin Xiang felt a stab of sympathy and said kindly, “Commandery Princess, I know how to remove scars. You can come see me.”
Then she climbed into the carriage.
The coachman followed and shut the door, cutting off Zhao Yang’s gaze.
Hoofbeats sounded from ahead. Qin Hongyi dismounted and hurried over. “Commandery Princess, are you hurt?”
Looking closer, she gasped. She instinctively glanced at the departing Prime Minister’s carriage, then hurried over: “Prime Minister Yun, are you alright?”
“The Prime Minister is drunk,” Qin Xiang answered for her. “Lady Qin, please find an imperial physician for the Commandery Princess. A woman’s face is everything.”
Qin Hongyi bowed hastily and stepped back, clearing the way.
The carriage departed swiftly. Qin Hongyi hurried to the princess’s side and reached to steady her: “Commandery Princess, return to the palace.”
Zhao Yang stood frozen, staring at the direction the carriage had gone. The scrape on her face seemed not to hurt—it was nothing compared to the wound in her heart.
“Lady Qin, why does she have to be Prime Minister?”
“The Empress Dowager trusts her.” Qin Hongyi chose her words.
Zhao Yang shook her head. “No. She’d rather marry someone she doesn’t love than be with me.”
Qin Hongyi: “…” That’s really not it.
“No, that’s not it. The Prime Minister truly loves Young Master Qin. She truly does.”
Zhao Yang’s heart ached. She stared into the darkness, eyes lightless. “No. She doesn’t love the Qin name. How could she fall in love in just one month? She never opened her heart for all these years—how could she suddenly marry?”
Qin Hongyi couldn’t explain it either. Every move the Prime Minister made showed her love for the young master—love written in every gesture.
“Even without Young Master Qin, you and the Prime Minister could never be.” Qin Hongyi chose her words carefully. A Prime Minister, head of all officials, a role model for women—the eyes of the world were on her.
How could she choose romance and ruin her own future?
Yun Qian had always worked hard. She’d clawed her way up and earned her position. She wasn’t worth throwing away her reputation for a Commandery Princess.
Zhao Yang clutched her chest. “No. I don’t need a title. You don’t understand what we have.”
Qin Hongyi was speechless. She actually understood quite well. Even childhood sweethearts couldn’t beat love at first sight.
“The Prime Minister’s feelings are plain as day. You should let it go.”
Zhao Yang pressed her hand to her chest. “No. I still have hope.”
Hearing that, Qin Hongyi gave up trying. The wine hit her head. She clambered onto her horse, dizzy, and headed home.
The carriage returned to the residence. Maidservants came to greet them. Qin Xiang supported the Prime Minister, step by step, back to Wanglan Pavilion.
“I want to go to the bath.” Yun Qian’s gaze was lazy and slanted, soul-stealing in the dark.
Qin Xiang panicked. “You’ll drown!”
“I’m not drunk.” Yun Qian found Qin Xiang’s ear and whispered with a smile, “Today I taught you how to shake off someone clinging to you. Did you learn?”
A good teacher taught everywhere.
Qin Xiang sighed. “Sister, that was too cruel.”
“Cut cleanly.” Yun Qian raised her voice, her fingertips tracing Qin Xiang’s disobedient ear. “I want to swim.”
“No! If you go in, you won’t come back up!” Qin Xiang’s heart lurched at the shout.
“To the bath. I’ll wash myself.” Yun Qian pushed Qin Xiang away and headed for the bathhouse herself.
Oddly, she walked steadily. Her back was straight, night light flowing along the graceful curve of her spine—seductive enough to make one’s heart itch.
Qin Xiang hurried after her. “Sister, are you even drunk?”
No answer.
The drunk woman walked fast. Qin Xiang had to jog to catch up, panting.
The bath was at perfect temperature. Behind the folding screen, candles blazed, reflecting shimmering light off the water.
Qin Xiang caught up, panting hard. Her sister was definitely not drunk—she’d been faking it the whole way.
Summer robes were thin, the gauze light and soft. Slender fingers casually teased the fastenings open. The soft gauze slipped to the floor. A splash—she dove into the water like a fish.
The agile form beneath the surface made Qin Xiang stare for a moment. Tsk tsk tsk. Her sister was all performance.
Better than any stage actor.
While she was distracted, Yun Qian surfaced. Candlelight fell on her luminous white face. Water droplets slid down her cheeks and jaw, plopping one by one into the water, landing on the heart.
Qin Xiang slowly waded in. The moment she entered, the agile fish circled around her.
The slender form beneath the water was enough to make one envious. Jade-clear hands traced Qin Xiang’s shoulders in the firelight.
“Sister, are you drunk?” Qin Xiang’s heart thumped. Her gaze traveled up and down, landing on the skin beneath the water—where the liquid wet her chest.
Glistening. Full.
“Not drunk.”
The voice was low, tinged with intoxication. Yun Qian reached out, shoved the person before her away, and leaned back.
Arms spread wide, long hair fanning out. Water splashed. Qin Xiang watched, entranced—then a hand pulled her under.
Beneath the water, the view was crystal clear.
Qin Xiang held her breath, dealt with some underhandedness beneath the surface, and surfaced in a rush: “Sister, you’re not drunk!”
She really wasn’t. What drunk person could move so nimbly underwater?
Kissing. Biting. Swimming—even a sober person couldn’t necessarily do all that.
Qin Xiang felt the pressure. This woman was too passionate. What was there to kiss underwater?
And what was with biting her neck?
Qin Xiang wanted to climb out and flee—it was time to sleep. But the moment the thought crossed her mind, as if her sister could read it, she was pinned against the pool wall.
And bitten again.
She hurriedly held her breath. One wrong move and she’d choke.
When the biting finally stopped and they’d come out to change, Yun Qian suddenly said: “Let’s go up to the pavilion and look at the moon.”
Look at the moon in the middle of the night…
Qin Xiang was forced to lie down on the pavilion. A gentle breeze blew. A blanket covered her—just the right temperature.
Her soaked hair could dry in the wind too. Two birds with one stone.
Yun Qian lay on the lounge chair, head tilted. “So thirsty.”
Qin Xiang immediately fetched water and handed it over. Yun Qian took her hand and drank a big gulp—then another. While Qin Xiang went to set the cup down, Yun Qian pressed her onto the lounge chair, leaned in, and fed the water into Qin Xiang’s mouth, lip to lip.
The water tasted of wine—not like good wine, but like some unscrupulous merchant’s brew diluted five or six times.
After the sip of wine-water, Yun Qian didn’t release her. Instead, she asked with keen interest: “Have you learned?”
“Learned! I’ve learned!” The student immediately declared, looking up to see herself reflected in those eyes. Her body trembled, her mind went blank. Somehow, she wanted to kiss her, to learn from that night and pin her down.
Qin Xiang took a deep breath, braced against her sister’s shoulder, and kissed her collarbone.
Yun Qian let out a soft sound, slightly surprised, a hint of tenderness in her gaze. She laughed. “You’re turning in homework, are you?”
Before Qin Xiang could respond, Yun Qian drew her hand and guided it to her own waist.
Through the fabric, Qin Xiang’s hand trembled. But her sister just tilted her head and smiled, composed, her gaze softening in the light.
Light fell on her profile. Qin Xiang gathered her courage, her breath tracing slow circles over that collarbone.
Yun Qian closed her eyes. The hot breath nearly made her lose her mind. Immersed in it, she understood the pleasure desire could bring.
Perhaps she’d been lonely for too long. She was beginning to enjoy the taste of companionship—of entanglement.
She opened her eyes, meeting Qin Xiang’s nervous, timid gaze. Her hand rested on the girl’s slender back, hearing the strong, thundering heartbeat.
“Is the homework hard?” Yun Qian’s smile was intoxicating—neither fully drunk nor fully sober, breathing sweetness between clarity and haze.
She tucked Qin Xiang’s scattered hair behind her ears. Her fingertips inadvertently grazed the burning cheek—a feather-light touch that stirred her heart anew.
Slowly, she guided Qin Xiang to strip away the summer robes, thread by thread.
Everything was under her control.
She slept long and well.
She woke at noon. Gu Huangying had been waiting a while. Yun Qian rose lazily to receive her.
In summer, married women wore cross-collared summer robes with beaded chains, lending an air of gentleness.
Gu Huangying, seeing her superior’s changed demeanor, swallowed. So they’d had quite a night after yesterday’s drinking.
Yun Qian invited her to sit, drank a cup of herbal tea to soothe her throat, and when she spoke, her voice was smooth: “It’s your day off. Why are you here?”
Hear that? Things changed after marriage. Who used to keep working straight through their days off?
Clearly, once a woman had love in her heart, state affairs no longer came first.
Gu Huangying’s dark eyes landed on the Prime Minister’s neck, then hastily looked away. There was a red bite mark there.
Was that a love mark?
Gu Huangying dared not look again. She spoke seriously: “General Ma refuses to hand over the Wengu woman.”
Yun Qian was silent for two breaths. She set down the teacup. “He’ll hand her over whether he likes it or not.”
In her past life, this man had died horribly—executed by slow slicing. For what crime, Yun Qian couldn’t remember. During that period, the Red Forest Army had arrested so many, and under torture, the gentry families implicated were too numerous to count.
Trying to make an ordinary household surrender a woman of extraordinary blood was like cutting flesh from their own hearts.
Yun Qian’s fine, distant-mountain brows drew together. One person was manageable. What about several?
She was isolated and friendless, her heart burning. She took another sip of herbal tea to suppress the fire in her chest. “Send Lu Chengyun to pay him a visit.”
“Doing that will blow things up.” Gu Huangying was worried. The moment the Red Forest Army got involved, the situation would spiral.
“What about Secretariat Director Li?” Yun Qian had no better options at the moment.
“Director Li handed the woman over. But I think she’s no different from an ordinary woman. When I asked about Warm Valley, she knew nothing.” Gu Huangying sighed. “I suspect they swapped her for a fake.”
Yun Qian pondered. Thinking of Little Empress Qin’s extreme methods, she realized the Empress had been pushed to the cliff’s edge by these shameless people.
She closed her eyes, suppressed her fury again, and said calmly: “Then drop it. Find another way.”
“Prime Minister, giving up halfway doesn’t seem like you.” Gu Huangying was puzzled.
Yun Qian sneered, a hint of anger showing. “When the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam follows. Can’t you find a single crack in those grand mansions?”
The reminder woke Gu Huangying. “Kill the chicken to scare the monkey. Whose house do we start with?”
“Whichever family has a dissolute son.” Yun Qian stood. Her thinking had changed—soft approaches wouldn’t work.
Time to take a page from Little Empress Qin’s book. Get ruthless for once.
