Chapter 39: The Heart: Hard to Speak Of

Thin clouds veiled the moonlight in a hazy glow.

The spring breeze roared, sending the wilting wisteria flowers scattering through the courtyard.

The rustling of petals hitting the ground blended with the biting evening wind, amid a cacophony of surrounding noises, but Yan Yiqing could only hear the thunderous drumming of her own heartbeat.

A withered seed sprouted the tiniest new bud.

Though joy bloomed in her heart, the memories that followed filled her with annoyance.

Silently recounting every little detail from before, Yan Yiqing’s face grew darker and darker, her brows knitting into a tight frown: the things she had done earlier… Huairen surely had no good impression of her now.

Dejected yet delighted, Yan Yiqing floated back to the main room on unsteady feet, her soul and body already in two places, her mind filled entirely with the image of Zhao Huairen in the pool moments ago.

“Palm Mirror Envoy!” Jialan had waited in the main room for a long time and was just about to lose her patience when Yan Yiqing finally returned.

Seeing Jialan, Yan Yiqing merely lifted her eyes slightly.

Tonight’s operation had gone smoothly—Shi Yun Si was dead, and they had found important documents in the study at Shi Mansion—but why did the Palm Mirror Envoy seem off? Had something happened during the time she had disappeared?

Jialan’s pupils contracted slightly. “Did something happen at Prince Gong Mansion?”

“Nothing happened at Prince Gong Mansion.” Her fingertips tightened, and Yan Yiqing forced her lips into a smile, though it came out stiff and awkward. “You all did very well tonight.”

Though Yan Yiqing said it was nothing, Jialan had never seen such an expression on her face before. Thinking she planned to venture into danger alone again, Jialan bowed her head. “Please give your orders, Palm Mirror Envoy. No matter what happens, this subordinate is willing to share your burdens.”

How could she possibly share this burden?

Not to mention, she could never reveal Huairen’s identity.

“It’s just a slight discomfort in my body.” Yan Yiqing waved her hand dismissively. “It’s late. You should head back to the Dark Tower quickly.”

Knowing Yan Yiqing wasn’t telling the truth, Jialan, as her subordinate, didn’t press further. She pursed her lips, about to bow and take her leave—

“Have the peonies outside the city bloomed?”

Jialan’s round eyes filled with bewilderment. She blinked. “The peonies outside the city?”

“Never mind, it’s fine if you don’t know.” Yan Yiqing walked calmly behind the screen and changed out of her night clothes. “You can go now.”

“Xianglan likes flowers. Last time Mulan went out of the city on business, she picked a few branches for her.” Not understanding her intent, Jialan could only share what she knew. “Does the Palm Mirror Envoy need peonies? This subordinate will go fetch some right away…”

“I was just asking casually. No need to make a fuss.”

Now dressed in a light pink skirt embroidered with peach blossoms, Yan Yiqing walked to the bronze mirror and saw Jialan still standing there. “What is it? Do you have something else?”

Sensing Yan Yiqing’s order to leave, Jialan suppressed her inner worry and bowed before departing.

The flame on the candlestick flickered faintly.

Yan Yiqing walked to the low table and picked up the medicine jar from the corner of the desk.

Bad impression? Then she’d turn it around. As long as Huairen was alive, she feared nothing—especially since she was now married to her.

At the thought, her cool ear tips instantly heated up.

Right! She was Huairen’s wife.

The proper kind, with a full wedding ceremony.

Huairen had even personally brought her home.

Waves rippled in her moist peach-blossom eyes, and her lips curved upward uncontrollably. Yan Yiqing gripped the medicine jar tightly, suppressing the little bursts of secret joy at the tip of her heart, and strode out of the main room with a serious expression.

She smoothed her sleeve, which didn’t have a single wrinkle.

Yan Yiqing took a deep breath and adjusted her expression, only to discover that the candlelight in the study had already gone out.

Had Huairen retired so early tonight?

The little cat’s proudly raised tail drooped. Yan Yiqing rubbed the medicine jar in her palm and lowered her head in disappointment: It was good to rest early; sleeping late wasn’t good for the body. Huairen had stayed up too late before…

Suddenly, the tip of her shoe caught the glow of candlelight.

Her eyes lit up instantly, and Yan Yiqing snapped her head up.

“So late, and Young Master Yan still hasn’t rested?” Zhao Huairen stood on the steps, draped in a light cyan cloak, holding a hand lantern.

She had just been about to retire when she heard footsteps outside the door. She rose hurriedly, her ink-black hair unbound and simply falling over her shoulders.

“Hm? Is there something on my face?”

Her cheeks heated suddenly, and Yan Yiqing guiltily lowered her head like a thief caught in the act.

She had long known Yan Yiqing to act strangely, but tonight, she seemed even stranger. Zhao Huairen lowered her gaze to her. “Young Master Yan, do you have something to ask of me?”

She hesitated to speak, her expression flustered.

Surely, there was something she needed help with.

Her body moved of its own accord, and Yan Yiqing nodded subconsciously before quickly shaking her head. “The wind is strong at night; don’t catch a chill. We can talk inside, okay?”

Talk inside?

Hadn’t she always avoided her like a venomous snake?

A trace of doubt rose in her phoenix eyes, but Zhao Huairen neither agreed nor refused directly.

Yan Yiqing pursed her lips and asked softly, “Is that okay?”

Her gaze skimmed lightly over Yan Yiqing, and Zhao Huairen nodded slightly, stepping aside. “Please.”

With her permission, the little cat quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

…

She tilted the hand lantern slightly to light the oil lamp inside, then casually set it by the desk. Zhao Huairen sat before her.

The previous two times she had barged into the study, Yan Yiqing hadn’t felt anything, but now, with Zhao Huairen sitting right in front of her, she belatedly realized that the study wasn’t just a study—it was also where Huairen slept.

Asking to talk inside…

Had that been too rude?

Her gaze turned annoyed, and her fingers tightened around the medicine jar.

Taking in the shift in her expression, Zhao Huairen lowered her long lashes and spoke first. “Young Master Yan, what exactly brings you here tonight?”

“Actually, it’s nothing much.” Noticing her gaze, sweat broke out uncontrollably in Yan Yiqing’s palms.

So hard to bring up.

It seemed quite difficult.

Perhaps it was related to the struggle for the throne, but given their relationship, why would she make such a request? Her sword brows furrowed slightly, and Zhao Huairen’s gaze cooled.

“This… this medicine is good for your knees.” Yan Yiqing placed the jar on the corner of the desk and pushed it forward a bit.

Seeing that Zhao Huairen neither took it nor refused, Yan Yiqing quickly added, “Didn’t you help me before? Just take it—as repayment for that favor.”

Hadn’t she said the favor no longer counted?

Zhao Huairen didn’t speak, but Yan Yiqing read the implication in her eyes. She curled her fingers and said awkwardly, “Haha, I was just joking before.”

“Will the Heir Apparent accept it?”

It was just medicine—why was she so cautious? And why did Yan Yiqing seem to be fawning over her?

Her gaze flickered, and Zhao Huairen rose and walked to the bookshelf, retrieving two other medicine bottles from a corner drawer. “This is already the third time.”

Yan Yiqing stared at the bottles in her hand. “Were the previous medicines not effective?”

“They were effective.” Zhao Huairen placed the porcelain bottles one by one on the desk and lifted her eyes to her. “Too effective, in fact, so I feel unworthy of receiving them.”

“It’s fine; I have plenty. You can have as many as you want!”

Yan Yiqing regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

It sounded like she was cursing her to get injured.

Plenty? She had never heard that medicines personally concocted by the world’s top healer were so abundant. A hint of probing entered her eyes, and Zhao Huairen’s voice remained clear and smooth. “Young Master Yan is on very good terms with the Ghost Physician?”

“Ghost Physician?” Yan Yiqing frowned.

Seeing her feign ignorance, Zhao Huairen curved her lips slightly and decided not to press.

“You mean Qian Baiqin?”

Qian Baiqin? Was that the Ghost Physician’s real name?

Yan Yiqing had revealed the Ghost Physician’s name to her just like that?

Seeing Zhao Huairen’s interest, Yan Yiqing blinked and explained warmly, “My mother’s name is Qian Baiyi. The Ghost Physician you’re referring to should be my little aunt.”

The Ghost Physician’s whereabouts were elusive, his identity a mystery, and his medicines priceless.

Even Zhaixiang Tower couldn’t uncover this information.

And Yan Yiqing had just casually told her?

“You must know my parents passed away. Aside from my elder sister, the closest to me are my aunt and little aunt.” Unaware of how strange her behavior seemed to Zhao Huairen, Yan Yiqing continued, “I don’t have many friends either. My childhood playmate is the vice general under me—she’s Xing Wanyang. You met her at Myriad Treasures Pavilion before.”

“The spear I usually wield is called Chilling Red. I’m skilled with spears, though my swordsmanship is decent too. Do you like archery? I heard you’re excellent at it…”

A master at reading people’s hearts.

For the first time, she couldn’t fathom the other’s intentions.

What was wrong with Yan Yiqing? Coming over in the dead of night to tell her all this—what did it mean?

She spilled it all out like pouring beans, then cleared her throat. “That’s about it. Is there anything else the Heir Apparent wants to know?”

…

She hadn’t asked a single question.

It was like listening to a storyteller; all sorts of trivial details about Yan Yiqing—even what she had grabbed at her Zhou-age celebration—flooded into her mind.

A few breaths of silence were enough to fluster Yan Yiqing. “Sorry, did I talk too much?”

“No, Young Master Yan is quite lively.” Thin lips curved in a faint smile, and Zhao Huairen replied politely.

The heart she had been holding finally settled. Yan Yiqing nodded lightly, about to say more, when her gaze suddenly dimmed.

Seeing her staring without a word, Zhao Huairen teased, “My appearance is rough; perhaps Young Master Yan should still—”

“I was pretending before.”

“What?” Zhao Huairen asked instinctively.

“You’re very good-looking. I didn’t want to keep staring at you, so I said those things on purpose…”

Zhao Huairen pursed her lips, but the laughter she had held back finally spilled through her teeth.

Hearing her laugh, Yan Yiqing’s earlobes turned red enough to drip blood.

As expected, she was truly interesting. As her gaze turned, Zhao Huairen restrained her amusement and asked seriously, “Then why can you stare at me now?”

“Because I wanted to know if the wound on your face had healed.”

“The wound on my face?” Zhao Huairen echoed.

Her fingertips felt pierced by fine thorns, and even her heart ached. Yan Yiqing opened her mouth but couldn’t make a clear sound.

Seeing her so self-reproachful, Zhao Huairen finally remembered. “Oh, you mean that night?”

“I’m sorry.”

Unsure why she suddenly brought up such a minor thing, Zhao Huairen couldn’t help chuckling. “Young Master Yan needn’t take it to heart. Such a small injury is nothing—”

“It won’t happen again.” Yan Yiqing said sullenly.

Her brows furrowed slightly, and a trace of scrutiny entered Zhao Huairen’s gaze toward her.