That night, the chirping of insects rose and fell in the distance. Yan Yiqing lay on the soft couch with her arms pillowed behind her head and her legs crossed, replaying Zhao Huairen’s actions in the Ancestral Hall in her mind, not missing even the smallest detail.
She had seen that kneeling before the spirit was not something Zhao Huairen did willingly.
Thus, she had seized the opportunity to test her by suggesting she never needed to kneel again.
No matter what the final answer was, that momentary hesitation was real. The hesitation proved that Huairen was somewhat interested, but it also revealed something else—this was not truly what she wanted deep down.
So, what did she really want?
The one who survived was Huairen.
The one who sacrificed herself to save another was her brother, Zhao Huaijin.
She had thought the one in peril was Huairen, so even after all these years, Yan Yiqing still remembered the case vividly. The incident occurred around the same time as the Deposed Crown Prince’s rebellion. Although Prince Li had contained the matter within the Ancestral Temple and the imperial family had not suffered major losses, the court had been in turmoil for quite some time.
Youzhou was thousands of li away.
By the time the news reached the capital, she had just finished the funeral rites for her mother.
The murder of the legitimate daughter of a first-rank Duke Mansion was a major case, but compared to Duke Rui’s assassination and the Crown Prince’s rebellion, it seemed less urgent in the eyes of the Ministry of Punishment and Dali Temple.
Days of torrential rain had washed away all clues.
By the time Dali Temple remembered the case, there was no trace left to investigate.
What should have been hastily shelved was reopened multiple times at Wang Jinlan’s requests for imperial decree. In the end, Dali Temple captured a band of mountain bandits and concluded that they had acted for profit but had not intended to take a life.
His Majesty was furious upon hearing this and punished the bandits severely according to the Great Yong Code of Law. Out of admiration for Duke Rui’s heroic sacrifice for the country and Zhao Huairen’s bravery in dying to save her brother, he granted many rewards and consolations to the Duke Mansion thereafter.
This act showcased his benevolence.
The people of Yanjing all praised His Majesty’s compassion for the orphaned.
Would a villain who cloaked malice in false virtue change overnight? If it was said that this Majesty was ruthless and decisive in his killings, Yan Yiqing would not disagree.
But to say he cherished favors and treated his subjects kindly?
The dead soldiers and commoners would crawl out of their coffins to drag this “benevolent” Great Yong Emperor into the depths of Avici Hell, forever doomed in Fengdu.
Youzhou’s defeat that year was closely tied to Yanjing, with His Majesty at the forefront. And what of Duke Rui’s assassination back then? Were the deaths of Zhao Guishan and Zhao Huaijin also Liu Zhengkang’s doing?
Her jet-black lashes trembled uncontrollably. Yan Yiqing abruptly opened her eyes and sat up, gazing toward the study where the lamps had been extinguished.
If Huairen wanted to investigate the truth of that year…
A top scholar from a noble family who ultimately chose to enter the bloody storms of Dali Temple.
It all seemed to make sense…
—
The next morning, in Linzhu Courtyard.
“After going to Zhaixiang Tower, make a trip to the estate outside the city,” Zhao Huairen said, her eyes lowered on the letter, a flicker of ambiguous light in their depths. “Take good care of her health. The physician you bring must be someone reliable.”
Zhuyu’s expression was solemn as she nodded.
“You’ve worked hard these past days,” Zhao Huairen said.
Zhuyu shook her head and gestured: It’s my honor to serve the Heir Apparent.
Her light brown pupils were always calm and steady. Zhao Huairen’s face showed no ripples, but her slightly clenched fingertips betrayed her inner emotions. “Go, then. Return soon.”
After saluting Zhao Huairen, Zhuyu turned and left.
The morning study fell quiet once more. Gazing down at her palms, Zhao Huairen frowned in deep thought: In two more days, she could head to Yumu County.
There was always a voice in her heart.
Perhaps there, she would find the truth she sought.
Knock knock. The study door was suddenly rapped.
Judging by the time, it was probably Zhichun coming to help her change. Zhao Huairen rose and walked to the clothes rack, saying casually, “Come in.”
Light footsteps sounded in the room.
Another person’s breathing joined the air in the study.
Her slightly furrowed sword brows were shadowed with faint fatigue. Zhao Huairen closed her eyes briefly and spread her arms.
The breathing paused for an instant.
But soon resumed its rhythm.
The pre-hung official robe was lifted down with a rustle of fabric, the faint sounds heavier than usual.
Her heartbeat quickened and slowed erratically. The one holding the robe approached slowly, the motion of bending down stirring a breeze that made the woman’s hair, draped behind her waist, dance lightly.
For the first time, she felt her breath so closely.
Like a plum grove after fresh snow—crisp and floating with a trace of sweetness. Not the wanton bloom of flowers, but the cold bite of melting snow on petals.
“Mm.” Her back was suddenly bumped by a head. Zhao Huairen opened her eyes. “Zhichun, you—”
She still held the official robe that had not yet been put on her.
Caught red-handed, Yan Yiqing straightened up without a hint of guilt on her face.
“You…” Even the silver-tongued found herself speechless for a moment. Zhao Huairen fell silent for a long time before saying, “Why is Young Master Yan here?”
“The Heir Apparent let me in.”
Her silky ink-black hair draped over her shoulders, making the woman’s fair skin seem even more delicate. Zhao Huairen’s phoenix eyes cooled slightly. “Indeed, I let you in, but you entered without a sound. How do you explain that?”
Her gaze subtly swept over her shoulder.
Pausing for a moment on the slightly upturned strands of hair.
Yan Yiqing withdrew her gaze and declared righteously, “The Heir Apparent didn’t speak, and I don’t like talking to myself.”
…What a shameless rogue.
“Hand it over.” Zhao Huairen extended her palm.
Seeing her truly annoyed, Yan Yiqing reluctantly handed over the robe. “The Heir Apparent spread her arms waiting for help with her clothes, and I’m willing to lend a hand. Why are you angry instead?”
Her brows furrowed into a deep furrow.
Lips pressed down, Zhao Huairen silently adjusted her attire.
“I don’t wish to speak too bluntly, but Young Master Yan, please conduct yourself properly.”
Hearing this, Yan Yiqing leaned lazily against the bookshelf. “What’s wrong? No intimacy between men and women?”
“Since you know that, then…”
“Stop, stop!” Before Zhao Huairen could finish, Yan Yiqing interrupted. “Aren’t you impotent? If that’s the case, what’s wrong with a little closeness?”
Zhao Huairen had never met such a woman.
Not even the domineering Ning’an Princess had treated her this way.
“Besides, from what you’re saying, you’re just worried I’ll suffer a loss.” Yan Yiqing paused, looking at Zhao Huairen. “If I don’t think it’s a loss, then… you don’t need to worry, right?”
“Sophistry,” the woman said, her voice deepening slightly.
She hadn’t understood before why Yan Yiqing rejected her so much.
But now, Zhao Huairen thought—perhaps things were better as they had been.
After this time together, Yan Yiqing was now certain of one thing: no matter what Zhao Huairen’s true motives were, she currently stood with neither faction.
As for whether she wanted to investigate the old case…
She could only get closer, bit by bit, and study her slowly.
And such a task…
Was perfectly suited to Yan Yiqing.
“Thank you, Heir Apparent.” Standing by the clothes rack, Yan Yiqing thanked her softly.
Zhao Huairen was fastening her sash and paused at the words. “What are you thanking me for?”
Grinning smugly, Yan Yiqing raised her brows. “The Heir Apparent just praised my logic.”
…A scholar meeting a soldier.
Her thin lips pressed tight, Zhao Huairen wanted no more words with her.
