Chapter 10: Scheme Ten

Qin Xiang was led away in a daze. She looked back at Yun Qian.

Yun Qian stood beneath the high wall, tall and slender. From a distance, her figure seemed ethereal, wrapped in a breeze—as if she might take flight and leave the mortal world at any moment.

A stranger, and yet she had schemed so hard for her. Qin Xiang’s heart was a mess of mixed feelings. Did Prime Minister Yun know her identity?

No—she couldn’t.

Qin Xiang’s heart ached. When she saw the whip, her heart seized and she stumbled back two steps.

But the eunuch in charge smiled and came up to her. “Young master needn’t fear. We’ll just make a show of it.”

His words matched what Prime Minister Yun had said. Only then did Qin Xiang relax, letting them bind her hands. The eunuch chattered by her ear.

“I’m acquainted with Prime Minister Yun. In the future, I hope the young master will put in a good word for me before her.”

So there was a connection. Qin Xiang nodded. “Yes, I will.”

The whip was bound with wire, glinting coldly in the dim light. Even with its force held back, the lash sent Qin Xiang’s vision black with pain.

The first stroke nearly knocked the breath out of her. She could barely inhale. The skin on her back felt flayed open, pain blooming instantly.

They’d lied. “It won’t hurt” was a lie—fooling ghosts.

She had been beaten countless times since childhood. After being sold into the Qin family, she was a young miss in name, living worse than a maidservant in private. Qin Mo’s health was poor, and his temper was worse; every few days he would torment her, so she never had a good day.

Qin Mo was irritable, trapped in bed, unable to rise. Seeing her bouncing around lively and healthy made him angry.

She counted every lash clearly. When it ended, she was led out in a daze.

Half-conscious, the carriage jolted. A hand wrapped around her waist. Confused, she caught, through the haze, a glimpse of snow-white skin below a chin.

It was Yun Qian.

One look, and she fainted completely.

When she woke again, she was indoors. She stirred. Yun Qian leaned in at once. “Are you awake?”

Qin Xiang didn’t move. Her back was cool, medicated. There was a lag in her senses upon waking.

Seeing no reaction, Yun Qian pulled back her sad expression and reached out to stroke the nape of her neck. Strange, but Qin Xiang’s body was extraordinarily soft, her skin lovely.

Her cheek felt soft, tender—softer than a baby’s.

Yun Qian reached out again, stroking from the nape to the waist, and finally poked her waist.

The girl hadn’t woken. Amused, Yun Qian flipped up the blanket and poked the soft, fair flesh of her waist. Suddenly, a hand caught her fingertip.

Oh. Awake.

Yun Qian’s face lit up at once. Then, remembering, she deliberately put on a sorrowful look. “A-Xiang, does it hurt?”

She looked about to cry.

Qin Xiang quietly held her hand, her eyes glazed with watery light. She shook her head. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

What was there to say? She wasn’t dead, and it didn’t hurt now, anyway.

She had just always been afraid of pain, more sensitive than others. She turned to look at Yun Qian, who, caught off guard by those clear eyes, felt her heart suddenly panic.

Yun Qian was a veteran of the official world, smooth-tongued and silver-spoken. Yet meeting the girl’s moved gaze, she began to feel guilty.

Yun Qian withdrew her hand at once and said, eyes lowered, “I’ve applied the medicine. Tell me at once if it bothers you.”

Qin Xiang nodded. She pillowed her head on her arm and looked sideways at Yun Qian, the corners of her lips curving. “Sister, do you like girls?”

“No. I only like A-Xiang.” A scattered smile rose in Yun Qian’s eyes, but her guilt made it formless. Under Qin Xiang’s burning gaze, the smile slowly dissolved into nothing.

The air turned oddly awkward. Qin Xiang lay obediently on her stomach, and as she woke, the pain in her back crept back in.

Her face was pale, her lips chapped. She carefully licked them. Yun Qian immediately sent someone for warm water.

To care for someone, you had to have eyes for it.

Yun Qian carefully brought the water to her lips. “It’s not hot. Drink in big gulps.”

Qin Xiang moved her arm; a spasm of pain hit. Yun Qian pressed her wrist. “Don’t move.”

Qin Xiang caught at her hand and drank a mouthful of water, eyes downcast, landing on her slender wrist. Somehow, she instinctively clutched it.

Her sister’s wrist was fair and flawless, the skin so pale the veins showed through.

After the water, Yun Qian again touched the nape of Qin Xiang’s neck. The girl was fresh and beautiful, very pleasant to touch.

Qin Xiang turned her head to look at her, puzzled, as if asking: Why are you touching me again?

Yun Qian blinked and said deliberately, “Your skin is so nice.”

“Do you want nice skin too?” Qin Xiang asked bluntly. Her blood could nourish beauty. That was her secret, not to be known by outsiders.

She was also curious—did Yun Qian know her secret, and want her blood?

Yun Qian found the question childish. Who didn’t want nice skin? But only young girls had such skin. At her age, at the bloom of twenty-four, it was already hard.

“You’re young, so naturally your skin is good. Even the Empress Dowager is seeking beauty-preserving methods.” She said it with a smile, thinking Qin Xiang was prettier and pleasanter than the Empress Qin.

Qin Xiang lay on the couch, her back burning. She tilted her head at Yun Qian, wanting to probe a little, but in the end said nothing.

She kept lying there. After a while, a maidservant brought her herbal decoction.

When Yun Qian took the bowl and saw the girl’s dreamy expression, she knew she was in pain. “Your wounds aren’t serious. You’ll be out of bed by tomorrow.”

“Oh, that reminds me—that eunuch said to put in a good word for him.” Qin Xiang startled. She’d nearly forgotten.

“Good word? He hit you that hard, and you’d still put in a good word? Do you have a brain?” Yun Qian poked her forehead lightly. “He hit hard. You can’t see your own wounds. Want me to paint them for you?”

“No!” Qin Xiang clutched her head and shrank under the blanket. Mortifying.

Yun Qian said deliberately, “I’m quite good at painting. Try it.”

Qin Xiang stayed under the blanket, silent.

Yun Qian raised a brow, set down the decoction, and asked, “You saw Lin Yao. Still thinking about her?”

Qin Xiang crawled out from the blanket, muttering, “She’d match my brother very well.”

Yun Qian: “…” You little scoundrel.

“Drink your medicine yourself. I’ll go find you some scar-removing salve.”

Qin Xiang was rotten at heart. Yun Qian went out herself and stood under the eaves, letting out a breath. She felt a whole lot lighter.

Inside, the girl grabbed the bowl, tipped her head back, and drained it. She blinked. Not too bitter—they must have added licorice.

The room held only Qin Xiang now. She tilted her head, enduring the pain, and thought for a long time. She still couldn’t figure out: what was her sister after?

She thought until she was drowsy, and slipped back into sleep.

The decoction contained calming herbs; once drunk, she would sleep soundly.

While she slept, many guests came to the Prime Minister’s Residence, crowding around Yun Qian and pressing her for her husband’s looks.

In a single day, word that Yun Qian had snatched the Marquis of Chengxin’s betrothal spread across Luoyang City. Not only that—the secret that Lin Yao had been betrothed since childhood yet still hoped to become an imperial consort had also leaked out.

The Marquis of Chengxin’s residence had been robbed of a marriage, and still had to humble itself and apologize to Prime Minister Yun.

The colleagues in the sitting room refused to leave, until Yun Qian grew annoyed and fobbed them off with a casual line: ‘When he’s healed, we’ll have the ceremony again. Come watch then.”

Only then did they shuffle off. But one person stayed.

Fu Ying, Chief Clerk of the Ministry of Personnel, remained, and said to Yun Qian, “I found that His Majesty transferred a sum of money—quite large. I looked into it; he said it was to congratulate the Empress Dowager’s birthday. But the birthday has a fixed budget; he shouldn’t be drawing more. I pressed until I learned His Majesty took the money to the Warm Valley to seek beauty-preserving items. Originally no big matter, but the accounts don’t add up. I’m worried someone up top will audit.”

She couldn’t very well throw the Emperor under the cart.

Yun Qian was puzzled. “Do you know what kind of beauty-preserving item?”

“I… didn’t ask. What should be done?” Fu Ying was distressed.

“Fold it into the fixed budget and present the completed accounts to the Empress Dowager.” Yun Qian was decisive.

Fu Ying didn’t dare. “His Majesty said it’s a surprise, so it isn’t in the fixed budget.”

“Enter it in the ledger first. If His Majesty asks, say I ordered it.”

Fu Ying sighed in relief and bowed in thanks. “This lower official has been uneasy for days. Thank you, Prime Minister Yun, for the rescue. But this must not be publicized, lest His Majesty take offense.”

“Just this once. If there’s a next time, refuse outright.” Yun Qian cautioned. In her past life, the Empress Dowager had deposed the Emperor and placed the second son on the throne; the deposed emperor was exiled to Lingnan.

Fu Ying, having received her instructions, left the residence under cover of dark.

Yun Qian returned alone to her study and sent someone to investigate the “surprise.”

When she returned to the bridal chamber, Qin Xiang still hadn’t woken. A thin summer blanket lay over her waist, leaving her back and shoulders bare. Yun Qian sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the sleeping girl.

A figure heaped from flower and snow—soft in nature, soft in temper. And her ears, softer still.

She raised her hand, unable to resist poking Qin Xiang’s waist. One poke, and her finger sank in.

Then she poked her cheek. Huh—her face was whiter than her own hand. She withdrew.

After a while, the candle crackled. She found it amusing, and reached out to poke her waist again.

This time, there was no cloth in the way.