Under the drug’s influence, Qin Xiang still didn’t wake.
In the lamplight, those beautiful peach-blossom eyes traced angles different from the everyday—a spring of lush grass and dancing orioles.
After a long while, Yun Qian rose and left, surrendering the bridal chamber to the wounded.
Qin Xiang slept until dawn. Her wounds had improved greatly. She crawled up slowly, in less pain than yesterday. With care, she could walk.
A maidservant came in, curtsied, and said, “The Son-in-Law is awake. Prime Minister Yun has said you may walk freely once you’re up.”
The deception over, she was free.
Qin Xiang rolled her eyes and braced herself on the table to stand. The maid added quietly, “Prime Minister Yun said she’ll come back to apply your medicine. This servant won’t.”
Qin Xiang: “…”
The maid continued, “Prime Minister Yun also said that you must not bathe. Ice will be set out in the room. She’ll return after court.”
“Anything else?” Qin Xiang took a deep breath. A sitting Prime Minister, and such a chatterbox.
The maid shook her head. That was all.
The maid brought in hot water. After Qin Xiang washed her face, she brought the herbal decoction.
Qin Xiang swallowed and took the bowl, draining it in one go. Handing it back, she asked idly, “Is Prime Minister Yun the only one living in this residence?”
“Once, yes. Now there are two.”
Qin Xiang tilted her head at the maid—pretty, with big eyes and thick brows. “What’s your name?”
“This servant is A-Gui.”
Qin Xiang fell silent again. Then a voice came from outside. “Is the Little Son-in-Law awake?”
Yun Qian crossed the threshold, a gust of wind rolling through, and was before her in a moment—carrying a strange decisiveness and dash.
At that, she didn’t seem like the chatterbox A-Gui had described.
A-Gui curtsied and slipped out. Yun Qian stepped up and gave Qin Xiang a once-over. Her color was much better, skin like a shelled egg. She sighed. “You girls have such lovely skin. Recovered overnight.”
Qin Xiang was inexplicably praised. She touched her own face, having no idea that this face had been touched back and forth by someone last night.
She curved her brows and eyes. “Sister, you’re back from court.”
“Nothing much, so I came back. How are your wounds?” Yun Qian’s manner was casual. Seeing Qin Xiang squinting, cheerful, far better than her stiff demeanor of the past few days.
The room held only the two of them.
Yun Qian turned to find the medicine chest. It was she who had applied medicine yesterday, and she hadn’t changed clothes; today she had to change.
She found the chest and took out a set of inner garments. When she turned, Qin Xiang hadn’t moved.
“You’re applying medicine standing up?” Yun Qian raised a brow, walked to Qin Xiang, and with her free hand, gathered the stray hairs at her temple. Her little finger brushed the corner of Qin Xiang’s eye as if by accident, stirring ripples of charm.
Qin Xiang tingled all over. The next moment, she touched the corner of her eye. It tickled.
A strange feeling.
Qin Xiang was pressed to sit on the bed, back to Yun Qian. Her legs dangled, uncomfortable—but soon, a hand came to her waist.
She startled. Then a warm breath poured into her ear, straight into her heart.
Before Qin Xiang could cover her ears, Yun Qian’s lips pressed, as if by chance, against her ear bone.
The warm breath scattered, itching, making her heart race.
Yun Qian spent considerable effort untying the sash at Qin Xiang’s waist. Qin Xiang was frozen like stone, no reaction at all.
Perhaps scared witless.
She wore only an inner garment. When the sash came loose, she finally reacted. “I—I—you—you—”
She stuttered and couldn’t finish. Yun Qian noticed the jade-like little ears turning red at the speed of light. Shy.
Pretending not to see, she opened the medicine chest and took out the wound salve prepared yesterday. In a relaxed tone, she said, “Tell me if it hurts.”
Tell her if it hurts… Tell her what? Qin Xiang’s head buzzed. She looked down at her waist. Oh good heavens, it was off…
She instinctively pressed the inner garment to her chest. Meanwhile, Yun Qian slowly spread the white ointment over the whip marks. The wounds weren’t severe—far better than torn flesh—just a few bands of purple.
In a few days, the purple would fade and vanish.
Her fingertip wrapped in white salve, she gently traced the bruises, slow and easy.
Qin Xiang, however, sat on needles, enduring torment.
She felt that hand roaming over her back, unbridled. It didn’t hurt—it itched. Her heart pounded several times, and she couldn’t help turning her head.
Yun Qian was utterly serious, her eyes full of compassion. That instantly made Qin Xiang guilt-ridden—she was projecting her own pettiness onto a noble person.
Qin Xiang hung her head. She must be going mad.
Soon, Yun Qian stood and walked to the wooden stand, dipping her hands into the clean water. “Change your clothes. And don’t wear the chest binding anymore. They’ll never grow.”
The girl dressing herself: “…” Can’t you stay proper?
Qin Xiang said nothing, taking the new set of clothes with grudging slowness. Then she was stuck. It was just one inner garment. She asked, “Isn’t there an undergarment?”
A dudou beneath the inner garment!
Without the chest binding, at least give her a dudou.
Better than emptiness beneath the inner garment. A crisis!
Yun Qian looked at her innocently. “You’re not wearing a skirt.”
Qin Xiang was at a total loss, her face burning, her eyes wet. “You—you—you—”
Yun Qian’s eyes curved. This sixteen-year-old Little Empress was so easy to bully. “I’ll go find you one.”
Qin Xiang finally relaxed. As she bent her back, a thought struck her, and she hurried to ask, “Sister, where are my family’s servants?”
“In the front courtyard. They can’t be released yet.” Yun Qian put the medicine chest away and spoke to Qin Xiang in a gentle tone of consultation. “If they don’t obey you, send them off and have them tell your parents that the Lins annulled the betrothal. As for Qin Mo’s illness, I’ll find good physicians and send them to Zhenjiang. But remember—you can’t go back.”
“But—but—” Qin Xiang faltered. Her deed of sale was still in the hands of the Qin parents. If she didn’t return, they could report her to the authorities, and then she’d have to go back.
She shook her head. “I still have to go back.”
Yun Qian paused, turned to look at her, and sensed Qin Xiang might have some hardship. She asked, “Do you miss your parents?”
Again, silence. She didn’t miss them. But the Qins held something over her. That was why they’d been willing to send her to the capital.
Only someone whose deed of sale was in their grip would be obedient, giving them no cause for worry.
Yun Qian asked no more. She took an undergarment from the wardrobe and handed it over. “Mine. Never worn. Use it for now—yours isn’t ready.”
Qin Xiang took it silently, a new thought in her mind: she had to get her deed back. Now that she had her sister, the Qin family was nothing to fear.
With that thought, her brows rose slightly, and her expression grew richer.
The undergarment was a little big. Qin Xiang changed into it silently.
Watching her closely, Yun Qian’s eyes turned deep. That expression was familiar. In the past life, every time they met, whenever the Empress Qin smiled, it was with this kind of mischief in her eyes.
See—deep down, she was the same.
A maid brought lunch. Yun Qian pulled the girl to sit. Facing each other, Yun Qian personally ladled chicken soup and instructed, “Drink the soup first. You haven’t eaten all day.”
Qin Xiang was startled. Yun Qian had remembered that she hadn’t eaten all day. In all these years, no one had paid her such mind.
Qin Xiang thought about this as she mechanically chewed her chicken. Across from her, Yun Qian studied her from time to time. In the past life, around this time, the capital had been seething with currents—and Qin Xiang hadn’t been in them.
Now Qin Xiang had come and wasn’t leaving. Would fate change?
Each lost in her own thoughts, they finished lunch in silence.
After the meal, Yun Qian led her to her study, talking along the way about the layout of the residence, emphasizing again and again: before, only she had lived here; from now on, there were two.
“You’re a master of this residence too, you know?”
Master—what did that mean? Qin Xiang understood best. A master could command everything in the house; no one dared counter your decisions, only obey.
She felt a little dazed. Entering the study, she saw several rows of bookshelves, countless books marching across them—a wave upon wave, magnificent.
“So many books!” She lifted her robe and hurried in, unable to contain herself. “Can I come here often?”
The Little Empress loved reading. Yun Qian was surprised—she’d thought the Little Empress loved only the vulgar storybooks of the streets.
The study held many books, usually entered by Yun Qian alone. No one else dared come, except the maids who cleaned.
Qin Xiang was the second master. She picked up a Gazetteer, spread it on the floor, and sat cross-legged, absorbed.
“Sister, I’ve been here!” Qin Xiang pointed happily at a spot on the page.
Yun Qian, who normally held the initiative in everyday matters, found herself passive. She fetched two cushions and handed one to Qin Xiang.
Sitting down, she noticed Qin Xiang’s cheeks flushed with delight and longing.
Yun Qian reached out and pinched her cheek. “I thought you couldn’t smile. You’re so pretty when you smile. Don’t worry—I’ll help you return to being a girl.”
She was touching again.
Qin Xiang’s cheek was pinched red. She asked directly, “You still haven’t answered. I’m not Lin Yao—so why did you marry me?”
“Because you’re not Qin Mo.” Yun Qian didn’t withdraw her hand. It fell to the corner of Qin Xiang’s lips, her fingertip tracing the small shape.
Qin Xiang was very good, blushing yet not refusing. But she was a thinking person—her shyness was her answer.
“How… how did you know I’m not Qin Mo?” Qin Xiang was stunned. Had she slipped up?
Yun Qian withdrew her hand, her fingertip stained with a hint of Qin Xiang’s scent.
“I had a dream. You were in it. I knew you were Qin Xiang—that you’re kind, and you know medicine. Right?”
Yun Qian was spinning tales out of thin air now, leaving the unworldly youth gaping. Seizing the moment, she lifted the boy’s flushed cheek. Her fingertip trembled slightly as she leaned down for a kiss.
Qin Xiang forgot to refuse. A dream had made her forget everything. That she knew medicine—even the Qin family hadn’t known.
Yun Qian’s lips pressed against the corner of her parted mouth, with utmost tenderness.
