Chapter 22: Scheme Twenty-Two Part 1

The Prime Minister’s Residence was vast; Qin Xiang could count the places she’d visited on one hand. She had no idea the residence held a bathhouse with a pool inside—larger than her own bridal chamber. She reached out and touched the water. Warm. Slipping in would surely be bliss. The place was empty, no maids in attendance, yet the water was still hot. Curious, she asked, “Why is the water warm?”

“There are heated stones beneath. They stay warm year-round. Comfortable in summer and autumn; useless in winter.” Yun Qian stepped up the stairs and slipped off her outer robe. Remembering something, she told Qin Xiang, “Have them prepare a change of clothes.” She’d come in a rush and forgotten to order the maids.

Qin Xiang nodded, hurried down the steps, lifted her hem, and dashed off.

The bathhouse stood far from the bridal chamber, tucked in the northeast corner—its own little retreat, surrounded by dense flower beds. Under the moon, their fragrance drifted thick in the air. After telling the maids, Qin Xiang carried her lantern to the flowers and carefully picked some peonies. One of the maids, quick on the uptake, handed her a bamboo basket. The flowers grew in dense clusters, moist from the bathhouse’s steam, blooming vividly. When she’d filled the basket with peonies, Qin Xiang hurried back to the bathhouse.

But the water was empty—utterly still. The person was gone. Startled, she ran to the door and asked the maids, “Has Prime Minister Yun left?”

“This servant has been guarding the door. I haven’t seen her come out.”

Qin Xiang clutched the basket and ran back inside. She climbed the steps and peered at the clear water. “Sister? Sister?”

On the pool’s edge lay the clothes her sister had worn today; on the low couch nearby, a change of clothes. Everything was here—her sister must be in the water. She set the basket at her feet and waited by the surface. When waiting grew dull, she decided to search for her. Tossing off her outer robe, she jumped in wearing nothing but her undergarment. Splash! Ripples spread across the pool.

The water was so clear the heated stones showed through. Stepping on the warm, slippery rocks, Qin Xiang lost her footing and pitched backward. She fell with a splash and burst back to the surface, choking—water in her mouth, her nose. She looked up. Someone was swimming toward her. She froze; before she could react, the woman was right before her.

Drenched, the inner garment clung to her body, displaying every lovely curve. Her long hair lay obediently against her neck—black strands, white skin, a violent interweaving of dark and light that slammed against the eyes. Qin Xiang stood dumbstruck as Yun Qian swam up to her, wiped the water from her eyes, and opened them—luminous, steeped in moisture, gleaming. Her gaze slid over Qin Xiang’s face, then, involuntarily, dropped to her neck… and lower. Qin Xiang’s heart burned. She wrenched her eyes away and stared down into the water. Better she hadn’t—a single glance revealed an even more stunning sight. Her sister’s legs, always hidden beneath skirts, were exposed underwater. The skin wasn’t visible, but the long, sculpted lines of them were near perfect. She swallowed hard, spun around, took a deep breath, and sank beneath the surface, hoping the water would cool her down.

Before Yun Qian could say a word, the girl had vanished underwater. She felt inexplicably wronged. “A-Xiang…” she called, watching the figure crouching below. How amusing. She sank into the water and swam over to her. The pool wasn’t deep—about one person’s height—and Qin Xiang was floating. When Yun Qian reached her, Qin Xiang rose on her own. “Sister.” She took a deep breath, her dark eyes fixed on Yun Qian, her gaze drifting.

Yun Qian again wiped the water from her eyes. A sidelong glance caught the girl’s figure, and she poked the wet chest. “Stop binding them. Look—they’ve already gotten smaller.”

Qin Xiang retreated shyly, arms crossing over her chest. “I know.”

“What do you know?” Yun Qian teased.

Qin Xiang stared, unable to answer, and hid underwater out of sheer embarrassment. Yun Qian chuckled. There was no need for scheming with Qin Xiang at all—she simply took whatever came her way, never arguing back.

Watching the girl swim like a fish, Yun Qian’s heart felt heavy and tight. She imitated Qin Xiang and sank underwater as well. The pool was clear, its floor laid with smooth, heated stones—warm even against the soles of the feet. Qin Xiang dove under, surfaced quickly, and gulped air. Yun Qian reached out abruptly and pulled her back under.

Qin Xiang: “…” Help!

Yun Qian caught her hand and swam toward the deep end. The pool had shallow and deep sections; near the entrance the water was low enough to expose one’s head when standing, but farther in, it dropped sharply. The pressure built around Qin Xiang. She watched the graceful lines of the woman’s shoulders—beautiful and strong. Their clothes drifted in the water, now clinging to skin, now floating free, hinting at pale flesh. They stopped. Qin Xiang shot her head out, gasping. “Sister, it’s so big in here!”

“Mm. A gift from the Empress Dowager.” Yun Qian’s lashes held a bead of water; she wiped it away. The girl beside her tilted her head back, panting, her neck slender and white. Yun Qian’s dark eyes traced that lifted throat, and soon, she pulled the girl under again.

Qin Xiang yelped. Lips hotter than the water pressed against hers, and for a time, she couldn’t break free. The surface went still. Beneath the water, the two straightened their backs and looked into each other’s eyes—neither flinching, neither hiding. Qin Xiang’s eyes opened slowly underwater, suddenly bright. Just as they brightened, Yun Qian released her and pulled her back above the surface instead. Qin Xiang gulped down fresh air, her lips tingling. She turned to her sister: snow-pale skin, trembling droplets, a crystalline beauty; calm, self-possessed eyes like winter frost; and lower, lips red as cinnabar fruit—cold, and gorgeous. She dropped her gaze. Why would someone so beautiful give her heart to her? She couldn’t understand, and she didn’t know where to begin looking for the answer.

Qin Xiang pressed her lips together. Yun Qian, however, sank alone into the water, and Qin Xiang watched her slowly disappear. She had been trodden underfoot her whole life, and she never complained. To live was to endure. Her mother had warned her again and again: a person is innocent—but the treasure she carries is a crime. Live well, and you’ll have honored her. For years, she had struggled to live, never daring to think of the past. Qin Xiang closed her eyes and slowly sank under as well.

But the moment she sank in, her sister was there, pressed close—warm stones beneath her feet, warmth flooding her whole body. Her sister’s lips were so soft, like clouds. Qin Xiang closed her eyes, wanting to respond—but her sister slipped away. She frowned, chased, chased with all her might. With a splash, her sister broke the surface, wet strands clinging to her neck, eyes brilliant. “Time for bed.” Yun Qian turned to look at the disappointed girl and smiled.

Qin Xiang nodded, forcing a small smile. Yun Qian, at ease, stepped up the stone stairs, water dripping, rising from the pool to reveal her lovely form—the white inner garment clinging to her skin like a veil of mist over that exquisite figure. Qin Xiang blinked, lips pressed tight. She glanced at the water, her heart swaying. She touched her own lips—restless, inexplicably disappointed. A hint of cold crept into the corners of her eyes. When she looked up again, her sister had already disappeared behind the folding screen to change, her silhouette hazy, wreathed in mist, leaving only a scattering of light and shadow. A single step too slow, and the whole game was lost.

Qin Xiang walked over; Yun Qian had already changed, and urged her to hurry. Qin Xiang dawdled as always, and Yun Qian waited a good while. When the girl finally emerged, she shot her a look—such a young girl, moving like a tottering old woman.

By the time they returned to Wanglan Pavilion, it was nearly the hour of the dog. They lay down to sleep. Qin Xiang remembered the words from last night—tonight we consummate… She tensed, thinking about it. Yun Qian, however, showed no reaction, lying beside her with eyes closed, feigning sleep. After a moment’s consideration, Qin Xiang slowly inched toward her. A few inches in, she stopped—this was too forward of her. Forget it. She inched back. Time to sleep. With that, she closed her eyes and was out.

Yun Qian disliked sleeping early; every night she worked until midnight. But to keep Qin Xiang company, she had delegated all unimportant matters to her subordinates—leaving early, returning early. She couldn’t sleep. She tossed, then poked the back of Qin Xiang’s neck. Qin Xiang flipped over at once and looked at her. “Sister.” Her eyes were wet and impossibly clear. Yun Qian glanced at her. “Can’t sleep?”

“I can. But if Sister can’t, I’ll keep her company.”

Yun Qian laughed softly. “I can sleep. You go ahead.”

At that, Qin Xiang was left with nothing but disappointment. Silently, she scooted back.

“Tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival. If you want to go out, wear your mask. The streets will be crowded—watch that no one jostles you.” Yun Qian was quiet a moment. She did want Qin Xiang to enjoy herself. The Prime Minister’s Residence was a home, not a cage, and she hoped Qin Xiang would come to love life here.

Qin Xiang was surprised. “I can walk around freely?”

“Anywhere you like. Just remember to come home.”

“Then can I eat at a restaurant?” Qin Xiang’s excitement surged.

Yun Qian frowned. “Is the food at home not good?”

Qin Xiang pouted. “It is.” It just wasn’t as good as out there—and out there, she could order whatever she wanted.

“Tell A-Gui what you crave and have someone buy it from the restaurant. When I have a day off, I’ll take you myself. All right?” Yun Qian was still uneasy. Commandery Princess Xiangping got in everywhere; it was better to stay home.

Qin Xiang couldn’t perceive her good intentions, but she could order food now—eat whatever she wanted. Life had suddenly become wonderful. Delighted, she shuffled over to Yun Qian. “Sister, you’re so good to me.”

Her happy, grateful expression churned Yun Qian’s heart. This was never love at first sight—just a scheme long in the laying. Qin Xiang fell asleep; Yun Qian tossed and turned.

The next day was the Dragon Boat Festival. Yun Qian left early; Qin Xiang also rose early. She got up and went looking for clothes to join the dragon boat race. Following Yun Qian’s orders, A-Gui produced a set of sky-blue robes. “You likely can’t race—the teams were set yesterday. Go and watch instead. I hear the streets are full of trinkets. And the household has wrapped zongzi; you can eat a couple for the occasion.”

At the news she couldn’t compete, Qin Xiang’s hand, holding the mask, faltered. Seeing this, A-Gui added, “It’s hot today, but Prime Minister Yun had two bowls of Iced Cheese prepared for you when you return.”

Food! Qin Xiang smiled at once, sneakily raised her right hand, and spread her index and middle fingers. “Two bowls.”

A-Gui rolled her eyes. “You should say three. Prime Minister Yun will want some too.”

“Three, then.” Qin Xiang dropped the mask instantly, her mood transformed.

A-Gui handed over the pouch Yun Qian had left behind. “There’s some money in here. Buy yourself something nice.”