The young man’s voice was low and hoarse, laced with the remnants of his tears. Xue Yunyi felt her heart melt. She had no mind to correct his sudden change in address. Instead, she leaned down and kissed him.
She started gently, pecking at the damp corners of his lips.
Wu Lang instinctively tried to clasp his hands behind his back, but she caught his wrists with a tender grip.
His raven-like lashes trembled lightly, unease flickering in his eyes.
“Ah Lang’s hands shouldn’t be there,” Xue Yunyi coaxed softly, her arms encircling his lean, narrow waist.
The young man shuddered visibly but obeyed, pressing closer. To make her more comfortable, he carefully gauged her wishes, slowly lifting his arms to drape them around her neck.
“Well done.”
She offered the praise at just the right moment.
The inexperienced youth’s entire face flushed crimson.
“Mistress…”
“Mm?”
“Your slave… your slave likes you so much.”
In a brief pause for breath, the young man gazed at her with dazed eyes and murmured the words.
Xue Yunyi ruffled his hair.
Emboldened by the encouragement, he boldly leaned in for a kiss. The Eldest Princess indulged his presumption with gentle allowance. He was so blissfully happy he nearly wept, his voice trembling as he begged her to use him as she pleased.
Xue Yunyi noticed the unnatural heat of his body, and her gaze deepened.
Just then, footsteps sounded from outside.
“Your Highness, it’s time for your medicine,” Mo Ying called.
Wu Lang pulled away from her embrace at once, kneeling obediently to the side with his head bowed. His breathing was still ragged, his cheeks as red as ripe cherries—a clear sign he’d just shared in some intimate pleasure.
Mo Ying paused at the sight but pretended not to notice. Composed as ever, she set down the bowl of medicine and a dish of candied fruit, then turned sideways to report to Xue Yunyi.
“Your Highness, Imperial Physician Meng was just here. She brought the medicine you requested last time.”
She drew a paper packet of powder from her sleeve and handed it over. “Imperial Physician Meng instructed that you should use the entire portion at once, dissolved in hot water for a bath. Soak until the water cools completely, and continue for half a month to fully purge the drug from your system.”
“Understood.” Remembering that Wu Lang’s side room lacked a private bath, Xue Yunyi instructed, “Prepare the small washroom in the west wing for Wu Lang. And fetch him a clean set of clothes.”
“Yes.”
Mo Ying watched as Xue Yunyi took the candied fruit and drank her medicine. Then she cleared the bowl and dishes, curtsied, and withdrew. Before leaving, she thoughtfully cracked open a window to let out the sultry warmth lingering in the room.
The night breeze carried a touch of chill as it slipped through the window gap into the hall, gradually sobering Wu Lang.
Only then did he realize what he’d done. His face burned fiercely. Under the drug’s influence, his lowly body had actually dared to grow aroused in the Eldest Princess’s arms.
Fortunately, the Eldest Princess did not hold it against him. She merely looked at him and said warmly, “This Palace will have the palace staff prepare everything needed for your medicinal bath in advance. From now on, come to This Palace’s bedchamber at this hour every day to soak and detoxify. Remember?”
“Yes, your slave remembers. Thank you for your grace, Your Highness.”
Wu Lang kept his head lowered as he replied, discreetly covering his embarrassing arousal with his hand.
Mo Ying soon had the washroom ready, complete with hot water. Wu Lang thanked her again in a low voice before rising and following a palace servant to the bath.
Xue Yunyi watched the young man’s figure disappear around the corner. She picked up her teacup from beside her and took a sip of the warm tea to moisten her throat.
Her fingers brushed against the nearby sugar box, and she paused. Wrapping it in her handkerchief, she wiped it clean and held it to her nose, closing her eyes to inhale deeply.
The floral scent was faint and fresh, mingled with the cool bite of grass stems—like mint leaves soaked in morning dew. Blended with medicinal notes, it wasn’t harsh at all. Breathing it in filled her lungs with comfort.
Unbidden, an image rose in her mind: the young man seated in his cramped side room, intently grinding incense for her.
Xue Yunyi’s lips curved in a smile.
Perhaps she should find some tasks for Ah Lang. She wanted him to know he had real talents—not to be looked down on or discarded like a worthless rag.
“Your Highness, Judge Wu is here to take your pulse,” a palace maid announced respectfully from outside the hall.
Xue Yunyi composed herself. “Show him in.”
For the past two days of her illness, Judge Wu had come daily to check her pulse. Fortunately, her constitution was robust; after a few doses of bitter medicine, she was much improved.
“I’ve written a new prescription to soothe your lungs and stop the cough. Take it three times a day, rest for two more days, and Your Highness should be fully recovered.”
Xue Yunyi nodded. “Thank you, Judge Wu. This Palace has a question for you—please stay a moment.”
She handed him the sugar box with its powdered incense. “What do you make of this scent?”
Judge Wu accepted it with both hands and sniffed carefully, his brows furrowing in hesitation.
“Where did Your Highness get this incense? It’s made from Fairy Dream—a cheap incense used by common folk. The palace would never dare offer it to nobles.”
“Don’t let the pretty name fool you. Fairy Dream is a lowly weed. By late spring, it sprouts everywhere—cracks in the pavement, at the base of walls, thick and rampant. After rain, it grows wildly. Palace servants spend hours every day clearing it out.”
“However—” Judge Wu paused, sniffing more closely several times. “This batch Your Highness has seems different from the common variety. The grinding is exceptionally fine, and something else has been added to refine it—removing the rough edges of the scent. It’s quite pleasant, almost a high-grade medicinal incense.”
Xue Yunyi listened intently.
She prided herself on having read many medical texts, but she’d never heard this before. Truly, there was no end to learning.
As she took back the sugar box, she said casually, “Thank you for enlightening This Palace, Judge Wu. One more favor: find some Fairy Dream seeds for This Palace.”
Judge Wu blinked in surprise. “Your Highness, what do you want with such a cheap weed? If you’re making medicinal incense, this subject can bring superior ingredients tomorrow.”
Xue Yunyi gave him a mild look. “All flowers, grasses, and trees grow together between heaven and earth. Who is to say one is noble and another base? Just do as This Palace says.”
Judge Wu’s heart jolted. He bowed his head hastily. “Yes, this subject obeys.”
Ninghua Palace.
The sharp crash of shattering porcelain rang out, spilling through the half-open window and startling birds from the branches in a flurry of wings.
The palace maids stood with heads bowed, eyeing the wreckage strewn across the floor, each one trembling in fear.
“Imperial Sister has lost her mind,” Xue Qingzhi fumed, smashing another priceless vase the Emperor had gifted just days before. “Bai Wu and Qing Yu cost This Palace a fortune from Hidden Spring Tower, and she didn’t even glance at them. She only wants that lowly slut Wu Lang!”
Her chest heaved with rage, her teeth grinding audibly. She snatched the white magnolia branch from Qingdai’s hands, snapped it viciously, and stomped it to pulp.
Qingdai didn’t want to provoke Xue Qingzhi now, but she had to ask carefully, “Princess, about that eighteen thousand taels of silver…”
Xue Qingzhi glared at her in fury. “Go open the storeroom, tally the amount, and send it to Imperial Sister. Don’t bother This Palace with it again.”
“But our palace might not have that much ready silver…” Qingdai ventured timidly.
Xue Qingzhi rubbed her brow in irritation. “Then pick some jewelry This Palace doesn’t want to make up the difference. Surely This Palace can afford a mere eighteen thousand taels?”
Qingdai murmured assent and hurried away, not daring to linger.
At that moment, two young eunuchs carried in a black sandalwood chest. “Princess, this is a gift from the Eldest Princess,” they announced softly.
Xue Qingzhi stared at the chest, her eyes dark.
“Open it. Let This Palace see.”
“Yes.”
The eunuchs swiftly lifted the lid. Inside lay a Profound Iron Collar, snapped in two. They presented it to Xue Qingzhi with both hands, the heavy dark iron chain dragging across the floor with a familiar rasp that made veins throb at her temples.
It was the very Profound Iron Chain she’d locked around Wu Lang’s neck herself.
Bloodstains still marred it, stark and shocking.
The “Lang” character that should have been welded to the lock was missing.
Xue Qingzhi’s face turned ashen at the sight of the ruined iron. Somehow, Xue Yunyi had severed the unbreakable Profound Iron. Now, sending it back was a blatant warning: Wu Lang was no longer her caged possession.
He was free.
Xue Qingzhi suddenly seized half the collar and hurled it to the ground.
The eunuchs flinched and dropped to their knees, deathly silent.
“Get out—all of you, get out!” Xue Qingzhi shrieked.
The palace staff scattered like frightened birds. Xue Qingzhi stood alone in the hall, staring at the tangled dark iron chain on the floor, her eyes bloodshot.
Fine.
She had spoken civilly to Xue Yunyi today, giving her sister more than enough face.
But her Imperial Sister was ungrateful.
At the thought, Xue Qingzhi’s lips twisted into a terrifying smile.
Wu Lang was hers.
Even if she threw her things away, no one else had the right to take them.
Since Xue Yunyi wouldn’t return him—
She would just seize him back by force.
Xue Qingzhi crouched down and lifted the cold, heavy iron chain from the ground. She pictured chaining the youth with it once more, her eyes narrowing with keen interest.
This time, she would weld the iron ring directly into his fragile, pale neck, ensuring he could never remove it for the rest of his life. She would force him to bear a swollen, feverish face day after day, trembling as he curled up in the frigid dark chamber, sobbing pleas for her mercy and vowing that she alone was his master or mistress—until his eyes wept themselves blind and his throat gave out.
Xue Qingzhi laughed.
She thought that sight would be utterly beautiful.
The deep black medicinal broth spread like thick ink, soaking into the youth’s fair skin.
Wu Lang sat in the bathtub amid rising steam that deepened the flush on his already rosy cheeks.
It had been ages since he had felt this comfortable. Warm waves of water enveloped him gently, drawing out a fine mist of sweat. This was the Eldest Princess’s grace.
Wu Lang couldn’t help recalling the long, lingering wet kiss from earlier in the hall.
He wondered if his clumsiness had bored her, remembering only how the Eldest Princess had wrapped her arms around his waist, caressing and stroking him for what felt like forever. He had trembled uncontrollably, barely managing to stifle any sound.
The Eldest Princess… surely found him satisfactory enough?
Tonight’s mood was perfect. Should he seize the moment and finish what they had started…?
Wu Lang lifted his gaze and stole a glance at the clean set of clothes draped over the nearby bench.
It was a spring garment tailored by the Brocade Weaving Bureau in this year’s latest fashion: an inner layer of moon-white brocade embroidered with green bamboo, overlaid with gossamer-thin Cold Moon Gauze and cinched by a jade sash. As one moved, it flowed like a veil of cold mist over the skin, lending the wearer an air of ethereal refinement, as if detached from the mortal world.
Wu Lang pursed his lips, his long, crow-black lashes drooping as he hesitated. Time slipped away unnoticed until the bathwater turned utterly cold. He had no choice but to rise, dry himself off, and approach the neatly folded garments.
He glanced down at his body. Scars still marred his chest and abdomen, but they looked far better than before.
At least, they were no longer so hideous as to be unbearable to behold.
His heart pounded wildly, his breaths coming in shaky gasps from nerves.
The Eldest Princess waited just outside, mere rooms away.
After a long inner struggle, the youth reached out at last. He seized the thin Cold Moon Gauze, his face burning as he slipped it on quickly. Then he grabbed the jade sash and tied it loosely around his waist.
Dim candlelight filtered through the hazy gauze, tracing the slender contours of his body, still dotted with tiny beads of water.
Slowly, he knelt and pushed open the door.