As noon approached, the group rested at the foot of a mountain sheltered from the wind.
Wei Qin gathered dry wood to build a fire and skewered the beef they had bought from the village on a rack to roast it.
Yan Zhuyu gazed at Wei Qin, who stood away from the fire, and vaguely recalled the youth from many years ago, the one who shuttled back and forth between the markets and the private school with a bundle on his back.
The youth had been sixteen or seventeen, his back straight and tall. His naturally striking looks made him stand out in any crowd, so much so that even the prefect’s daughter offered him a hand warmer and cloak to keep out the cold.
She had only witnessed the moment he refused her and unconsciously curled her lips, which earned her the prefect’s daughter’s grudge.
“Second Brother Wei passed the imperial exams with flying colors, securing second place as Bangyan. I wonder if Prefect Lin regrets not forcing Second Brother Wei to be his son-in-law.”
The guard leader surnamed Zheng, who was roasting the beef until it sizzled with oil, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Misjudging someone or betting on the wrong horse happens all the time. Perhaps Compiler Wei didn’t stand out back then. After all, he was a foster son from a humble family, and his birth father was a mere merchant.”
In the eyes of some great clans, scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants ranked in that order, with merchants at the bottom—seen as cunning folk reeking of copper. Not to mention small-time peddlers.
The guard leader surnamed Zheng chatted and laughed, deliberately currying favor with Yan Zhuyu. His rank was higher than Wei Qin’s, so he spoke without restraint, ignoring the man being discussed.
The four guards responsible for protecting Jiang Yinyue silently stepped aside. Caught in a dilemma, they chose not to get involved.
Just as Jiang Yinyue was about to retort, Wei Qin tugged at her sleeve.
“It’s fine.”
At those words, Yan Zhuyu tapped her forehead. She glanced at the sizzling roast beef but had no appetite. “We passed a mountain stream earlier. Could one of you gentlemen trouble yourselves to catch a couple of fish to add some freshness?”
The guard leader surnamed Zheng volunteered eagerly but still couldn’t resist “mentoring” Wei Qin.
“Compiler Wei can tame horses, so he must be able to catch fish too. Let’s go together.”
Jiang Yinyue snapped, “Does Guard Commander Zheng lack the skill to catch even two fish himself?”
To curry favor with Yan Zhuyu, Guard Commander Zheng deliberately provoked, “They certainly wouldn’t be as plump as the ones Compiler Wei catches.”
Wei Qin held Jiang Yinyue back and strode off with the guard leader toward the river.
The river water murmured. At the bank, Guard Commander Zheng stretched lazily, half-turned to Wei Qin, and nodded toward the water, signaling him to join in fishing.
“A wise man adapts to the times. Yan Liangdi enjoys the Crown Prince’s sole favor. A whisper in his ear, and you and I would be done for. Compiler Wei is too aloof, clueless about the ways of the world—unlike the top scholar who placed first on the list. In just three years, he rose from Hanlin compiler straight into the Cabinet, thriving spectacularly.”
Seeing Wei Qin stand unmoving, Guard Commander Zheng grew irritated. A mere seventh-rank civil official—even if transferred, only to sixth-rank Salt Transport Judge—dared to put on a cold face before him?
So what if his father-in-law was a minister of revenue? Behind him was…
“Ah!”
Before Guard Commander Zheng could voice his frustration, a sudden kick caught him off guard. He lost his balance, toppled backward, and plunged straight into the river.
His robes soaked through.
“Wei Qin, who gave you the nerve to offend your superior?!”
The leader, an excellent swimmer, surged up. Half his body submerged, he glared up furiously at the towering Wei Qin.
Wei Qin kept his hands tucked in his sleeves and paced unhurriedly. That air of utter fearlessness felt alien to Guard Commander Zheng—like a gourd that had suddenly burst into vibrant bloom in some hidden corner, no longer concealing its gorgeous, bewitching side.
The composure of one in a high position.
He spoke slowly, his tone even flatter than usual. “Guard Commander Zheng isn’t bad either. He wields a fine sword and won the Eldest Princess’s favor, soaring straight up.”
In just half a year, from a thankless palace gate guard, he had leaped to fourth-rank leader—undoubtedly with the Eldest Princess fanning the flames.
Guard Commander Zheng’s furious expression froze. Such a secret wasn’t even known to Your Majesty. How had a mere Hanlin Academy compiler learned of it?
As if his earth-shattering secret had been exposed, Guard Commander Zheng flew into a rage. “You’re spouting blood libel!”
“Deputy Minister may return to the palace and accuse this official of slandering you.”
Guard Commander Zheng flushed crimson, never expecting the gourd to drop such a bombshell.
Forget accusing him—even stirring up a slight wave would spell disaster for him. The wise move was to let sleeping dogs lie, shut Wei Qin’s mouth, and avoid trouble for the Eldest Princess.
Losing favor over a spat wasn’t worth it. Not worth it!
He slunk ashamedly up the bank. His aggressive momentum wilted, and he forced a stiff smile, nodding and bowing in apology.
Able to bend and stretch.
Wei Qin sat on a massive boulder by the river, hands in sleeves, not sparing him a glance. “Four fish. If you please, Deputy Minister.”
Guard Commander Zheng beamed at once. “Of course, of course.”
When the fragrant grilled fish were distributed by Guard Commander Zheng—two each to Yan Zhuyu and Jiang Yinyue—Yan Zhuyu’s interest in savoring the freshness halved. She stared in disbelief at the fourth-rank leader fawning over Wei Qin.
Jiang Yinyue was equally stunned, unsure what hold Wei Qin had over him. “Here, half for you.”
Wei Qin took the grilled fish, deftly deboned it onto a plate, and handed it back to her.
By ill luck, Yan Zhuyu got a fishbone stuck. She coughed, gulped some water from her maid, and barely swallowed the not-too-hard bone.
She shot Guard Commander Zheng a cold glance, only to see him avert his eyes like a startled bird.
After the break, as Jiang Yinyue sat in the carriage, she quietly asked about the reason. Upon learning of Guard Commander Zheng’s affair with the Eldest Princess, she wasn’t too surprised.
The Eldest Princess was the Emperor’s own sister and sided with the Eastern Palace. With that connection, the matter couldn’t be aired.
“Even my father might not know yet.”
“Secrets unknown even to your father-in-law?”
“There are.” Jiang Yinyue leaned close to Wei Qin and whispered, “Grand Tutor Cui, the great imperial father-in-law, is called the palace’s know-it-all. He grasps far more secrets than my father.”
The east wind brushed his ear, lifting stray hairs at her temple. Wei Qin said nothing but tucked her thin cloak tighter, the furry hood covering her palm-sized face.
His fingertip accidentally brushed her soft, tender skin.
Their eyes met for an instant before they looked away.
Wei Qin lingered a moment longer.
That night, a drizzle fell, and with no village ahead or inn behind, everyone crammed into the carriages. Only Han Jian stood vigil in the rain, never straying from Yan Zhuyu’s carriage.
Jiang Yinyue withdrew her gaze and turned to Wei Qin, squeezed in the same compartment with her. She suddenly felt they resembled each other—both guarding the women beside them, both taciturn.
“There’s a rain cape in the carriage. Give it to Han Jian.”
Jiang Yinyue hadn’t thanked Han Jian aloud for helping Wei Qin mount the horse last night, but she remembered it.
Wei Qin, who was peeling fruit for her, glanced up. He fetched a rain cape from the chest under the bench, lifted the curtain to toss it to Han Jian, then resumed cutting the fresh fruit from the villagers into small pieces, skewering them on bamboo sticks to feed her.
The villagers had mentioned wolves often prowled the area. Before sleep, Wei Qin scattered beast-repelling powder around the caravan.
When he returned to the carriage, Jiang Yinyue had burrowed into the small couch, wrapping herself tight as a chrysalis.
For whatever reason, she bundled up so thoroughly…
A single wind lantern on the carriage wall cast a dim glow. The man shed his damp clothes, took a fresh set from the chest, and as he bent and straightened, the light threw varying shadows across his body.
His tall frame looked ethereal under the clothes. Bare, his lean muscles stood out, his form elegant as a panther.
Jiang Yinyue, peeking from under the covers with just her eyes, stole glances. Recalling last night’s experience of being trapped between his knees, her cheeks burned.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing…”
When the covers were lifted, her peeking was laid bare.
From her supine view, the man loomed over the couch edge. Inevitably, her gaze traveled from bottom to top, over his abdomen and chest.
All laid bare.
Wei Qin’s figure held an indescribable beauty. Jiang Yinyue explained awkwardly, “You woke me up.”
Seeing her flushed face, Wei Qin crooked a finger to touch her skin. The abnormal heat made him frown slightly. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.
“You’re feverish.”
“I’m not…”
Jiang Yinyue stared blankly at the handsome face filling her vision. Her supine body stiffened. How could she explain her fever to Wei Qin?
She could hardly admit it stemmed from recalling last night’s scorching surge against her hip bone.
She blinked, breaking into a light sweat. When Wei Qin sat her up in his arms, she shivered.
Her thin clothes couldn’t fend off the rainy night’s damp chill.
Wei Qin draped his intended change of outer robe over her, still forehead to forehead, monitoring her temperature.
This unintended tender intimacy tormented the inexperienced woman.
After insisting three times that she was fine, Jiang Yinyue wriggled like an eel to the corner of the couch. “Hurry and get dressed.”
Overcome by concern, Wei Qin realized her oddity. He withdrew the robe from her shoulders, donned it himself, fastened the sash, and resumed his slender, bamboo-like poise.
As long as no fever. He spread a quilt beside the small couch, lay down clothed with his back to her, without undressing further.
The tension and pressure vanished. Jiang Yinyue slipped under the covers, twisted to eye the man’s back softened by the lamplight.
“Wei Qin.”
“Mm.”
“This journey owes much to you.”
Wei Qin’s thin eyelids twitched slightly. He didn’t open his eyes. After a long while, he murmured, “It owes much to Miss as well.”
The “sleeping” woman on the couch quietly curved her lips.
Star elms dotted brilliantly around the moon. In the Purple Sandalwood Carriage, Wei Xichen finished the last secret report on Yangzhou salt affairs. His expression bland, he leaned against the armrest and pinched his brow.
The spacious carriage traveled steadily on the official road, flickering torchlight reflecting in the man’s amber pupils.
Yangzhou salt accounts showed anomalies. If directly tied to Salt Transport Envoy Yan Hongchang, his family—including his daughter Yan Zhuyu—would face joint liability.
Current evidence didn’t point to Yan Hongchang yet.
This trip to Yangzhou was ostensibly to reward salt merchants, but covertly to probe the salt accounts. Since it was in the shadows, a “target” stood in the light—dreaded and aimed at by Salt Transport Office officials.
Wei Xichen leaned back, hand propping his forehead, mind playing a game of chess.
Wei Qin was his chosen piece. Even when Minister of Revenue Tao Qian had recommended him, he had already schemed. As Salt Transport Judge, Wei Qin’s trip to Yangzhou would make him that “target,” diverting attention from others.
Thinking of Wei Qin, an untimely graceful shadow flitted before Wei Xichen’s eyes—swift as a darting hare, still as a virgin.
He felt repelled. A faint impatience crossed his mild features, yet he couldn’t dispel that lingering shadow.
“Crown Prince Brother, I regret it.”
In the dream, she was warm, soft, and alluring, free of thorns.
But she existed only in dreams.
This chance encounter had shaken his restraint somewhat.
Bright sunlight coaxed flowers to bloom; vibrant spring deepened. After an bitterly cold winter, Jiang Yinyue and the others, greeted by floral scents, finally reached the wine-scented Yangzhou Prefecture.
The woman, small bundle on back, dashed ahead, drawn by steaming fresh meat buns just out of the steamer.
Hugging two trays of packed buns back to the carriage, Jiang Yinyue handed one to Wei Qin. When the guards teased her about no shares for others, she pointed to the jade flute-draped pearl-curtained pavilion by the street, then to the bustling layered towers and markets, declaring righteously, “Take a good look. Where is this? The renowned Yangzhou!”
The Crown Prince’s task of having the couple escort Yan Zhuyu home was now complete.
Not exactly shirking.
The guards feigned realization, slapping their foreheads dramatically. “You’re right, wife! You’re right!”
At that, Yan Zhuyu, lifting the curtain, smiled faintly. “Thanks for your care on the road. We’ll meet again, so no teary farewells.”
With that, she dropped the curtain expressionlessly and ordered Han Jian to pass them.
Jiang Yinyue shot Han Jian a deep glance but let them lead Lightning Chaser away.
Dragged forcibly by the guards, Lightning Chaser neighed, growing restless.
Jiang Yinyue boarded the carriage and waited quietly for Han Jian to keep his promise. Yan Zhuyu wouldn’t care about a tamed-to-death horse. Though a last resort, it went against his mistress’s will for Han Jian.
“Will Han Jian regret this, letting down Yan Zhuyu?”
Amid the passing crowds, Jiang Yinyue vaguely sensed Han Jian’s loyalty to Yan Zhuyu was sincere, devoid of self-interest.
Wei Qin brushed it off. “Heart follows will, wind passes without regret. He might feel guilt, but replay the scene, and his choice replays.”
Heart follows will, wind passes without regret…
The words seemed to apply to her too. Jiang Yinyue felt stirred. She set down the bun, sensed the wind with a fingertip, past events flashing by.
What was past was past. To dwell on it was to cling; to let go was to find rebirth.
When she no longer cared about past losses, she would not draw a prison on the ground.
She closed her eyes and imagined the trump card she had once cherished most being tossed by the wind, spinning at her fingertips before turning into wisps of smoke that scattered with the breeze.
The wind blew past without regrets. There was no need to endlessly blame her past self—with the knowledge she had then, if the scene replayed, so would the choice, wouldn’t it?
Jiang Yinyue smiled quietly. On this spring day when the grass grew long and orioles flew, it was time to bid farewell to that dejected version of herself.
“Yangzhou, nice to meet you.”