Minister Wei Qin.
When the man paid his respects, he was neither humble nor arrogant, unlike a newly promoted official with just three years in office. He possessed both steadiness and an edge.
Minister of Revenue Tao Qian had described him as a vintage wine aged over a decade—profound, sweet, and delicate.
These were the words Tao Qian had written in his recommendation letter, which Crown Prince Wei Xichen had chewed over multiple times with great interest. Most of the heavyweights in the Chamberlain’s Office were already advanced in age, and the Eastern Palace needed fresh blood. Yet for some reason, Wei Xichen felt no strong urge to probe Wei Qin’s depths.
Wei Xichen glanced at the thin ramie robe on Wei Qin and smiled faintly. “It is not yet past the first lunar month. Compiler Wei should add more layers to ward off the cold.”
“This minister is accustomed to it. Thank you for Your Highness’s concern.”
Jiang Yinyue rose and passed through Wei Xichen’s faint smile, hurrying to Wei Qin’s side. Her anxious heart finally settled. “Wei…”
“My apologies, I arrived late.”
Wei Qin took Jiang Yinyue’s hand and gently pulled her toward him. Under the moonlight and the pale green lamplight, he examined the woman closely, his fingers tightening unconsciously. In a low voice, he asked, “Were you injured?”
Remembering the day’s ordeal, Jiang Yinyue felt a lingering fear. She wrinkled her face, unable to hold back, and let a trace of grievance show.
Wei Qin knew her temperament—even a fall would leave her pouting unhappily. How much more so after today’s events? He gripped her hand tighter, silently comforting her.
Wei Xichen watched them, his gaze falling on their clasped hands.
The wind and sand narrowed his eyes. He half-closed his eyelids, smiled, and rose without issuing any instructions. He did not even glance at Jiang Yinyue again. When Wei Qin bowed to see him off, he merely lifted his wide sleeve, dispensing with elaborate courtesies.
Fu Zhongcai, who had been waiting at the door, bowed and followed closely, like a shadow.
Jiang Yinyue stared until that jade-colored figure vanished into the night. Only then did she belatedly withdraw her hand and rub her reddened palm. “Your grip is so strong.”
Wei Qin did not respond. He fixed his gaze on Jiang Yinyue, the usually impassive man revealing rare emotion.
Jiang Yinyue knew he felt guilty. When her father had entrusted her to him, he had exhorted him endlessly to ensure no mishaps occurred. Yet who could have foreseen such a sudden turn of events?
“I’m fine.”
To prove she was not forcing herself, she even spun a circle in front of him.
Wei Qin took her wrist again and looked toward the small room in the side courtyard. He led her through the wooden door. “Miss, rest first. I will go retrieve the carriage.”
Jiang Yinyue’s face showed surprise. The carriage held their luggage and fine belongings, along with the dry provisions and snacks specially prepared by the Jiang Mansion’s kitchen staff for the journey—their entire household effects. Losing them would be troublesome. But on second thought, searching the mountains on horseback was far more convenient than driving a carriage. Wei Qin had abandoned it to find her as quickly as possible.
Jiang Yinyue was not unreasonable. As Wei Qin turned to leave, she grabbed him. “They are mere external possessions. Don’t bother. We’ll look for it together tomorrow morning.”
Having experienced Wei Qin’s stubbornness, she held on tight. “I’m tired and want to rest. Without you here, I’ll have nightmares.”
The darkness amplified one’s fears, and Jiang Yinyue was not particularly brave. Wei Qin did not insist further.
Moments later, two figures illuminated by candlelight cast shadows on the window lattice—shadowy, flickering between light and dark.
Wei Qin knelt on one knee on the ground, rubbing Jiang Yinyue’s feet with soapberry.
To foster affection between the young couple over time, Jiang Song had forbidden his daughter from bringing any maids. Along the way, Wei Qin had taken on the role of attendant, handling Jiang Yinyue’s daily needs. In public, they presented as husband and wife; in private, Wei Qin addressed her as Miss.
Jiang Yinyue had repeatedly asked him to change this, but she could not sway his insistence. Wei Qin seemed to show more subservience than the average son-in-law from other families.
Yet that subservience carried an untamable stubbornness.
An itchy sensation came from her arch. Jiang Yinyue shrank her foot back, but Wei Qin gripped her calf.
The man’s fingers were long, easily encircling her slender leg. He raised his eyes, reminding her not to move.
The night dragged on endlessly. Wei Qin took a set of undergarments from Jiang Yinyue’s bundle. Just as he was about to untie her cloak’s fastenings, he noticed her suddenly trembling uncontrollably.
Beneath the cloak, the collar of her plain robe bore a jarring tear.
Wei Qin stopped. He slowly sat beside Jiang Yinyue and listened as she recounted the day’s events.
“I killed someone.”
“He deserved to die.”
Wei Qin did not mention what followed with the hunter, unwilling to stir up further shock in Jiang Yinyue’s heart.
A shameless wretch—death was too light a punishment.
He handed her the undergarments and silently withdrew from the room. When he returned, Jiang Yinyue had changed and curled up in one corner of the small bed.
The small bed was like a couch, only large enough for one. Jiang Yinyue faced away from the door and patted the space beside her. “There are too many people and mouths here. It’s inconvenient to sleep on the floor. Let’s squeeze together.”
During the three years of mourning, the two had never shared a bed, but they had often been under the same roof. Jiang Yinyue had developed a sibling-like camaraderie with Wei Qin.
Still, as a woman, she felt a bit shy. After issuing the invitation, she pricked up her ears for a response. Instead, she heard rustling behind her. She turned over and saw an extra quilt on the floor.
Had he just gone out to borrow bedding from the station workers?
“Did you hear me?”
Unlike the Jiang Mansion’s winter ground heating, the post station was rudimentary—no heating ducts, and even the bedding was thin, offering little warmth against the cold.
Wei Qin was accustomed to it. He removed his black boots, lay down fully clothed, folded his hands over his abdomen, and gazed calmly at the roof beams. “Miss has forgotten—I fear the heat.”
That was why he wore thin ramie garments even in deep winter and never complained about sleeping on the floor.
Jiang Yinyue naturally knew Wei Qin preferred cold over heat. Though it pricked at her conscience, she breathed a sigh of relief. She lay back on the small bed and fell asleep contentedly under the covers.
Soon, even breathing filled the air.
Sleepless Wei Qin pillowed his head on one arm. The oil lamp stretched the sharp, knife-like angle of his eye, making his phoenix eyes seem even more profound, concealing endless thoughts. After a while, he heard faint murmurs from the small bed—fragmented and intermittent.
It was probably a reaction to the fright that had not yet been relieved.
Wei Qin rose and shook the dreaming woman. Instead, she let out a sobbing tone. He hesitated a moment, then lay on the edge of the bed sideways, his long legs unable to stretch out fully.
Perhaps sensing the familiar bamboo scent, Jiang Yinyue instinctively sought its source, like a climbing vine wrapping around a towering green bamboo that rose in her dream. She pressed her cheek against it, drawing warmth.
But Wei Qin’s body temperature ran cooler than average.
The cold and warm bodies rubbed together and fit perfectly. Wei Qin could even feel the graceful curves of her jade-like form and the heavy swells at her chest.
The warm, fragrant soft jade ignited a restless heat.
He scooped up Jiang Yinyue and leaned against the wall at the bed’s edge, using the wall’s chill to dispel the fire within.
He still remembered their first formal meeting on the day the palace exam results were announced—the girl’s proud yet fragile demeanor etched in his memory.
She had clearly been unwilling.
Colleagues from the Hanlin Academy had jested over drinks that if he sought the Jiang family’s influence, he was courting a troublesome vixen mired in gossip; if he sought the person, he had picked up a great bargain.
Without the Crown Prince’s provocation, a beautiful and noble direct daughter of a great clan would never have married a poor scholar.
Wei Qin touched Jiang Yinyue’s warm cheek. This little girl who could eat and sleep heartily differed greatly from the pampered, hard-to-please noble daughter his colleagues described—a difference one discovered only after spending time together.
At dawn’s first light, Wei Qin woke on his floor bedding as someone shook his shoulder. He opened his sleepy eyes to Jiang Yinyue’s clean face close by.
“Wei Qin, let’s go find the carriage.”
All their belongings for the journey were in it. Jiang Yinyue could not wait for breakfast. She picked up a damp cloth and wiped his face.
Outside, everything was gray. Wei Qin led Jiang Yinyue to the stables and selected their horse from a row of Sweat-Blooded Steeds.
Snow had fallen the night before, and the mountains were frosty that morning. Carriage horses were no match for riding steeds. Fearing the horse might slip while galloping, Jiang Yinyue suggested walking.
Wei Qin followed her wish, leading the horse out of the post station before releasing the reins, letting it gallop freely and stretch its limbs.
Jiang Yinyue smiled and asked, “Aren’t you afraid it will run off?”
“It won’t.”
Wei Qin whistled sharply. The horse that had vanished returned against the wind, mane flowing.
This horse had accompanied Wei Qin to the capital for the exams. Though not the finest breed, it was one in a hundred—extremely intelligent. It circled the young couple once, then kicked up its hooves and dashed out of sight again.
Jiang Yinyue worried no more and trudged forward through the snow, her steps uneven.
The sky brightened, but the cold was intense. She rubbed her hands and tugged Wei Qin’s sleeve to steady herself against slips.
Wei Qin suddenly squatted in front of Jiang Yinyue and patted his shoulder.
Jiang Yinyue shook her head. “I’m not tired.”
“This way we’ll move faster.”
“Are you saying I walk too slowly?”
“The post station serves breakfast at the chen hour. I want you to have a hot bowl of soup and rice.”
Jiang Yinyue’s stomach chose that moment to rumble. She tugged at her lips and promptly climbed onto the man’s back. Once he hooked under her knees and carried her securely, she truly appreciated his sturdy build.
Her line of sight rose, broadening her view.
Just as Wei Qin had predicted, their pace quickened dramatically.
“Wei Qin, did you practice martial arts as a child?”
“A little.”
Jiang Yinyue patted his back—muscles as solid as her border-guarding brother’s.
No wonder her cunning old father had spotted him at a glance, fighting red-faced with other nobles to recruit him into the Jiang Mansion.
“My, Jiang Song’s, son-in-law will surely rise to fame and soar to the skies!”
Recalling her father’s words, Jiang Yinyue found it amusing. She covered Wei Qin’s wind-reddened ear, shielding him from some of the cold.
She could not let her future right-hand man freeze.
Across the vast, undulating mountain wilderness, the two stacked figures wove through, leaving long footprints.
The wind blew, covering the snow without a trace.
Smoke rose early from the post station chimneys. With His Highness the Crown Prince present in person, the workers dared not slack. They brought out rare mountain delicacies gathered during routine patrols and assisted the accompanying imperial chefs.
The imperial chef prepped precious ingredients and mountain goods, about to brew nourishing porridge to His Highness’s taste, when Fu Zhongcai from the Eastern Palace entered.
“Old Qi, prepare some sweets. Be sure to include Mint Layer Cake and Lion Chestnut Cake.”
The imperial chef asked puzzledly, “The lady dislikes chestnut cake. Is this His Highness’s order?”
“It is His Highness’s order.”
The imperial chef realized and turned away awkwardly.
Yan Liangdi disliked it, but someone else did.