Because the Crown Prince visited Daming Temple every year, the path up the mountain was usually not difficult. Yet halfway up, dark clouds gradually gathered overhead, and the weather suddenly turned. Lightning flashed, followed by a drizzle that quickly became steady rain.
The days prior had been clear, and the astronomical observations had not predicted rain for today. The attendants around Xie Xianqing focused on protecting the Crown Prince and had not brought umbrellas. As the rain poured down, everyone scrambled in confusion.
Chen Jiao, who had been mocked earlier for carrying so many things, leisurely produced the oil-paper umbrella she had originally brought for shade, and cheerfully approached the Crown Prince, “Your Highness!”
Everyone else: …?!
The rain grew heavier, and the group was midway along the path, with no pavilion nearby and several more miles to go before shelter could be found.
Spring rain pattered continuously as they hurried along, looking rather disheveled.
Chen Jiao held a jade-green umbrella over herself and the Crown Prince, her tone full of concern, “Why would it rain on such a fine day? It doesn’t matter if I get wet, but if Your Highness is soaked, that would be a grave offense!”
Xie Xianqing’s brows moved slightly, raising one in a subtle expression, “Chen Jiao, truly?”
Chen Jiao nodded sincerely, “Of course! Heaven and Earth bear witness to my heart for Your Highness. Between us, as long as I have one bowl of rice, there will be a bowl for Your Highness…”
Xie Xianqing glanced sideways, and Chen Jiao froze.
Oh no, she had spoken out of habit, used to flattering Wang Shijing, and now blurted it out!
She quickly smiled awkwardly and corrected herself, “As long as Your Highness has one bowl of rice, I will wash it!”
Xie Xianqing found her expression amusing, a faint, half-smile playing on his lips, “No need for me to wash it?”
Chen Jiao patted her chest, resolute, “No need! Your Highness’s noble body—if there really is a bowl, I will wash it! I take full responsibility!”
Her words were heartfelt, so earnest that if the young Wang Shijing were here, hearing this from Chen Jiao, he would likely be heartbroken.
Xie Xianqing laughed quietly, a trace of amusement in his eyes, while those around them felt a shiver run down their spines, secretly envious.
This Chen Jiao could speak persuasively to anyone, a silver-tongued trickster, and yet she somehow managed to say these things aloud!
She continued flattering the Crown Prince, but the umbrella in her hand remained fixed, not tilting more toward him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to show loyalty; the rain was heavy, and the oil-paper umbrella just barely covered both of them. If she had leaned it further toward him for show, half her body would have been soaked.
She might very well catch a cold, and that would count as a workplace injury in her mind.
Chen Jiao had always defined herself as the Crown Prince’s junior, a dedicated worker. She strove to impress her superior, but not at the cost of her own safety. Her life was important too.
While she hesitated over whether to risk herself for appearances or remain safely indifferent, Eunuch Zhang behind her could hardly contain himself, muttering under his breath, “This damned Chen Jiao, all talk, no action—why don’t you move the umbrella toward His Highness?”
Seeing the Crown Prince’s hair dampened by the rain, Eunuch Zhang was ready to shove Chen Jiao aside and take over the umbrella himself.
Before Chen Jiao decided, the Crown Prince calmly turned his head and glanced at her, as if to ask, Heaven and Earth bear witness to this?
Chen Jiao’s eyes darted nervously, thinking perhaps her empty flattery had been seen through.
After a moment, she carefully shifted the umbrella slightly toward his shoulder, then cautiously moved closer, almost pressing against his arm.
The umbrella was small, and standing together under it made them appear cramped.
The post-rain air carried the earthy dampness of the soil, the mountain shrouded in mist. Up close, Xie Xianqing could detect the faint osmanthus scent emanating from Chen Jiao.
He lowered his gaze to see the slender young figure beside him, shorter than him by a head, holding the umbrella with some effort above them.
The wind and rain whipped at her robes, sleeves falling to reveal a section of pale skin, delicate fingers seemingly without bones.
Though Chen Jiao usually appeared vibrant, she was unexpectedly thin and pale here, and an unaware observer might mistake her for a girl.
Xie Xianqing’s heart stirred. He lowered his eyes, suddenly reaching out to take the umbrella handle. Surprising Chen Jiao, he smiled softly, “Let me hold it.”
He took her wrist, moving the umbrella slightly toward her side.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care for his subordinates—Chen Jiao was frail, and if she caught a cold, it would be difficult to explain to the Yong’an Marquis’s residence.
The rain lasted less than half an hour, and the group finally reached Daming Temple safely. However, after being soaked, the Crown Prince rested on the mountain overnight, and by the next day, he fell ill.
Though it was only a mild chill, the temple staff were alarmed, moving quickly. Despite monks skilled in medicine, the Crown Prince’s attendants rode down to Chang’an overnight to fetch imperial physicians.
Chen Jiao, remembering how the umbrella had been tilted toward her, felt a pang of guilt.
She hoped that the sick Crown Prince would not recall her small action that day and redirect any annoyance toward her.
Feeling guilty, she devoted herself entirely to caring for him over the next few days.
The mountain’s Master Huiyan, a monk skilled in medicine and close to the Crown Prince, worked with the imperial physicians to prescribe treatment.
Chen Jiao bustled about, attending to tasks, watching over the preparation of medicines by the fire.
This wasn’t laziness; everyone was wary of letting others handle the Crown Prince’s medicine. If something went wrong, countless heads would not suffice for the consequences.
Even if Chen Jiao wanted to prepare the medicine herself, those around the Crown Prince would not allow it. She could only observe from a safe distance, keeping at least a meter or two away.
Naturally, the attendants were cautious, and Chen Jiao herself was wary. She could not bear the reputation of harming the heir, especially with so many potential scapegoats.
Over time, Chen Jiao noticed the efficiency in how those around the Crown Prince reacted.
When he fell ill, everyone moved methodically—first sealing off news, then securing Daming Temple against potential assassins, sending for imperial physicians. From the guards protecting him to the attendants preparing medicine, no detail was overlooked, showing the rigor under the Crown Prince’s administration.
On the first day of his illness, attendants both inside and outside watched over him, leaving Chen Jiao no opportunity to approach. Only on the second day, as he began to recover, did she have the chance to see him.
In a side chamber, the Crown Prince lay on his bed in a white inner garment. Chen Jiao entered as he prepared to take medicine.
Though still appearing weak, his spirit had improved significantly.
“Your Highness, please take your medicine,” a cautious eunuch presented the dose, with all eyes watching.
The Crown Prince furrowed his brow slightly, took the medicine without expression, and drank it in one go, the empty cup returned to the attendants.
The medicine smelled bitter, yet he consumed it all. Chen Jiao, after a moment’s thought, carefully stepped forward, untying a pouch to offer, “Your Highness, would you like a candied apricot?”
He lowered his eyes, looking at the apricot in her hand, saying nothing.
The attendants tensed, but one glance told Xie Xianqing that this had been Chen Jiao’s own initiative.
Imperial physicians worried that the apricot might weaken the medicine’s effect, and eunuchs would not make such decisions on their own. It was the first time in years that someone had carefully offered him a candied apricot.
In truth, it wasn’t unprecedented.
When he was young, before the Empress Mother passed away, she often gave him an apricot after medicine to mask the bitterness, worried her son would fear the taste.
Time had passed, and he had forgotten the apricot’s taste.
Seeing him remain silent, Chen Jiao worried and hurriedly added, “I eat these myself, Your Highness, and have already tested them. Please rest assured…”
Before she could finish, Xie Xianqing casually took the apricot, fingertips brushing her palm, and placed it in his mouth.
The apricot was slightly sour, not entirely sweet, yet the bitterness of the medicine immediately lessened.
Born the heir, the Crown Prince had been raised with the discipline and expectations of an heir, yet he was still human, feeling all emotions and capable of fear.
He lifted his head, gazing at Chen Jiao with a small smile, “Chen Jiao’s apricot, tastes excellent.”
Chen Jiao blinked, then slowly smiled, “Not bad, right? Every time I drank medicine as a child, my grandparents would bring me apricots to soothe the bitterness.”
She had realized it might be inappropriate but acted instinctively.
The worry etched between the Crown Prince’s brows had not yet faded, likely due to the medicine’s bitterness, prompting her to act and offer the apricot.
Her smile was radiant, charming, and innocent, her eyes clear and sparkling.
Xie Xianqing gazed into her eyes, recalling the faint osmanthus scent from the rain-soaked mountain a few days before.
The bitterness between his brows eased, yet a subtle ripple stirred in his heart.