Rarely, before the morning court session today, the Emperor summoned Chu Liyuan to the study for a conversation.
Inside the imperial study, the aloeswood incense had burned down to its final ashes, the air stifling enough to suffocate.
“Fourth Son.”
The Emperor’s vermilion brush did not pause, nor did he even lift his eyelids. His voice was as cold as if he were speaking to a stranger:
“Yesterday, your elder brother came to see me, saying the Imperial Observatory had observed the stars overnight and calculated that your wedding day coincides with a ‘celestial dog devouring the moon’—hardly an auspicious omen. The Crown Prince’s meaning is… for your safety, it would be best to postpone the marriage for three months, and revisit the matter once the ill omen has passed.”
At this, the Emperor finally set down his brush: “I also feel this marriage was indeed rushed. If you wish to delay for a time and choose another auspicious date, that would be acceptable as well.”
Chu Liyuan knelt on the ground, letting out an extremely cold sneer in his heart.
Three months?
Chu Huaian’s abacus was clicking so loudly it was practically flying into his face.
Only yesterday had his hidden informants reported back—it turned out that the seemingly useless eldest Miss Lin’s birth mother had been a close confidante of the Empress.
Before she fell ill, she had often accompanied her mother into the palace, and could be said to have grown up alongside the Crown Prince as childhood sweethearts.
And he, the Fourth Prince who had lost his mother young and been raised in a place hardly different from the cold palace, naturally never had the chance to meet the prime minister’s eldest daughter.
How ironic.
Chu Huaian probably never imagined that the “fake Crown Princess” swapped on that wedding day was actually the childhood sweetheart he pined for.
Now that he knew the truth, he was panicking? Regretting?
Wanting to use the “celestial dog devouring the moon” as an excuse to drag the wedding date into ruin, so he could snatch her back from his hands?
Dream on!
Chu Liyuan’s expression did not change. He straightened his back, his voice carrying a stubborn defiance that refused to yield: “Your son’s fate is hardy, and I have never believed in talk of ghosts and gods. Moreover, all preparations for the wedding are complete. If we were to change the date at the last moment over an insubstantial celestial phenomenon, it would only lead the people to gossip that the imperial family cannot keep its word—surely that would damage Your Majesty’s authority.”
The Emperor’s brush halted mid-stroke.
He looked up, his heavy gaze fixed on Chu Liyuan kneeling on the ground, a rebellious streak running through his entire being, and that nameless anger surged upward.
For some reason, every time he saw the Fourth Son’s stubborn, “impervious to all persuasion” attitude, it irritated him to no end.
“Enough.”
The Emperor gave a heavy snort, no longer wanting to look at him. He casually tossed the memorial aside: “Three months is indeed too long—postpone it by ten days instead. That way, those with ulterior motives won’t be able to use celestial omens to spin tales about the royal family… They only ever stir up filthy schemes to cause me trouble!”
Ten days.
That was the Emperor’s bottom line, and also a concession to the Crown Prince’s faction.
Chu Liyuan’s eyes flickered slightly. This battle, he had barely won half a move.
“Your son thanks Your Majesty for his boundless grace.”
Chu Liyuan kowtowed in gratitude, yet made no move to rise.
Normally, a prince’s wedding should take place after he had been granted a residence outside the palace. But Chu Liyuan had come of age long ago, and the Emperor had still not bestowed a manor upon him.
If that were the case, after the wedding Lin Yao would have to live with him in that palace that was no better than the cold palace—and from then on, Lin Yao would never be able to hold her head up, whether in the Lin residence or in the palace.
Seeing that he still hadn’t left after expressing his thanks, the Emperor assumed he was dissatisfied with the marriage arrangement. Suppressing his fury, he said: “Fourth Son, don’t pull that long face at me!”
“Regardless of the circumstances of that night, she is still a true jewel of the Prime Minister’s household—you are the one who has married above your station!”
Chu Liyuan naturally caught the implication beneath his father’s words. So he shuffled forward half a step on his knees, and seizing the opening in the Emperor’s speech, said with feigned deference: “…To be able to marry the Prime Minister’s eldest legitimate daughter is a blessing I have cultivated over several lifetimes. Your son shall surely—”
“Wretched thing!!”
Before he could finish, the Emperor suddenly erupted in fury. He snatched up a green jade seal from the imperial desk and hurled it viciously at Chu Liyuan!
“Bang!”
The heavy stone seal struck solidly against Chu Liyuan’s brow.
He could have dodged it, but he stood there like a wooden post, not moving an inch.
Crimson blood gushed out instantly, tracing a winding path down his prominent brow bone, cutting across the corner of his eye, and dripping onto the golden brick floor—a sight that shocked the eye.
The Emperor’s fingers trembled with rage as he pointed at Chu Liyuan’s nose and roared: “The Prime Minister’s eldest legitimate daughter is Lin Rou—she is the Crown Princess, your elder brother’s wife!”
“Your consort is Lin Yao, the ‘concubine-born daughter’ of the Prime Minister’s household who was raised in the countryside due to frail health! If you dare spout nonsense again, I’ll poison your tongue mute, so you and your blind consort make a perfect pair!”
Blood blurred half his vision, making Chu Liyuan’s already sinister gaze appear even more terrifying—like a vengeful ghost crawling up from the depths of hell.
He didn’t wipe it away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, extended his tongue, and casually licked away the trace of metallic sweetness at the corner of his mouth.
Ha… so that’s how the books were kept.
The Crown Princess had to be “orthodox,” had to be “legitimate-born.”
And so the last shred of legitimacy Lin Yao possessed had been borrowed by the Lin family and given to Lin Rou.
Fine. He himself was nothing more than an unfavored prince—what did legitimate or concubine-born even matter?
But this wound could not be suffered in vain, and this blood could not be shed for nothing—
“Your son admits his fault and begs forgiveness! But with the wedding imminent, I have yet to receive my own residence. If word gets out, I fear it would tarnish the royal family’s dignity and bring shame upon the Prime Minister’s household as well…”
The Emperor’s gaze bore into Chu Liyuan like a blazing torch. After a long moment, he pulled out a map, casually circled a former dynasty estate on the outskirts of the capital, and flung a flimsy land deed before him: “Perfect—get the hell out and live there. Stop being an eyesore before me!”
Chu Liyuan lowered his eyes, looking at the dust-stained land deed by his knee. A cold, faint smile curled at his lips as he pressed his forehead heavily to the ground: “Your son… obeys the sacred decree.”
As Chu Liyuan walked out of the great hall, the sunlight outside was so blinding it left him momentarily dazed.
He casually wiped at the half-dried blood on his face, staring at the crumpled land deed in his hand, his eyes brimming with mockery.
But the mockery lasted only a moment before being replaced by another thought.
Go to Jingyou Pavilion—tell that madwoman she no longer needs to live in the palace.
After the wedding, they would have a place of their own.
It would probably be a run-down dump, but at least it would be a “home.”
He took two steps, then stopped.
Looking down at himself, half-dried blood smeared across half his face, and several alarming dark red streaks stained his robes.
He instinctively wanted to go back and change into clean clothes—after all, last time Lin Yao had called him filthy, and the look of disdain she’d given him with those rolling eyes was still fresh in his memory.
But just as he turned half a step back, he stopped again.
What if… he went like this?
Last time, with the wound on his tiger’s mouth, hadn’t she torn off her own clothes to bandage him and leaned in close to blow on it?
This time the wound was on his forehead, much worse than last time.
So wouldn’t she have to… get even closer?
Chu Liyuan stood in the middle of the palace road, blood still dripping down, yet he looked like a child clutching a piece of candy, eager to show it off, the corners of his mouth curling up uncontrollably.
In the end, he chose not to change clothes, his steps light as he turned toward Jingyou Pavilion.
A thick smell of alcohol permeated the main room of Jingyou Pavilion—sweet fruit fragrance mingled with spirits, as if someone had run a distillery in this room all night long.
Lin Yao woke up with her whole body aching, the back of her head pressed against the cold wall, her neck twisted at an impossible angle.
She squinted, taking a long moment to recover before realizing she had fallen asleep sitting on the floor against the wall all night.
Then she saw the person beside her.
Chu Huaian was leaning less than two feet to her right, his head tilted slightly, breathing long and even, sleeping completely unguarded.
That face that always maintained the dignity of the Crown Prince was now slightly flushed from drink, his robes loose, his usually immaculate topknot half undone, a few stray strands of hair falling across his cheeks.
Lin Yao snapped fully awake.
Yesterday’s memories came flooding back like a tide. That tear that didn’t belong to her had seemed to flip a switch, causing Chu Huaian’s entire defenses to crumble.
He had sat down beside her, his voice soft and slow, and began to speak bit by bit—about how she used to steal osmanthus cakes and get chased around the courtyard by the nursemaid, about how she insisted on learning to ride horses and fell off the horse’s back…
He wasn’t so much talking to her as he was murmuring to himself, to the little girl in his memories.
Lin Yao couldn’t find words to respond, so she could only listen in silence.
She wasn’t A-Yao. Those stories held no memories for her. Yet this body responded to every detail—sometimes her heart ached, sometimes her nose tingled, as if another person was borrowing her body to silently echo those past events.
She could only make excuses, saying that on the wedding day she had been drugged, her mind burned out, and she couldn’t remember many things.
Chu Huaian didn’t suspect anything. He simply reached out and gently stroked her hair, a thin sheen of moisture rising in his eyes, his voice hoarse beyond recognition: “A-Yao, you’ve truly suffered. If I had known it was you that day, I would never have let Father betroth you to the fourth brother.”
Later, he noticed the wine jar beside her hand.
The Crown Prince, rarely shedding his armor, stirred by old memories, insisted on having a taste.
Lin Yao couldn’t easily refuse, so she poured him a cup.
The problem was that the wine was brewed far too well.
The honey and kumquat perfectly masked the potency of the spirits—it went down sweet, tart, and crisp.
Lin Yao watched him guzzle it like water, wanting to stop him but not knowing how to broach it. In the end, that entire jar of “Long Island iced tea” was drained single-handedly by the Crown Prince himself…