Lin Yao herself also gloomily finished off the other jar of green plum wine.
It wasn’t that she was indulging in drink—it was simply that the emotions A-Yao had left behind in her body were too overwhelming, and she couldn’t suppress them without pouring something down her throat.
Now Lin Yao stared at the Crown Prince, who was sleeping like a dead pig, and truly wanted to strangle him.
Her painstaking scientific achievement—two days of distillation, three days of formulation, and human trials conducted on her own body—had been completely polished off by him alone?
But despite her anger, Lin Yao’s mind was already racing at full speed.
She looked at the scene before her—a man and a woman alone in a room, an empty wine jar toppled on the floor, the two of them leaning against each other through the night in disheveled clothing.
This scene was almost exactly what she had originally envisioned with her “blackout plan.”
Except the person lying beside her had changed from Chu Liyuan to Chu Huaian.
Lin Yao’s gaze slowly turned cold.
Last night, Chu Huaian’s words echoed in her mind—he had said Chu Liyuan was a complete madman who would stop at nothing.
He had said he would find a way to postpone the wedding.
Lin Yao knew all too well that postponement was only the first step. What Chu Huaian truly wanted was to take her back from Chu Liyuan’s hands.
But she didn’t want to be anyone’s possession—neither the Crown Prince’s A-Yao, nor the Fourth Prince’s consort.
She just wanted to live well, and to live without having to submit to any man.
But at the same time, she couldn’t ignore the surging emotions that the original A-Yao felt for Chu Huaian. She could feel that every time Chu Huaian looked at her gently, her body would begin trembling uncontrollably.
Lin Yao didn’t know how long she would occupy this body. If the real A-Yao could still return, she would probably prefer to be by her “Huaian-gege’s” side rather than with that unfamiliar Fourth Prince…
So what lay before Lin Yao now was a plan even better than the original—and far more breathtaking.
If she deceived Chu Liyuan into believing she was “pregnant” after consummating their marriage, that lie would need to be maintained throughout the entire pregnancy—extremely high risk, too many variables.
But what if everyone believed she had already slept with the Crown Prince?
Chu Liyuan would certainly never touch a “woman the Crown Prince had slept with,” and the crisis of the wedding night would resolve itself.
At the same time, the Crown Prince would be forced to protect her because of this “relationship”—whether out of old feelings or for other reasons.
And she still held the “eldest imperial grandson” card in her hand, ready to play at any moment.
One move that would leash two men at once, while also fulfilling the original A-Yao’s wish.
Lin Yao took a deep breath, her gaze falling on Chu Huaian’s slightly parted robes.
Her hands were trembling.
Not from fear, but because she knew clearly that once she took this step, there would be no turning back.
“A-Yao, I’m doing this for you too. If you can come back and reunite with your Huaian-gege, you’d better thank me properly… What happens next is also your doing—it has nothing to do with me at all…”
Lin Yao steeled her heart and bit down on her index finger.
A drop of blood welled up. She stared at that crimson bead for a moment, as if making a final confirmation with herself, then let it fall onto the hem of Chu Huaian’s inner robe.
Then she leaned down, pulled open Chu Huaian’s collar to expose the pale skin at his collarbone, and pressed her lips against it.
The moment her lips touched his skin, her heart pounded so fast it nearly leaped out of her throat.
She clenched her teeth and sucked hard, until a glaring deep-red mark rose on the skin.
One wasn’t enough.
She shifted position and left a second one.
After finishing all this, Lin Yao straightened up. Before she could catch her breath, before she could even glance at her “handiwork”—
“Creak.”
The door was pushed open.
Chu Liyuan stood at the threshold.
He wore robes stained with blood, the wound at his temple still seeping crimson, half his face crusted with dark red scabs. In his hand he clutched a crumpled land deed, his knuckles white from the force of his grip.
He first caught the pungent smell of alcohol, then the faint scent of ambergris.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside, he saw her first, then Chu Huaian beneath her, then Chu Huaian’s open collar, then those two glaring red marks.
Finally, his gaze fell to the floor.
That golden-thread nanmu hairpin he had personally polished all night long—at some point it had slipped from her hair, lying alone on the ground between the two of them, stained with wine, covered in dust.
Like a joke that had been told for a long time, but only he was laughing at.
The courtyard sunlight fell full on his face, yet in that instant, it seemed all the color had been drained from him.
A long, long time passed.
So long that Lin Yao felt time itself had stopped.
Chu Liyuan did not fly into a rage. He did not curse. He didn’t even show any expression at all.
He simply tucked the land deed slowly into his robes.
Then he walked over, seized Lin Yao’s wrist in a grip so fierce it felt like it would crush her bones.
“Come back to the manor with me.” His voice was eerily calm—unlike him.
“Manor? What man—”
He didn’t answer, just grabbed her and pulled her outside.
A flurry of urgent sounds came from behind.
Chu Huaian jolted awake from his hangover. He swept his gaze across the room—scattered wine jars, his own open robes, and two glaring red marks on his collarbone!
Chu Huaian’s pupils contracted sharply. He shot to his feet and seized Chu Liyuan’s wrist in a firm grip. His voice was still hoarse from the drinking, but it had already taken on a chilling edge: “Chu Liyuan, let go.”
At those words, Chu Liyuan paused mid-step.
He didn’t turn around, but Lin Yao could feel the fingers gripping her wrist suddenly tighten for a split second—as if something inside him had exploded and been forcibly suppressed.
Then he laughed.
The laugh wasn’t loud, yet it dropped the temperature of the entire room.
He slowly turned to face the Crown Prince’s eyes, which were practically spitting fire. He clicked his tongue against his cheek and flashed a roguish, insolent grin.
“Let go?”
“Your Highness wants me to let go of my own consort’s hand?”
With a sudden yank, he pulled Lin Yao—along with her half-slipped outer robe—into his arms, his blood-stained hand brazenly wrapping around her waist.
Lin Yao initially wanted to break free, but seeing Chu Liyuan’s expression, her heart sank. She had never seen him like this. Instinctively, she sensed that this was a bad time to have stumbled upon this scene, and that it was best to say little and move even less…
Chu Liyuan met the Crown Prince’s murderous gaze, resting his chin on Lin Yao’s shoulder with a sinister, malicious smile: “Your Highness, have you forgotten? She is the consort His Majesty bestowed upon me with his own golden words—the lawful wife entered into my Chu Liyuan’s Imperial Genealogy.”
Chu Huaian didn’t move. He simply walked closer, until he was nearly brushing Chu Liyuan’s ear, his voice lowered to a barely audible whisper.
“Fourth Brother, you may be a mad dog, but I hope you can still understand human speech.”
His gaze passed over Chu Liyuan’s shoulder and landed on Lin Yao’s face—filled with possessiveness, warning, and a trace of pain he himself couldn’t control.
“Take good care of A-Yao for me. I won’t treat you poorly in the future.”
Chu Liyuan felt the Crown Prince’s fingers on his wrist tightening, as if trying to crush his bones to dust.
He glanced down at that hand, then looked up at the Crown Prince’s face—still maintaining a warm, gentle smile while his eyes brimmed with murderous intent—and let out a derisive snort.
“Prepare the carriage. We’re returning to the Fourth Prince’s residence.”
He shook off the Crown Prince’s hand and dragged Lin Yao out with long strides.
Seeing they were leaving, Lin Yao quickly bent down to snatch up the wooden hairpin from the floor and tucked it away. She stumbled as Chu Liyuan yanked her along, her shoulder accidentally knocking into the corner of the table. The empty wine jar on top wobbled, threatening to roll off.
Instinctively, Lin Yao reached out to steady it.
Chu Liyuan’s steps came to an abrupt halt.
He released one hand, turned, and snatched up the wine jar—the one that had held her meticulously prepared “research results” and had been drained together with the Crown Prince. He raised it to his eyes for a moment, then hurled it to the ground with force.
“Crash—!”
Shards scattered everywhere, residual liquor seeping into the floor tiles in a dark stain.
“What a sickening stench of wine. Fucking disgusting!”
Without looking back, he shoved Lin Yao into the shabby little sedan waiting at the gate. Before the curtain had even fallen, he barked at the bearers: “Move!”
The sedan swayed as it was lifted, fleeing the palace as if in escape.
Through the gap in the sedan curtain, Lin Yao watched the figure walking ahead.
Blood was still seeping from his temple, dripping onto the ground past his jaw—one drop, two drops, three drops—leaving a broken trail of dark red along the bluestone path.
His back was ramrod straight, his steps fast and heavy, as if he were wrestling with something, or perhaps fleeing from something.
Lin Yao opened her mouth, wanting to say something.
But nothing came out.