Li Chongjun’s injuries turned out to be more severe than she had imagined. Because of the constant bleeding, he could not endure the jolting of carriage travel and had to be placed on a bed hastily set up in the flower hall of Wangchun Garden. Soldiers guarded every corner, sealing off the small theater like an iron fortress. Even the emperor had dispatched imperial physicians from Chang’an to watch over him day and night.
Seeing such strict precautions, Sui Sui thought he was beyond saving, and despite herself, shed two tears. Yet seven days later, Li Chongjun was sent back—though carried on a small couch.
Armed guards stationed themselves in the prince’s residence, forbidding anyone from approaching. Every move of the servants who delivered medicine and tended to him was closely monitored. Sui Sui could only sneak around, eavesdropping at corners, piecing together fragments of his condition.
It turned out the assassin’s blade had pierced his lung, but only damaged it rather than killing him outright. His spleen, however, was run clean through—that was the strike Sui Sui had seen pierce his back.
The imperial physicians explained that the spleen governs the transformation of food and drink into vital essence and controls the blood of the internal organs. Once ruptured, bleeding would be profuse. Fortunately, treatment was timely; though the wound was grave, recovery was possible. With a month of careful rest, he would be able to rise from bed.
While he recuperated, Sui Sui found herself trapped. She had planned to take advantage of the chaos in the household, when the stewards were at a loss, to pack her things and escape. But now, with fierce soldiers blocking every exit, swords at their sides, not even a mosquito could slip out. To dream of fleeing was pure fantasy.
She waited and waited. After a month, Li Chongjun finally passed the danger to his life, able to eat and regain his spirits.
But by then, Liangzhou had already seen two heavy snowfalls.
Liangzhou lay at the northernmost edge of the Liang dynasty. Winter began in November, with goose-feather snow falling all season, only melting in March. The land was frozen, mountains sealed by snow—travel was nearly impossible. His triumphant return to the capital had to be postponed.
The household of Prince Wei, having lived in fear for months, now breathed easier seeing him stable, and busied themselves preparing for the New Year.
Sui Sui, however, was not among them. She was already desperate to leave.
The flashing of blades and clash of swords during the assassination had shown her another side of Li Chongjun’s life—one that matched the grand, magnificent world her little master-uncle had described. It was like a fathomless snow cave: even standing at its mouth, she felt the chill pressing in.
The emperor’s indifference toward Li Chongjun was plain for all to see.
Aside from the occasional obituary notice, His Majesty had not sent him a single decree, let alone a personal letter or token. Sui Sui knew he had lost his mother early, and having a father who was emperor seemed no different from having none at all. It was as if he had been forgotten in the winds and sands of the northwest. Only when he turned twenty—after his elder brother, the crown prince, died—did the emperor suddenly remember his marriage, insisting he come to the capital to wed. Soon after, he was attacked. Even a fool could see there was a conspiracy at play. As for the culprit, he vanished into the vast night like water leaving no trace. The authorities remained silent, showing no intention to investigate.
That day, her little uncle escorted her back to the residence. In the carriage, she secretly asked: “Was it the noble clans? You said before that they dislike princes whose mothers were of low birth. The emperor wants to marry him to a noble lady, but they grew angry, so they tried to kill him. The officials don’t pursue it because they dare not, isn’t that right?”
But her uncle only gazed silently out beyond the curtain, never answering.
Though Sui Sui was shallow-eyed, she was not foolish. Once she saw how dangerous Li Chongjun’s situation was, of course, she had to step forward— by running away first.
She could not bear to see him die, but as long as he didn’t die before her eyes, she could spare herself the grief. Besides, judging from the circumstances, even if Li Chongjun survived to marry a noblewoman, he would hardly dare keep concubines around him. Sooner or later, she would be dismissed.
Now, though many of the guards had withdrawn, no longer stationed at his bedside daily, some still remained at the gates. If Sui Sui wanted to leave, she needed Li Chongjun himself to release her. Yet every time she tried to see him, Madam Xia blocked her way.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to! His Highness has only just recovered and is still resting. He cannot withstand the tricks of a seductress!”
It took Sui Sui a moment to react, then she cried out: “In broad daylight, who would go to him… to him like that! I only meant to visit His Highness—can’t I look with my eyes?”
Madam Xia’s brows arched high: “Broad daylight, and you’re still afraid of it? When the crown prince died, you were lying in his bed, daring to shout all sorts of shameless things. What wouldn’t you dare now?”
Sui Sui’s reputation was indeed stained; even when she was in the right, she could not defend herself. Furious, she stormed back to her quarters. Since the open way was blocked, she had to try the hidden one. Sneaking again into the main courtyard, she avoided the front door and circled to the window at the back.
His main chamber had beams higher than most, and windows taller too—half a head taller than Sui Sui. Luckily, there was an osmanthus tree beneath the window. She climbed up, reached the sill, and quietly pushed the window open a crack. The hall was deep and shadowed; she could see nothing.
“Your Highness.” She leaned over the sill, peering in furtively like a scholar sneaking into a maiden’s boudoir, and whispered, “Your Highness.”
No reply.
Li Chongjun should still be resting in bed—was he asleep?
She swung herself inside, brushed snow from her shoes and hands, and tiptoed to the bedside. Half the brocade curtain hung down, half lifted. Sure enough, Li Chongjun was reclining there, eyes closed, leaning against a pillow. He wore a soft silk under-robe, his arm still bound in bandages.
On the brazier outside the bed sat a blackwood food box. Sui Sui gently opened it: inside was a bowl of dark medicine and a small dish of candied dates.
Heaven itself was helping her, she thought. Li Chongjun hadn’t yet taken his medicine—perfect, it gave her a proper excuse.
She sat down beside the brazier, looked at the candied dates, then at the unmoving Li Chongjun.
If she ate one, surely he wouldn’t notice?
Nibbling a date, she propped her chin in her hand and waited for him to wake.
Two months had passed—it was the first time she had seen him again.
He was thinner than before. His jaw had always been sharp, but now it was even more pointed, more delicate. The Li imperial line carried Xianbei blood; his thick black hair wasn’t straight like the Han, but curled slightly. His handsome face half-hidden in it carried an unexpected… allure.
Looking at that alluring face, Sui Sui felt a pang of guilt.
That heart-rending cry of “Stop!” still rang in her ears. If she hadn’t suddenly rushed forward, Li Chongjun wouldn’t have wasted his last strength shouting at the assassin— Why had he reacted so fiercely?
She was already useless to him.
She couldn’t understand.
Lost in thought, she didn’t even notice that Li Chongjun had opened his eyes. She stared blankly into his heavy gaze until, perhaps unable to bear it, he gave a soft cough. Sui Sui snapped back to herself, scrambling up from the floor in a fluster.
“Your Highness… how, how—”
Perhaps because of his injuries, Li Chongjun’s body was weaker, and even his temper had softened. He did not show his usual disdainful, impatient look, only gave a faint scoff and asked, “What are you here for?”
“I… I, medicine—yes!” Sui Sui quickly regained her composure, handed the medicine over, and said, “I came to serve Your Highness with your medicine.”
Li Chongjun drank the bitter decoction in one breath. Sui Sui took back the porcelain cup, turned to place it on the brazier—and froze.
The plate of candied dates was completely gone. Not a single one remained.
Li Chongjun noticed, raised his brows as if he understood everything, but said nothing—only waited with a half-smile for her to speak.
“Uh… this plate, it was actually empty, uh, when I came it was, uh…” She could not keep up the lie, and finally drooped her head in defeat: “Your Highness, punish me. I don’t even know how, but just now I…”
“Come here.” His voice was calm, without clear anger. But Sui Sui knew she was guilty and dared not disobey, so she edged closer to the bed.
Li Chongjun said again: “Closer.”
“Your Highness…” Her clothes were damp from climbing the tree earlier, so she carefully perched on the edge, leaning half her body forward, trying to look obedient. “What does Your Highness… command—mm—”
The next instant, Li Chongjun leaned in, his breath sealing her lips.
So near.
The faint scent of pine and cypress mixed with the bitterness of medicine. His cool hand held her chin, his high nose pressed against her cheek, yet his lips were unexpectedly warm.
Sui Sui froze, too shocked even to blink, until Madam Xia’s shrill cry at the doorway jolted her back to herself. “I was gone only a moment—how did you get in again! As expected, you—still claim you’re not here to entangle His Highness!”