“Brother Weijin.”
Two words.
It was the second time she had called him “Brother Weijin.”
The sound brushed against his eardrum like a feather, leaving a faint, tingling sensation.
Younger female cousins at home or distant visiting relatives had called him this before—but never in a way that felt so… unusual.
The playful reproach in her tone was entirely different from the cunning, bold, and unrestrained Princess of Lin’an he knew.
He loosened his grip on her wrists slightly.
Princess Ming Zhao’s hands were freed, her eyes sparkling with uncontainable triumph.
Cui Weijin’s voice returned to its usual cold, detached tone. “Young Master Wang.”
“Explain.”
Two simple words, concise yet terrifying enough to make Wang Heng break into a cold sweat.
Just as Cui Weijin was about to increase the distance between them, Princess Ming Zhao leaned closer instead.
Her lithe body pressed against his arm; one hand steadied herself on his forearm while the other cupped her mouth, leaning close to his ear.
“That Wang Heng is a bastard. He tried to snatch me in the street. You have to save me!”
Her cheek brushed his, whether to clarify or deliberately provoke, no one could know what the Princess intended…
The candlelight in the carriage cast their shadows clearly against the tightly closed window.
From the outside, the silhouette looked like a woman nestling against a man’s shoulder, intimately close, whispering into his ear.
Wang Heng, coincidentally seeing this shadow, believed most of it.
So he really had a personal Maid. Cui Weijin, that icy block, actually liked this? He had hidden it so well!
Wang Heng kowtowed repeatedly toward the carriage. “Cousin Brother, forgive me! I was blind—I had no idea she was your personal Maid! Spare me this time!”
Hearing the Princess’s soft whisper and Wang Heng’s self-incriminating pleas, Cui Weijin immediately understood most of the situation.
A personal Maid? When did I ever have one?
His gaze landed on Princess Ming Zhao’s upturned face—most likely, it was her words that explained it.
“Eldest Young Master Wang, harassing a lady in public, speaking lewdly, intending wrongdoing—you surely haven’t informed your father, have you?”
Wang Heng feared his father more than anything. This time, he genuinely knelt, kowtowing repeatedly, his voice shaking.
“Cousin Brother, spare me! Don’t tell my father! If he knows, he’ll skin me alive!”
“I was wrong. I’ll never do it again! Please show mercy!”
Cui Weijin no longer looked at Wang Heng on the street. Instead, he turned to Princess Ming Zhao.
From this angle, his gaze inevitably fell on her lips, the soft red gloss catching the dim light.
The image overlapped with the faint red mark on the cup rim he had seen earlier at the yamen.
His Adam’s apple moved. He closed his eyes, turning his head, forcing down the untimely agitation in his chest.
He spoke in a soft, low voice, “Princess, what do you wish to do?”
She hadn’t expected him to hand over the decision to her. She had assumed that out of respect for family and the Wang family’s reputation, he would at most lightly scold Wang Heng and let him go, perhaps even smoothing things over for the Wang family’s sake.
But he was helping her instead?
She kept her body pressed close to him. “First, make him kneel and kowtow three times. Each time, he must say, ‘Madam, I was wrong.’”
Cui Weijin’s closed eyes twitched, his brow furrowing, displeased at her crude words.
Princess Ming Zhao continued, “Second, make him write a confession, detailing all the misdeeds he committed in bullying men and women.”
“Third, make him give up all his private funds to properly compensate every woman he wronged. Where money is due, he must pay; where arrangements are needed, he must arrange. No more abusing power. If he fails even once, or dares to disobey…”
She glanced at Wang Heng trembling on the street outside the carriage and sneered, “Tell everything to his father exactly as it happened today.”
Cui Weijin listened silently, then lifted his gaze toward Wang Heng outside the carriage. “Did you hear that?”
Wang Heng kowtowed, repeating, “Madam, I was wrong.”
Internally, he seethed.
Better to survive for now; rumors fade in a few days. Far better than being beaten to death by my father.
Cui Weijin no longer bothered with Wang Heng, instructing Cong Yi outside.
“Return to the palace.”
Cong Yi understood. He stepped forward, voice firm: “Young Master Wang, three days’ grace. Mind yourself.”
His tone was one of expulsion.
Wang Heng felt as if pardoned and fled in a scramble.
Cong Yi also guided the carriage away, heading toward the palace.
Cuiguo hurried to the front of the carriage, sitting to Cong Yi’s left while Princess Ming Zhao took a seat beside Cui Weijin.
Her apricot-red hem mingled with the black of his court robes.
Cui Weijin picked up a heavy black fur cloak from beside him and handed it to her.
“Wear this.”
Princess Ming Zhao instinctively shook her head. “I’m not cold.”
Before she finished, she followed Cui Weijin’s earlier gaze downward. Her collar was loose, revealing a small section of collarbone and a hint of her figure in the dim carriage light—so pale it almost dazzled her.
She murmured softly, “Not much to it.”
【Enjoying the benefit and still bragging.】
She still took the cloak. It carried his unique scent of pine and ink—very fragrant.
The oversized cloak wrapped her completely, body heat and lingering scent enclosing her.
After a moment, Cui Weijin spoke. “Princess, your actions today were improper.”
“You shouldn’t have lowered yourself, pretending to be my personal Maid.”
Princess Ming Zhao, playing with the soft fur edge of the cloak, looked up. “Then what should I have said?”
“Initially claiming you were a runaway Princess of Lin’an wouldn’t have scared Wang’s family. Considering everything, using my name was the most effective—it would intimidate a weak, arrogant fool like him.”
A glint of cunning in his eyes: “Besides, you’ve never married or taken concubines. He has seen your cousins. Calling yourself a personal Maid was the safest choice.”
“The one he imagined as a concubine Maid.”
His expression implied, “He’s the one thinking dirty thoughts, not her.”
Cui Weijin: “…”
Princess Ming Zhao seemed to think of something amusing. Wrapped in the cloak, she leaned closer, curiously studying him.
“By the way, Lord Cui,” she blinked, “you don’t actually have a personal Maid in your residence, do you?”
Cui Weijin clearly hadn’t expected her to leap to such a question.
Princess Ming Zhao hurriedly explained, “I’m just curious, nothing else. If you don’t want to say—”
He looked out at the passing street. “No.”
Then he looked at Princess Ming Zhao seriously. “No personal Maid, and there will be no concubine either.”