“Are they here?”
“Not yet.”
“Then let us proceed as planned.”
The palace welcomed its first snowfall, painting everything from top to bottom in a blanket of white—resembling a square coffin that trapped Lü Yanghua inside.
She had been sitting there since last night, watching helplessly as the very first ice pellets fell, landing in her Ningzhu Courtyard.
By now, the sun had already risen and the sky was fully bright, yet it brought not a single trace of warmth.
The fire in the brazier before Lü Yanghua had long gone out. Her hands were frozen red, though she could no longer feel them.
A gust of wind blew outside, causing the long-withered banyan tree in the courtyard to sway from side to side. Its shadow cast against the palace wall resembled a vengeful ghost coming to claim Lü Yanghua’s life.
She moved her dry, stinging eyes toward the “ghostly shadow” on the wall. Suddenly, her breathing grew sharp and ragged. Stumbling out of the room, she cried out the names of her palace servants at the top of her lungs.
She called out for them one by one, searching room by room, only to be met with the same dead, empty silence.
It felt as though she were the only person left in the entire world. The thought took a terrifying hold of her mind. Standing in the center of the courtyard, she let the biting cold wind strip away the very last ember of heat from her body.
After all, this was the most secluded courtyard in the palace, and she was the most insignificant concubine…
“My Lady,” a clear, crisp voice called out from behind her.
Lü Yanghua turned her head and stared blankly at the visitor. Tears rapidly welled in her eyes, falling like pearls with every gentle flutter of her eyelashes.
The visitor seemed to let out a sigh and murmured something, but Lü Yanghua’s ears rang so loudly that she couldn’t hear a word. Next, her hand was taken, and she was supported all the way back into the room.
Fresh charcoal was added to the brazier, and a cloak was draped over her shoulders. Her numb, frozen hands were held in a warm pair of palms, slowly regaining their heat.
Lü Yanghua’s mind finally drifted back to consciousness. She looked down at the person kneeling at her feet to warm her hands. He wore the raven-blue robe of a eunuch and knelt in an apparently submissive posture, yet his head was tilted fully upward, his eyes fixed intently on her.
His features were top-tier among eunuchs—or rather, exceptionally handsome even compared to all the princes and nobles Lü Yanghua had ever seen in the past.
Yet Lü Yanghua disliked his gaze. She couldn’t quite describe it, but for no apparent reason, it made her uncomfortable.
And toward everything that made her uncomfortable, she had only one habit.
She snatched her hand back, her brow furrowing tightly. A sharp crack echoed through the room as the eunuch’s face was slapped to the side.
“Impudent!” she snapped in anger. “What kind of creature are you to dare touch me?”
Hearing the commotion, the other servants in the room stopped what they were doing and fell to their knees on the floor.
The culprit was neither angry nor afraid. Despite the red handprint left on his tilted face, a faint smile curled at the corners of his lips. “Pray assuage your anger, My Lady. Your health comes first, and other hand-warming items could not be brought so quickly.”
Lü Yanghua’s fingers, still numb and tingling from the impact, twitched imperceptibly before she pulled them back into her sleeves and rested them on her lap.
This was precisely when the charm of a clever person shone through. Breaking through Lü Yanghua’s awkward embarrassment, the eunuch spoke up again: “It seems My Lady did not hear earlier. This servant is Tingyuan, the personal eunuch newly selected by the Household Department to attend upon you.”
At his words, the maidservant kneeling behind him shuffled forward two paces on her knees, kowtowing as she said, “This servant, Lanzhi, pays respects to My Lady.”
“Where are the people from before?” Lü Yanghua had little fondness for these newcomers and couldn’t help asking about her former servants.
Lanzhi hesitated, casting a cautious glance at Tingyuan—that was, Song Heting.
“Speak up!” Unable to stand their hesitation, Lü Yanghua urged sharply.
Song Heting replied nonchalantly, “In answer to My Lady, they have all been disposed of.”
He watched the faint flush that had just returned to Lü Yanghua’s cheeks instantly drain into a deadly pale white. Thoughtfully, he offered her a cup of hot tea. “They were thrown out late last night. By now, they are likely inside the bellies of stray dogs.”
“They’re all dead?!” The former head eunuch, the managing maid… So many people had all died in a single night.
If that was the case, was she next? Fear surged endlessly from the depths of Lü Yanghua’s heart as she clawed at the pattern on the teacup.
“My Lady.”
It took Song Heting calling her twice to pull Lü Yanghua back to her senses. She stared at him as he continued softly, “Rest your mind. This matter ends here.”
What he meant was self-evident.
As his words fell, a glistening layer of mist gathered in Lü Yanghua’s beautiful eyes once more, trembling on the verge of falling, appearing utterly pitiable.
Song Heting drew out a handkerchief and gently wiped away her tears, coaxing her in a soft murmur, “Do not be sad, My Lady.”
“That old dog was useless and nearly dragged you down with him. Keeping him was of no purpose.”
The corners of Lü Yanghua’s eyes remained red, as if brushed with rouge, strikingly vivid and enchanting.
“To harm your delicate body over them is truly not worth the loss.” He pressed the handkerchief back into Lü Yanghua’s hand. His long, slender, and powerful fingers wrapped around her delicate digits, squeezing them with just a touch of firmness. “Whatever My Lady desires, this servant can help you attain.”
The current situation was far from clear. In the past, Lü Yanghua had at least a few palace servants assigned to her. Though she was only a concubine of the Cairen rank, her formal etiquette standards were held high, making her a genuine noble lady.
Now, all those people had been cleared away, and two unwanted servants were stuffed here from goodness-knows-where just to go through the motions.
She looked into Song Heting’s deep eyes, her expression shifting repeatedly as though contemplating something.
Then, without warning, she grabbed the tea beside her and splashed the entire cup right into Song Heting’s face.
Steaming droplets of water condensed on his eyelashes, dripping down as he blinked, making Lü Yanghua vaguely feel that a tear mole ought to be there.
“Do not play your clever tricks in front of me!” She spoke with the petulant fury of someone whose mind had been read, mingled with an utter lack of trust in Song Heting.
In Lü Yanghua’s eyes, these two possessed no real ability—they merely had good-looking faces. Wasn’t this just mocking her for being nothing more than a pretty face as well, finding ways to humiliate her?
Help me?! How could you help me!
“Go back to wherever you came from!” Weak and powerless as she was, she refused to use them; nor could she afford to use servants forced upon her by others. She understood this much, yet her only solution was to drive them away.
If these people were truly spies sent from other palaces, driving them away would accomplish nothing—it would merely shift their schemes from the open into the dark.
Naturally, Lü Yanghua was incapable of thinking that far.
Song Heting lowered his head. He appeared terrified, but in truth, he was hiding the curl of his lips.
“My Lady, if you do not take us in, we will have nowhere else to go.” Lanzhi slammed her forehead onto the floor beside him, producing a sharp thud.
“My Lady, we beg for your mercy.” She repeated these words again and again, her forehead knocking against the ground until it was bruised purple.
“What is the meaning of this!” Lü Yanghua’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. “If you love kneeling so much, then kneel right here. I certainly won’t keep you company!” With that, she fled the main hall in panic.
Song Heting stood up as soon as she left, staring in silence at her retreating figure. His gaze followed her past the folding screen, only to be blocked by the painting of the court beauty.
“What do we do now?” Beside him, Lanzhi had long dropped her previous panic. She handed over a clean handkerchief and asked Song Heting.
“We wait.” Song Heting took it and unhurriedly wiped his face clean.
Lanzhi frowned as she looked at the large, dark tea stain on his clothes and advised, “Why don’t you go back and change into clean clothes first? In this freezing weather, I fear you might catch a cold.”
“It does not matter.” The corners of Song Heting’s mouth bore a faint smile, though the warmth never reached his eyes. If he went to change into clean clothes now, should Lü Yanghua happen to be slightly smarter than they thought, she would surely notice.
If everything fell apart then, wouldn’t his beating and scolding have been for nothing?
“It is all because I failed to handle things properly.” Otherwise, they wouldn’t have needed to resort to someone like Lü Yanghua on such short notice.
Song Heting shook his head. “Things have already reached this point; further words are useless.” It was an established outcome that the person arranged to enter the palace had met with an accident. He did not want Lanzhi to dwell on it and delay their subsequent plans.
Meanwhile, Lü Yanghua, whom they spoke of, shut herself inside the inner bedchamber, refusing to come out. She actually managed to stay cooped up from daytime all the way until nightfall.
It wasn’t that she possessed immense endurance; rather, having stayed awake all night, the moment her head hit the pillow, she drifted off to dreamland.
Even the glaring winter sun failed to rouse her.
The two outside stood there waiting. Seeing that Song Heting’s clothes were already half dry, Lanzhi advised once more, “Should you not go change after all?”
Before Song Heting could reply, a woman’s terrified scream echoed from inside the chamber.
“Ah—!”
It was Lü Yanghua.
Song Heting rounded the folding screen. The inner chamber was pitch black. Guided by the moonlight, he took two steps forward when he felt his foot hit something. Looking down, he saw porcelain shards glistening softly. Yet beside them lay something even more lustrous: a bare, shoeless foot. The arch of the foot was stretched taut, its toes flushed with a delicate pink.
Following Song Heting’s gaze, the foot shrank back as if startled.
And startled she truly was. Lü Yanghua suffered from a bit of night blindness and could not see clearly in the dark—especially after spending the entire day in state of constant terror, which left her plagued by nightmares tonight.
She had dreamed that those dead maidservants and eunuchs, with long tongues hanging out, surrounded her in a tight circle, claiming they were here to take her life.
“It wasn’t me, it was Concubine Shu!” she pleaded loudly, but no one paid her any heed.
Waking abruptly to face the pitch-black darkness, she genuinely believed she had been dragged into the underworld.
She hadn’t realized someone had entered the room. Collapsed on the floor, she tried to scramble up to continue fleeing when she suddenly felt her ankle grabbed. “Ah!”
She was terrified out of her wits. Her eyes were misty, and her chest heaved as she tried desperately to pull her leg back. As she moved, her skirt parted, exposing more and more of her fair, slender leg. Dressed so thinly in the dead of winter, her limb trembled uncontrollably—whether from fear or cold.
“My Lady.” Song Heting was forced to speak up, but Lü Yanghua was past listening.
He could not simply let her kick and scream like this; attracting the patrolling imperial guards within the palace grounds would spell disaster.
He simply grabbed Lü Yanghua’s ankle, pulled her back toward him, and swept his arm around her waist, lifting her up horizontally into his arms. Bending his head toward Lü Yanghua’s dainty ear, he pressed close and murmured, “Do not be afraid.”
The earring hanging from her earlobe brushed against Song Heting’s lips with her movement, icy cold.
Lü Yanghua clutched Song Heting’s collar tightly, her delicate white fingers tangled in the raven-blue fabric, wishing she could shrink entirely into his embrace. She rubbed her head against Song Heting’s chest, seeking the steady, deep rhythm of his heartbeat.
Song Heting’s gaze met Lanzhi’s as she hurried to the doorway. He gave a subtle shake of his head, and Lanzhi tactfully withdrew to prepare hot water for Lü Yanghua to wash her face.
He carried Lü Yanghua back to the bed, but as he went to stand up, he was held back. Both of Lü Yanghua’s arms were wrapped around his neck. With his movement, her entire upper body pressed against him—her soft, supple body carrying a gentle, warm fragrance, refusing to let go no matter what.
“I am going to light the lamp, alright?” Song Heting’s voice sounded exceptionally raspy in the dark, laced with a gentle touch of coaxing.
Lü Yanghua’s grip loosened and tightened again; she was simply too terrified.
Song Heting let out a sigh and simply picked her up once more—though this time, he carried her like a child, supporting her entire weight with one arm while using his free hand to light the oil lamp in the room.
The sudden brightness made Lü Yanghua squint her eyes, taking a moment to adapt to the light. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Song Heting placed her back onto the bed.
Lü Yanghua lifted her head to cast a glance at him, then turned her face away reluctantly. “Thank you…”
From Song Heting’s angle, he could clearly see her fluttering eyelashes. He remarked calmly, “It is merely this servant’s duty.”
“My Lady, the hot water is here.” Lanzhi had stood outside holding the basin in the cold wind for quite some time, and was finally able to enter.
Lanzhi’s arrival allowed Lü Yanghua to breathe a sigh of relief. Raising her small face, she closed her eyes. Gone was her domineering aura from earlier in the day; she looked entirely obedient and sweet, causing Lanzhi’s heart to flutter as she held the cloth towel.
Steading her nerves, Lanzhi carefully attended to Lü Yanghua’s face, wiping away every trace of tears. Just as she was about to leave with the basin of water, Song Heting stopped her.
“Leave the water and go.” Song Heting took the copper basin from her hands and placed it on the floor beside the bed.
Lü Yanghua hung her head somewhat dispiritedly, watching as Song Heting held her ankle, placed her foot into the basin, and poured warm water over it.
Then, those long, lean, and bony hands thoroughly washed her toes, sending a ticklish sensation that made her wince and shrink back. Yet he dragged her leg back without a shred of mercy.
“Do not move.” Song Heting’s voice was cloaked in the dark, giving off the strict illusion of authority.
Lü Yanghua was intimidated and stayed obediently still. But soon after, realizing what had happened, she grew angry at herself again. Taking advantage of the moment Song Heting reached to dry her foot, she actually kicked him on the shoulder, leaving a wet footprint behind.
Though the force was slight, the mark was glaringly obvious.
Meeting Song Heting’s gaze, she declared with absolute confidence, “Are you in any position to command me?”