“Wait here for me to fall asleep before you leave.”
“This servant wouldn’t dare.”
This submissive display pleased Lü Yanghua greatly. She thought to herself that her earlier perception must have been an illusion—after all, how could a lowly eunuch like Tingyuan dare disobey her?
me.
The warm water soothed Lü Yanghua’s emotions, leaving her thoroughly comfortable. She slowly wriggled into the quilt, intending to catch another quick sleep.
It was only then that she noticed Song Heting had not left, standing by the foot of the bed and studying her.
The oil lamp’s light was far too dim for her to discern his expression clearly. Yet, for reasons she could not explain, she felt a sudden chill, prompting her to bury half her face beneath the covers while aiming a sharp look at him through her round, almond eyes. “Why haven’t you left yet!”
In truth, she possessed no aura of majesty whatsoever, resembling nothing more than a cat throwing a tantrum.
Instead of stepping back, Song Heting drew closer and gently pulled the blanket away from her mouth and nose, saying, “Do not be afraid, Young Mistress. Everything is in the past.”
“I am not…” Lü Yanghua tried stubbornly to argue back, but he cut in before she could finish.
“With me here, I will never let you fall into such danger again.”
Perhaps because the night was so quiet and dark, and the bedding so warm, the anxiety gripping Lü Yanghua’s heart suddenly found a place to rest. Sniffling slightly, she confessed.
“I am terrified.”
She looked into Song Heting’s eyes, her fingers instinctively clutching the quilt in front of her. “It was I who got them killed.”
She was referring to her former palace attendants.
Song Heting stated the facts calmly, “It was not you.”
This single sentence completely released the emotions Lü Yanghua had been holding back. She broke into tears again, a stream of moisture running from the corner of her eye to soak into the pillow. “No one believes me.”
“It was Noble Lady Shu. It must have been her framing me.” Having dropped her defenses, her voice was no longer sharp; instead, it was soft and filled with the grievance of being wronged.
“Are you willing to tell me about it?” Song Heting wiped away her tears, his knuckles becoming slick with moisture.
Lü Yanghua nodded. “That day, we went as usual to pay our respects to the Noble Consort…”
…
The arrogant and tyrannical air of Noble Lady Shu as she blocked her way, her lips curled in a sneer, remained vividly etched in her memory.
“She was the one who framed me,” she said, so agitated that she grabbed Song Heting’s hand, her rounded fingernails pressing a few smooth marks into his skin.
“Even the Noble Consort couldn’t see through it. She even believed my sins were gravity itself and executed all of my palace servants.”
Song Heting clasped her hand back, speaking softly into the dark night, “I know.” He not only knew that Lü Yanghua was innocent, but also knew the entire origin and outcome of the matter, and even knew that the punishment originally should not have been carried out with such ruthless finality.
“Yunshao…” Lü Yanghua murmured the name of the maidservant who had accompanied her as part of her dowry when entering the palace. She had been her childhood companion.
On the surface, Song Heting used a handkerchief to wipe away Lü Yanghua’s tears, silently tracing the contour of her brows in the dark, while his thoughts drifted back to the night of the heavy blizzard yesterday.
He had personally witnessed the palace servants there being beaten one by one until their lower bodies were a bloody mess before they breathed their last. Especially the maid named Yunshao she had just mentioned—that girl had continued calling out “Young Lady” with every breath until her death.
Song Heting had personally confirmed that she was dead before leaving.
Her grievance, along with that heavy snow that concealed the bloodstains, would be buried in this year’s winter.
And when spring arrived and green shoots sprouted, it would vanish forever between heaven and earth.
Human life was the cheapest commodity in the Forbidden City.
Lü Yanghua, having heard his reassuring words, softened considerably. As her emotions stabilized, she instead began to worry about Song Heting standing before her.
“I am barely able to protect myself right now, so do not come near my cold hearth to join my troubles. We wouldn’t want to end up in the Netherworld together without even our bodies intact.”
Seeing that Song Heting remained silent, she felt too exhausted from crying to move and simply nudged him with her foot. “Did you hear me? It’s too cold tonight; you all can stay for now, but return to your own places first thing tomorrow morning… Let go of me!” Her words drifted further off track, all because Song Heting had caught her ankle again.
Whether intentionally or unintentionally, he stroked the top of her foot, causing her face to flush in secret. She glared at him in embarrassed annoyance. “Does a servant like you have no sense of propriety!”
Song Heting released his grip and watched as her foot darted back into the quilt like a frightened rabbit. He chuckled softly. “I naturally have my ways.”
“What ways?” He spoke with such certainty that Lü Yanghua’s anger dissipated instantly, leaving only curiosity.
“These are my survival methods; you need only watch.” Even as he said this, Song Heting still revealed the reason to Lü Yanghua. He needed to give her a little incentive to lure the rabbit out of its burrow. “Li Fulin, the Chief Steward serving at the Imperial Hall, is my godfather.”
“Then why don’t you go serve by his side? Wouldn’t that offer a far better future?” Lü Yanghua asked, half-believing and half-doubting.
“He has other godons serving him there; why should I join the crowd?” Tingyuan’s voice scattered into the night. “The Emperor is not the only master in this palace, but serving at his side is the most difficult task of all.
“It is far better to follow a favored consort.”
For some reason, Lü Yanghua felt that he held no reverence whatsoever for the supreme ruler of the realm, treating the Emperor as if he were merely an insignificant, difficult-to-please trouble.
“So you came to me.” Stirred by his few words, her heart fluttered. Didn’t his words imply that she was fated to be a favored consort?
Song Heting looked into her sparkling eyes and said, “Indeed, Young Mistress. Your natural grace ranks among the finest in the entire realm; it should not be buried here.
“I am here to help you, as well as to help myself.”
“You say you are his godson, but is that really true? Without proof, I won’t believe you easily.” Lü Yanghua showed a rare flash of sharpness, snapping out of her daydream to question him.
Song Heting saw right through her the moment her eyes rolled. He smiled slightly and said, “What kind of test has Young Mistress devised to try me?”
“Since you put it that way, you can surely find out the Emperor’s whereabouts, right?” The moment he spoke, Lü Yanghua could no longer hide her true thoughts.
Song Heting looked at her with a gentle smile without saying a word, prompting her to tug at his sleeve and shake it. “Tell me quickly!”
Lü Yanghua was now the person most afraid that Song Heting had lied. This truly mattered to her.
If it were true, wouldn’t her chances of crossing paths with the Emperor increase significantly?
Following her urge, Song Heting nodded.
“Then, if you can find a way for me to meet His Majesty three times within half a month, I will keep you by my side.”
Having spoken, she saw that Song Heting still remained silent and grew anxious. She sat up straight and leaned closer, their faces nearly touching, their breaths intertwining. “It’s not that difficult, is it?”
“How… how about twice instead?” Without waiting for Song Heting to speak, she changed her terms on her own, holding up a slender, scallion-like finger. “Just once!”
“Don’t push it too far. Even if I were to just wander aimlessly around the inner palace every day, I could still bump into him once in half a month.” How could this be considered a test for Song Heting? It was something one could guess correctly even with eyes closed.
“Very well,” Song Heting finally agreed.
“However, you must first rest and regain your spirit.” His thumb brushed lightly beneath Lü Yanghua’s eyes, where faint dark circles hung. “With such a lovely countenance, adding a touch of haggardness would prevent you from presenting your best self before His Majesty—would that not be a pity?”
“You are right.” Lü Yanghua found his words deeply sensible. She hurriedly laid back down in proper posture, closed her eyes, and suppressed her fluttering excitement, forcing herself not to open them. Her long, curled eyelashes fluttered gently.
After forcing herself to sleep for less than half an incense burn’s time, she peeked open one eye, looking toward the foot of the bed.
Song Heting was still standing there, watching her.
Noticing her gaze, Song Heting rose, preparing to take his leave. “Rest well, Young Mistress. This servant shall take his leave.”
Yet, just as he turned to walk away, a faint force tugged at him, blocking his path.
Following the hand holding his sleeve, his eyes rested on Lü Yanghua, hearing her small voice muttering something under the quilt.
“What did you say, Young Mistress?” He returned to the bedside, bending low and leaning close before he could barely make out her words.
“Wait here for me to fall asleep before you leave,” she repeated.
To Lü Yanghua’s surprise, Song Heting did not laugh at her. Instead, he sat back down with solemn gravity, making Lü Yanghua momentarily feel as if he were a blade-bearing bodyguard who had come specifically to protect her.
Just like the grand heroes her mother used to talk about, who would save her time and time again in moments of danger…
The dark night rendered his figure blurred and hazy, making him appear taller and more dependable in her eyes. She secretly held onto the hem of Song Heting’s robe; gradually, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until she finally fell into a deep dream.
Only after she had fallen sound asleep did Song Heting slowly extract the fabric from her grip inch by inch, leaving her bedchamber without turning his head once.
Lanzhi had already been waiting outside for a long time.
Song Heting nodded toward her. She immediately understood that things were nearly settled.
“Then shall we proceed according to plan and help her gain the Imperial favor?” Lanzhi recalled Lü Yanghua’s completely defenseless, beautiful face inside the chamber, feeling secretly fortunate to have discovered her—she was a hundred times better than the candidate they had previously arranged into the palace.
She just wasn’t particularly clever.
Yet in their eyes, that could hardly be considered a flaw.
However, Song Heting raised his hand, putting a stop to her thoughts. “No rush.”
“What is it?” Lanzhi asked in confusion, before coming to a realization. “Do you still intend to test her further?”
“Mhm.” Song Heting’s gaze rested precisely on the withered branches in the courtyard, where a small bird had alighted at some unknown moment. “I must ensure absolute certainty.” He needed to confirm again and again that Lü Yanghua was indeed without scheming intentions and suitable to be manipulated.
Once an arrow was drawn, there was no turning back. The journey ahead was filled with danger, and everything had to be executed with utmost caution. He and Lü Yanghua were like a couple bound halfway through life, sharing not a shred of affection, only mutual calculation.
He did not expect Lü Yanghua to do anything if the plot were exposed, but she must not harbor any superfluous thoughts either.
Otherwise, it would not only be his own life, but also Lanzhi’s, and the lives of so many behind him that would be consigned to destruction in an instant.
Lü Yanghua stared solemnly at the dark, bitter decoction before her.
Song Heting stood beside her with a smile, joining his long fingers together as he pushed the bowl three inches closer toward her. The gesture caused her to lean back as if confronting a fierce demon, nearly losing her balance and falling to the ground.
It was Song Heting’s palm that supported her thin back, steadily guiding her back upright.
“This Consort does not wish to drink it,” Lü Yanghua declared with a grave expression.
She had even brought out the title “This Consort.”
Yet Song Heting remained unmoved, pushing the bowl a little further forward. “Did you not hear the Imperial Physician’s instructions, Young Mistress? Your body is too weak, and you require nourishment.”
“Am I not standing here perfectly fine?” Lü Yanghua countered.
Standing to the side, Lanzhi suppressed a smile and helped Song Heting persuade her, “Young Mistress, please do not make things difficult for us. The body is yours; you must take good care of it.”
Put on the spot by her words, Lü Yanghua appeared unreasonable instead. Losing face, she ultimately pinched her nose and gulped down the bowl of medicine in one breath.
Not wanting to spoil her mood, Lanzhi clapped and praised from the side, “Young Mistress is truly amazing!”
Lü Yanghua held her breath, remaining silent.
That was until Song Heting offered a candied fruit to her lips.
Looking at the candied fruit as if it were a savior, her eyes lit up. Following Song Heting’s fingers, she extended a tender, red tongue and licked it into her mouth.
With no expression on his face, Song Heting withdrew his hand. Deep within his sleeve where no one could see, his fingers gently rubbed together, feeling the lingering warmth.
Having finally suppressed the thick, bitter taste of the medicine, Lü Yanghua let out a soft hmph, acting as though she had never cared about the bowl of medicine in the first place.
“Why make such a fuss?”
Her words were directed at Lanzhi, yet there was no real anger behind them; instead, it sounded as if she were playfully seeking favor.
Amused by her demeanor, Lanzhi lowered her head and let her lips curl upward.
“This servant shall go wash the bowl clean.”
Lü Yanghua failed to notice her reaction and waved her hand to dismiss her.
With only the two of them left in the room, Lü Yanghua lost her patience and gestured to him.
“Come here, Tingyuan.”
“Young Mistress.”
“How is the matter I asked you to handle coming along?”