“Side Consort Xu, why don’t you come with me to see the Prince?” Lin Yao suggested.
Xu Yanshu looked at her with deep suspicion, unsure of her angle.
“The Prince dotes on me,” Lin Yao said, her tone dripping with mock-innocence. “Seeing me in this state, he will surely want to punish the culprit. If you come along now, it saves the Prince the trouble of sending men to drag you there later.”
Xu Yanshu’s face went white. “The… the Prince would never punish a Side Consort for the sake of a lowly concubine like you!” she shouted, though the louder she got, the more her confidence wavered.
“True,” Lin Yao continued airily. “He is merciful and dislikes bloodshed. I suppose I’ll just have to whisper in his ear every night. Eventually, whenever the Prince thinks of you, he’ll only picture a cruel, jealous woman.”
Xu Yanshu was nearly vibrating with rage. This low-born girl actually dared to look down on her! But as the Empress’s niece, she knew Lin Yao couldn’t truly touch her yet. Lin Yao was simply trying to needle her and keep her awake at night.
The servants of the manor were sharp; they knew that in this house, whoever held the Prince’s favor held the power. No one dared to block Lin Yao’s path as Lin Sianwan helped her out of the courtyard.
Once they were clear, Lin Yao turned to the youth waiting for them. “Thank you, Chang Feng.”
Chang Feng frowned at her injuries. “You’re usually so clever. How did you let yourself get bullied like this?”
Lin Yao sighed. “Mad dogs are unpredictable; they bite whoever they catch.”
“Beaten to a pulp and still sharp-tongued,” Chang Feng muttered. He turned to leave, but made sure to raise his voice so the nearby spies could hear: “Get those wounds healed before you see the Prince again.”
“I know,” Lin Yao called back. “I wouldn’t want the Prince to worry too much.”
Back in her own quarters, Lin Yao was tended to by the Princess Consort. Her face was a mess. Sianwan applied her most precious ointments and helped her change her clothes. Once finished, Sianwan finally asked the question burning in her mind.
“Yao’er, have you truly won the Prince’s favor?”
Lin Yao shook her head. Looking at Sianwan’s desperate protection earlier, she had seen flashes of her own mother. From that moment, she decided to treat Sianwan as true kin.
“That wasn’t the Prince’s doing; it was Chang Feng’s,” Lin Yao explained.
Chang Feng was young, but years at the Prince’s side had made him incredibly shrewd. He hadn’t actually said “The Prince is looking for her”—Lin Yao had simply seized the opening he provided. If things went south, Chang Feng could claim he was just passing by. Lin Yao had gambled on the fact that when she didn’t show up at her usual time, Chang Feng would come looking. She had won the bet, and thanks to his intervention, her life in the manor would be easier—for now.
But a lie could only last so long. To truly survive, she had to make the lie a reality.
The next day, Lin Yao looked in the mirror. Thanks to the high-quality medicine, the swelling had subsided, leaving only the vivid red scratches from Xu Yanshu’s nails.
“My Lady, let me apply some powder,” Xiao Ju offered. “We can hide the marks.”
“No need,” Lin Yao replied. The wounds, now that the swelling was gone, didn’t make her look ugly; instead, they gave her a fragile, “pity-me” allure. No matter how much a man studied the Buddha, he was still a man. And men were suckers for weakness.
She dressed in simple, elegant white, her waist cinched to highlight her graceful curves. Her hair was loosely bound, with stray locks framing her face—a style far too “relaxed” for a noblewoman, leaning more toward the aesthetic of a high-end courtesan.
“Well?” she asked, casting a sultry glance at Xiao Ju.
The little maid swallowed hard, her face reddening. “My Lady is so beautiful, even I feel my heart fluttering.”
Satisfied, Lin Yao hooked a cloth bundle over her arm and headed out.
At the Wuju Courtyard, Chang Feng was leaning against the gate. Lin Yao handed him the bundle. “A gift for my favorite little Chang Feng.”
“Trying to bribe me again? What is it?” He opened it to find a pair of sturdy shoes. He looked down and realized his own were not only old but had a hidden hole he hadn’t even noticed.
“Do you like them?”
Chang Feng’s face darkened. “Don’t call me ‘little.’ Also, I told the Prince you were hurt yesterday. He didn’t even blink. You’re wasting your time.”
“Maybe he cared and you just didn’t notice.”
“Impossible! I’ve been with him for ten years!”
Lin Yao remained undeterred. If the Prince were easy to seduce, those dozens of women before her wouldn’t have failed. “I’ll keep trying. Who knows? One day I might be your mistress.”
Chang Feng rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a big mouth.” But as he looked at the shoes, he remembered that the last person to care if he was warm or well-fed was his mother. Well, he thought, if she did become the lady of the house, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.
Inside the prayer hall, Prince Yu was standing by a bookshelf today rather than meditating. Standing up, he seemed imposing—broad-shouldered and tall. His thin black robes hinted at the powerful muscles beneath.
Lin Yao’s imagination wandered. She had pale, delicate skin; she knew that if those powerful hands gripped her waist, they would leave dark bruises. She caught herself in her reverie when she met his cold, empty gaze.
The Prince stared at her face. The red wound was an eyesore. A flash of uncharacteristic anger rose in him at the thought of whoever had harmed her, but he suppressed it instantly.
“Your Highness,” Lin Yao purred, stepping closer. “I noticed my portrait went missing a few days ago. Have you seen it?”
The Prince’s face remained a mask, but his lips tightened. Her question made his eyes roam over her body, his mind involuntarily comparing the woman in front of him to the provocative figure in the painting. His heart skipped a beat before he regained control.
He reached for a book and handed it to her. She opened it and beamed. “Found it!”
She leaned in close, her delicate scent filling his lungs. “Your Highness, did you open it and look?”
Her voice was soft, like a caress. The Prince, thinking of the painting’s contents, found himself swallowing hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Driven by some inexplicable impulse, he shook his head.
“You didn’t? Then Your Highness missed out on quite a view,” she teased, tucking the portrait into her bodice.
For the rest of the afternoon, the Prince remained as silent as a stone. As lunch ended, Lin Yao sighed. “Your Highness, do you find me annoying?”
He didn’t respond.
“How about this? Give me this, and I’ll never come back,” she said, holding up a single Buddhist prayer bead.
The Prince reflexively looked at the strand on his wrist. It had broken recently, and he had been unable to find one missing bead. To think she had found it. Is this ‘karmic destiny’? he wondered.
“Well, Your Highness?”
He nodded. If she stopped coming, he would have his peace back.
Lin Yao smiled brightly and left with the bead. The Prince watched her retreating figure, his mind repeating her words: Never come back.
Instead of the peace he expected, he felt a strange, hollow void in his chest. He didn’t even realize he was feeling it.