Following the sound of voices and the scent of food, Leng Yue’er strolled along at an unhurried pace, the snacks in her hands changing from one batch to the next. Inwardly, she kept track of the time. She could not indulge herself endlessly and neglect her duties. At the very least, she needed to return to Pei Qingmin’s side and show her face, lest she be caught and leave herself open to criticism, ruining her chances of slipping away to watch the drama in the future.
With her decision made, she shed her earlier languid air. Lowering her figure slightly, she used the passing crowd as cover and silently made her way toward the high pavilion where Pei Qingmin rested. Her steps were as light as falling snow, and in an instant, she melted into the glow of the lanterns.
Inside the pavilion, warmth lingered, yet it could not dispel the quiet desolation. Pei Qingmin sat by the window, his pale fingers slowly curling into a fist, the knuckles faintly whitening from the force.
His gaze fell upon the bustling crowd below, and a trace of indescribable melancholy flickered through his heart. Was it envy? Perhaps a little, though it was quickly suppressed. With a body long plagued by illness, one that he could barely manage himself, if he were to delay or ruin a young woman’s life, it would only become a sin.
He slowly closed his eyes, long lashes casting delicate shadows against his pale lids.
“Has she not returned yet?”
His personal attendant Minghai immediately bowed and replied, his tone carefully measured. “Your Highness, not yet. The lantern sea is at its peak, and the crowds are thick. Perhaps Dark Guard Leng was delayed along the way and has not been able to return in time.”
Leng Yue’er, sent by Consort Zhu Jing to keep watch over Prince Wei, had behaved herself properly in the past few days. Who would have thought that in just a short time, she would brazenly wander about right under her master’s nose. So bold, so utterly fearless, even slipping away on purpose. Consort Zhu Jing clearly did not treat Prince Wei as her own son, this was outright surveillance.
Just as the words fell, faint voices drifted in from outside the pavilion, light yet enough to break the stillness within, reaching both of their ears.
Leng Yue’er had already stepped onto the third floor corridor.
She raised a hand and distributed the remaining snacks hanging at her waist to the guards stationed nearby. Her movements were brisk, yet carried a rare touch of liveliness. Though she was accustomed to acting alone, she understood a bit of human nature. This small gesture was merely to smooth her path for future disappearances, sparing herself unnecessary trouble.
The guards accepted the snacks, surprise flashing in their eyes before they quietly relaxed, though some still seemed hesitant to speak.
Earlier, Leng Yue’er had slipped away twice. Though the prince had not openly reprimanded her, he must have harbored some displeasure. Now that she showed such tact, and seeing that the prince had not pursued the matter, perhaps nothing would happen. Some things were better left unsaid until they returned to the manor.
The guards exchanged glances and fell silent.
After handing out the snacks, Leng Yue’er walked to the end of the corridor and glanced out the window, her brows knitting ever so slightly. From this angle, the buildings blocked the view. When the fireworks bloomed later, she would not be able to see the full spectacle.
The disappointment passed in an instant. With a light tap of her toe against the windowsill, her body leapt out like a swift swallow.
The guards nearby were left dumbfounded, silently complaining to themselves. She had only just returned, and already she was restless again. Did she not fear being questioned by the prince?
At that moment, with a soft creak, Minghai pushed open the door and stepped out, his gaze sweeping quickly across the corridor as he instinctively searched for Leng Yue’er.
Where was she? He had clearly heard movement just now, how had she vanished in the blink of an eye? A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes as he paused.
“Where is she? Didn’t she just return?” Minghai’s voice retained its characteristic sharpness, though he deliberately lowered it, afraid of disturbing Pei Qingmin. A trace of unease lingered beneath his tone.
“I will go call her at once,” one of the guards responded quickly. Following the direction Leng Yue’er had gone, he leapt out the window, his movements nimble, no less skilled than hers.
The sight left Minghai stunned. He blinked hard, momentarily unable to process what he had just seen. What kind of behavior was this? Leng Yue’er was unruly enough, and now the others were following suit?
Reaching the rooftop of the teahouse, the guard looked up and saw Leng Yue’er standing atop the ridge, her posture straight as a pine. The usual indifference in her features had faded, replaced by a rare focus. Her gaze burned brightly as she stared ahead, her eyes shimmering with fine light.
Puzzled, the guard followed her line of sight. Below lay the same lively scene, bustling and ordinary, nothing unusual at all. He could not help but wonder what had captured her attention so completely.
“Something wrong?” Leng Yue’er sensed his presence and tilted her head slightly, her peach blossom eyes narrowing. Her tone was calm, revealing little emotion, though her focus remained unbroken.
“Minghai is looking for you,” the guard stepped forward and added after a brief pause, “When you went out to find food earlier, the prince already asked about your whereabouts. He may wish to question you again, so you…”
Before he could finish, Leng Yue’er moved.
The figure that had stood steadily on the roof suddenly blurred, so fast it left only an afterimage. In the blink of an eye, she had vanished from the rooftop, swift as the wind, without the slightest hesitation.
In the next instant, using the eaves for leverage, she flipped upside down and descended, her dark hair hanging loose as she appeared directly outside Pei Qingmin’s window. She lifted her head slightly, her delicate face abruptly coming into view, so close that they could see their reflections in each other’s eyes.
“Your Highness, you were looking for me?” Her voice was clear and crisp, breaking the stillness of the room. One hung upside down, the other sat upright, their faces mere inches apart, their breaths nearly intertwining.
Caught off guard, Pei Qingmin’s heart jolted. He instinctively leaned back, losing his balance and nearly falling from his chair. Leng Yue’er reacted swiftly, reaching out to pull him firmly into her arms. Her palm brushed against his cool brocade robe, her fingers feeling the thinness of his shoulders. Their eyes met, and the air in the room seemed to freeze, even the evening breeze outside pausing for a moment.
Pei Qingmin gazed into her peach blossom eyes, the chill within them not yet gone, yet now carrying a trace of vivid light. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
At that very instant, outside, where the paired-heart lanterns hung on a stand, the flames suddenly flared up. In the original story, the fire had not been serious and was quickly discovered and extinguished.
But this time, Leng Yue’er tilted her head, watching the flames she had placed her hopes on. She wished they would burn a little longer, just enough for her to enjoy a bit of excitement.
Unfortunately, it was not to be. The flames of her “fireworks” were too small. They were quickly noticed and promptly put out.
“Cough… cough…”
Pei Qingmin, still held in her arms, clutched at her sleeve. Seeing her expression grow more animated, he had not wanted to disturb her, but his frail body betrayed him. His face flushed red as he coughed, and he could only press against her shoulder, powerless against his own weakness.
“Such a pity.” Leng Yue’er clicked her tongue softly, unable to hide her regret. One hand absentmindedly patted his back, though her thoughts were already drifting toward going out again to watch the scene unfold firsthand.
“Leng…” Pei Qingmin lifted his head, about to speak.
“Ah!”
After patting his back twice, Leng Yue’er’s eyes suddenly lit up. A perfect scene had delivered itself right to her. Her return to check in had not been in vain.
Outside the window, on the street below, a richly dressed woman walked past, surrounded by several maids. From the movement of one maid’s lips, Leng Yue’er read the name clearly. It was Ji Youran, the secondary consort of Crown Prince Pei Luo’an.
Without another thought, Leng Yue’er released Pei Qingmin and leapt straight out of the window, following after Ji Youran.