At this moment in the capital, the rain had gradually stopped, and the surroundings grew quiet. Yet, it was in this silence that Lady Huang jolted awake with a start.
A chill crept up from behind her.
Lady Huang turned over, only to find the space beside her empty. She hurriedly sat up.
There was no maid on night duty in her room. She draped a robe over her shoulders and rose to her feet.
After the rain ceased, the night had taken on a faint clarity. Without needing to light a lamp, Lady Huang stepped out and stood beneath the corridor. A gust of wind swept by, making her shiver involuntarily.
The courtyard lay in utter silence.
Lady Huang strained her ears and caught the faint, intermittent sound of rustling and scraping.
In the storage area at the rear of the estate, a room was lit. Against the distant window frame, the shadow of a figure loomed – a tall man raising an object and bringing it down with fierce force.
A bamboo tube split apart and clattered to the ground.
Fan Jianglin, dressed only in thin inner clothing, picked up another bamboo stalk. The sound of footsteps outside made him pause. Frowning, he looked over to see Lady Huang standing at the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Lady Huang asked in surprise, looking at the split bamboo scattered across the floor of the room.
“It’s getting cold. If I don’t hurry and finish this, Xiao Bao won’t get to play with it in time,” Fan Jianglin replied, raising his ax once more.
With a sharp crack, another bamboo tube split and fell to the ground.
Some time ago, Fan Jianglin had taken Little Bao to a colleague’s home, where the child saw a small playhouse built from bamboo. Ever since, Xiao Bao had been clamoring for one too. So Fan Jianglin bought some giant bamboo to build one for him.
“You don’t have to stay up all night working on this, though – and it’s not like we don’t have servants to help,” Lady Huang said, both exasperated and amused.
Fan Jianglin smiled, setting down the ax in his hand.
“Couldn’t sleep, so I wandered over here. Idle hands and all,” he explained.
Lady Huang frowned.
Sleepless again? Ever since his sister left the capital, he had spent several restless nights.
“Don’t worry,” she said, taking the robe hanging nearby and draping it over his shoulders. “There are so many people with her. The local authorities are escorting her along the way. Although Songping is far, it’s not like some poor family traveling alone…”
She went on murmuring reassuringly, but Fan Jianglin only half-listened.
“How many days has it been?” he suddenly asked.
“Only two. Tomorrow will be the third,” Lady Huang replied, unable to hold back a gentle laugh. “Look at you, still fretting over your sister – you’ve even lost track of the days.”
Fan Jianglin took a deep breath and said nothing.
“Let’s go,” he said finally. “Back to bed.”
“Dawn is almost here,” Lady Huang chided softly.
The estate settled back into stillness.
Outside the city, within the Imperial Guard camp, a troop of soldiers marched out in formation, passing by a squad of armored cavalry returning from patrol.
“Young Master Zhou,” the leader of the cavalry called out in surprise, “why is it still you?”
“I’m covering for someone else, switching to day duty,” Zhou Fu replied.
The man nodded, watching as Zhou Fu led his team out to patrol the city.
“They’re taking advantage of him,” someone murmured under their breath.
“Of course. He’s the cousin of the Princess Consort Jin’an. Now that Duke Jin’an has finally been driven from the capital, and the princess herself made enemies of the Gao family – how could his days be easy?” another whispered in response.
“But the Gao family was also expelled from the capital,” someone questioned.
This remark drew a chorus of scornful laughter.
“It’s not just about the Gao family being expelled. Don’t forget whose surname holds the highest honor in the capital.”
The night wind scattered their whispers, leaving only muffled fragments that reached Zhou Fu’s ears.
Even without hearing them clearly, he knew exactly what they were saying. Ever since he had remained in the capital and been assigned to this garrison, such talk had become all too familiar.
Zhou Fu looked ahead, where the towering city gate loomed faintly in the darkness.
“What rotten luck that the rain stopped. We could’ve found somewhere to take shelter, maybe even dozed off until dawn,” grumbled an armored soldier beside him.
“We must not let our guard down, especially at a time like this,” Zhou Fu said.
“A time like what?” the soldier asked curiously, studying Zhou Fu’s somber face illuminated by the torchlight.
In the hours just before dawn, when the night is at its deepest, exhaustion weighs heaviest – and vigilance is hardest to keep.
“The Crown Prince is about to be married. The city’s defenses must remain strict – we cannot afford to slack off,” Zhou Fu said.
The Crown Prince’s wedding?
That dim-witted Crown Prince? And to think he’s marrying the daughter of Chancellor Chen – what is there even to guard against?
The armored soldiers responded with scattered murmurs, urging their horses forward as they patrolled the city walls through the deepening night.
Zhou Fu glanced up at the sky. After the rain, the night expanse had taken on a faint blue hue, quiet and still. He lowered his gaze and spurred his horse to the front of the column.
By the time they had circled all four city gates, the sky was gradually brightening.
Weariness etched the faces of the soldiers.
“Once the gates open, let’s go get a bowl of hot soup.”
“The place at the west end of the bridge – that’s the real deal.”
Chatting and joking, they guided their horses toward the North Gate, planning to wait nearby for the gates to open. Zhou Fu, still silent, rode at the very front. Suddenly, he reined in his horse and stopped. The others nearly collided with him, caught off guard.
“Young Master Zhou?” the soldiers asked.
Zhou Fu looked ahead.
“Someone’s coming,” he said.
The armored soldiers turned their gaze forward and indeed saw a horse galloping swiftly along the distant road.
“It’s too early to be waiting for the gates to open,” remarked one soldier.
Every day before the city gates opened, people would gradually gather and wait outside. But someone arriving this early was rare.
They narrowed their eyes as the rider drew closer. The person was dressed in ordinary clothing – clearly not a courier delivering urgent messages. Most of the soldiers lost interest, urging their horses forward leisurely as they continued discussing where to eat and drink.
Zhou Fu, however, kept his eyes fixed on the figure approaching the gate. The rider only shouted once – “Open the gate!” – and someone peered down from the wall above before the gate swung open.
“He’s gone inside,” Zhou Fu said.
Hearing this, the soldiers halted their chatter and looked over. Surprise rippled through them.
Not a military courier, not an urgent dispatch – yet he had entered the city directly.
“Who could that be?”
…
The bonfire in the temple gradually died down, and the pale light of dawn cast a dim haze over the dilapidated hall.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned over in her sleep, her outstretched arm bumping into someone.
That person pushed her arm away.
Cheng Jiao-niang opened her eyes. The figure sitting beside her cast a shadow that enveloped her.
“Cheng Fang.”
Seeing her awake, Duke Jin’an immediately called out.
“How can you still sleep so soundly!”
Cheng Jiao-niang closed her eyes again, patting his leg gently.
“It’s still early. Go back to sleep,” she said, her voice thick with drowsiness.
Duke Jin’an gritted his teeth and grasped her shoulder.
“Dawn is almost here,” he said. “You’ve slept all night. That’s enough.”
Cheng Jiao-niang, still lying on the pillow, opened her eyes to look at him.
“I haven’t slept enough,” she replied, her voice weary and tinged with a hint of pitiful softness.
Duke Jin’an’s grip involuntarily loosened.
After carrying out such a daring act, she must indeed be exhausted. Counting the hours, she had only slept half the night – truly not enough rest…
The room fell quiet again. In the dim blue light, Cheng Jiao-niang watched Duke Jin’an’s hesitant expression and suddenly laughed aloud.
She was teasing him again!
Duke Jin’an snapped back to his senses.
Just like when she had kissed him earlier – except that time had been in front of everyone, while now it was only the two of them alone.
His face flushed red, his brows furrowed, and the hand gripping her shoulder tightened as he pulled her up forcefully.
“Cheng Fang!” he said in a low, stern voice. “Do you think I won’t get angry with you?”
His shout startled Master Gu, who had been dozing against the wall outside. He straightened up abruptly.
“They’re awake!” he whispered, supporting himself against Eunuch Jing as he tried to stand. “Quick, quick – maybe now we can finally ask.”
Eunuch Jing, eyes still closed, reached out and tugged him back down.
“Don’t stir trouble,” he muttered sleepily. “The husband-and-wife matters have only just begun.”
Master Gu shook his head, a hint of dissatisfaction in his expression.
“They should’ve made things clear last night. Delaying until now – clearly, the husband’s authority is shaky. What’s left to say? Better to get to the real business sooner,” he grumbled under his breath.
Inside, Cheng Jiao-niang, pulled upright, looked at him.
“That’s right. I don’t know about the future, but for now – you won’t,” she said with a smile, nodding gently.
Though her smile was as faint and calm as ever, whether it was because he was agitated or not, her eyes seemed to brim with mischief as she gazed at him.
He took a deep breath and released his grip.
“But I would be hurt,” he said slowly. “Hurt that you don’t trust me, hurt that you don’t care for me.”
Cheng Jiao-niang watched as he straightened his posture.
“You’re right,” she said, then raised her hands and bowed respectfully. “I have been discourteous.”
Duke Jin’an remained silent, simply looking at her.
“I know that what I did this time was far too dangerous,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued, lifting her head. “Precisely because I knew you would care and you would be hurt, I didn’t want to tell you. Moreover, the timing of this matter was fleeting – gone in the blink of an eye. I didn’t have enough time to convince you either.”
Having said this, she bowed once again.
“Fang Bocong, please forgive me.”
“I know you have your reasons, and I understand them. But Cheng Fang, have you ever considered – what if you had failed?” Duke Jin’an said solemnly.
“It wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t have recognized me. I carried something that could explode instantly, igniting my body and destroying any trace…” Cheng Jiao-niang raised her head, her eyes shining as she explained.
Before she could finish, Duke Jin’an let out a sudden roar.
“Enough!”
Without another word, he rose from the four-legged couch and strode straight toward the exit.
“Fang Bocong,” Cheng Jiao-niang called after him, quickly getting up to follow.
But Duke Jin’an had already walked out.
Cheng Jiao-niang grabbed the cloak nearby, wrapped it around herself, and hurried outside.
Outside, both Master Gu and Eunuch Jing seemed poised to intervene, but Duke Jin’an swept past them without a glance and stepped through the temple gate.
“Your Highness.”
Master Gu and Eunuch Jing turned to Cheng Jiao-niang as she emerged, rushing over to her.
“His Highness is worried about you, Your Highness. You should speak properly with him…” Eunuch Jing said with a hint of reproach.
Before he could finish, Master Gu pushed him aside.
“Your Highness, how did you know that Young Master Gao would be here? How did you kill him? Are you certain he is dead? Was anyone else alerted? Were there any traces left…” he pressed anxiously.
“Oh, you – is this really the time for such questions?”
Before Cheng Jiao-niang could respond, Eunuch Jing grew impatient and glared at him.
“This is exactly the pressing matter now! So much time has already passed. If we don’t know the specifics, how can we plan our next move?” Master Gu retorted, equally agitated.
As the two of them argued back and forth, Cheng Jiao-niang had already walked past them.
“Your Highness…” Master Gu called out, but Eunuch Jing held him back, leaving him with no choice but to watch as Cheng Jiao-niang walked away. “Hurry, then.”
Hurry and soothe His Highness so we can discuss the urgent matter.
Eunuch Jing let out a disdainful “tsk.”
“What do you mean by that? Are you implying His Highness is being unreasonable?”
Their bickering faded behind her. Cheng Jiao-niang stepped outside but saw no sign of Duke Jin’an in either direction.
The attendants outside bowed their heads in respectful silence.
Ban Qin and Su Xin, who had been preparing a meal nearby, stood up as well, their faces etched with worry.
Steward Cao quietly motioned toward the back.
Cheng Jiao-niang immediately turned and headed behind the temple. There, she saw Duke Jin’an striding away briskly, and she hurried after him.
I carried something that could explode instantly, igniting my body and destroying any trace…
Igniting my body so no one would recognize me…
Explode instantly, ignite my body…
Ignite my body…
Duke Jin’an felt his entire body trembling.
A hand grasped his arm.
“Fang Bocong, don’t be upset,” a soft voice said.
Duke Jin’an took a deep breath and halted his steps.
“Can you give me a reason not to be upset?” he asked, turning to look at Cheng Jiao-niang, his expression somber.
Cheng Jiao-niang gazed back at him without speaking and slowly shook her head.
“Can you give me a reason not to be hurt?” Duke Jin’an pressed again. Without waiting for her reply, he nodded to himself. “Actually, there is a reason – it’s indifference. When you don’t care, there’s nothing left to be upset or hurt about.”
He held Cheng Jiao-niang’s gaze.
“Is that the reason you would prefer?”
As he spoke, he let out a bitter laugh.
“But the truth is… that’s not it. There’s only one real reason for this.”
He looked straight at her.
“You don’t care about me.”
