The biting cold of the stone floor pressed against Bairan's back.
She tried to move, but her arms and legs felt as heavy as stone. Her skin stung as if a thousand needles were pricking her, and her eyes felt weighted down by iron. She struggled to open them, but only dim shadows moved in the darkness.
Before she could think, she felt a presence nearby. The heavy silence was broken by someone moving closer in the dark.
Her hand instinctively slashed upward in a steady strike.
But before the blow could land, a broad palm snared both her wrists. With a single, effortless motion, he pinned them against the frozen ground. The grip was a wall of heat—firm, unyielding, and terrifyingly controlled.
Bairan froze. Who is this? Where am I?
A deep, calm, and woody fragrance reached her nose.
Her mind raced at once. Sandalwood?
Unlike her racing mind, her tense brows slowly eased. Her heart, which should have been pounding in terror, beat with a slow, steady rhythm.
Finally, her lashes fluttered open.
Zhouyan's face filled her vision.
But it was not the Zhouyan she knew now.
This one—his features were sharper, less restrained. His phoenix eyes, which she usually saw as cold and foggy, now shone brightly, carrying the unrestrained vitality of a young man.
Bairan's thoughts cracked. "His Highness?" The title echoed faintly in her mind.
Yet, the voice that slipped from her lips was steady, soft, and unfamiliar even to herself. A faint curve lifted the corner of her mouth as she whispered his name.
"Zhouyan."
The young Zhouyan's expression darkened. He sneered, "At least you still remember this Prince's name—after ignoring me the entire day."
He leaned closer.
The warmth of his body pressed toward Bairan like an approaching flame. She instinctively turned her face aside, but her body betrayed her again—it was immovably heavy, feverish, as though it didn't belong to her at all.
Her mind cried out, What is wrong with me...?
But her lashes fluttered again. Her lips curved into a wider smile, though it quickly faded as her eyebrows furrowed. A terrible headache was splitting her skull.
She mumbled, "Behave, Zhouyan... I'm really not well."
The young Zhouyan paused. His sword-like eyebrows knitted together. The force restraining her wrists loosened slowly, but he didn't entirely let go.
Before Bairan could take another look, her eyelids grew heavy again. Her surroundings blurred. Zhouyan's sharp features dissolved into shadow, then faded into complete darkness.
A cold wind brushed across her fingers. Her brows knitted tighter. She murmured, "Cold..."
A voice responded, though it was no longer a deep, masculine tone. Instead, a high, soft voice exclaimed, "Ah—Young Miss! You are finally awake!"
Bairan's eyes snapped open.
The room was bright with morning sunlight. She was lying in her own bed, the familiar embroidered curtains gently swaying.
Bao'er sat beside her, leaning over to gently rub cool ointment into Bairan's injured hand. The maid looked at her with a wide smile and shiny, tear-filled eyes.
Yet, the scent of sandalwood still lingered in the air—heavy, steady, and hauntingly real.
Bairan pushed herself into a seated position, her voice a raw scrape against her throat as she whispered, "How... how did I get back?"
Bao'er smiled through her relief. "His Highness brought you back, Young Miss!"
Then her smile faded, her fingers trembling slightly. "That night, this servant was waiting outside your courtyard, so worried I could barely stand. It was so late, and you hadn't returned. Suddenly, I heard a sound in your room. When I ran in, I saw him—His Highness—coming out of your chamber. He didn't say much. He only said, 'Take care of your miss,' and then he left."
Bairan looked down at herself. The dusty, bloodstained clothes and black outer robe were gone. She was dressed in clean white silk sleeping garments.
So he had brought me back.
She wondered how Bao'er knew his true identity. She didn't dare call him Zhouyan even in her thoughts—not after that shameless dream.
She asked slowly, "His Highness?"
Bao'er leaned closer, her voice dropping to a fearful whisper. "While you were sleeping, Young Miss, many things happened. The cold man who was with Master Pei... he turned out to be the previous Emperor's eldest prince—Ji Zhouyan, His Highness, the former Crown Prince."
Bao'er swallowed hard. "When he left, he ordered Master Lin, Young Master Lu Yichen, and even Miss Ruoyu to be punished. Each of them received forty strokes of the heavy rod."
Bairan's brows shot up. She didn't hide the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Each? Forty strokes?"
Bao'er's face crumpled with fear. "How can you smile, Young Miss? This servant was terrified. Do you know how powerful that Prince is? I heard the other servants say we're fortunate he didn't bury us all alive. After he was deposed and banished from the palace, they say he became a bloodthirsty man. Everywhere he goes, corpses gather like mountains."
Bao'er gripped Bairan's hand tightly. "Young Miss, when he brought you back, did he hurt you?"
Bairan's thoughts lingered on the image of the young Zhouyan from her dream. She shook her head. No, that dream didn't count.
She smiled awkwardly at Bao'er. "Why would he hurt me? Didn't you say last night he was the one who brought me back himself?"
Bao'er let out a long, shaky sigh. "It wasn't last night, Young Miss. It was two nights ago. You've been asleep for two whole days and nights."
Before Bairan could ask more—
Grrr.
A loud growl echoed through the quiet room.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, her face heating up. She said playfully, "Bao'er, the Prince and the rods can wait. If I don't eat something soon, I might actually be another corpse on His Highness's mountain."
Bao'er gasped, covering her mouth. "Oh! Two days! Of course you're starving, Young Miss! I'll go to the kitchen right now. I had the cook keep ginger chicken porridge simmering on the stove just in case you woke. I'll bring it immediately!"
As Bao'er hurried out, her footsteps quick and light, Bairan looked around the chamber.
The sandalwood scent was faint now, but she finally traced its source—it came from the same bronze incense burner she had seen in Master Pei's room that afternoon. Thin wisps of smoke curled upward like silk ribbons.
She examined her injured hand. It was no longer bandaged. The coolness of the ointment lingered on her skin, and she could move her fingers freely without pain.
Touching her chin thoughtfully, she pondered. He punished the Lin family right after he brought me home. Was he angry over what Master Lin did? Did he spare Lin only because I shielded him with my own body?
But...
Lu Yichen and Ruoyu weren't part of the Yasha plot. So why were they punished? Was that for me?
She tapped her fingers lightly against the mattress. In the empty room, she whispered his name, word by word.
"Ji... Zhou... yan... You are truly a mysterious man."
Bao'er returned shortly, carrying a celadon bowl wrapped in cloth. The rich scent of ginger and chicken filled the room at once, warm and comforting, dispelling the lingering chill.
Setting it down on the low table beside the bed, Bao'er said, "Careful, Miss, it's still very hot."
Bairan accepted the bowl with both hands, feeling its warmth seep into her palms. The steam rose in gentle clouds, fogging her vision briefly.
As the first spoonful of porridge touched her tongue, warmth spread through Bairan's body. A faint flicker of satisfaction danced in her eyes.
She swallowed another mouthful and asked casually, "And then? How did the scene unfold?"
Bao'er drew in a breath, her voice lowering as she recounted the ordeal. "The courtyard... it smelled of iron and dust, Miss. Master Lin was first. At the tenth strike, he was still screaming for the ancestors to save him. By the twentieth, his voice had broken into a wet rattle. When the guards finally stood back at the fortieth count, his robes were nothing but red ribbons fused to his skin. They had to drag him away; his heels left two dark trails in the dirt."
Bairan's spoon paused halfway to her mouth.
"And the Lu Yichen?"
Bao'er glanced at her. "As for Young Master Lu... he suffered just as much. He tried to maintain his composure, but he collapsed before the count was finished and was carried back to the Lu residence on a wooden stretcher. It is said the physician has not left his bedside since."
"And Ruoyu?" Bairan prompted, her voice smooth as silk.
Bao'er's fingers tightened on her sleeve. "Miss Ruoyu... she fainted before the fifteenth stroke. The guards hesitated, looking to His Highness for a signal to stop. But he didn't even look up. The rods kept falling upon her limp body until she screamed herself awake. Only after the fortieth strike did he allow them to stop."
Bao'er continued, "Then the Lu family arrived at dawn like wolves. Master Lu was mid-shout, his finger pointed at the sky as he threatened the magistrate. Then, Master Pei's man stepped forward and whispered a single name."
Bao'er mimicked a sudden collapse. "Elder Master Lu's knees hit the stone so hard I heard the crack from the porch. He pressed his forehead into the dust, trembling like a leaf in a storm, begging for the 'Prince's' mercy for even daring to breathe the same air."
Bairan let out a soft, mocking huff. "Bold before the weak, but dogs before the powerful."
Bao'er said, her eyes widening. "Then Madam Luo stepped into the light. She said Master Lin should rest; she, the main wife, could managed everything well in this household. She looked straight at the Lu family. When they brought Ruoyu out on that stretcher... oh, Miss... she looked like a broken paper doll."
Bairan smiled. "Did she beg them to accept her?"
Bao'er nodded. "Yes, but she was pinned by Madam Luo's words, discarded by the Lu family. She looked at Young Master Lu, who was lying, bloodied, on his own stretcher, and a jagged, twisted laugh broke from her lips. She spat the words right at the Madam Lu's feet:'You want a pure lineage? Ask your son about the Willow Alley. Ask him about the dancer and the bastard child he's been feeding with your silver!'"
Bairan leaned back, a chuckle escaped her lips."Ha... A bastard child. A death sentence for a 'noble' house."
Bao'er nodded again. "Yes, Young Miss, three months ago, Miss Ruoyu overheard Young Master Lu whispering to his servant about a mistake he made in the Capital a year prior. When she confronted him, he fell to his knees and clung to her hem, crying that he only hid the shame because he loved her too much to lose her. He told her that in his heart, she was the only one worthy of being his lawful wife—that the dancer and —" She glanced at Bairan before finishing. "And you, Young miss were just a 'mistake'."
But Bairan just sneered as she took another swig, "He used 'love' to polish a piece of filth."
Seeing that she didn't care, Bao'er stared again: "The Lu family looked as if they'd been struck by lightning. Their tongues bound by the shame of their deception. Madam Luo reached for the Betrothal contract—those bamboo slips that bound our two houses. With a firm grip, she severed the silken cords and broke the slats one by one."
Then, she leaned closer, her voice a hushed rush. "Madam Luo commanded them to gather their 'defiled offerings' and vanish from the Lin family's gates. The Lu family fled in haste, hoisting Lu Yichen like a beast for the slaughter. Now, the markets and ancestral halls alike ring with his shame—the scholar in the robe who cast away a jade-pure alliance for the sake of a wandering street-dancer."
Bairan tilted her head. "What did Father say?"
"The Master stayed in his room," Bao'er said. "Madam Luo acted with such filial care and virtue while he was ill that he was deeply moved. He gave her his full trust and the right to rule the house in his place. The very first thing she did was call for a rough wooden cart."
Bairan raised an eyebrow. "Not a carriage?"
Bao'er shook her head. "No, Young Miss. Just a common cart used for dirt and vegetables. No soft seats, no servants to help. Only Ruoyu's mother—the concubine—came running out. She was crying on the ground, her hair falling wild and messy, grabbing at the Master's feet. But he looked at her with disgust. He told her if she wanted to cry for a girl who shamed the family, she could leave the gates with her."
Bairan finished her porridge, the warmth finally reaching her whole body.
She murmured, "A night of rare justice. The stagnant pool attracts scum; they chose their own path of ruin, and now the current has pulled them under together."
She then placed the celadon bowl upon the low lacquer table, the stoneware clicking softly against the wood. She pressed a hand to her stomach, a faint color returning to her cheeks like the first light of dawn. "The porridge was prepared with great care, Bao'er. You have done well."
Bao'er's face lit up, her eyes crinkling into happy crescents. "I'm so glad you liked it, Young Miss! But the credit belongs to the ginger. I've never seen a root so fresh and strong. It came from Master Pei's best private supplies."
Bairan looked at the empty bowl and raised an eyebrow. "Hanyue sent this?"
"He did," Bao'er nodded, tucking the silk blanket closer around Bairan's legs. "He came back just as the sun was starting to rise. When I told him you were still deep in sleep, he didn't just leave. He brought a doctor with him. The old man felt your pulse and shook his head. He said your body was like a flickering candle—all your energy was used up, and you need a long, deep rest."
Bao'er pointed to a small jade jar and a bronze incense burner on the low table.
She said joyfully, "Master Pei didn't come empty-handed. He left that ointment for your hand and the burner to steady your spirit and bring peaceful dreams. He even sent a crate of herbs, with that fine ginger hidden inside, as if he knew exactly what would warm your blood."
Bairan touched the cool jade jar with her bandaged hand. Her eyes moved to the bronze burner, then down to her wrists.
She bit her lip and rubbed the back of her head, thinking,
Thanks for the medicine, Hanyue, but next time, keep your spirit incense away. I would rather stay awake than fall asleep and be bullied by your Young Prince.
Bairan pushed the blankets aside, her eyes bright with a sudden, sharp energy. "Bao'er, fetch a dress. I'm going out."
Bao'er's face lit up, dropping a silk sash as she hurried toward the wardrobe. "Are you going to the side gate, Miss? To see Ruoyu's departure?"
Bairan waved her hand lazily, the motion dismissive. "No. Why should I waste my time watching a vegetable cart rattle away?"
Bao'er peeked over her shoulder while pulling out a pale blue silk robe. "Then... are you going to pay respects to Master?"
Bairan leaned back against her silk pillows. She reached up and flicked a jade bead hanging from the bed curtains. The bead swayed, its green light dancing across the fine fabric.
Hearing Bao'er's second question, Bairan answered in a calm, slow voice, "That old man? He has enough concubines to weep for him and a capable wife to keep his household in order. What need is there for me to appear?"
Bao'er stared at Bairan, her jaw dropped. Since when did her Young Miss learn to speak Boldly and talk of her father with such blunt words?
"Then..." Bao'er whispered, "Where is Young Miss going?"
Bairan's lips curved into a bright, gentle smile. "To thank Master Pei," she said, her voice light. Then she stood tall and smoothed her silk sleeves, her face turning calm and serious. "And to thank his Master as well."
Bao'er froze, her lips parted. But before she could speak, a bright, delighted voice rang out from the doorway, cutting through the morning air.
"Bairan-jie!"