In the shadow of the rockery.
Pei Lin stood with his hands behind his back, his figure nearly merging with the shadows.
Chu Mingzhao’s inner thoughts drifted into his mind with the cold wind, every word perfectly clear.
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before morphing into a deep, thick interest.
This woman, on the surface, pretended to be deeply in love, yet in her heart, she had him calculated with perfect clarity.
Pei Lin gently rubbed the jade thumb ring on his thumb.
Since someone had already laid down the ladder, it would be wrong not to take the opportunity to step down.
He strode forward on long legs, stepping over withered branches as he slowly emerged from the shadows.
“What are you two chatting about? I could hear Seventh Brother from afar.”
The warm voice came out of nowhere, making Chu Mingzhao’s hair stand on end as she spun around sharply.
There stood Pei Lin, somehow already at the moon gate, holding an exquisite hand warmer. He looked like a statue of a Buddha just brought out from a temple, compassionate yet unfathomable.
“Th-Third Brother?” Pei Yuan stammered, nearly biting his tongue.
Pei Lin sauntered over unhurriedly, his gaze sweeping between the two before finally landing on Chu Mingzhao.
“Just now at the front hall, I noticed Old Seven left in a hurry and forgot his cloak. The winter wind is cold, and if he catches a chill, Mother will worry again.”
He handed the dark cloak draped over his arm to Pei Yuan, his tone flawless.
Chu Mingzhao’s heart skipped a beat.
How did this man move so quietly? How much had he overheard?
As if unaware of the tense atmosphere, Pei Lin turned to Chu Mingzhao with a perfectly appropriate look of apology.
“Miss Chu, please don’t mind my brother. He’s a bit impulsive. If he’s displeased you in any way, I offer my apologies on his behalf.”
Chu Mingzhao quickly mustered a standard bashful smile and spoke in a high-pitched, flattering tone.
“Third Prince, you flatter me. Seventh Prince was just discussing the habits of Western frontier horses with me—nothing improper.”
“Is that so?”
Pei Lin curved his lips in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I vaguely heard Miss Chu mention an interest in the plum blossoms in the palace?”
Chu Mingzhao stopped breathing.
Pei Yuan’s jaw nearly dropped. He heard that? They had been whispering, barely louder than a mosquito!
Pei Lin took in their reactions and continued leisurely:
“In three days, Father truly is hosting a feast in the plum grove. If Miss Chu is interested, I could ask Father for a favor and invite you to the palace to enjoy the blossoms. What do you think?”
It was a gift from heaven, landing squarely in Chu Mingzhao’s lap.
Forcing down the desire to grin as she held back wave after wave of excitement, Chu Mingzhao put on a flustered expression.
“This… how could this be? A family banquet at the palace—my sudden presence would surely disturb His Majesty’s leisure.”
“The Chancellor is the pillar of the nation; Miss Chu is more than worthy.”
Watching her theatrical act, Pei Lin’s interest grew stronger.
He almost looked forward to seeing what tricks this woman would pull once she was in the palace.
The success came effortlessly.
Pei Yuan quietly gave Chu Mingzhao a thumbs-up from the side.
After a few more pleasantries, Pei Lin didn’t linger. He led Pei Yuan away with composure.
Only when the pair had vanished beyond the gate did Chu Mingzhao let out a long breath, rubbing her stiff, smiling cheeks.
Dealing with Pei Lin, who was riddled with mind games, took more brainpower than solving ten sets of higher-level math problems.
The ticket was secured. Next step: smoothly bring Pei Yan into the palace.
At the thought of Pei Yan, Chu Mingzhao’s heart suddenly pounded.
She’d been so focused on dealing with those two brothers that she’d forgotten the time bomb in the stables still burning with fever.
That potent drug plus the cold—hope it hadn’t fried his brain completely.
She clutched her cloak tighter, lifting her skirt as she hurried toward the northwest stable.
The stable was eerily quiet. The basin of silver charcoal had burned to ash, giving off a faint warmth.
Pushing open the wooden stable door, the space inside was empty.
Only a tangled heap of silk-cotton bedding remained on the ground, along with a cold bronze hand warmer.
Where had he gone?
Chu Mingzhao’s heart lurched.
She strode out of the stable quickly, scanning the area, spotting Cuizhu drooping her head dejectedly on the side.
“Miss!”
Cuizhu jumped in surprise upon seeing Chu Mingzhao and hurriedly curtseyed.
“Where’s that wretched slave?”
Chu Mingzhao’s face darkened, her tone implying trouble.
Cuizhu shrank back and stammered, “In-in response, Miss: that horse slave woke up half an hour ago. He… after waking up, he drove me out and said…”
“Said what?”
“Said he wasn’t dead yet and didn’t need me hanging around to mourn him.” Cuizhu pouted in grievance.
Chu Mingzhao let out a bitter laugh.
She’d been kind enough to bring him charcoal and blankets, and as soon as he woke up, he just up and left, with a sharp jab on the way.
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, Miss.”
Cuizhu shook her head. “I didn’t dare disobey him, so I withdrew outside the courtyard. When I went back in, he was already gone.”
Chu Mingzhao frowned as if into a tangled knot.
A living person, running a high fever, vanishes from the Chancellor’s residence into thin air?
“Where does he usually go after finishing his work?”
Chu Mingzhao continued patiently.
Cuizhu thought for a moment and answered, “The warden said this horse slave is very antisocial. Every day after his chores, he locks himself in the stable. Even meals are left at the door for him to take in himself.
He never speaks to other servants, and no one knows what he’s up to inside. Sometimes… sometimes he disappears for whole days at a time.”
Chu Mingzhao let out a cold laugh and waved Cuizhu away.
The stable staff all had eyes but saw nothing—a grown man vanishing under their noses every day without notice.
A Deposed Crown Prince is still a crown prince. A dying centipede doesn’t topple.
In the original story, Pei Yan survived three years in this leaky stable not by drinking cold Northern winds but by secretly gathering his old followers and building up power.
By now, he was probably hiding in some dog hole, meeting with his men, plotting how to stab a hole straight through the Daqian Empire…
Night.
The darkness was thick, like a clinging ink that had not been stirred, the sky weighty with an inability for stir. The dense clouds likewise covered the very stars and full moon.
Cuizhu had stirred through the cotton curtain many times already—her nose red with cold as she crept to where Chu Mingzhao lay in stride, swirling like a burning skillet for half an hour in her high bed of carved wood.
Upon a quiet evening when Chu Mingzhao tossed fitfully on her orchid bed; mind was all a messy net of endless urgency to find peace and yet in her soft pacing no such peaceful answer came.
Around the thought of its location soundly without quiet comes desperate spinning purpose from mind—like in grinding of grain making a paste you find the strange mixture results we do not fully control nor understand - nor direction itself. Understanding is not purely on us to hold yet best to remain still with breath held as the night goes past.
“Miss,” she murmured, approaching the bedside now, keeping very low nearly … "this maid; since she went once again to watch the stable. That lowly fellow, the horse slave… hasn’t returned."
Chu Mingzhao jolted upright, sitting straight.
If Pei Yan was already as ill now as he could be, but always not good, that sick creature possibly was deathly hot from delirium, and insane and plotting from the delirious high fever to take a route of secret calculations the time scarce as fading light?
This dreadful ancestor: if he dies out there, or caught insane from fever and picked up out of his wits by a nighttime patrol …… this life itself is over before start in these couple years in need of right play…
He ended these desirings where maybe and maybe had reason or exactly so they are before these great trials that can break or crown a fate
.
