Chapter 22

As soon as the words left his mouth, the emperor immediately regretted them. He furrowed his brows, and it took him a long moment to realize what he had just done. He had voluntarily disguised himself as another person—his own son. As the reigning sovereign, the supreme ruler, he had never imagined such a thing could happen to him. Shock, confusion, and incomprehension—three emotions that would never have surfaced in his heart before—rushed forth all at once.

If previous times had been due to ignorance, this time there was no denying it. He instinctively wanted to let go, but she grabbed his hand with the other. The emperor pursed his lips. No one had ever dared act so boldly toward him, let alone commit such an offense against his sacred person. Any of his concubines who behaved like this would have long since knelt and kowtowed, begging for his forgiveness. He steeled his heart and commanded coldly, “Let go.”

His voice was exceptionally harsh. Perhaps frightened by him, the young girl finally released her grip. Without looking at her, the emperor turned and began to walk away. But after only a few steps, he heard a low, pained moan behind him. His footsteps abruptly stopped, and he lowered his gaze.

Because of the rain, the cave was damp and chilly; a cold wind whistled through the cracks in the rocks. Outside, the rain showed no sign of letting up. He Hui sat on the ground, sharp pains stabbing through the back of her hand and her knees. Since she couldn’t see, she had accidentally tripped while pursuing Prince Ning. Luckily, her reflexes were quick, and she used her hand to cushion her forehead, avoiding a head injury. Still, she had fallen.

She rubbed her hand, then her knees. As she was about to steady herself against the stone wall to stand, she suddenly felt her body lighten—someone had lifted her up. The man’s arms were firm: one slipped under her bent knee, the other crossed behind her back, hands gripping her shoulders, carrying her steadily forward. Had he not left? Why had he returned?

“Young master...” she began.

“Shut up,” he interrupted coldly.

He had no more words, only that curt command. He Hui had grown accustomed to his alternating warmth and coldness, so she was no longer afraid. She asked, “Are you angry?”

This time, he said nothing in reply. She pushed further, emboldened, “Young master, what are you angry about? I know I caused you trouble. You can ignore me; what happened just now was an accident. You can go about your business. Once the rain stops, I will leave. You need not worry.”

Such righteous and considerate words would have moved Prince Ning deeply. Yet she soon realized she did not understand him at all. The hand resting on her shoulder suddenly tightened. She cried out, “It hurts.”

He sneered, “Bear it.”

She fell silent.

Prince Ning was acting strangely today. On one hand, he rushed to save her when he heard her fall—something he would never have done before. That proved she still mattered to him, even if not as much as Yao Sisi did. On the other hand, he was cold and harsh, as if rescuing her was a bitter pill to swallow. He Hui resolved to watch quietly.

She finally calmed down. Prince Ning carried her deeper into the cave and kicked open a door. Inside the false cave was a small room. She felt herself placed on something and reached out to touch it—a Luohan couch. Footsteps echoed again, then he left. But he returned shortly after, carrying something that made a light ‘clack’ sound. A faint aroma of food wafted to her nose. It was the lunchbox she had left outside.

She was stunned. For some reason, her heart felt struck by something—warm and yet sour. Slowly she looked up toward the figure in the darkness. For the first time, she found herself unable to utter any flattering or deceitful words. The two of them sat in silence.

She reached for the candle holder and lit it, but felt a weight on her hand—the man’s hand pressing on the wick. The wick was still hot, smoldering slightly, and she caught the faint scent of burning paraffin. She hurriedly pushed the candle away.

“...Young master?”

Prince Ning was silent for a long time, then finally spoke in a noticeably gentler tone than before: “No need to light it. I don’t like this room too bright.”

She responded with a soft “Oh,” feeling a strange and inexplicable sensation. It was she who had once been afraid to light the lamp; now it was him. Darkness seemed to become their protective shell, concealing their false, dirty thoughts, making them appear like two truly kindred lovers. She was full of pretense and did not want him to see through it—but what of him? What secrets did he harbor?

Did his reluctance to light the lamp stem from a genuine dislike of brightness, or was he hiding something? But shortly after, He Hui dismissed such thoughts. Given Prince Ning’s temperament and status, what could he possibly hide from her or scheme against her? She held no value to him.

Outside, someone coughed. He rose and left again, returning shortly. “Here’s the ointment. Apply it yourself.”

She paused, then did not move. He set down the ointment and sat far away. She had scarce another chance to be in the same room with him and did not want to miss it.

“Young master,” she said, “I can’t see clearly.”

He said nothing. After a long silence, just as she decided to reach for the ointment herself, he suddenly spoke, “Do you want me to... apply it for you?”

She nodded. He was silent again for a while, then said, “Don’t regret it.”

What was there to regret about applying ointment? She shook her head. “No.”

Prince Ning stood and approached her. “Hold out your hand.”

Obediently, she slowly extended her injured hand. He rubbed the ointment and pressed it onto the back of her hand. She couldn’t help but hiss softly.

“Painful?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.” Yet her voice trembled slightly.

He scoffed, “Lying.”

He seemed to be in better spirits. After applying the ointment, it needed to be rubbed in. She felt his fingers kneading her hand, bringing a peculiar tingling sensation amid the faint pain. The feeling was strange; she instinctively wanted to pull away.

“Don’t move,” he said. “If not done properly, it will swell tomorrow.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” she remarked.

Unbeknownst to her, Prince Ning, the favored son of heaven who had never suffered hardship, who had always been served and spoiled, knew such things well.

He said, “I often got bruises and scrapes on the battlefield. After enough times, you learn.”

Battlefield? “Did you accompany His Majesty to the battlefield?” she asked.

His hand paused. He said nothing, placing her hand down and directing, “Knees.”

She hesitated. “Young master, I can handle my knees myself...”

“I told you, don’t regret it.” He sat beside her, voice calm. “If you don’t treat them now, you won’t be able to walk by tonight.”

She knew he was right. Untreated injured knees would soon become unbearably painful. Thinking it over, she turned away and gently lifted her skirt, untying the ties on her knee pants. She paused, still feeling some shame. A woman’s feet and legs were not to be shown lightly; now she had lifted her skirt to reveal her shoes and was about to let a man touch her knees—it was indeed embarrassing.

Yet he was Prince Ning, the man she admired, and the dim surroundings meant he might not see clearly. For the sake of healing, some taboos had to be set aside.

Lowering her head, she felt the red gauze pants beneath her knee pants and slowly rolled them up. Soon, one ankle was held firmly by the man’s hand. She trembled and nearly lost her balance, instinctively placing both hands behind her on the Luohan couch, leaning back.

The emperor noticed her posture; his gaze flickered briefly before lowering to rest on her knees. Silence enveloped the room except for the soft sound of ointment being rubbed into skin—a sound so faint it seemed deafening to her.

Unlike her hands, her knees were more sensitive and fragile. She felt his touch like a feather, light enough to make her legs tremble, yet also like a warm flame, scorching her ears red-hot.

After both knees were treated, she was already sweating lightly down her spine. When he said, “Done,” she exhaled sharply and quickly lowered her red gauze pants. Neither spoke afterward. Her heart pounded wildly as she busied herself adjusting her knee pants; he returned to the chair not far off, lost in thought.

The rain finally ceased. She was able to leave. He led her out of the cave, and after a few steps, light came into view. He stood in the shadows and said, “Go back.”

That night, she found a key tucked into the left sleeve of her robe. It was the key he had purposely slipped there when she left. She stared at it for a long time before slowly clenching it in her palm. She knew she had taken one step closer to becoming Prince Ning’s consort.

—

For several days, He Hui visited the cave. Sometimes Prince Ning was there; sometimes the room was empty. When alone, she would light a candle and sit on the Luohan couch, finding it quieter inside than outside. The room was small but exquisitely furnished: bookshelves, wardrobes, a canopy bed—everything one might need. Ancient paintings hung on the walls. Though she could not understand them, they were pleasing to the eye.

She noticed many books but could not read a single character, which disheartened her. On a whim, she opened a book and tried copying the characters, but her handwriting was painfully crude. She dared not leave her writing in the room, always taking it away lest Prince Ning see and laugh.

She had also seen Prince Ning outside. Though his tone was polite and gentle when speaking to her, something felt off. It was as if the Prince Ning who met her secretly was a different person from the one she saw publicly. She knew she was overthinking; it was probably due to the looming Longevity Festival and her restless nights.

Prince Ning seemed very busy and rarely appeared in the cave’s small room, but she occasionally caught him there. The candles were always extinguished, and they mostly sat in silence. Sometimes she asked what he had eaten; after a brief pause, he would tell her that the meals for palace nobles were secrets not to be shared. Startled, she would kneel to apologize, but he would laugh and tell her what he really ate, having been merely teasing her.

Unconsciously, they grew closer than before. Of course, outside the hidden intimacy vanished, but He Hui did not mind, assuming Prince Ning had his reasons.

—

Wang Zhi noticed the emperor’s spirits had improved greatly and that he often went to the Western Garden. At first, Wang Zhi thought it was to pay respects to the Empress Dowager. One day, however, he overheard Miss Shen’s voice outside the cave calling the emperor “young master,” and the emperor did not get angry, but instead warned her to be careful when she left.

When Wang Zhi realized the truth, he gasped coldly. The emperor was disguising himself as the young master to meet Miss Shen in secret! The ointment the emperor requested that day was for her.

Gods above—if anyone else found out...

Cold sweat trickled down Wang Zhi’s back. He wanted to advise but dared not, only watching helplessly as the emperor plunged headlong into Miss Shen’s tenderness.

“Do you understand?” the emperor suddenly asked one day.

Wang Zhi hurriedly knelt. The emperor merely glanced at him and said, “I know what you’re going to say. I’m aware.”

But did the emperor truly grasp the situation? Wang Zhi doubted deeply. He had never seen the emperor so involved with a woman. In the past, his concubines received only faint regard—gifts of jewels and trinkets, nothing more. But with Miss Shen, the emperor was deeply entangled, even going so far as to impersonate Prince Ning. What else was impossible now?

As the emperor’s attendant, Wang Zhi obeyed orders. Since the emperor said he knew, then he knew. But Wang Zhi watched coldly as Miss Shen remained oblivious, endlessly fixated on Prince Ning, always seeking his presence. If she ever discovered the truth...

He sighed, hoping she would be sensible and spare her lord heartbreak.

That day, the emperor dined at Yuxi Palace. The palace steward brought a medicinal dish not on the menu, said to be specially prepared by the Empress Dowager’s order.

“Master, this is the Empress Dowager’s wish. You should try some.”

The emperor, ruling with benevolence and filial piety, would not offend the Empress Dowager, so he said, “Bring it.”

Outside, Consort Shu waited to be summoned by the emperor but after half an hour of silence sent someone to ask, “What is His Majesty doing inside?”

The young eunuch replied honestly, “Your Highness, His Majesty is not inside. He left early from another place.”

Consort Shu was slightly stunned.

—

At that moment, He Hui was inside the cave practicing her writing and did not hear the noise outside. Suddenly, the man’s voice rang in her ear, “Who taught you that?”

Startled, she dropped her brush and the candle extinguished. His breath hovered near her ear, warm as if to roast her alive.

She hurriedly hid her crude writing behind her back and turned. “No one taught me. I was just scribbling for fun.”

Her flustered appearance was even more endearing than usual. At least, in this moment she showed him her true feelings.

The emperor had intended to speak kindly, but an inexplicable heat flared inside him, drying his mouth. His gaze darkened. Just as she tried to retreat, he bent down and pulled her into his embrace, reaching for the paper she hid behind her back.

“Want to learn?”

“I’ll teach you.”