Cuiliu stood with her hands on her hips, ready to retort, but she suddenly went silent the moment she caught sight of the sword at Wei Xiao’s waist. She shuffled to the side, her eyes rolling so hard they nearly popped out of their sockets. "Hmph, think you’re something special just because a man is protecting you?"
"Come in and pour the wine," Zhao Yan’s voice suddenly cut through from inside the cabin.
Wei Xiao and Weimo exchanged a glance. "The Prince is calling for you, I assume," Wei Xiao said.
Weimo stood stunned for a moment. In her past life, she had heard that Wen Qingyu had kept Zhao Yan on this pleasure boat all night; if she went in now, wouldn’t she ruin their intimate moment?
"Get in here at once!" Zhao Yan’s restless, impatient voice echoed from the cabin again.
"Go on, get in there!" Wei Xiao shoved her forward.
The force was so unexpected that she was caught off guard, her nose nearly clipping the doorframe. As she stumbled through the partially opened door, she caught sight of the reddened corners of Zhao Yan’s eyes. The man’s gaze stalled as he looked toward her.
Gilded candlesticks cast a dim, crimson glow over the cabin, where silk curtains hung in overlapping layers. Wen Qingyu was draped across Zhao Yan’s lap, her clothes in disarray. Seeing it was only Weimo who had entered, the distant look in her eyes turned sharp and cold.
Weimo hurriedly looked away and lowered her head. A strange, cloying scent suddenly filled her nostrils. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a golden lacquer incense burner in the corner emitting wisps of white smoke, and it hit her: this was the Hehuan Incense that Su Wanzhao had used in her previous life.
Zhao Yan slammed the celadon wine ewer onto the table. "What are you standing there for?"
Weimo stepped forward carefully. She picked up the ewer, only to realize there were no wine cups. As her hand froze in mid-air, she heard Zhao Yan point at the incense burner and say in a chilling voice, "Douse it."
"Your Highness?" Wen Qingyu gasped, trying to rise in protest, but Zhao Yan pinned her firmly in his lap.
She shouted for Cuiliu outside. When the young maid rushed in, she found herself with Wei Xiao’s sharp blade pressed against her throat.
"Why this, Your Highness?"
Ignoring her, Zhao Yan kept his eyes fixed on the person holding the ewer, his gaze burning with agitation. "Go."
Weimo had been in the cabin for only a moment, but the heavy, intoxicating scent had already made her feel dizzy. She hurried toward the incense burner and poured the entire ewer of clear, spirit-like wine into it. With a loud hiss, white steam billowed out, and Weimo stumbled toward the small cabin window, throwing it open. The cool river breeze rushed in, and the inexplicable fire of desire in her heart finally began to fade.
Zhao Yan pushed the woman in his lap away. Wen Qingyu’s silk robe slid off her shoulder again, revealing the crimson bodice beneath. The man pushed her leg aside, stood up, and brushed past her with a cold, indifferent air, ready to leave.
Wen Qingyu crawled toward him, clutching the hem of his black robe, her waist swaying like a smooth water snake. "Why treat me this way?"
"We are not yet wed. Lady Wen, please conduct yourself with dignity." His fingertips brushed over the list for the imperial examinations tucked into his sleeve, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.
"Do you think I don't know? You’re only bringing me into the manor for that list!" Wen Qingyu pulled herself up, losing control as she kicked over the table. The Western red wine splashed onto the carpet, creating a stain that looked like a pool of blood. "I could pretend not to know, but why, when you wait every night for that Su Wanzhao, are you unwilling to show me even a shred of tenderness?"
The candlelight flickered as the river breeze gusted through the small window. Weimo stood with her head bowed in the shadows behind Wen Qingyu, separated from the cabin door by a sea of broken porcelain and spilled wine.
"Come here."
Zhao Yan’s voice came from the door, carrying the chill of the river. Half his face was hidden in the shadow of the gauze curtains, but his gaze was locked on the girl’s ankle, which had been cut by the shattered porcelain.
Weimo obediently skirted around the debris. She heard Wen Qingyu give a cold scoff. "Your Highness is certainly tenderhearted toward this servant."
With her dark-lacquered toes stepping on shards of the wine ewer, Wen Qingyu let the blood from her feet stain the carpet. "Would Your Highness not like to stay a while longer?"
Zhao Yan stared at the disheveled woman without a word, then turned and left, taking the heady, romantic atmosphere of the cabin with him. "Return to the manor."
As they descended the spiral staircase, Weimo heard the woman behind them scream in a breakdown, "Su Wanzhao, you bitch! I will never let you rest until one of us is dead!"
It was nearly midnight, and the riverside was growing quiet. Young men who had won the night’s prizes were slipping into cabins with their companions, and the vendors were packing up their stalls. The colored lanterns dimmed, leaving behind only chaos and emptiness.
Weimo followed the man in silence. So, in the past life, Wen Qingyu had used aphrodisiacs—no wonder a man as cold-blooded as Zhao Yan would be obsessed with her for an entire night.
In this life, Zhao Yan had been on guard, and in turn, Wen Qingyu now harbored a vicious hatred for Su Wanzhao. That was fine; it saved her a great deal of trouble.
…
By the time the three of them returned to the manor, the moon was high in the sky. At the fork leading to Hongni Courtyard, Weimo curtsied to take her leave. Zhao Yan didn't stop walking, but he said, "Remember to apply the ointment."
Wei Xiao watched the slender figure walk away, his hand tightening and loosening on his sword hilt. He wondered if she had been frightened by Wen Qingyu’s outburst.
Weimo carried her bamboo basket straight toward the kitchen. The lights were still burning, and as she approached, she saw Cook Xue still wiping down the stove.
The gauze bandage on her back was soaked with blood, sticking to her rough linen clothes, and every movement seemed to draw out the scent of iron. Weimo set the basket gently on the gilded stove and helped the old woman climb onto the small bed in the inner room. "Don't move, Grandma."
She took the Yuji Ointment Zhao Yan had given her from her pocket, scooped out a generous amount, and spread it evenly over the wounds.
"Careful you don't get your hands dirty, girl," Cook Xue said with a pained laugh. The keys hanging at her waist jingled against the side of the bed as she trembled. "If the Prince truly wanted my life, the thirty lashes would have shattered my spine long ago."
"Those miserable little wretches, I heard they were hurt worse than me. If it wasn't for their mischief, why would an old woman like me have to suffer like this?"
Weimo’s finger touched a jagged tear in the skin, and Cook Xue winced. Weimo pulled back and checked her face; the old woman was still grumbling.
"Tomorrow, I’m definitely going to dump an extra handful of salt into their bowls! I’ll choke them for good!"
Weimo chuckled. "Grandma, you really should tie your keys to your waistband."
"I did! I did!" Cook Xue leaned back to look at her. "I locked the rice cupboard the day before yesterday, and you know what? Those little monkeys stole the keys and threw the flour around like it was snowing!"
Weimo blew on the ointment to help it dry and used a clean cloth to bandage her. "Tomorrow, I’ll embroider a double-layered pouch for your keys and hide some mustard powder inside. Then no one will dare steal them again."
"Don't you dare!" Cook Xue waved her hand. "If that accidentally gets into the Prince’s food, that would be the end of me!"
She got up and took out two fresh river carp, lighting the stove to boil a rich, milky fish soup. She ladled half a bowl into a rough clay vessel. "Try this."
Weimo held the creamy white soup, the savory aroma reaching her nose as if it could wash away her exhaustion.
Cook Xue leaned over to blow out the stove fire. "Old Woman Qian always says you’re the most sensible and kind-hearted of all the maids in the manor. I only realized it today."
The burning pain in her back had significantly subsided, and she knew the ointment was no common medicine. "I just steamed some date cakes today. I’ll wrap two up for you when you go."
"Those greedy cats stole the Princess Consort’s bird’s nest and pear dessert today, so they’ll definitely turn their noses up at this humble food..."
Weimo stayed in the kitchen until the midnight hour. Cook Xue’s endless chatter reminded her of her grandmother telling her stories under the old locust tree when she was a child.
When Weimo left, Cook Xue pressed a paper parcel into her hands. The warmth radiated through her coarse clothing; inside were two date cakes, pinched into the shape of lotus leaves.