Zhao Yan opened his eyes from the chaos, and a piercing, crisp scent of peppermint pierced his nostrils, making his temples throb.
This was the fragrance he used to burn every day to please his Imperial Father when he was still the Prince of Jinlan.
Propring himself up on his arms, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, but stopped abruptly when his fingertips touched smooth skin.
Looking down, his old, withered hands had turned into slender fingers, and even the arrow scar on the web of his thumb had vanished without a trace.
Looking around, there was a square table with one desk, a birchwood armchair, a four-post canopy bed, a row of solid-wood bookshelves...
This was his study in Jinlan Manor.
"Wei Xiao!" he called toward the door.
The door flew open instantly, and Wei Xiao, wearing his young face, stepped inside and cupped his fists. "Does Your Highness have a headache? Shall I summon the estate physician?"
Zhao Yan waved a hand, stepped out of bed barefoot, and walked to the window, staring silently.
Could he really have... returned?
In the courtyard, servants carrying red silk were scurrying along the corridors. The crimson flashes sweeping across the glazed tiles on the roof felt just like the grand enthronement ceremony of his past life.
"What day is it?"
Having served as Emperor for over thirty years, the imperial authority naturally emanated from his voice, causing Wei Xiao's heart to sink. "Reporting to Your Highness, today is the fifth day of the fourth month in the thirty-first year of Qingli."
The thirty-first year of Qingli... the fifth day of the fourth month...
It was the day before his wedding to Wanzhao.
The Empress had deliberately suppressed him, and to win a reputation for virtue, he had married Wanzhao, who had become an orphan.
Little did he expect that Wanzhao would prove clever, kind, and resolute, handling everything impeccably and assisting him single-mindedly in seizing the succession, ultimately winning the hearts of the people and allowing him to ascend the throne as he wished.
In his past life, he had lived to sixty-five, watching Wanzhao transform from a spirited young girl into a withered woman, her quick-witted cleverness distorted beyond recognition.
All of this because Wanzhao's sworn younger sister had tragically died of illness, dealing her a devastating blow.
In this lifetime, he must cherish Wanzhao properly and never let her lose her vibrant spirit again.
Zhao Yan closed his eyes, letting Wei Xiao change his robes. Suddenly, he remembered that the inspection nannies sent by Consort Mother should be in Hongni Courtyard right now.
...
Striding quickly through the moon gate, he saw two figures stumbling as they fled in panic. "Are you injured?"
Weimo released the hand she had been holding and retreated respectfully, bowing. "May Your Highness be blessed."
Su Wanzhao groped her way forward. "Your Highness, is that you?"
There was only a light coating of dust on her face, long since blown away during her run, but upon seeing Zhao Yan, she seemed unable to see once more.
Zhao Yan took Su Wanzhao's hand, the cold touch cutting through his memory like an ice pick.
In his past life, he had not arrived until the afternoon, leaving Wanzhao to suffer endless grievances. By the time he learned the truth, years had already been wasted.
Carefully brushing the lime from Su Wanzhao's face, he asked, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
Su Wanzhao shook her head, sobbing softly. "Not at all. It is merely my own uselessness that has troubled Your Highness."
His slender fingers smoothed the stray locks beside Su Wanzhao's temples. "That is good."
Weimo's breathing hitched slightly. Why was Zhao Yan so bizarre in this lifetime?
Shouldn't he have arrived fashionably late, grown annoyed with Su Wanzhao on their wedding night, and given Hongni Courtyard the cold shoulder for years to come?
Yet this man had just rushed over as if intentionally.
Furthermore, while the Zhao Yan of this time usually treated Su Wanzhao with extreme indifference, why had she just detected a hint of tender affection beneath the man's deep voice?
She stared at the ground in thought, unaware that the slight movement of her embroidered shoe tip had been sharply caught by the man.
Zhao Yan's throat bobbed. The woman standing before him with lowered head and respectful posture was Wanzhao's future sworn sister. In their past life, to prove Wanzhao's innocence, she had endured thirty heavy blows from the imperial court staff without flinching.
She was a loyal and resolute woman.
Staring at the red cord binding the woman's hair, he suddenly asked, "What is your name?"
"This maid is called Weimo."
"Weimo... You are indeed loyal."
He had once taken this woman as a concubine, and after ascending the throne, it seemed she had been made a noble attendant. He had only ever heard others call her Concubine Wei or Noble Lady Wei, but he had never known her real name.
Noticing Zhao Yan's diverted gaze, Su Wanzhao wept appropriately, "Those two nannies wielded silver probes, wanting to... wanting to..."
A subtle discomfort stirred in Zhao Yan's heart. Normally, he detested women crying, and in his memory, Wanzhao had never been a tearful sort of person.
She must have been terrified out of her wits.
He unclasped his dark cloak and wrapped it around Su Wanzhao's shoulders. "Do not be afraid. Come with me."
Weimo followed three paces behind, fixing her gaze on the beast-patterned jade pendant swaying at Zhao Yan's waist. It was the token of affection he had left behind on their night of grace in their past life. At this moment, the gold thread knotted around it was still brand new, not yet worn fuzzy from her constant stroking as it would be later.
The two nannies had washed their faces with water, but as they stepped out, traces of powdery white dust still clung to the collars of their robes.
Bumping straight into Zhao Yan, their previous arrogance instantly melted into trembling.
"This old servant pays respects to Your Highness."
Zhao Yan stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his tall and slender figure blocking out most of the morning light. "Search them."
At Wei Xiao's command, a hand like iron pincers clamped down on the thin nanny's throat. A silver probe slipped from her sleeve and clattered against the ground.
Wei Xiao picked it up and handed it to Zhao Yan. The lotus pattern carved at the end of the probe formed the character "De".
Panic-stricken, the nanny dropped to her knees. "This old servant was only following orders..."
Zhao Yan's lips curled into a cold sneer. "Oh? I wonder precisely whose orders the nanny was following."
The thin nanny jerked her head up, running straight into Zhao Yan's frost-chilled gaze. Was this still the Prince of Jinlan? This was clearly a tyrant executing corrupt officials from a former dynasty.
"When Consort De dispatched this old servant..."
A sudden chuckle sounded from above.
The thin nanny choked off her words instantly, cold sweat dripping onto the rough stone floor.
She hadn't lied; the two of them had indeed been sent by Consort De, but the origin of that silver probe was something she dared not mention under any circumstances.
"Drag them to the dark chamber," Zhao Yan waved his hand dismissively. "Ask their mistress if she still remembers the little palace maid who drowned in the Imperial Garden three years ago."
That little palace maid had once been instigated by the Empress to poison his tea.
"No, Prince of Jinlan, you cannot detain this old servant! I must return to the palace to report!"
As the sound of Wei Xiao dragging the people away faded into the distance, Zhao Yan turned around. In his past life, he had not discovered the Empress's handiwork until he ascended the throne, but now much trouble had been saved.
"Wanzhao has been frightened." He took Su Wanzhao's icy hand, his thumb brushing over the concentric knot at her wrist. "This Prince will escort you back to your room."
Su Wanzhao's misty eyes finally brightened. "Very well."
As they passed through the beaded curtains, Su Wanzhao suddenly slipped, gracefully tumbling straight into Zhao Yan's arms. Seeing this, Weimo stopped in her tracks and stood guard outside the door.
If her guess was correct, Zhao Yan had also been reborn.
Otherwise, he would not have mentioned the little palace maid who drowned in the Imperial Garden—that was the charge Zhao Yan had personally pinned on the Empress years later when they dismantled her faction.
Nor would he have had the inspection nannies dragged straight to the dark chamber; those two women had served Consort De for many years, practically acting as his elders.
That was fine, too. Since Zhao Yan had been reborn and still carried his illusions about Su Wanzhao, she would strip Su Wanzhao bare piece by piece right before his eyes.
"Your Highness's beast-patterned jade pendant is quite exquisite," Su Wanzhao's delighted voice floated from inside. "Might you give it to Wanzhao?"
"This was bestowed by Imperial Father." Zhao Yan's voice was low and husky.
"What does that matter?" Su Wanzhao paused. "Tomorrow Wanzhao will marry Your Highness as your consort, and when Imperial Father sees how deeply Your Highness cares for me, he will surely be pleased. Is Your Highness reluctant to part with it?"
Weimo stood alone in the corridor, the gentle breeze making her heart itch.
That beast-patterned jade pendant had been bestowed upon Zhao Yan by the Emperor himself when he was granted his title, and even the gold threads on the knot had been meticulously crafted by top artisans. It held extraordinary significance for him.
In her past life, she had come to possess it only because Zhao Yan was already Emperor by then and no longer needed to care about anyone else's opinions, making the object seem like a mere burden.
At this moment, however, he had to wear it every day and could not be without it, regardless of whether he was willing to part with it or not.
Yet Su Wanzhao remained oblivious and dared to ask for it.
She had been overthinking earlier; as long as she didn't speak up or offer advice, every step Su Wanzhao took was simply digging her own grave.
"This Prince will find another one for you."
"No... Wanzhao only likes the one Your Highness wears every day."
"No."
"Please..."
"Do you not prefer the green lotus pattern?"
"How could that be?" Su Wanzhao's voice rose by a full two notes. "Wanzhao has never liked that; I only like what Your Highness likes."
The room instantly lapsed into a ghostly silence.
Her exclusive love for the green lotus had been the very first disguise she had mapped onto Su Wanzhao.
Noble yet untainted, pure and immaculate, it subtly matched her own character of "being as elegant as the sovereign."
Left to her true nature, Su Wanzhao categorized everything in the world strictly by Zhao Yan's likes and dislikes, rejoicing in what pleased him and abhorring what he loathed, much like wild grass swaying with the wind at the base of a city wall, or the dead jade hanging from his waist.
Weimo lowered the corners of her eyes. Zhao Yan was inherently suspicious and thoughtful; upon hearing that Su Wanzhao disliked the green lotus, she wondered what he would make of it.
"Dress and rest for now," came the deep voice again a moment later. "I will come to find you tonight."
As the dark figure passed by the doorway, it stirred a rush of crisp, refreshing peppermint fragrance.
"Your Highness's pendant is crooked."
Weimo suddenly spoke softly.
Zhao Yan halted his steps. The woman's warm fingertips had already brushed against the swaying gold-thread knot, her delicate head lowered as she nimbly tied a rosette knot.
Her entire person carried the fresh scent of lye soap, unlike Wanzhao's heavy, pungent perfume.
"Your Highness!" Su Wanzhao chased pitifully to the door, but failed to catch even a corner of his wind-swept robe.
"Rest well. This Prince has important matters to attend to."