Volume One, Chapter Two: Strip This Lady Bare!

“What?” Wen Shiyan replied perfunctorily, her gaze drifting away from him.

“At least take a guess,” Liang Jiang said, tilting his body and leaning close to her with an air of relentless persistence.

The boy’s hair was as black as ink, his eyes sparkling, and his sleeves still carried his distinctive cedar scent—clean and pure.

Wen Shiyan couldn’t help but feel her eyes redden.

She knew the answer; she had already lived through a similar story.

Seeing her on the verge of tears, Liang Jiang immediately panicked. “What’s wrong? Did someone in the palace bully you?”

Wen Shiyan quickly wiped the corner of her eye. “It’s nothing, just got caught in the wind.”

She forced down the turmoil within her, hatred growing wildly. Between them lay the barrier of life and death—an insurmountable divide.

Hearing this, Liang Jiang paused briefly before ordering the doors and windows to be shut tight.

Before long, the spacious room was left with only the two of them seated opposite each other.

Liang Jiang opened his palm to reveal a translucent purple jade hairpin, simple and unadorned except for a small six-petal nameless flower carved at its tip.

Half jokingly, he said, “I thought you were disappointed because I made you wait so long. Here, I specially prepared this as an apology.”

He placed the hairpin in her hair, replacing the withered wooden twig, and continued softly, “Delicate and serene, perfectly suited.”

Wen Shiyan turned her head awkwardly. “‘Beautiful’ is usually used to describe women, isn’t it?”

“No.” Liang Jiang looked at her firmly. “Your beauty, Ayan, is not in your appearance.”

“You flatter me, Third Prince.”

After a moment’s thought, she did not remove the hairpin but instead handed him a cup of wine.

“Third Prince, as agreed before, once you receive your monthly stipend, I’ll treat you to a drink.”

Wen Shiyan brought out two jars of wine from under the table, common in the market, sealed with bright red cloth strips.

“Now?” Liang Jiang chuckled. “The sunset hasn’t even appeared yet.”

Had she really let her love for wine get the better of her?

It was rare to see her so impatient—almost endearingly so.

Wen Shiyan forced a smile. “Do you have urgent matters later?”

“No, after finishing palace affairs, I planned to find you. Didn’t expect you to be waiting at home already.” Liang Jiang’s eyes curved with a smile. “It’s a rare day off. Didn’t you want to go out for a walk?”

As he spoke, he suddenly pressed down on her hand, stopping her from unsealing the jars, his heart abruptly startled.

---

Wen Shiyan grew nervous at his sudden change in demeanor. “W-what’s wrong?”

Could it be that he sensed something?

“Why are your hands so cold?” Liang Jiang frowned with concern. “Don’t you have winter clothes?”

Wen Shiyan instinctively looked down at the thin jacket she wore. Aside from the official robe issued by the Imperial Medical Office, this jacket had accompanied her since the first rain of autumn night.

“It’s alright, Third Prince, I’m not cold.”

Ignoring her excuse, Liang Jiang pulled her up. “Come, it’s still early. Let me take you to buy some.”

Wen Shiyan panicked. Who had the heart to accompany him on a stroll?

She struggled fiercely to free her wrist. “I said! I won’t go.”

Liang Jiang’s arm froze mid-air, his eyes flashing with surprise.

He opened his mouth but was speechless.

Realizing this, Wen Shiyan diverted her gaze and quickly turned the tables. “Are you rejecting my wine?”

She pressed her lips together, gaining some courage as she looked at him. “I brewed it myself, collected the bay leaves in the courtyard during autumn. It took much effort to make these two jars.”

It was the truth.

She had once carefully picked osmanthus flowers, dried them in the sun with high hopes, anxiously wondering if he would disdain them.

Liang Jiang’s stern features softened.

So that was it.

“Don’t be upset, Ayan,” he smiled. “Even if you offered me bitter medicinal dregs, I would savor it gladly. How could I ever despise it?”

Seeing that he believed her, Wen Shiyan cleared her throat and pointed at the two small jars. “Then let’s sit…”

Before she could finish, he swept her into his arms like a gust of wind.

His large hand wrapped around her shoulder. “We’ll take the wine with us. Fine wine with good food—after our stroll, we’ll go to Eight Treasure Vegetarian, Ayan. Since you have some free time, you must try the capital’s best drunken chicken.”

The warmth from Liang Jiang enveloped her, her ear resting against his chest.

Thump, thump—

Her heartbeat grew clearer and louder.

She was about to lose track of whether it was his or her own.

Her mind had been foggy all along, and when Wen Shiyan finally came to, they were already on the main street.

“Ayan? Come look at this.”

Liang Jiang stood under the sunset, the afterglow casting light over his shoulders, making him seem radiant.

He carefully held the two jars, shielding them from the bustling crowd.

---

Wen Shiyan approached and saw the stall displaying fried sugar crisps, pieces mottled black and white, emitting a sweet fragrance.

She usually spent time with bitter herbs and liked to seek out sweets to satisfy her cravings.

Liang Jiang had noticed her always carrying a small bag of cheap colorful sugar pills and remembered it.

“Want some?” he asked with a radiant smile.

Wen Shiyan remained silent.

The stall owner, sharp-eyed, jumped in.

“These are our shop’s signature treats,” he said, pointing to a lively shop across the street. He picked up a piece and handed it to Wen Shiyan. “Many young masters and ladies love these! Try one first. If you like it, I’ll have your brother buy some for you.”

“Brother?” Wen Shiyan was startled and waved her hand. “No…”

Liang Jiang, however, accepted the sugar crisp with pleasure and stuffed it into her mouth without waiting for a response. “Brother will buy it. You stay here and watch the wine. Don’t wander.”

Wen Shiyan now had two heavy jars in her arms and her mouth was full; she could only watch him weave through the crowd.

The stall owner, touched by their brotherly affection, chattered on, “Judging by your attire, I can tell you’re from a wealthy family. It’s rare to see such care from an elder brother.”

Wen Shiyan was too weary to explain.

She glanced down at the white fox fur cloak draped over her shoulders, indeed a material of great nobility.

As she tried to recall how she had obtained this garment, a figure suddenly appeared behind her and yanked her hair.

Wen Shiyan gasped in pain and turned around.

The first thing she saw was the same white fox fur cloak not far away.

Wearing it was Yu Mingyue—the one who had tormented her relentlessly.

Yu Mingyue was as arrogant and domineering as ever, arms crossed as she scrutinized Wen Shiyan with disdain and mockery in her eyes.

“Oh, so you really are a thief, daring to steal from the palace and roam about. Who gave you the guts?”

Wen Shiyan’s pupils constricted. “I didn’t!”

“You still dare deny it?” Yu Mingyue shook her head, jingling her pearl hairpins as she stepped closer.

She used her long amber-colored nails to pry open the edge of Wen Shiyan’s cloak, sneered after a glance, “No matter how noble the garment, it can’t hide the poor and shabby aura all over you.”

Then, arrogantly commanding the maid holding Wen Shiyan’s hair, she said, “Strip her for me!”