"Does Young Master Su still remember—about five years ago, also toward the end of summer, near Yunqi Mountain on the outskirts of the capital—having once saved an injured, unconscious… woman?"
My heart jolted violently, and I looked up at her at once.
Five years ago, I was eleven. That summer had been especially hard to endure, and Mother made an exception, allowing me to go to the suburban estate outside the capital to escape the heat and recuperate. Those were among the few days I ever spent away from the Chancellor's residence. Once, after a rain, I slipped out without telling my wet nurse, bringing only the most trusted Chunyu with me, and quietly went to the foot of Yunqi Mountain behind the estate to get some air. There, beside the rocks by a stream, I discovered a "woman" soaked all over and unconscious.
"She" was dressed in coarse, ordinary clothes, with multiple abrasions over her body. The most serious was a knife wound on her left shoulder, so deep the bone could be seen, blood flowing endlessly, her face as white as paper. Chunyu and I were terrified, but seeing no one around and her breathing growing weaker and weaker, I could not think of much else. Relying on the scant medical knowledge I had accumulated over the years from reading medical texts, I directed Chunyu to fetch clean cloth strips and the commonly stocked wound medicine from the estate, and barely managed to stop the bleeding and bandage "her." Chunyu also secretly brought over some warm water from the estate.
That "woman" was extremely alert even while unconscious. Though her awareness was hazy, when I drew close, her hand still instinctively reached for her waist—though there was nothing there. It took me considerable effort to finish tending her wounds. By the time "she" awoke, dusk was already approaching. Her eyes, bright to a startling degree in the twilight, stared straight at me for a long while without saying a single word. Seeing how weak "she" was, I had Chunyu stuff the dry rations we had brought and a little loose silver into "her" hands. "She" remained silent, only casting a deep look at me before struggling to her feet and quickly disappearing along the mountain path swallowed by dusk.
That incident I later deliberately buried in my memory. First, leaving the residence privately to save someone already violated the inner discipline. Second, that "woman's" gaze had been far too sharp and complex, unlike that of an ordinary person fallen into misfortune. I treated it as having coincidentally saved a wandering martial artist, warned Chunyu never to speak of it, and never thought of it again.
And now, Xiao Linyue suddenly brought it up…
I looked at her face beneath the corridor's dim, shifting light—her upright posture, and especially those eyes. Though dulled somewhat by injury at the moment, their shape, that cold and stubborn something deep within the gaze…
In a flash like lightning, an absurd yet eerily fitting thought struck me.
That "woman"…
"Your Highness…" My voice was dry. "You mean to say…"
"That day, this prince was ambushed, injured, and fell from a cliff. Fortunately, the stream below slowed the fall. I barely crawled to the foot of the mountain before losing all strength and fainting," Xiao Linyue said calmly, as if recounting someone else's affair. "To avoid drawing attention and to make things easier, I made a bit of a disguise at the time." She paused, her gaze falling back on my face. This time, she clearly saw the shock and sudden realization in my eyes. "When I woke, all I saw was a youth in plain brocade, strikingly beautiful, clumsily bandaging this prince. His eyes were clean, his movements steady. The little attendant beside him was shaking with fear, yet you were still fairly composed."
She took another step forward. The distance between us was now close enough that I could clearly see the lantern light swaying under the eaves reflected in her eyes—and within that light, a shadowy, hard-to-read emotion.
"You gave this prince dry rations and silver, and asked nothing at all," she said slowly, her tone betraying neither gratitude nor anything else clearly. "At the time, this prince was badly injured, with no strength to speak much, nor could I reveal my identity. I only… remembered what you looked like."
The night wind swept through the corridor, carrying the faintly briny scent of lake water. My back was stiff, my fingertips icy cold.
Five years ago… the foot of Yunqi Mountain… that blood-covered "woman" with the gaze of a lone wolf…
Was actually the Eighth Princess Xiao Linyue, disguised in plain clothes?!
Then the scrutinizing looks she cast at the Spring Banquet, her repeated "attention" after the Ice Lake banquet—even the ambiguous faint smile tonight and this abrupt revelation—all gained another layer of explanation.
It was not simple interest, nor purely political overtures or probing, but something rooted even earlier—in a life-saving debt born of sheer coincidence.
Yet this "debt," spoken from her mouth, did not bring me the slightest sense of relief. Instead, it weighed on my heart like an even heavier stone. To be remembered by a princess who held military power and whose temperament was unfathomable—and to be remembered in this way—the implications were far too complex to be summed up by the word "fortune."
"Your Highness…" I said with difficulty, trying to sort through this sudden flood of information. "At the time, Yuzhi was young and ignorant. If there was any offense…"
"Offense?" Xiao Linyue let out a sudden, soft laugh. It was brief, breathy, tugging at her wound and making her frown almost imperceptibly—but her eyes sharpened. "Su Yuzhi, do you think that was an offense?"
She no longer addressed me as "young master."
"This prince's life was picked back up by you," she said, her voice lowered yet each word clear, striking the silent night. "Although your bandaging techniques were terribly clumsy, and the wound medicine was nothing more than common stock."
I had no reply. At the time, I was only eleven; everything I knew was theory on paper. Being able to stop the bleeding at all was already sheer luck.
"But," her tone shifted, her gaze becoming almost tangible, pinning me in place, "this prince has never forgotten. The faint medicinal scent on you when you leaned close, the warmth of your fingers, and the way you looked at the wound—clearly afraid, yet forcing yourself to stay calm."
These words had already gone far beyond what should exist between a royal princess and the son of a court official—beyond even the bounds of "repaying a favor." The implication carried in her tone sent a sudden chill through my heart.
"Your Highness's regard is too great. Yuzhi dares not accept it," I lowered my eyes, avoiding her overly direct gaze. "That day, no matter who had been in danger, had it been within my power, Yuzhi would have helped. This was merely the duty of being human. Your Highness truly need not keep it in mind."
"Duty?" She laughed again, colder this time. "What a fine 'duty.' Then do you know—for this prince, what I remember will forever belong to this prince."
The naked possessiveness in that sentence stole my breath.
"Su Yuzhi," she suddenly called my name, her voice carrying a strange tone, almost like a sigh. "These past years, this prince has licked blood from the blade on the frontier. Every time my life hung by a thread, I would sometimes think of that clumsy little young master saving someone at the foot of Yunqi Mountain. Thinking that in the capital, there was still someone so clean and… interesting."
She paused, and even the night wind seemed to still.
"So," she said at last, her tone returning to that calm, commanding firmness belonging to the Eighth Princess, "take good care of your body. Don't die too easily—or… let someone else snatch you away and decide things first."
With that, she no longer looked at me. As if this heart-shaking conversation had been nothing more than casual chatter, she turned away. Her black robes brushed over the stone steps, and just as she had come, she disappeared soundlessly into the darkness at the other end of the corridor.
I was left standing alone beneath the eaves. The warm summer night breeze brushed past me, yet I felt cold to the bone.
Only then did Chunyu dare to move over from the corner, her face pale as paper, her voice trembling. "Young Master… the Eighth Highness, she…"
I raised my hand to stop her, my gaze still fixed on the direction in which Xiao Linyue had vanished.