唐龙元年,11月25日.洛阳.
我天还没亮就醒了.不是因为什么动静,而是因为心事重重,难以入眠.昨天李日之传来消息:太平公主在洛阳城内安插了十几名密探,分布在东宫周围,宫门以及几个主要街区.名单上的大部分人选已被查出,但最关键的人物——洛阳县令的秘书,钱万三案的真凶周平——又一次消失了.
"他会躲在哪里呢?"我问.
"永泰区的那栋房子是空的,"李日之脸色凝重,"有人事先通风报信了."
"是谁发出的警告?"
"是司法部的人."他顿了顿,"这件事还在调查中."
那些话像一根刺扎进了我的心.司法部的人.他每天都去那里;他每天都和那些人一起工作.如果叛徒就在他身边——我不敢再想下去了.
我翻了个身,望着窗外的天空.十一月的黎明来得晚,即使到了毛时（凌晨五七点）,天色依然灰蒙蒙的,雾气弥漫.窗台上那盏形似月宫桂花树的灯还亮着,烛光在晨风中摇曳不定.
"三夫人,您起得这么早?"青媛打着哈欠从隔壁房间探出头来.
"我今天需要买药.你不是说我们的金银花快用完了,薄荷也用完了吗?"
"我跟你一起去."
"不,请留在牙科诊所,病人很快就会来了."
青元犹豫了一下,然后点了点头.我走到门口,又转过身,从抽屉里拿出一小包牙粉,塞进袖子里.倒不是怕牙疼,只是习惯使然.这包牙粉就像护身符一样,从长安一路跟着我到洛阳,从诊所到东宫.
黑暗小巷
洛阳市的早晨比夜晚冷.
街上行人寥寥无几.卖胡饼的老人刚点燃炉子,炊烟在寒风中凝结成一团白雾,缓缓升腾.卖菜的小贩缩着脖子抵御寒冷,从我身边走过;他们挑杆两端的蔬菜上都结了一层薄霜.我把狐皮大衣裹得更紧,朝南市场的药材铺走去.
南市位于洛河南岸.从崇仁区到那里需要穿过两条街和一座桥.桥是座石拱桥,桥面上覆盖着一层薄冰,走起来很滑.我扶着栏杆慢慢走着.桥下的洛河已经结冰,几片枯叶静静地躺在冰面上,一动不动.
桥的另一边就是南市场.
It was not as bustling as the West Market, but it had more medicine shops. The one I frequented was called "Jisheng Hall." The owner, surnamed Liu, was a thin man in his fifties, an expert in medicinal herbs. Every time I bought medicine, he would drag me into conversation for quite a while.
"Doctor Gu!" Seeing me, Shopkeeper Liu smiled and welcomed me out. "You're early today. What do you need?"
"Honeysuckle, mint, green salt, and Bletilla striata. More of the Bletilla; the material for filling teeth is nearly gone."
"Coming right up." He turned to weigh the herbs at the counter, speaking as he worked. "Doctor Gu, have you heard? The Crown Prince has been investigating a case recently; people from the Ministry of Justice are arresting folks everywhere."
"I've heard."
"Who are they arresting?"
"I don't know." I took the medicine packet and placed money on the counter. "Shopkeeper Liu, have any strangers come asking you about medicinal herbs recently?"
He paused. "Strangers?"
"Yes. Asking things like which herbs can kill, or which can cause chronic poisoning."
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. However—" He lowered his voice. "A few days ago, someone wearing black robes came asking about arsenic. I told him I didn't have any; he cursed and left."
My hand froze. "Someone in black robes?"
"Yes. He had a token hanging from his waist; it seemed to be... from the Ministry of Justice?"
Someone from the Ministry of Justice buying arsenic? That wasn't right. People from the Ministry wouldn't buy arsenic themselves. If Li Rizhi needed to investigate a case, he would follow official channels, not send someone in black robes to inquire at a medicine shop. So who was it? Princess Taiping's people? Or Zhou Ping's accomplices?
"Thank you, Shopkeeper Liu. I'll return in a few days."
"Take care, Doctor Gu—"
Carrying the medicine packet, I walked out of Jisheng Hall, my mind filled with Shopkeeper Liu's words. Someone from the Ministry buying arsenic—no, not someone from the Ministry, but someone impersonating them. Or perhaps, someone belonging to that traitor within the Ministry.
I walked quickly, head down, turning these thoughts over in my mind. Crossing the bridge, I turned into a narrow alley. The alley was tight, flanked by high ward walls; most of the white plaster had peeled away, revealing the adobe beneath. It was unnaturally quiet—no barking dogs, no crying children, not even wind.
I stopped.
There were footsteps behind me. Not one person, but several. Very light, but crunching on the gravel, rustle rustle, impossible to hide.
I did not turn around. Clenching the medicine packet in my hand, I quickened my pace. At the end of the alley was the East Gate of Chongren Ward. Once I exited the alley onto the main street, they wouldn't dare—
Two figures appeared at the alley mouth.
They wore gray cotton robes, faces covered, only their eyes visible. They held no knives, but their waists were bulging, hiding something. The people behind me had caught up. Three. No, four. Attacking from front and back, they trapped me in the middle of the alley.
"Doctor Gu," the leader spoke, his voice raspy like sandpaper grinding on stone. "Come with us."
"Who are you?"
"You need not know."
"What if I don't go?"
The person beside me drew a dagger from his waist; the blade gleamed coldly in the morning light. I glanced at the knife, then at the width of the alley mouth—one person could pass, but two would block it completely. I couldn't run. But I could leave something behind.
"Fine. I'll go with you." Holding the medicine packet, I pretended to grip it nervously. As I reached the alley mouth, I subtly loosened my fingers slightly—crushed honeysuckle fragments leaked from the paper packet, fine and almost invisible against the gray stone slabs, but detectable if someone looked for them.
"Let's go," I said.
The Residence of Princess Zhenguó
They brought me to a large mansion in the southern part of Luoyang City.
The stone lions at the entrance were even larger than those at the Eastern Palace. There were nine steps leading up; the plaque above the gate bore seven large characters: "Residence of Princess Zhenguó Taiping," gilded and dazzling in the morning light. Two rows of guards stood at the door, armor shining, horizontal swords unsheathed, eyes fixed straight ahead. Plum trees were planted in the courtyard; red and white blossoms were in full bloom, yet no one watched them. Several eunuchs stood under the corridor, hands hanging, heads bowed, like a row of clay statues.
I was pushed into a warm pavilion.
The pavilion was heated by an underfloor kang, hot as summer. Agarwood smoke drifted from a gilded incense burner, curling and intertwining. A woman reclined on a Hu bed, holding a string of prayer beads, her eyes closed. She was beautiful. In her thirties—no, early forties, yet she looked only thirty-something. Her skin was very white, her features deep-set; there was something indefinable in her eyebrows and eyes—not just beauty, but authority. The authority of one accustomed to power and skilled in manipulating hearts. She wore a bright red brocade robe; her hair was loosely pinned, a golden step-shake hairpin inserted at her temple, its tassels hanging by her ears, swaying gently. The prayer beads were sandalwood, each polished to a shine, turning slowly between her slender fingers.
"Princess Your Highness, the person has been brought."
She opened her eyes. Those eyes—I had seen them before. In history books, whenever her name was mentioned. Princess Taiping. Li Longji's aunt. Wu Zetian's daughter. The most powerful woman in the Great Tang. Now she sat before me, not as characters in a book, but alive. Breathing. Warm. When those eyes looked at me, sweat broke out all over my back.
"So you are Gu Qingyan?" Her voice was lazy, like a cat stretching in the sun. But beneath the laziness hid a blade's edge.
"This humble woman, Gu Qingyan, greets Princess Your Highness." I knelt. Not because I wanted to, but because the people behind me pressed my shoulders down. My knees hit the brick floor; it hurt.
"Rise." She waved her hand; the men released me. I stood up, my legs somewhat weak, but I held steady. She put down the prayer beads, picked up the tea cup beside her, did not drink, but merely gazed at the color of the tea soup. "The Crown Prince's dentist."
"This humble woman is the Medical Doctor of the Eastern Palace."
"Medical Doctor?" She smiled; the smile was faint but beautiful. "Interesting. A woman becoming a Medical Doctor. The Crown Prince certainly knows how to use people."
She did not invite me to sit. So I stood there. The pavilion was as hot as a steamer; wearing my fox fur coat, my back was drenched in sweat. She set down the tea cup, picked up the prayer beads, and began turning them again.
"Gu Qingyan, from Changzhou. Came to Chang'an to visit relatives, opened a dental clinic. Cured the Crown Prince's tooth, followed him to Luoyang. Appointed Medical Doctor of the Eastern Palace." She listed them one by one, as if reading a roster. "From whom did you learn your medical skills?"
"From a very faraway place."
"How far?"
"...Farther than Changzhou."
"Farther than the Western Regions?"
I did not answer. She smiled. "You are stubborn. Like the Crown Prince." She stood up and walked before me. She was tall, half a head taller than me. The tassels of the golden step-shake hung before my eyes, swaying gently. She reached out, pinched my chin, and lifted it. Her fingers were very cool; her nails were neatly trimmed, painted with crimson dye.
"Let this Palace see what the woman the Crown Prince favors looks like."
Her gaze swept over my face, like a dull knife cutting slowly. I stood there, motionless. Not because I wasn't afraid, but because I couldn't show fear. She released her hand, returned to the Hu bed, and reclined again.
"Not bad looking. But not beautiful enough. There are many women in the Crown Prince's residence more beautiful than you. What does he see in you? Your medical skills?"
"This humble woman is merely His Highness's doctor."
"Doctor?" She smiled again. "Gu Qingyan, do you know why this Palace summoned you?"
"I do not."
"Because the Crown Prince is investigating a case. The case of Qian Wansan. You performed the autopsy for him; you made his bones speak. You are very capable." She paused. "But you should not have meddled in this."
"This humble woman merely did her duty."
"Duty?" Her voice changed; no longer lazy, but cold. Like the Luo River in winter, water beneath the ice, silent but capable of freezing a person to death. "Gu Qingyan, do you think this Palace does not know? You helped the Crown Prince gather intelligence in your dental clinic; you told him what paintings the Prince of Song liked; you taught him how to make Li Chengqi withdraw voluntarily. Do you think this Palace is unaware of these things?"
My heart sank to the bottom. She knew everything. She knew everything I did in the clinic, every word I spoke. Those patients who came for dental work, those officials chatting in the clinic—how many of them were her people?
"This Palace has seen many people," she leaned on the Hu bed, the prayer beads turning slowly in her hand. "Seen those smarter than you, more beautiful than you, better at scheming than you. They all wanted to help the Crown Prince. But they are all dead."
"Is Princess Your Highness warning this humble woman?"
"This Palace is telling you a fact." She looked at me. "The position the Crown Prince holds now was given by this Palace. If this Palace wants him to sit, he sits. If this Palace does not want him to sit—he cannot sit steadily."
Her voice was calm, as if commenting on the weather. But I could hear it—she was not threatening; she was stating a fact. She had the capability. After Wu Zetian's death, she supported Li Dan's ascension; Li Dan was her man. Half the ministers in the court were her people. Even Li Longji's position as Crown Prince was "approved" by her.
"Do you know why this Palace agreed to let him be Crown Prince?"
"I do not."
"Because Li Chengqi was too soft," she smiled. "In times of peace and prosperity, Li Chengqi could be a good emperor. But these are not times of peace. Empress Wei is dead, but her people remain. The court is in chaos; it needs a ruthless person to clean up the situation. Li Longji is ruthless enough. He dares to kill, dares to stage a coup, dares to seize the throne from piles of corpses. This Palace needs such a person."
She paused.
"But he cannot be too ruthless. If he is too ruthless, he becomes uncontrollable."
I stood before her, sweat soaking my back. The agarwood in the pavilion was too thick, thick enough to make one dizzy. The way she looked at me was like looking at a chess piece.
"Gu Qingyan, do you know what you are now?"
"This humble woman does not know."
"You are the Crown Prince's weakness," she said. "He goes to your clinic every day, walks with you every day, teaches you to ride every day. He gives you his token, allowing you to enter and leave the Eastern Palace at will. He thinks no one knows, but this Palace knows. Everyone knows."
She stood up and walked before me.
"A Crown Prince cannot have a weakness. Especially—not a woman of unknown origin."
Her finger pointed at my shoulder; not heavy, yet I felt as if a stone had been placed upon me.
"This Palace offers you two paths. The first—leave Luoyang, return to your Changzhou. This Palace will give you one thousand strings of cash, enough to open ten dental clinics. The second—" She smiled. "Stay in Luoyang, but do not meddle in the Crown Prince's affairs anymore. You只管 (just) treat teeth; nothing else is allowed. If you help the Crown Prince investigate cases again—"
She did not finish. But she glanced at me. That glance was light, faint, yet I knew what it meant. It was death.
"Princess Your Highness," my voice was steady, steadier than I expected, "this humble woman is merely a dentist. This humble woman only knows how to treat teeth."
"Is that so?" She looked at me, her gaze sharp. "Then tell this Palace, what did Qian Wansan's teeth say?"
My heartbeat skipped a beat. She knew about the Qian Wansan case. She knew I performed the autopsy. She knew I made the bones speak. She knew everything.
"This humble woman—"
"Gu Qingyan." She interrupted me, her voice cold. "This Palace is asking you. What did Qian Wansan's teeth say?"
I raised my head, looking into her eyes. Those eyes were exactly as described in history books—very much like Wu Zetian's. Not in features, but in that gaze that saw through everything. The gaze of one who had lived too long in the game of power, killed too many people, won too many rounds.
"He said—he was poisoned," I said. Not because I wanted to speak, but because her gaze pressed upon me, forcing the words out. "Poisoned for at least three months. After his body collapsed, someone smashed his skull with an iron rod. Then he was wrapped in a straw mat and buried in the mass grave."
The pavilion was extremely quiet. Agarwood smoke drifted from the burner, curling and intertwining. The prayer beads in her hand stopped.
"What else do you know?"
"There was a black line on his teeth. Left by chronic poisoning. Toxins deposited in the bones, for at least three months to half a year. Not self-administered, but administered by someone else. In food, in wine."
She looked at me for a long time. So long I thought she would drag me out and kill me. Then she smiled. That smile was different from before. Not lazy, not cold, but another kind—appreciation. Like a hunter seeing prey that does not fear death.
"Gu Qingyan, you are very smart. But you are too smart." She returned to the Hu bed and reclined again. "Smart people often do not live long."
She waved her hand. "Take her down. Let her stay in the residence for a few days. Let her see how this Palace treats guests."
"Princess Your Highness—"
"Rest assured, this Palace will not kill you." She closed her eyes; the prayer beads began turning again. "This Palace simply wants you to know—who you are, where you are, and whom you are opposing."
The guards approached to lead me out. As I reached the door, she suddenly spoke.
"Gu Qingyan."
I stopped.
"Do you know why this Palace does not want to kill you?"
"I do not."
"Because the Crown Prince would go mad," she said. "He finally found someone he can trust. If this Palace kills you, he will彻底 (completely) go mad. A mad Crown Prince is difficult to control."
She opened her eyes and looked at me.
"So this Palace will not kill you. This Palace will let you live. Let you live well. Let you watch him—step by step—walk into the path this Palace does not want him to take."
Imprisonment
They locked me in a side room in the backyard of the Princess's residence.
The room was not large but was decently furnished. There was a bed, quilts, a table, and chairs. On the table sat a pot of tea, a plate of pastries, and even a small pot of plum blossoms—red plums arranged in a white porcelain vase, blooming beautifully. If not for the two door gods standing guard at the entrance, this setup, in Vancouver, would be a four-and-a-half-star "Traditional Chinese Courtyard Experience Room" on Airbnb.
I sat on the bed, my fingers still trembling. Not from fear—well, maybe a little. Mostly it was a normal physiological reaction after the adrenaline rush subsided, similar to finishing a long night shift at Vancouver General Hospital and being too shaky to hold a coffee cup. Princess Taiping would not kill me; I was certain of this. Not because I trusted her character, but because she was right—I needed to stay alive. I was Li Longji's weakness. If the weakness died, he would have no scruples. If the weakness lived, he would have concerns.
This sounded absurd, but logically it made sense.
Leaning against the wall, I crossed my legs and looked at the plum blossoms outside the window. Red and white plums swayed gently in the wind, beautiful. But the cherry blossoms in Vancouver weren't bad either; in March, the cherry trees lining Granville Street bloomed like pink clouds, livelier than these plums. I wondered what he was doing. Had court ended? Did he realize I was missing? Would he come looking for me? Would he bring troops? Would he make the mistake Princess Taiping was waiting for in a fit of impulse?
I closed my eyes; his face filled my mind. When he smiled, when he frowned, when he said "Then let's not go back" under the moonlight. He had said that no matter what happened, I shouldn't be afraid. He was there. But now he wasn't here. Now there was only me.
Opening my eyes, I looked at the tea and pastries on the table. Princess Taiping said she wanted me to stay for a few days, to see how she treated guests. Treat guests? If this was treating guests, then the service attitude of those influencer cafes in Vancouver deserved the Nobel Peace Prize. This was imprisonment. A warning. To let me know she could take me away from Li Longji at any time.
Alright. Since I'm here.
I stood up, walked to the table, and poured myself a cup of tea. It was good tea, sweet upon entry with a lingering aftertaste. Princess Taiping's hospitality, at least regarding tea leaves, was not sloppy. The pastries were osmanthus cakes, exquisitely made, with the veins of the petals drawn out with a brush. I picked one up and took a bite; sweet, soft, and glutinous. Hmm, delicious. Better than what Qingyuan made.
I ate two osmanthus cakes, drank two cups of tea, then returned to the bed, folded the quilt into a cushion, leaned back comfortably, and began inspecting the room. Windows—had iron bars, but the gaps between them were wide enough for my hand to slip through. Door—solid wood, very thick, impossible to kick open. Walls—brick, very thick, impossible to smash through. Ceiling—had beams, but at least three meters from the ground; unreachable without a ladder.
Conclusion: Couldn't escape. But escaping wasn't necessary either. Princess Taiping wanted to use me as a bargaining chip, which meant I had value. Valuable people didn't die.
Leaning against the quilt, I began to ponder one thing: What kind of person was Princess Taiping really? History books described her as having a "square forehead and broad cheeks, full of strategic schemes," and Wu Zetian felt she was "like herself." Said she nearly became emperor. Said she fought with Li Longji for several years before finally being赐死 (ordered to commit suicide). But these words were too distant, distant like matters from another world. Now she sat before me, not as characters in a book, but alive. Breathing. Warm.
Her fingers were cool. The way she looked at me was like looking at a chess piece. When she spoke, her voice was lazy, like a cat stretching in the sun. But beneath the laziness hid a blade's edge. She resembled someone. She resembled Li Longji. Not in features, but in that gaze—of one who had lived too long in the game of power, killed too many people, won too many rounds. They were aunt and nephew. The same blood flowed in their veins.
Leaning against the quilt, I suddenly found it somewhat amusing. When I was in Vancouver, my biggest worries were my graduation thesis and internship assessments. Now I was imprisoned by the most powerful woman in the Great Tang in her princess residence, becoming the Crown Prince's "weakness." This life trajectory, how to put it—was much more exciting than the "gap year" of those influencer bloggers in Vancouver.
The sky outside gradually darkened. Twilight in Luoyang City was sinking; the plum blossoms turned into blurred shadows in the dusk. The two guards at the door changed shifts; the two newcomers stood at the door, motionless, like two door gods. Their shadows were cast on the window paper, overlapping with the plum blossom shadows already on the paper, indistinguishable as to which was flower and which was person.
Leaning against the quilt, I began counting sheep. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep—no, I should count something useful. How many guards were in Princess Taiping's residence? Two at the door, at least four under the corridor in the courtyard, plus more in the front yard. When she said "Take her down" earlier, she waved her hand; that gesture—very elegant, very composed, like shooing away a fly. But her fingers hadn't fully relaxed; her middle and ring fingers were slightly curled, as if holding something. Prayer beads. Her prayer beads were sandalwood, each polished to a shine, turning in her hand. Only nervous people kept turning prayer beads.
Was Princess Taiping also nervous? What was she nervous about? Nervous that Li Longji would come? Nervous that he would bring troops? Nervous that he would act impulsively? She was waiting. Waiting for him to make a mistake. So she was more nervous than I was. Because she was waiting for something uncertain to happen. And I was merely waiting for something certain to happen—he would definitely come.
Thinking of this, I suddenly stopped trembling. My fingers steadied; my heartbeat stabilized. Leaning against the quilt, I gazed at the moonlight outside the window. The moon emerged from behind the clouds, shining on the branches of the plum trees, making those red and white blossoms look like they were carved from jade.
"Qingyan, no matter what happens, do not be afraid. I am here." The words he spoke in my ear still lingered in my heart. He would definitely come. But I hoped he wouldn't act impulsively. Princess Taiping was waiting for him to make a mistake. If he angrily brought troops to the Princess's residence, that would be a huge mistake. What she was waiting for was precisely this mistake.
I hoped he would be calm. Hoped he would investigate the case. Hoped he would win. After winning, he would come find me. I would wait for him here. No crying, no making a scene, no fear. I was a graduate of the University of British Columbia's Nursing School; I had worked night shifts, seen gunshot wounds in the emergency room, saved people in piles of corpses. Who was I afraid of?
Under the Moonlight
The shadow outside the door moved. Not a shift change—someone was speaking. Very light, very low, indistinct. But the tone was wrong; not casual chatter between guards, but—an order.
Then the door opened.
Moonlight surged in from outside, white and bright, stinging my eyes so I couldn't open them. A person stood at the door, backlit, indistinct. But the scent of agarwood on him, I recognized. His voice, I recognized.
"Qingyan."
My eyes suddenly grew hot. Damn it, I said I wouldn't cry.
He walked in and stood before me. Moonlight shone on his face; his eyes were very bright. He wore no armor, brought no troops, only a moon-white round-collar robe, covered by a black large cloak. Exactly like that day in the alley. His hands hung by his sides, fingers trembling slightly—not from fear, but from restraint. Restraining with great difficulty.
"How did you come?"
"Walking." He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me. "I came to take you back."
"Princess Taiping—"
"I know." His voice was calm, but I saw his jaw clenched tightly. "What she is waiting for is for me to make a mistake. So I brought no troops. Brought no sword. Came alone."
"Alone?" I paused. "The guards at the door—"
"Gone." The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "Chen Xuanli is outside."
Chen Xuanli. The Wude Bureau. He had brought people, but no swords. He had brought people, but didn't burst in. He played the riskiest move—walking alone into Princess Taiping's residence, keeping her people outside. If Princess Taiping turned hostile, he wouldn't be able to leave. But she wouldn't turn hostile. Because he hadn't made a mistake. A Crown Prince who made no mistakes, she couldn't touch.
"Aren't you afraid she—"
"I am." He looked at me. "But I am more afraid of you being gone."
He reached out and took my hand. His palm was warm.
"I said, no matter what happens, do not be afraid. I am here."
I looked into his eyes. Under the moonlight, those eyes were very bright. Not the light of anger, not the light of impulse. But another kind—the light of restraint. The light of endurance. Of someone who clearly wanted to kill but held back. Who clearly wanted to tear this mansion down but held back. Who clearly wanted to rush in and drag her off the Hu bed but held back.
"You're restraining yourself with great difficulty, aren't you?"
He paused. Then he smiled. That smile was light, faint, but his eyes were bright.
"Mm. With great difficulty."
"Then praise me."
"Praise you for what?"
"Praise me for not crying."
He looked at me, his gaze softening. He reached out and brushed the stray hairs from my forehead to behind my ear. His fingertips grazed my cheek, slightly cool.
"Qingyan, you are amazing. Even more amazing than I thought."
"Of course." I mimicked his tone. "I learn everything quickly."
He laughed. Laughed so hard he bent forward and backward, laughing until tears nearly came out.
"Let's go. I'll take you back."
He stood up, took my hand, and walked out. The two guards at the door were gone. The courtyard was empty; the lamps under the corridor were still lit, but not a soul was in sight. Plum blossoms bloomed under the moonlight, red and white, intoxicatingly fragrant. He walked ahead of me, his large cloak billowing slightly in the wind. His grip was tight, just as tight as that day in the alley.
Walking out of the Princess's residence, the moonlight shone on the plaque above the gate. The seven characters "Residence of Princess Zhenguó Taiping," gilded, dazzled under the moonlight. He did not look. He merely held my hand and walked.
Chen Xuanli waited by the carriage, holding two horses. Seeing us emerge, he asked nothing, merely handing over the reins. He helped me onto the horse, then vaulted up himself, riding behind me.
"I lost my medicine packet."
"What medicine packet?"
"Honeysuckle, mint, green salt, Bletilla striata. Bought today, cost three hundred wen."
He paused. Then he laughed. His laughter scattered in the night, muffled, like thunder on a summer night.
"I'll compensate you. Ten times."
"Ten times three hundred wen is three thousand wen."
"I can afford it."
The horse walked slowly. His chest pressed against my back, very warm. The moon overhead was large and round.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"What did Princess Taiping say to you?"
"She said—I am your weakness."
He was silent for a moment.
"She is right," he said. "You are my weakness."
I turned to look at him. Moonlight shone on his face, outlining his contours clearly.
"But I am not afraid," he looked at me. "A weakness can also be armor."
I paused.
"Qingyan, you are my weakness. But you are also my armor. Because with you here, I know what I am fighting for. Not for the world, but for—to ensure that those I care about no longer have to be afraid."
He spurred the horse to quicken its pace. Wind whistled past my ears; I instinctively grabbed his arm. His arm was very hot.
We arrived at the Eastern Palace. He vaulted off the horse and helped me down.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"In the future, when going out, bring people with you."
"Okay."
"No matter where you go, you must bring people."
"Okay."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
He looked at me and smiled.
"Go in. Tomorrow you still have teeth to treat."
I nodded and turned to walk into the Eastern Palace. Reaching the corner of the corridor, I looked back. He was still standing there. Moonlight shone on him, outlining his silhouette with a golden rim. His eyes were very bright, brighter than the moonlight.
"Goodnight."
He smiled. "Goodnight, Qingyan."
Li Rizhi was waiting at the gate of the Eastern Palace. Standing by the carriage, holding a file, moonlight shone on his lean face, deepening his wrinkles. Seeing us emerge, he approached, asking not where I had been, but simply handing over the file.
"Your Highness, we found it."
He took the file and opened it. Under the moonlight, his expression changed. Not anger, but cold. Cold as the Luo River in winter.
"Who?"
"Pei Sheng, Vice Minister of Justice." Li Rizhi's voice was very low. "He was Zhou Ping's informant. The list of undercover agents was also leaked by him. He is one of Princess Taiping's people."
He closed the file, silent for a long time. Moonlight shone on his face; his jaw was clenched tightly.
"Your Highness—"
"I know." His voice was calm. "You may return first."
Li Rizhi glanced at me, nodded, and turned to leave. The carriage disappeared into the night; the sound of hooves, clip-clop, clip-clop, gradually faded.
He stood before me, clutching that file. Under the moonlight, his knuckles were white.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"You go back and rest first."
"And you?"
"I'll stand here a while longer."
I did not leave. I stood beside him; the wind blew, carrying the scent of plum blossoms from the direction of the Princess's residence, mixing with the night mist, faint and light.
"Your Highness."
"Hmm?"
"Vice Minister Pei Sheng—was he the person receiving guests in the study that day?"
He turned to look at me. "How did you know?"
"That day I took Shen Yue to the Prince's residence; you were speaking with a middle-aged man. When he left, he glanced at me. That gaze—not like Yao Chong's politeness, nor like Chen Xuanli's respect. It was another kind. Sizing up. Like weighing how much an object was worth."
He was silent for a long time.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"You shouldn't remember these things."
"I am a dentist. A dentist must remember every tooth of a patient. Naturally, I remember the people I've seen."
He looked at me and suddenly smiled. That smile was light, faint, but his eyes were bright.
"Let's go. I'll walk you back."
He walked ahead; I followed behind. Moonlight stretched the shadows of the two of us long, overlapping together.
Reaching the door of my residence, he stopped.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"Today's events—thank you."
"Thank me for what?"
"For leaving a mark. The honeysuckle powder. Chen Xuanli found the Princess's residence by following that powder."
I paused. "You saw?"
"嗯.你离开后就一直有人跟踪你.陈玄礼一直跟在你后面,他看到你被带走,看到你撒药."他顿了顿,"要不是那药,我们恐怕得找到天亮才行."
我突然觉得鼻子一阵刺痛."那你为什么不早点来?"
"因为我一直在等."他看着我."太平公主在等我犯错.我不能带兵,不能带刀剑,也不能强行闯入.我只能等.等她放松警惕,等她的卫兵换班,等她以为我不会来."
"等了一下午?"
"等了一下午."
我看着他.月光下,他的眼睛很亮.不是愤怒的光芒,也不是冲动的光芒,而是另一种光芒——克制的光芒,忍耐的光芒.那是一种明明想杀人却克制住的光芒,明明想冲上去却克制住的光芒,明明想把她从胡家的床上拖下来却克制住的光芒.
你很难克制自己,对吗?
他笑了笑."嗯,费了好大劲."
"那就进去吧."他伸手拂去我额前散落的头发,一直拂到耳后."明天你还要看牙呢."
我点点头,转身推开门.走进屋里,我回头望去.他仍然站在门口;月光洒在他身上,勾勒出他金色的轮廓.
"晚安."
他笑了笑."晚安,青妍."
（第十六章完）