Liang Ying nodded in his arms; she truly wanted to leave quickly.

***

When Liu Fu returned to the imperial study, the Emperor, who should have been in the Empress’s palace, was indeed there.  He bent down, reporting that he had escorted Consort Chen out.

As one of the few long-serving servants in the palace, he used Liang Ying’s title before she left the palace, and whether out of carelessness or not, Wei Yan never corrected him.

“Didn’t you send her home?”

The man had just finished reading the memorials. While picking up his brush to endorse them, he asked, his casual tone as if it were a random question.

Liu Fu quickly replied that Consort Chen had left in her own carriage.  While speaking, he recalled the person who had picked up Liang Ying, his tone unconsciously hesitant.

Even though it wasn’t obvious, the man’s eyelids flickered. “Anything else?”

Liu Fu’s heart tightened. In front of the Emperor, he dared not hide anything.  Unexpectedly, Wei Yan calmly uttered an “Oh,” as if saying, “Is that all?”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

The man’s gaze returned to the memorials. “You may retire.”

Liu Fu responded and quietly withdrew. Before closing the door to the imperial study, he took one last look at the man reviewing memorials, guessing that, as usual, the Emperor would spend the entire night in the imperial study.

Wei Yan’s diligence was evident throughout the court.

He actually didn’t quite understand the Emperor.  If he didn’t care about Liang Ying, he would know everything about her—the constant stream of doctors sent to treat her, the endless supply of medicines, and the continuous stream of rewards.

It was as if he were Liang Ying’s family’s benefactor.

But if he did care, this indifferent reaction didn’t seem right.  Furthermore, if he still harbored feelings, which man could tolerate his beloved being with another?

The Emperor had always promoted and favored Zhou Cishi, even showing extra consideration for those related to the Zhou family.

Such favoritism didn’t seem like jealousy.

Therefore, after much thought, the only explanation was that the Emperor felt guilty towards Liang Ying and wanted to compensate her as much as possible.

Liu Fu clasped his hands, watching the snowflakes fall. He had served the Emperor for a long time, and perhaps only he in the palace remembered how the Emperor and Liang Ying had shared life and death in this deep palace.

In the end, was it all just… a performance?

***

That night, Liang Ying leaned lazily against Zhou Huailin’s chest, watching him use moxibustion to treat her aching legs.

The man was focused, holding the moxa stick above Liang Ying’s painful joints, moving it back and forth at a distance.

They say beauty is best seen under lamplight.  She found Zhou Huailin increasingly handsome. He was the kind of man who grew on you, but few people dared to look at him for long.

Liang Ying tugged at Zhou Huailin’s sleeve, and when he looked at her, she asked, “Should you rest for a while?”

This was communicated through sign language.

The man’s expression softened slightly upon seeing her gestures. “I’m not tired.”

Liang Ying withdrew her hand. Zhou Huailin never asked if the moxibustion was too hot, if the pressure was right, or where she was uncomfortable.  He seemed to know Liang Ying’s habit of enduring pain, observing her reactions from the beginning.

Now, he knew exactly where to apply the moxibustion and the right amount of pressure.

Liang Ying never felt any discomfort with him.

Such a frightening-looking man was so considerate. A smile slowly curved Liang Ying’s lips.

She tugged at Zhou Huailin’s sleeve again. When he looked over, she leaned up and lightly kissed his lips.

Actually, as soon as she made the upward movement, Zhou Huailin had already leaned down, making her initiative kiss very smooth.

One couldn’t speak, the other didn’t like to speak, yet they had a tacit understanding that could be conveyed with a single glance.

His cool lips were soft, the smell of mugwort was strong, but Liang Ying could still smell the clean, crisp scent of soap unique to Zhou Huailin.

It smelled good.

Liang Ying pursed her lips, her gaze filled with anticipation.

Her husband’s skills in serving her were improving, not just in moxibustion and massage.  Liang Ying was increasingly open about her desires.

Zhou Huailin, however, slightly avoided her frank, innocent, yet suggestive gaze. He supported her back with one hand and put down the nearly extinguished moxa stick with the other.

“Let me tidy up first.”

His face remained serious, only his physical reactions and slightly reddened ears betraying his inner turmoil.

Liang Ying’s mood improved considerably. Who would have thought that such a strong and sturdy man would be so easily embarrassed?

Zhou Huailin was gentle in bed. Tonight, he seemed to put in more effort, making Liang Ying, already melting like spring water, even more unable to resist.

“Liang Ying.”

In the midst of passion, Liang Ying heard Zhou Huailin call her name.  Due to his personality, he didn’t use any affectionate terms, but Liang Ying loved it when he called her name like this.

His low voice was somewhat rough. When he called her like this, it made her soul tremble.

Liang Ying looked over, her slightly widened eyes silently asking what was wrong.

She seemed to see worry in her husband’s eyes. Before she could think further, he took her hand, their fingers interlocked.

“Nothing,” he replied, his voice containing a barely perceptible dullness.

***

Liang Ying would later feel that agreeing to Zhou Huailin’s proposal was the riskiest yet luckiest decision she had ever made.

After leaving the palace, she stayed in the capital.