Chapter 13

The next day.

Before dawn had even broken, Zhao Mingzhu arrived with dark circles under her eyes, bloodshot and weary—clearly, she hadn’t slept a wink all night. She stepped in just moments before Gu Qingheng sat down.

Normally, she wouldn’t even cross paths with him at this hour. And now she’d arrived earlier than he had. A flicker of surprise passed through Gu Qingheng’s eyes. “Crown Princess, you didn’t sleep last night. If you’re feeling unwell, shall I summon the imperial physician?”

Zhao Mingzhu looked at him. In front of Gu Qingheng sat a half bowl of lily porridge, a plate of honey-soft rolls, and a small pot of sweet pumpkin soup. All sweet things. It was no secret that the Crown Prince had a sweet tooth.

But Zhao Mingzhu’s mind kept replaying the numb expression he’d worn while eating that bowl of yogurt. Her lips flattened. Abruptly, she said, “Sorry.”

Gu Qingheng’s hand paused mid-spoon. Behind him, Chang He was visibly startled by Zhao Mingzhu’s sudden apology. Was she feeling guilty about some scheme to harm him?

Gu Qingheng’s voice was calm and even. “Why?”

Zhao Mingzhu reached out and took all the desserts in front of him for herself. She wiped her mouth and shrugged. “Because I’m hungry. I’m stealing your share.”

She tried to make it sound casual. She couldn’t say the real reason. She kept telling herself it was just a dream. But it wasn’t. It was real.

For the first time, Gu Qingheng truly looked at her. His lips were pressed into a sharp arc, his lashes long and thick, casting shadows over eyes as dark as ink—cool and unreadable.

Chang He frowned. “His Highness didn’t eat last night. These are his favorite dishes. If the Crown Princess wants some, the kitchen can prepare another portion.”

Zhao Mingzhu said nothing. She simply ate in silence, with the appetite of a storm devouring everything in its path.

Chang He could only glare helplessly.

The tense breakfast ended. Zhao Mingzhu and Gu Qingheng walked side by side out of the Eastern Palace. She spoke weakly, “Your Highness, if you don’t like something, don’t force yourself. We only live once—being happy matters most.”

The words were strange, even to her. But she had to say them, or she’d suffocate. After speaking, she turned and headed back inside.

Gu Qingheng pondered for a moment. “Summon Yin Zhu.”

Chang He bowed. “Yes.”

Gu Qingheng sat upright in the carriage. Outside, Yin Zhu stood respectfully. “Master, what are your orders?”

Gu Qingheng returned to himself, still staring at the first page of his travelogue. “Did the Crown Princess meet anyone last night?”

Yin Zhu answered without hesitation. “Reporting to Your Highness, Jinzhu and I stood guard outside her quarters all night. The Crown Princess did not leave.”

Gu Qingheng’s expression softened. The golden sunlight cast a gentle glow over his skin, making him seem distant and aloof.

“Make sure they resume correspondence with the Crown Princess.”

Yin Zhu stiffened at the command. As a covert agent trained by the Eastern Palace, she knew how rare it was for His Highness to issue orders personally.

From behind the orchid-patterned carriage curtain, the voice came again: “Do you have doubts?”

Yin Zhu held her breath and bowed respectfully. “None, Your Highness. I accept the order.”

Watching the entire exchange, Chang He could barely contain his eagerness. In his mind, Zhao Mingzhu should’ve died long ago—letting her live this long was already bending the rules. Her time was up.

Inside the carriage, Gu Qingheng recalled her words: “We only live once—being happy matters most.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips—like mist, it vanished.

Meanwhile, Zhao Mingzhu crawled back into bed for a second round of sleep. Thankfully, the nightmare that had tormented her all night didn’t return. So when she woke again to a sky ablaze with morning clouds, she was momentarily disoriented.

“Qiao’er? Jin Zhu? Yin Zhu?”

Yin Zhu appeared first, carrying a basin of water. “It’s nearly the Daughter’s Festival. Qiao’er and Jin Zhu went out to buy fireworks, paper cuttings, lanterns, and such. Crown Princess, I’ll attend to you today.”

Zhao Mingzhu didn’t suspect a thing. Yawning, she sat before the vanity and watched Yin Zhu begin styling her hair. Propping her chin in her hand, she squinted at the mirror. After a while, she eyed the lopsided bun and hesitated. After comparing it a few times, she paused. “Maybe just tie it up with a red ribbon instead.”

In a way, Yin Zhu was a genius—after all, not everyone could turn a hair bun into a toad-shaped lump.

Zhao Mingzhu had no intention of stepping out with that thing on her head.

Yin Zhu, knowing her hands were better suited for killing than hairstyling, said nothing and complied.

Seeing her silence, Zhao Mingzhu assumed she’d hurt her pride. She patted Yin Zhu’s hand. “It’s fine. Ugly in a unique way is still a talent.”

Then her gaze fell to Yin Zhu’s hands, and she exclaimed, “Aren’t you one of His Highness’s top maids? Why are your hands so rough?”

Yin Zhu froze. “I’ve always been like this since childhood… Crown Princess, does this ribbon look alright?”

Zhao Mingzhu checked the bronze mirror—she couldn’t see the back of her head. “Looks great.”

Bored, she began fiddling with her jewelry box and suddenly uncovered a crumpled pink paper ball. “Huh?”

She instantly remembered the mysterious “lover” she hadn’t managed to meet at Cangyun Temple.

That man really was something—able to sneak into the Eastern Palace undetected and quietly tuck a note into her jewelry box.

Zhao Mingzhu shoved the jewelry back into place and covered it up, thinking: Is there anyone in this world more highborn and untouchable than Gu Qingheng?

Damn this plot—it never mentioned a word of this.

Once Yin Zhu left, Zhao Mingzhu picked up the crumpled pink paper and slowly unfolded it.

Just as she suspected. Third quarter of the Hai hour. Rear alley of the Eastern Palace.

She glanced at it once, then tore it to shreds. Tapping her finger on the sandalwood table, she pondered how to resolve this thoroughly and cleanly. Her scalp itched. Great—clearly, she hadn’t grown a brain.

Zhao Mingzhu sprawled across the bed in a dramatic starfish pose. She was really making things hard for herself.

Night deepened. Thick black clouds swallowed the crescent moon. Zhao Mingzhu opened the rear alley door and scanned the surroundings. She stood at the threshold. From the corner near the side gate came a cat’s meow. Lifting her skirt, she walked toward it.

“If you’re already here, why bother hiding?”

No sooner had she spoken than a masked figure in black emerged. He scanned the area warily before his gaze landed on Zhao Mingzhu.

“Miss Zhao, have you forgotten your agreement with our master?”

Of course, Zhao Mingzhu had no idea what agreement he was talking about. But she didn’t flinch. “What’s the rush?”

The man frowned. “Don’t tell me you’ve truly fallen for Gu Qingheng? Planning to betray our master?”

Zhao Mingzhu had imagined a thousand scenarios, but that line still clawed at her heart like a cat. What the hell was going on?

She remembered clearly: in the novel, the original Zhao Mingzhu was obsessed with Gu Qingheng, even fought the female lead over him, and schemed her way into the Eastern Palace. But now it sounded like that was all fake. She’d married in as a double agent? And that “lover” was a real traitor? But her chastity mark was still intact!

Before she could spiral further, the masked man tossed a small vial into her arms. “Our master’s patience has run out. You’re to send Gu Qingheng to the afterlife with this Duanchang Powder.”

That line triggered a chilling realization: she hadn’t bought the male-female gu out of love for Gu Qingheng. She’d wanted to control him—for some other goal.

“Wait.” Zhao Mingzhu stopped the man as he turned to leave. She blew at an imaginary strand of hair.

“This’ll cost extra.”

“What do you mean?” The man’s eyes flashed with menace.

Zhao Mingzhu scoffed. Trying to scare me? Please. Your grandma here doesn’t scare easily.

She held out her hand. “If I’m doing the dirty work, you can’t expect me to do it for free.”

Freeload off me? Not a chance.