Chapter 12.1

Su Jiao was jolted awake by a sharp, nauseating smell of blood.

The moment she opened her eyes and lifted her head, a faint but piercing sting at her neck made her draw a sharp breath.

“Hiss…”

She raised her head and instinctively pressed her hand to her neck.

Exhale… still there.

Then why does it hurt so much?

Su Jiao’s hand brushed against the gauze wrapped around her neck, and she immediately moved to tear it off.

“Don’t.”

A cool hand closed around her wrist.

Su Jiao looked up to find Xie Yan speaking in an even tone.

“You have a wound on your neck.”

She had been perfectly fine when she went to sleep — how did she end up with a wound?

Su Jiao widened her eyes and moved to climb out of bed.

“Let me look at it.”

“There’s no need. I’ve already bandaged it for you.”

Su Jiao regarded him with suspicion.

“Why did you bandage it for me? And how did I get this wound?”

“An assassin came last night.”

Xie Yan offered a faint smile.

“Nearly took your head off.”

That single sentence drained the color from Su Jiao’s face. She reached for her neck once more.

“I intercepted in time, though. It only grazed you — just a cut.”

Su Jiao’s heart lurched violently, then sagged with relief.

“But if an assassin caused such a commotion, how could I have slept through the whole thing?”

Xie Yan was unperturbed.

“You were probably sleeping too soundly.”

Su Jiao didn’t believe that for a moment. She did tend to sleep deeply, but surely she would have noticed if she was about to die.

“Let me see.”

She moved again to pull at the gauze. She got up too quickly, and one of her embroidered shoes was knocked off the bed. Su Jiao leaned over the edge to retrieve it, and in doing so swept something else out from underneath — a small bundle.

This is…

Both of them noticed the small bundle at the same time.

Su Jiao instinctively shot up to block it.

No wonder she couldn’t find the needle case when she returned to the rear hall after acupuncturing Xie Yan that day. It must have been swept under the bed.

“What is that?”

Xie Yan narrowed his eyes and reached for the bundle at the same moment.

Su Jiao quickly pressed her hand over his, and in the instant their eyes met, she felt an inexplicable flicker of guilt.

“Nothing. Probably just some rubbish from the floor.”

“Let me see.”

One look at her expression and Xie Yan knew something was off.

“I already said it’s rubbish — why would you want to dirty your hands with it?”

Su Jiao smiled pleasantly and bent down to retrieve it herself.

“I’ll get it…”

Before she could finish, a cool hand gripped the back of her neck, and while she was still catching up, the needle case was lifted right out of reach.

She watched him move to open it, and her heart leapt straight to her throat.

Even though the Xie Yan of this lifetime knew nothing about her yet, she still couldn’t afford to reveal too much.

She lunged instinctively.

“Xie Yan…”

Xie Yan’s hand stilled the instant it closed around the needle case.

He looked up and met Su Jiao’s slightly anxious eyes.

“Never mind.”

Their fingertips touched briefly, and Su Jiao reclaimed the needle case on instinct.

Xie Yan quietly absorbed her barely perceptible sigh of relief, his hand hidden in his sleeve rubbing lightly together.

Even from that single touch, he knew what it was.

But since returning to the palace these past few days — had there been any occasion when she had used acupuncture?

The memory of that night when he had lost consciousness flashed through his mind.

So the slip had shown itself that early.

Meanwhile, Su Jiao noticed he wasn’t watching and swept the needle case into her own sleeve with practiced speed.

She exhaled inwardly.

That was close.

The brief interruption had made her forget about unwrapping the gauze on her neck. Just then, Chang Lin announced that breakfast had arrived, and the husband and wife went out together.

Xie Yan’s gaze drifted to the pond, and he seemed, for once, to be in a leisurely mood.

“Set it up in the pavilion.”

Breakfast was two bowls of plain congee and a small dish of pickled vegetables. Having been back for several days now, Su Jiao had more or less resigned herself to this simple fare. She had just lifted her bowl —

“Does My Lady the Prince’s Consort find the scenery here in the pavilion pleasant?”

“If His Highness says it is, then it must be.”

Su Jiao held her bowl and didn’t bother looking up.

What was even good about this wretched pond?

Xie Yan was entirely unbothered by her perfunctory answer. He propped his chin in his hand and spoke just as the congee reached her lips.

“I find it unpleasant, actually — after all, a body was fished out of that pond just a couple of days ago. A person who had drowned and been there for days. The whole pond had started to reek. What’s pleasant about that?”

Su Jiao’s body went rigid for a moment. Then, with perfect composure, she said:

“Is that so? Who died?”

“An old wet nurse… her hands were injured when they pulled her out. It looked as though she’d been—”

Su Jiao suddenly remembered the time she had kicked Zhang Momo into the water — she might have left finger marks on her.

Could it be…

The grip on her bowl tightened.

“…It seemed to be scratches she’d made herself. Chang Lin said it looked like she’d accidentally fallen in and struggled.”

Exhale.

Su Jiao’s heart had been lurching up and down without pause, and now she found she couldn’t even finish the plain congee in her hands.

“Your Highness, when you speak, could you perhaps finish your sentences in one go?”

She looked up and smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Xie Yan leaned his chin in his hand with an air of innocence.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I’m genuinely faint-hearted, and hearing too much of this sort of thing means I won’t be able to sleep at night.”

A look of difficulty crossed Xie Yan’s face.

“That is truly my oversight. It’s just that My Lady the Prince’s Consort said only last night that husband and wife ought to be closer to one another, so I thought to share these things with you. But since you don’t wish to hear it, very well.”

He moved as if to rise and leave.

“There are still some things from last night that haven’t been tidied up. I’ll go and see to them…”

“Husband!”

He hadn’t even stood up yet before Su Jiao had reached behind him and seized his hand with startling swiftness.

“No — I enjoy hearing it very much. Anything His Highness says, I want to hear.”

“You’re not troubled?”

Xie Yan watched the strained smile she was forcing onto her face and found it rather entertaining.

“Not at all, how could I be troubled? Husband, is there anything else you’d like to say? Let’s sit down and talk.”

Xie Yan remained standing, his gaze drifting toward the pavilion as he continued in an unhurried tone.

“I heard she was entirely white all over when they pulled her out — except for her eyes, which were stretched open enormously. One couldn’t say whether she’d died with unfinished grievances. When Chang Lin was pulling her out, he accidentally stepped on her head, and those eyes instantly rolled right out, mixed in with the rotting, foul water—”

“Ugh…”

Su Jiao’s face had gone ashen. She couldn’t hold back a dry heave, and bent her head forward.

Not that she was afraid, exactly — she had, after all, been willing to drown Zhang Momo, so she could hardly fear her now. It was simply that Xie Yan’s description was genuinely revolting.

Bending her head forward brought her closer to the pond, and a faint trace of an odor drifted over. Su Jiao hunched with dry heaves, while Xie Yan placed one hand on the back of her neck and pressed with measured force.

Asking a question he already knew the answer to.

“What’s the matter?”