Supporting his body with one hand, Qing Yun let the jade ring slide over her chest. “Were you waiting for me this whole time?” he asked with a teasing smile.
Unable to hold back, Huang Bei Shuang let out a soft moan and replied, “I thought you’d come through the window, so I kept the cold wind blowing on me!”
At her words, Qing Yun’s expression darkened. He sat up abruptly, a trace of anger in his eyes. “I almost forgot—you’re Consort Frost. Am I just stealing a kiss from another man’s woman?”
Huang Bei Shuang hadn’t expected him to get upset. She adjusted her robe and sat up, looking at him, unsure of what to say.
Qing Yun sat in silence, his chest rising and falling with unspoken frustration. After a long moment, as her faint scent filled the air, he finally calmed down. He turned back to her, lifting her chin gently, just about to kiss her again.
But before their lips could meet, a loud shout came from outside. “Your Majesty! Consort Frost is already asleep!”
Footsteps followed, not just one person but several, with Dao Qiu rushing after Na Zhan as he approached quickly. Lian Huan, seeing him barely ten steps away, hurriedly called out the warning.
That shout halted the kiss, their lips just a breath apart. Qing Yun smiled, pulling the covers over Huang Bei Shuang’s body. He climbed off the bed, tying the jade ring onto a string around his right wrist—the hand he used to wield his sword. “Whatever Na Zhan can give you, I can give you too. Tomorrow night, leave with me,” he said with a cold smile before leaping out the window like a phantom thief, disappearing into the night. Huang Bei Shuang, wrapped in her blanket, was left in a daze.
She didn’t have time to process his sudden words before she turned to see Na Zhan already standing at the door.
“Your Majesty!” she called out, pulling the silk blanket up higher, not wanting to expose anything inappropriate.
“Did I wake you?” Na Zhan asked casually, not seeming to notice anything amiss. He walked leisurely to the side of the bed. “Is your health better now?”
“Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. I am much improved,” Huang Bei Shuang replied cautiously, watching him.
Na Zhan glanced at the wide-open window, where the winter moon shone through, casting its light over the ice-covered branches. He frowned. “Why didn’t you close the window?”
Huang Bei Shuang smiled gently. “It’s so late, Your Majesty. Why have you come?”
Na Zhan sat down at the edge of the bed. “I haven’t heard your flute in two days. I found it hard to get used to the silence.”
Huang Bei Shuang was surprised by his words. She looked at him but couldn’t discern his thoughts. It didn’t seem like infatuation or calculation—just a kind of quiet loneliness, like someone missing the sound of a flute’s nighttime melody.
Seeing that she remained silent, Na Zhan stood up. “Come to my study tomorrow morning. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Then, as abruptly as he had come, he left, the door opening and closing behind him, his footsteps fading away.
That night was as deep and dark as a rain-filled pond… with only ripples overlapping, creating the illusion of a lotus blossom.
* * *
The next morning, at dawn, Huang Bei Shuang, having spent the night sleepless, sat by the window as her three maids prepared water for her and began doing her hair. The golden sunlight slowly painted the frosty windowpanes, casting mottled shadows through the bare wooden beams.
“Who’s there?” Night Pei suddenly shouted, her voice sharp. She had seen a shadow flicker past. Rushing to the window, she saw the trees in the courtyard still swaying, and on the tea table by the window, a crumpled piece of paper had been left behind. She picked it up and handed it to Huang Bei Shuang.
Without hesitation, Huang Bei Shuang opened it. The note contained just a few hastily written words: “Masui is destroyed. Fentian has risen. Ruo Wen is king!”
Seeing the message, Dao Qiu and Zai Ping gasped in terror. Their hands trembled as they continued to fix Huang Bei Shuang’s hair. They had once been captured by Ruo Wen, and the very thought of him filled them with dread.
“Don’t be afraid! This is Yunpei,” Huang Bei Shuang reassured them, though she felt uneasy herself. She didn’t dare recall those deep, purple eyes of Ruo Wen’s.
Standing up, she smiled. “I’m going to see His Majesty. You girls go have your breakfast.”
Na Zhan, too, had not slept the previous night. After leaving Huang Bei Shuang’s chambers, he had remained in his study, waiting for dawn and for her to come see him. He looked tired, but when he heard the attendant announce, “Your Majesty, Consort Frost requests an audience,” he sighed with relief.
“Let her in!” His voice sounded surprisingly cheerful.
Huang Bei Shuang walked in gracefully, seeing Na Zhan sitting at his desk. “Your Majesty, what can I do for you?”
Na Zhan was somewhat surprised by her directness but smiled and said, “Come, sit down.”
Just like that first night, the two of them sat beside the long table, spending yet another sleepless night together.
“There are two things I need to tell you. Originally, only one was related to you, and the other wasn’t. But now, both are,” Na Zhan said, his expression turning cold.
Huang Bei Shuang thought for a moment before replying, “One of them is about Fentian?”
Na Zhan looked slightly surprised but smiled. “You already know? It seems your informants are not just those eight guards and three maids! I’ve kept news about Fentian tightly sealed, making sure it’s not discussed within the palace.”
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