Night settled in like a slow curtain. Dim light swallowed the Regent’s manor, and Mo Qinghuan, having finished preparing the medicine, stepped out of her room. The corridor smelled faintly of herbs. As she eased the door open, she caught sight of Mu Yanming and Bai Ke standing together, their conversation abruptly stilled as if they’d been caught.
“Go and make the preparations,” Bai Ke said, nodding once. Before he left, he cast a brief, ambiguous glance at Mo Qinghuan.
She found their behavior odd and watched them with a puzzled expression, eyes following Bai Ke all the way down the hall until he disappeared through the doors of the Sunlight Hall. The moment Bai Ke was gone, Mu Yanming reached for Mo Qinghuan’s hand and pulled her gently back inside. He pressed a cup of tea into her palm, coaxed her into a chair, and sat opposite.
Mo examined him with suspicion. Something in his manner was off, but when she raised the cup to her lips she tasted normal tea and, despite the uneasy curl in her stomach, drank it down. She set the cup down and waited for him to speak.
He gave her only, “It’s late. Get some rest.”
She stood, shrugged out of her shoes, and lay down. Sleep took her almost immediately.
Mu Yanming sat by the bed, holding her hand in both of his. He pressed a quick kiss to the back of her knuckles, straightened the blanket with meticulous care, then rose and left. He went first to the study where Lu Zixiu was waiting, as they had agreed. When he pushed the study door open, Lu turned; for a heartbeat Mu Yanming saw his own reflection in the other man’s face.
Lu cleared his throat when he noticed Mu staring, and Mu blinked himself back to composure. He opened the desk drawer, took something out, and they left through the manor gate together. Lu donned a cloak and accompanied him. Their carriage rolled on to the city gates. Outside the carriage stood a man who could pass for Mu Yanming—Bai Ke and the doppelgänger stationed themselves by the vehicle.
A voice rose from inside the carriage. “No need to see us off. Go back.”
Bai Ke and the double watched as the carriage bearing Mu Shengze drove away through the city gate, then turned and returned to the manor. “I don’t know how long His Highness will be gone,” Bai Ke murmured.
The man posing as Mu Yanming glanced at him. “Don’t worry. He’s eager to return; it won’t be long. What matters now is that no one discovers anything.”
Bai Ke inclined his head.
Back at the manor, the man who truly was Mu Yanming went straight to the Sunlight Hall and sat on the edge of the bed where Mo Qinghuan still slept. He watched her sleeping face, and images of their first meeting flickered through his mind—her brightness, her unapologetic confidence. She had entered his life like a shaft of light.
She turned in her sleep and faced the inner side of the bed.
The next morning, Mo Qinghuan opened her eyes to find Mu Yanming already at the table. She glanced at the bed; there was no sign that anyone had lain there. He had not slept at all.
Curious, she wrapped a cloak about her shoulders and sat down across from him. He felt under her gaze, cleared his throat twice, and the silence between them grew a little awkward. Before either of them could break it, Bai Ke entered carrying an envelope.
“My lord, Princess Consort,” he announced, “an invitation from the Ningyuan General’s residence. They ask that you and the Prince attend their wedding feast three days from now.” He set the invitation on the table and stepped back.
Mo scanned the card, then rose and retreated to her inner room to dress. At her dressing table she watched the two men in the mirror. Bai Ke was teasing, making a face at Mu Yanming; Mu merely shook his head.
Dressed, she walked into the courtyard, where a doorman bowed and approached her with a deferential step. “Your Highness, the carriage from the First Prince’s residence has come to fetch you.”
Mo Qinghuan nodded. She knew Mu Shengze had come calling to apologize for the incident with Gu Qinglan the previous day. That explained the elaborate escort.
Soon the carriage halted at the palace gate. She had come without attendants; Bai Ke did not accompany her either, so she followed the eunuch’s slow, deliberate pace toward the Empress’s palace. The eunuch seemed to moderate his steps for her, and because no one interfered, she had the leisure to study the palace—its vermilion halls, the soaring eaves carved with gold. Ancient craftsmanship, she thought, rivaled anything of the present, and the old aesthetic had a quiet, mysterious pull. Even in the capital’s streets these days, young women favored traditional dress and decor, obsessed with a nostalgia for the past.
When she reached the central court, the hall already brimmed with the imperial family: the First Prince and his wife, the Second Prince and his wife, even the Emperor and Empress sat together on the dais, all clad in formal attire. Heads turned as she entered.
The Emperor’s gaze landed on her from his gilded throne, his face the picture of imperial authority. Mo Qinghuan wore a moon-white velvet gown and a sleeveless cotton cloak. She favored simplicity: no jewelry except a single jade hairpin. Even so plain, she stood like a breath of winter air—unearthly and arresting, as if some immortal had strayed into the world of men.
She inclined her head with a measured courtesy. “Your Majesty, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said.
The Empress waved off excessive formality with a smile. “No need for such stiffness. Sit.”
The Emperor, however, seemed surprised by her composure. “I didn’t expect the Regent Prince’s consort to know medicine,” he remarked. “I’ve never heard of women practicing medicine before.”
The Empress hurried to smooth things over. “Your Majesty, you still have petitions to attend. Allow me to accompany you—”
The Emperor shot the Empress a quick look and swept from the hall.
Mo Qinghuan remained composed throughout, a faint smile never leaving her face. As soon as the Emperor departed, Min Feiyan stood and hurried over, clutching Mo’s hand. “Sister-in-law, I have good news,” she said, eyes bright and a little wet. “I haven’t slept through a night in four years, but last night I slept straight through—I didn’t wake once, and the pain in my chest is gone.”
The Empress’s expression tightened. If Mo Qinghuan could cure Min Feiyan’s long-standing ailment so readily, why had she not treated the Regent Prince’s heart condition? Was there something the Regent was hiding? The thought prickled at the Empress like a cold needle.