“Your servant understands.”
Emperor Zhennin nodded, “Go back and tell Yi Lang that his royal father has taken the medicine, let him rest.”
“Yes.”
Yang Wan rose and withdrew from Yangxin Hall, raising her hand to wipe away the tears she had forced out before the emperor.
She walked down the moon terrace with folded hands. Heyu and others came to meet her, asking: “What did His Majesty say?”
Yang Wan shook her head, “When you return, take good care of His Highness. Tell him not to worry, His Majesty hasn’t ordered him to move palaces. Ask him to take his medicine properly and rest early.”
Heyu looked at Yang Wan’s hands, “Let me apply some medicine for you when we return.”
Yang Wan said: “Just crush some mint leaves to rub on it. No one can speak of this – if it must be mentioned, only say His Highness ordered the beating, understand?”
The next day, Emperor Zhennin rejected the Central Palace’s request and personally wrote an imperial decree to comfort Yi Lang.
Deng Ying came from Yangxin Hall to deliver the decree. Yi Lang hadn’t woken yet, and Yang Wan sat alone on the stone steps behind the screen wall, supporting her forehead lost in thought.
“Yang Wan.”
“Here.”
She had been mentally tense since yesterday – hearing someone call her name, she instinctively started to stand.
“Slowly.”
Deng Ying reached out to support her.
Only upon hearing Deng Ying’s voice did Yang Wan relax.
“Oh, it’s you…”
“Yes, why are you sitting here?”
Yang Wan pressed her temples, “Yesterday everyone in Chengqian Palace was unsettled. I didn’t have Heyu and the others take the night watch. I kept watch inside for a while, but then felt stifled and came out. Why have you come to Chengqian Palace?”
“I’ve come to deliver an imperial decree.”
Yang Wan struggled to stand again, “What decree?”
Deng Ying crouched down: “Don’t panic, it’s His Majesty’s handwritten letter comforting the young prince.”
“Oh…”
Yang Wan exhaled, fixing her slightly disheveled hair, “Then I’ll go bring Yi Lang to receive it.”
“No need.”
Deng Ying handed the decree to an accompanying attendant, gesturing for them to withdraw behind the screen wall.
“His Majesty gave verbal instructions that His Highness need not perform the ceremonial bow. Since His Highness hasn’t risen, I’ll wait here.”
Yang Wan looked at Deng Ying crouching before her, “Would you like to sit with me for a while?”
Deng Ying smiled, “Let me stand.”
“I want someone to lean on for a moment.”
“What if the young prince sees?”
“Let him scold me.”
Seeing her expression, Deng Ying no longer refused.
He rose and sat beside Yang Wan.
Yang Wan turned her head, gently resting her face on Deng Ying’s shoulder.
Deng Ying let her lean against him, lifting his head to look at the ridge tiles on the front hall’s roof, speaking softly: “Many eyes will be watching this place in the future. You and I must be more careful.”
Yang Wan followed Deng Ying’s gaze.
“You already know about His Majesty rejecting the Empress’s request?”
“Yes. I heard His Majesty questioned you yesterday – what did you say?”
Yang Wan shook her head, “Nothing at all.”
After speaking, she fell silent for a moment, quietly catching her breath as she leaned on Deng Ying’s shoulder.
The wind carried rain-scented air against their faces, cool and comfortable.
“Where did you go yesterday?”
“To the western burial grounds to watch a burial.”
Yang Wan was silent for a while before asking: “Has Secretary Zheng been buried?”
“Not yet. His uncle provided a coffin – I can only bring him in today.”
Yang Wan pressed her lips together, “I watched him die yesterday. He was looking at me as he died. Now when I recall that look in his eyes, I can’t sleep at all.”
Deng Ying turned his head to look at Yang Wan.
Her face was somewhat damp – whether from tears or the rain was unclear.
Deng Ying raised his sleeve to gently wipe her face. She didn’t avoid it, her shoulders trembling unconsciously.