A late spring breeze, swirling with willow catkins, swept past the hanging gate of the Zhuangyuan Mansion, startling the koi carp in the front pond and making them splash. Su Jinli was crouching over her desk by the window, sketching illustrations for a new storybook. The tip of her wolf-hair brush hovered in mid-air, resting on the tail of a flying fox—the beast's chubby body slightly deforming the ink marks on the rice paper. She was shoving a copper coin into Jiang Yan's usual Duan inkstone, her eyes reminiscent of the eager eyes of the man who had secretly stuffed banknotes into her dressing box the night before, wishing he could bring in the national treasury.

"Miss, the son-in-law has left the court." Lingge paused as she lifted the soft curtain, and the Biluochun tea in the celadon teacup rippled slightly. "He doesn't look well. The Hetian jade pendant on his jade belt buckle is shaking as if it's about to fall off."

A fox's tail swept a playful arc across the rice paper. When Su Jinli set down her brush, the black jade paperweight perfectly captured the detail of a fox's claws twitching at a copper coin. She adjusted the cuffs of her moon-white skirt. The silver-threaded lotus embroidery flickered in the light and shadow of the corridor. Just as she reached the Moon Gate, Jiang Yan, dressed in a stone-blue official robe, stepped through the threshold. The jade belt around his waist was so tight that it had stretched the crane pattern on the patch out of shape. The Hetian jade pendant on the belt buckle was indeed askew, gleaming coldly in the morning light.

"What's wrong?" She stood on tiptoe to brush the willow catkins off his shoulders, her fingertips touching the cool brocade beneath his official robes. "Who tangled our Lord Jiang's imperial beads? He was so proud yesterday that he'd bring me pea yellow from the imperial kitchen."

Jiang Yan didn't smile. Instead, he grasped her wrist and dragged her toward the warm room. His fingertips brushed against the mutton-fat jade bracelet on her wrist, feeling as cool as if it had been dipped in well water. As Lingge tactfully withdrew, the heavy door curtain fell, and she heard his low voice, cold as metal, hitting the carved window lattice: "Today, someone petitioned Your Majesty to marry Princess Shou'an to me."

With a crisp "clang," the teacup fell to the ground, startling the gray sparrows under the eaves. Broken porcelain pieces splashed on the blue bricks, a perfect reflection of Su Jinli's shattered heart. She stared intently at the cranes embroidered in gold thread on his lapel. The fluttering birds suddenly became ferocious, pecking at her eyes until they hurt—the same pattern was embroidered on the dazzling wedding dress her stepmother had worn when she was pushed into the sedan chair in her previous life. A sudden rusty taste rose in her throat, and she heard her own voice floating in the air, trembling imperceptibly: "Princess Shou'an? The little princess who painted the rockery in the imperial garden pink?"

"She's the Emperor's sister." Jiang Yan picked up her cold hand and tucked it into the gilded heater. The pattern of animal heads holding rings on the heater's wall scratched her knuckles. "The one who delivered the memorial was the Minister of Personnel, Lin Wanyue's uncle."

The three words "Lin Wanyue" were like a poisoned needle, piercing Su Jinli's forced composure. She instantly recalled the rouge stains on the sleeves of the talented woman as she copied "Linjiangxian" at the poetry club. She also recalled the jade hairpin that had shattered in the ancestral hall before Liu was escorted to the family temple—a hairpin clearly a birthday gift from Lin Wanyue's mother. It turned out that Liu's former subordinates had long been connected to the Lin family, using the venomous tactic of marrying the princess off to crush her and Jiang Yan's marriage into dust, leaving no room for negotiation.

"They've got a good plan," Su Jinli sneered, her fingertips tapping on the edge of the stove, sending sparks flying from the silvery charcoal. "They're using the royal family's prestige to pressure you, using the position of imperial consort to lure you in—Jiang Yan, what are you going to do?"

Jiang Yan suddenly smiled, a smile with a chill she had never seen before, like an icicle hanging from the eaves in December. "I am speaking in the court," he paused, deliberately imitating the formal official tone of the Golden Throne Hall. The cloud-patterned brocade on his sleeves swept across the table, stirring up a layer of dust. "I already have a wife, Su Jinli, the daughter of the Prime Minister's family. Your Majesty personally granted me this marriage. If you want me to marry the princess, you must first divorce my wife."

Su Jinli burst out laughing, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. The laughter that escaped through her fingers hit the beams, startling the swallows nesting there and causing them to flutter their wings. "Are you crazy?" she whispered, poking his chest with her fingertips. "How dare you say that in the Golden Palace?"

"Did I say something wrong?" Jiang Yan raised an eyebrow and suddenly leaned close to her ear. His warm breath brushed against the loose hair at her temples, bringing with it the familiar scent of ambergris and ink. "Your Majesty, at that time, stroked his beard and smiled, saying, 'Lord Jiang is indeed a lover.' But the Minister of Personnel hunched over again and said," He cleared his throat and deliberately imitated the trembling tone of an old minister, like the swinging pendulum of an old clock in an ancestral hall, "Su Jinli is just a girl in the harem. How can she compare with the golden branches and jade leaves?"

The pomegranate trees outside the window rustled, filtering light through them and landing on the dark spots beneath Jiang Yan's eyes. Su Jinli stared at that dark patch, remembering him last night, hunched over his desk, his fingertips stained black with the ink from his audit, even the crevices between his nails. She sniffed and suddenly buried her face in his chest. The crane patch on his official robe pricked her forehead, yet it brought a strange sense of security. "Jiang Yan, I'm not afraid. At worst, we can do as we did last time, ride the 'Chasing Wind' to Jiangnan in the middle of the night, and I'll use your top scholar hat as your chamber pot."

"Nonsense." Jiang Yan's palm rubbed the top of her head, but his tone was as soft as fresh spring cotton, filled with unmelting doting. "This time is different. It involves the royal family, so I can't just let my temper run wild." He pulled a crumpled piece of mulberry paper from his sleeve pocket. On it was a line drawing outlined with cinnabar by the secret guards. "The Minister of Personnel accepted 3,000 taels of silver from Liu's maternal family. The account is recorded in the Baochang Pawnshop in the west of the city. Lin Wanyue visited the princess's mansion three times last month, each time bringing rouge and powder tribute from Jiangnan."

Su Jinli took the mulberry paper, her fingertips touching the pawnshop plaque pattern specially painted by the secret guards. She stared at the three cinnabar characters "Three Thousand Liang" on the paper, suddenly remembering how Liu had, in her previous life, tainted her medicine with such silent, sinister cruelty. The silver charcoal in the stove crackled softly again. She looked up and saw Jiang Yan's eyes, reflecting the firelight. There was no trace of fear in them, only the confidence of a mastermind.

"Jiang Yan," she suddenly said, her fingertips gently smoothing out the wrinkles on the paper, "Does Princess Shou'an know that she's being used as a pawn?"

Jiang Yan was silent for a moment, then reached out to smooth her wind-torn hair. "You'll know soon." He paused, his fingertips brushing against the barely perceptible moisture at the corners of her eyes. "I've already asked Li Xiu to go to the Censorate to retrieve evidence of corruption against the Minister of Personnel. Just go to the Cining Palace to find the Empress Dowager. Princess Shou'an's mother died young, so she listens to the Empress Dowager."

Willow catkins drifted in again, landing on the illustrations on the desk, just enough to cover the copper coin held by the flying fox. Su Jinli stared at the snow-white fluff and suddenly remembered the first time she'd met Jiang Yan, squatting on the street, snatching a candy painting. Back then, he had that same glint in his eyes, too. He was the newly crowned top scholar, yet he looked like a stubborn teenager.

"Okay." She nodded, carefully folded the mulberry paper and stuffed it into her sleeve pocket. Her fingertips touched the sugar-painted phoenix wood carving that Jiang Yan had given her. "I'll go change my clothes now."

Jiang Yan watched her back as she turned, her moon-white skirt sweeping across the blue brick floor of the warm room like a phoenix about to spread its wings. He knew they had to win this battle—to avoid repeating the mistakes of their past lives, to protect this lost and regained happiness, neither he nor she would retreat a single step. The flames from the fireplace danced, casting their intertwined shadows on the window paper, like a perfectly composed painting, a painting of raging waves and hands tightly clasped together.