What do you need me to do?

Shen Jintang suddenly leaned forward, her fingertips slightly digging into her palm.

Gu Zhixing suddenly opened his eyes, his long eyelashes casting a trembling shadow beneath them. A hint of unexpected surprise flashed in his eyes, like a night butterfly startled by a candlelight. That flicker quickly sank into the depths of his eyes, transforming into a gentle whirlpool.

"I don't need anything." His voice was soft, but the last syllable sounded like it carried a thousand pounds of weight.

As he raised his hand, a wisp of agarwood fragrance wafted up from it. His slender fingers paused slightly in mid-air before gently brushing away the stray strands of hair that fell beside her temple.

The touch of his fingertips brushing against her earlobe was lighter than a spider's silk, yet Shen Jintang felt as if the inch of skin he touched was burning.

“Gu Zhixing.” She suddenly grabbed his sleeve, the brocade fabric making a soft rustling sound under her fingertips. His wrist, hidden in the sleeve, was thinner than she remembered, the jagged knuckles digging into her palm. “Look at me as you speak. I want to hear the truth from you.”

The carriage rolled over a protruding bluestone, and the carriage lurched violently. Gu Zhixing instinctively reached out to protect her lower back, the warmth of his palm burning against her skin through her thin spring dress.

Morning light peeked through the gaps in the swaying carriage curtain, cutting a line of light and shadow across his profile—the illuminated half was as warm and smooth as jade, while the half hidden in the shadows was as cold and sharp as a knife.

"Tangtang." His sigh-like whisper came through the creaking of the carriage shaft. He held the name between his lips, which was as tender as honey, yet also like a poisoned blade. "You should believe me."

Shen Jintang suddenly noticed a tiny beauty mark under his left eye, hidden in the shadow cast by his eyelashes. The once dashing young man, when he smiled, had never shown this flaw; now, this pale mask gave the mark a cruel beauty.

"Believe what of you?" She suddenly moved closer, her nose almost touching his. "Believe that you will obediently wait for the court to investigate the case? Believe that you can watch Ye Qingzhou die unjustly and do nothing..."

Gu Zhixing suddenly gripped the back of her neck, the force so strong that it made her gasp for breath. In this almost imprisoning position, his thumb gently caressed her chin.

"Trust me that I can protect those who deserve it." He looked down at her, their breaths mingling so close that Shen Jintang could see her reflection in his pupils, like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. "Including you."

Suddenly, the shouts of a flower seller came from outside the carriage, breaking the stagnant atmosphere inside.

When Gu Zhixing let go, the cloud pattern embroidered with gold thread on the cuff hooked a strand of her hair, the subtle tug feeling like a silent plea to stay.

"Tangtang." When he called her by her nickname, the last syllable of his voice dropped slightly, like a feather gently brushing against his heart, yet carrying a heavy sense of helplessness. His fingertips traced the wrinkles between her brows, as if smoothing out a crumpled page of a letter.

“You need to know clearly that my mother is the Princess Zhenguo, personally appointed by the late Emperor.” His thin lips were almost touching her earlobe, and every word he uttered felt like it had been soaked in ice water. “Even if I burn the Eastern Palace to ashes, she still has the ability to save my life.”

His thumb traced the furrowed brow, the touch as gentle as if he were caressing fragile porcelain: "But you are different."

Shen Jintang's pupils contracted slightly. She certainly understood what he meant by leaving things unsaid.

The current princess does indeed possess extraordinary abilities and can certainly save Gu Zhixing's life, but she is merely a pawn. Once the truth comes out, the covetous forces in the court will surely push her out to quell public anger.

Shen Jintang suddenly broke free from his grasp, her fingernails leaving a red mark on his wrist. She saw her pale reflection flickering in his suddenly contracting pupils, like a butterfly trapped in amber.

"Gu Zhixing!" Her voice trembled. "Do you think I care about this? Or do you think I'm afraid of dying?"

“But I care!” He suddenly raised his voice, then abruptly stopped. His Adam's apple bobbed violently, as if he were trying to swallow back some surging emotion. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse: “I’m scared… terrified.”

The sound of the carriage rolling over the bluestone slabs suddenly became deafening. Shen Jintang saw a drop of sweat slide down his forehead, along his taut jawline, and into his collar.

"So when do you plan to make your move?"

Gu Zhixing's fingers stiffened slightly inside his sleeve, then he casually smoothed out the wrinkles on his clothes. A faint smile curved his lips, but his eyes remained unfathomable: "You're overthinking it. I won't make a move at this critical juncture."

Shen Jintang stared at him for a long time, then suddenly reached out and pressed her hand against his heart.

This overly intimate gesture caused both of them to freeze in place.

She felt the rapid pulse under her fingertips and suddenly laughed: "When you lie, this pulse beats especially fast."

The wind lifted a corner of the carriage curtain, and the blinding sunlight shone directly on his suddenly pale lips.

The moment he turned his face away, Shen Jintang caught a glimpse of the undercurrent surging in his eyes—it wasn't calmness at all, but rather the suppressed calm before a storm.

Why not take action now?

Shen Jintang sneered inwardly.

Everyone knows that Ye Qingzhou assassinated the Crown Prince immediately after his death, which was tantamount to revealing his identity.

Everyone in the Crown Prince's residence was on edge; even the cooks from the Eastern Palace had to be searched three times before entering or leaving.

To attempt an assassination in such a tense and suspicious environment would seem like walking into a trap to an ordinary person.

When has Gu Zhixing ever played his cards according to common sense?

Shen Jintang still remembers one spring hunt when everyone said there were fierce tigers roaming the Western Hills and advised him to take a detour. But he insisted on going in alone, not only escaping unscathed but also bringing back a complete tiger skin. Afterwards, he said with a smile, "It was precisely because everyone felt it was dangerous that the beast was most relaxed."

“Gu Zhixing,” she softened her tone, her fingertips gently hooking his sleeve, “still won’t tell me the truth?”

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