Probing and Declaration
In the distance, the shouts of the search and the light of torches grew closer, and Zongzheng Hengyu was the first to regain his composure.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his turbulent emotions and the sharp pain in his ankle. He loosened his grip slightly, but still maintained the embracing posture, as if to confirm her presence.
He looked down at the woman in his arms, her eyes glazed and her cheeks flushed. His deep eyes held a complex and unreadable mix of emotions: lingering passion, a hint of satisfaction, and his usual calm and scrutiny returning.
"Can you stand up?" His voice returned to its usual coldness, only a little hoarse.
Jiang Wanzhi snapped out of her daze, jerking off his embrace as if electrocuted. She frantically tried to stand up, but stumbled due to her weak legs and the uneven bottom of the pit. Zongzheng Hengyu instinctively reached out to support her arm, his grip firm and steady.
"careful."
Just then, the rescuers finally found their way here. The light from the torches instantly illuminated the somewhat chaotic scene at the bottom of the pit. The two stood side by side, Prince Heng's obviously injured ankle, and Jiang Wanzhi's still swollen lips and her flustered, evasive eyes.
The one in the lead was none other than King Zhaozong, Zhaoran, whose face was filled with anxiety.
"Wanzhi! Ninth Brother! Are you alright?" King Zhao's voice carried just the right amount of concern. He quickly ordered the guards to lower the ropes. "Quick! Pull Miss Jiang up first!"
His gaze swept quickly across the bottom of the pit. When he saw the subtle, ambiguous atmosphere between Jiang Wanzhi and Heng Wang, his pupils contracted almost imperceptibly, but the gentle smile on his face remained unchanged, only the smile did not reach his eyes.
Jiang Wanzhi was pulled up by the guards. The moment her feet touched solid ground, she almost dared not look up at Prince Zhao. A strong sense of guilt and the unease of being "caught red-handed" left her feeling lost and helpless.
"Wanzhi, are you injured?" King Zhao stepped forward and naturally wanted to take her hand to check, his tone full of lingering fear and concern.
Jiang Wanzhi, like a startled rabbit, quickly pulled her hand back behind her back, lowered her head and whispered, "I...I'm fine, thank you for your concern, Your Highness."
This subtle dodge caused King Zhao's outstretched hand to freeze in mid-air. His smile froze slightly, and a cold gloom flashed across his eyes, but it disappeared in an instant, and he still said gently, "It's good that you're alright, it's good that you're alright."
At this moment, Zongzheng Hengyu was also carefully rescued by the guards. His ankle was swollen, clearly indicating a serious injury, and he needed assistance to stand.
However, even in such a disheveled state, his straight back and stern face still exuded an unassailable majesty.
His gaze swept calmly over Prince Zhao, finally settling on Jiang Wanzhi, who was bowing her head. His tone was indifferent, yet carried an invisible power: "Thank you for your concern, Prince Zhao. I am fine. Miss Jiang has been frightened; please take her back to rest."
He didn't glance at Jiang Wanzhi twice, nor did he make any further remarks, as if the terrifying events at the bottom of the pit had never happened. But this deliberate distance, in this situation, seemed more like a silent declaration and protection.
"The Prince's injuries are serious, quickly summon the imperial physician!" King Zhao immediately replied, making meticulous arrangements. "Wanzhi, I will escort you back to your camp."
"No...no need!" Jiang Wanzhi blurted out almost immediately. She couldn't face Prince Zhao at all. "I...I can go back by myself. Your Highness, please go and take care of Prince Heng!"
After she finished speaking, she didn't even dare to look at the two men's expressions anymore. Lifting her skirt, she ran towards the women's tent as if fleeing in panic.
Watching her flee in panic, Zongzheng Hengyu's eyes darkened. He allowed the guards to help him leave, remaining silent throughout.
King Zhaozong stood motionless, the gentle smile on his face finally vanishing completely. He gazed in the direction Jiang Wanzhi had disappeared, then glanced at the departing figure of King Heng being helped away, his eyes so sinister they could drip water.
His carefully cultivated facade of "intimacy" throughout the day was completely shattered by this sudden accident.
He slowly raised the hand he had just tried to grasp Jiang Wanzhi's but failed, his fingertips tightening slightly. Jiang Wanzhi, in the end... you still chose him, didn't you?
...
Jiang Wanzhi fled back to her tent, her heart still pounding. She dismissed the maids and sat alone in the darkness, her fingers unconsciously touching her still slightly stinging lips.
The sensation of Zongzheng Hengyu's kiss, his burning breath, the shattering emotions in his eyes, and the words "Now, do you remember?" repeatedly assaulted her mind like a tidal wave.
"What should I do... what should I do..." She buried her face in her knees, feeling an unprecedented sense of confusion and pressure.
Meanwhile, inside the main tent, the imperial physician was treating Zongzheng Hengyu's foot injury. The tent was brightly lit, and Zongzheng Hengyu sat back on the couch, his face calm, as if the excruciating pain in his ankle did not exist.
Yan Cheng whispered, "Your Highness, Prince Zhao seems to be angry. Miss Jiang hasn't left her tent since she returned."
Zongzheng Hengyu closed his eyes and gave a soft "hmm," his fingertips unconsciously twirling. What floated into his mind were Jiang Wanzhi's hazy, frightened eyes at the bottom of the pit, and the soft touch of her lips.
He knew this move was extremely risky. But King Zhao's relentless pressure today forced him to reveal his hand prematurely. That kiss was his most direct and primal declaration.
Jiang Wanzhi, you can't escape.
…………
Day two in the hunting grounds.
Jiang Wanzhi claimed to be ill and did not participate in the subsequent hunts, locking herself in her tent, her mind in turmoil.
That forceful kiss was like a brand, searing her senses and reason. She couldn't face Prince Heng calmly, and she didn't know how to face Prince Zhao, who had been so considerate to her just yesterday.
In the afternoon, Chun Tao came in looking uneasy and reported: "Miss, the eunuch from Prince Zhao's side has come. He said that His Highness has prepared tea at the 'Listening to the Wind Pavilion' on the east side of the hunting grounds and would like you to come over for a chat. He said that there is some misunderstanding and he would like to clarify it with you in person."
Jiang Wanzhi's heart tightened. What was bound to happen had finally happened. Her instinct was to refuse, but the word "misunderstanding" made her hesitate.
Her reaction yesterday was indeed hurtful. Logically and emotionally, shouldn't she have given King Zhao a chance to explain? Moreover, deep down, she still harbors an inexplicable feeling and guilt towards King Zhao.
After much hesitation, she finally got up, tidied herself up a bit, and headed to the Listening Wind Pavilion with a nervous heart.
Listening to the Wind Pavilion is nestled beside a quiet bamboo grove, far from the hustle and bustle of the campsite.
King Zhaozong sat alone in the pavilion, a simple tea set and a plate of her favorite osmanthus cakes on the stone table. He was not wearing his riding clothes today, but a moon-white long robe. He had lost the heroic spirit of yesterday and gained a touch of melancholy from a scholar.
Upon seeing Jiang Wanzhi, he stood up, a faint smile of bitterness and weariness appearing on his face.
"Wanzhi, you've come." His voice was still gentle, but it sounded hoarse, as if he hadn't slept all night.
"Your Highness." Jiang Wanzhi curtsied, her eyes lowered, not daring to meet his gaze.
"Sit down." King Zhao gestured for her to sit down, and personally poured her a steaming cup of tea, pushing it in front of her. "This is the Lushan Cloud Mist tea that you praised at Qingfeng Tower last time. I had it specially brought here." His thoughtfulness made Jiang Wanzhi feel even more ashamed at this moment.
"Thank you, Your Highness," she whispered, her fingers unconsciously stroking the warm teacup.
A subtle silence spread between the two. The rustling of the bamboo grove accentuated the stillness of the pavilion.
In the end, it was King Zhao who spoke first. His voice was soft, with a cautious probing tone: "Wanzhi, yesterday... it was my fault. I shouldn't have made things so difficult for you in front of everyone."
He paused, his gaze falling on the Hu clothing she was still wearing, his eyes darkening slightly. "That riding and archery outfit... suits you very well. Ninth Brother, you have excellent taste."
He mentioned Prince Heng in a calm tone, but it made Jiang Wanzhi's heart skip a beat and her cheeks flush slightly.
"Your Highness, what happened yesterday was not your fault..." Jiang Wanzhi hurriedly explained, but did not know how to continue.
“No, it’s my fault.” King Zhao interrupted her, raising his eyes to gaze at her intently with a hint of pain. “It’s my fault for being too confident, for thinking… thinking that there would always be more time and more possibilities between us.”
He laughed self-deprecatingly, "It's my fault for not seeing my own heart clearly sooner, and for not... letting you see it clearly either."
His words were frank and heartfelt, tinged with deep disappointment, like fine needles piercing Jiang Wanzhi's heart.
She recalled the ease of their first meeting, his repeated, understated protection, and the laughter and joy in the Liuli Pavilion… Those memories became so clear, yet so heavy.
"Your Highness's kindness to Wanzhi is something Wanzhi will always remember, and I am deeply grateful." Jiang Wanzhi's voice choked with emotion, "But I..."
“Wanzhi,” King Zhao interrupted her, his gaze fixed intently on her, his eyes filled with complex emotions, “I only want to ask you one question: setting aside that imperial decree, setting aside all external factors, in your heart, has there ever been… a place for me?”
His voice was deep and gentle, carrying a hint of barely perceptible hope and nervousness.
Jiang Wanzhi was flustered by his question.
Did she ever have one? Yes, she did.
King Zhao's witty conversation, gentle and considerate nature, and willingness to integrate into her modern thinking—how could such a handsome and refined man not move her heart and make her dependent on him?
But that feeling was completely different from the intense, domineering, and even suffocating palpitations that Heng Wang brought her.
She opened her mouth, the word "yes" rolling on her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Because once she said it, it would mean betraying the kiss from last night, denying her own chaotic emotions.
Her silence, however, became a different answer in King Zhao's eyes. The light in his eyes dimmed little by little, replaced by a deep sense of loss and a trace of resentment.
He suddenly stood up, walked to Jiang Wanzhi, and leaned close to her.
“Wanzhi…” His voice was hoarse with a sense of desperation, his gaze fixed on her slightly trembling lips, “I don’t believe you have no feelings for me…”
As he spoke, he slowly lowered his head and tried to kiss her lips, wanting to use this method to verify her feelings, or rather, to make a final attempt.
Jiang Wanzhi was stunned. As the King Zhao's face drew closer, her mind went blank and her body stiffened, unable to move.
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