There was no way she would enter through the main gates. That would mean sending in a name card, waiting for the steward to pass word, walking through one gate after another, and by the time she reached Li Ce, the entire Prince Zhao's residence would know she had come. So Ye Jiao chose to scale the wall.
Li Ce's courtyard was adjacent to the perimeter wall. It was broad daylight and the guards were lax. Ye Jiao, agile and deft, vaulted over without even disturbing the grass atop the wall.
It was the warmest time of an autumn afternoon. Servants and maids were taking turns at their meals, and only two or three people lingered in the yard—one drying medicinal herbs, two guarding the entrance. At the sight of her, one of the gatekeepers pointed and drew breath for a shout, only to be hushed by Ye Jiao.
"Not a word," she whispered, "I'm going to see your prince."
Of course, the guards recognized her, and they were well aware that the chests of golden jewelry brought into the manor lately were all for her. Hearing her words, they dared not raise alarm. One of them hastened to open the door for her, but Ye Jiao waved him off.
She had come for the element of surprise.
What would Li Ce be doing now? Playing chess? Reading? Or perhaps napping?
Ye Jiao gently pushed open the door and tiptoed in. The room was tidy, the curtains lightly swaying, but there was no one in sight. She peered behind the screen and finally saw Li Ce sitting quietly at the edge of the bed, holding a hairpin in his hand.
It was breathtakingly beautiful.
A golden phoenix inlaid with turquoise, wings poised to take flight, held a dangling pearl tassel in its beak. In the dim interior light, it gleamed brilliantly, as if it had draped itself in every glimmer of radiance in the room—arrogant, dazzling, impossible to ignore.
Li Ce was gazing at the hairpin with a faint smile on his lips, seemingly lost in thought.
Whose hairpin was it? Which woman had gifted it to him?
Ye Jiao clutched the screen tightly, a surge of jealousy flooding her chest, making it hard to breathe. Strange. Her sister had once said that when you liked someone, you wanted to be near them. So why did she only want to punch him?
Hearing the sound, Li Ce looked up and saw her. In an instant, he hid the hairpin behind his back, flustered, startled, looking exactly like a guilty thief.
"Jiao Jiao…" A faint flush crept onto his pale face. Standing at the bedside, he said, "You've come?"
She had. Wonderful.
He was just about to confess his feelings, to ask if she would marry him. He had to be sure before requesting his father's decree.
But Ye Jiao strode forward with quick steps.
"Don't let me interrupt your daydreaming," she said coldly. "I just came to try something. Once it's done, I'll leave."
Try what?
Li Ce stood frozen in place, uncertain of what to do. Ye Jiao had already approached and seized the sleeve of his robe. Her expression was solemn—so serious it left no room for error. There was even something sacred about it, as if they had suddenly stepped onto an altar where thousands knelt, offering sacrifices and awaiting the divinations of the heavens.
Under such grave tension, Li Ce dared not move, only watching Ye Jiao in silence.
One hand gripped his sleeve; the other rested over her own heart.
What was she doing?
Li Ce looked at her, curiosity piqued, though his face remained composed. His heart, however, felt as though it hovered ten thousand meters in the sky, ready to plummet at any moment. Nervous. Nervous to see what this peculiar girl would do next.
And indeed—
"Nothing," Ye Jiao said, shaking her head.
"Nothing what?" Li Ce asked.
"Don't speak," she murmured.
Her peach blossom eyes, always tinged with a dreamy allure, blinked slowly. Her long lashes cast gentle shadows on her fair skin. She released his sleeve and took hold of his arm, her touch feather-light, as though afraid she might break him.
In that instant, Li Ce's heart, suspended in the clouds, seemed to plunge into a vat of potent wine—intoxicated, dizzy, falling fast.
Ye Jiao lifted her head to look at him and whispered, "It does seem a bit fast."
And if…
Her cheeks turned pink. Her body, unbidden, leaned closer to him. Though her feet remained still, her head and shoulders drew nearer.
Li Ce stood stiffly, unsure what to say or do.
"Sisi," Ye Jiao sighed, "my heart is beating so quickly."
Indeed it was.
Faster than a carriage drawn by nine galloping horses—only this one wasn't on smooth roads but racing along a rocky, uneven path.
Her voice was soft, sweet, and warm, like spun sugar wrapped in drifting clouds. It enveloped Li Ce entirely.
"So is mine," he whispered, lowering his head. Gently, he reached out to support her arm, his lips nearing her forehead.
She must like him—why else would she get so close?
But before he could kiss her, she pulled away.
As if completing some great mission, she took a step back and said, "Alright. I like you. But you like someone else, so there's no reason for me to cling."
She turned to leave, but the trailing sash of her robe was already caught in Li Ce's grip.
She had never expected such strength from someone so frail.
Li Ce tugged the sash sharply, pulling her into his arms with such force she spun around and fell onto him.
But he was indeed unwell, and Ye Jiao strong. She knocked him backward onto the silk-covered bed—her own gift to him—which now bore the weight of both.
Her chin pressed against his collarbone. Tangled up with him in such a manner, she tried instinctively to rise, only for him to hold her fast.
"Don't go," he said, breathless. "I don't love anyone else. I only love you."
"Liar!" she snapped. "That hairpin—was it mine?"
She was furious—and stunning.
"It's yours. I bought it for you," Li Ce said with conviction.
It was hers. A token he had prepared as a betrothal gift.
But she was a headstrong girl. She tried to flee again, pushing against his chest, her knee colliding sharply with his hip.
Li Ce let out a muffled groan, brows knitting in pain. Only then did Ye Jiao calm down.
"Are you alright?" she asked, panicked.
"I…" Li Ce struggled to lift his head, like a man freezing to death seeking warmth. He pressed his forehead against hers, lips drawing close.
"I want to…"
His kiss landed gently on her cheek—just a touch—and both of them flushed scarlet.
Ye Jiao rolled off him and collapsed at the bedside, hugging her knees, her face stricken.
"This is the end," she said in despair. "It's all over…"
Li Ce sat beside her, breathless. "I'll take responsibility."
Ye Jiao buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to be a widow."
She was so full of life, anyone could see she would outlive him by decades.
Her words struck a nerve. Li Ce's star-bright eyes dimmed. His hand slipped from the hem of her robe as he whispered in defeat, "I'm sorry. I…"
The sorrow in his voice was crushing—like a child who knew he had erred.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this."
He shouldn't have loved her. Shouldn't have hoped. He had forgotten—he was ill, with no idea how many years remained.
"Why are you apologizing?" Ye Jiao looked up, the shyness gone. Her clear eyes were filled with gentle sincerity.
"I was just thinking…" she said, slightly embarrassed yet resolute, "since I don't want to become a widow, is there any way I could give you some of my years? I won't live to be a hundred. I'll give you thirty. How about that?"
Give him her years? Thirty whole years?
Tears welled in Li Ce's eyes. He turned and pulled her into his arms, holding her as tightly as his failing strength allowed.
"There's no need," he choked out. "I don't want your years. I'll try to live longer—ten years, twenty years, whatever I can manage. Just… please don't turn away from me."
He had never cared what others thought. He didn't care if they called him a ghost or an invalid—such names never shortened his life.
But right now, more than anything, he wished he could live just a little longer.
Even just one more day.