Duan Ling received the news with an unruffled calm, unhurriedly placing the portrait back in the room before following the servant out.
They were in the rear courtyard, while Ta Xuening had stormed into the front courtyard with his entourage.
Lin Ting paused to consider, then trailed behind, curious about Ta Xuening’s intentions today.
The front courtyard was a tense tableau, with the Imperial Guards standing expressionless, hands resting on the hilts of their embroidered spring dagger, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.
Across from them stood Ta Xuening’s men, an unspoken challenge in the air.
Lin Ting stepped into the scene and immediately spotted Ta Xuening lounging on a stone bench in the courtyard, basking in the sun as if he owned the place.
Having just seen Ying Zhihe’s portrait, she couldn’t help but steal a few extra glances at him.
Ta Xuening leaned back against the stone table, bundled tightly in layers of clothing, his hands tucked into a hand warmer, hidden from view.
His pale, almost feminine face seemed even more gaunt, drained of color, and despite the heavy garments, he appeared not bloated but frail, as if a gust might carry him away.
Lin Ting couldn’t shake the question: was Ta Xuening truly the long-lost Ying Zhihe?
Duan Ling approached with measured steps, looking down at him with an air of authority.
“What brings the Factory Supervisor here today, with such a crowd in tow?”
Ta Xuening’s lips curled into a sly, chilling smile.
“His Majesty has once again tasked the Eastern Factory to assist the Imperial Guards. I came to inquire if Commander Duan has uncovered anything of note.”
He flicked his gaze toward his men and said, “As for them, I’ve made many enemies over the years. I need protection, not to threaten you, Commander.”
With a wave, he dismissed his entourage to wait outside the courtyard.
Lin Ting’s lips twitched.
Ta Xuening’s grand display today screamed trouble, no matter how he dressed it up.
Duan Ling signaled for the Imperial Guards and the household servants to withdraw as well, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“So, it’s official business. But if it’s official, why not wait for me at the yamen? I’m not on duty today and won’t be there until tomorrow.”
Ta Xuening inclined his head, feigning contrition.
“My oversight, then.”
Duan Ling’s gaze sharpened and he asked, “By the way, I heard you visited the other day as well. What was the purpose then? Also official business?”
Ta Xuening, unfazed by the fact that Duan Ling knew, replied smoothly, “I’ve taken a liking to Miss Lin Qi. Hearing she was in Ancheng, I thought I’d pay a visit.”
Lin Ting blinked, incredulous.
‘A liking?’
They’d barely met a handful of times, exchanged even fewer words.
Were all Eastern Factory men this shameless?
She was utterly baffled.
Duan Ling’s smile didn’t waver.
“How thoughtful of the Factory Supervisor to check on her so soon after arriving in Ancheng, and with such… attentive words.”
Ta Xuening cast a lazy glance at Lin Ting.
“Pity she didn’t take my words to heart. She clings to a blade of grass, mistaking it for treasure, blind to the real gems around her.”
Lin Ting’s expression was indescribable.
His cryptic remarks were nonsense—she’d have to be brainless to take them seriously.
Duan Ling caught a leaf drifting from a nearby tree, a small green insect crawling along its edge.
He studied it with a faint smile and asked, “Has it occurred to you, Factory Supervisor, that what you deem treasure might be mere grass in another’s eyes?”
Ta Xuening’s eyes narrowed, raking over Duan Ling’s face.
In his mind, Lin Ting was simply dazzled by Duan Ling’s handsome exterior.
“Grass or treasure, time will tell.”
Duan Ling only smiled, saying nothing.
Ta Xuening shook out his fur-lined cloak and rose.
“Since Commander Duan isn’t working today, I won’t impose further.”
“Safe travels, Factory Supervisor,” Duan Ling replied.
Lin Ting, who had remained silent, echoed softly, “Safe travels.”
Ta Xuening glanced at her.
He’d received word that Lin Ting had been abducted by a general under Xie Qinghe’s command, and that Jin Anazi was now recovering in a military camp, where they were pressing him to reveal the location of a hidden treasury.
Greed, as ever, drove men to overreach.
Ta Xuening, too, wished for Jin Anazi to harbor thoughts of restoring his fallen dynasty, but not through coercion.
Who were these men to threaten a prince?
The former dynasty might be gone, but in Ta Xuening’s heart, Jin Anazi remained the true royal bloodline.
A pack of ants, riding a fleeting breeze to high places, deluded themselves into thinking they were untouchable.
They didn’t fear being crushed, their bones ground to dust.
Ta Xuening’s expression grew colder.
Had he not secretly aided their rebellion, would they have swept so easily into Ancheng?
To dare target Jin Anazi—they’d best weigh whether they could bear the consequences.
They were lucky they still served a purpose in his plans, or Ta Xuening would ensure they didn’t see another dawn.
Lin Ting, safely returned after her abduction, appeared unharmed today, suggesting Jin Anazi was still safe in the camp, untouched for now.
Ta Xuening withdrew his gaze from her, turning to leave.
Duan Ling’s voice cut through the air.
“Ying Zhihe.”
Ta Xuening froze mid-step, then turned back.
“What did you just say, Commander?”
The green insect fell from the leaf, squirming on the ground.
Duan Ling lifted his boot slightly, pressing down with ease, crushing it.
“Have you heard of Ying Zhihe, Factory Supervisor?”
Ta Xuening remained composed, countering, “Heard of him or not, what of it? Has His Majesty tasked you with investigating him?”
“No, not His Majesty,” Duan Ling replied.
“I’m investigating him out of personal curiosity.”
Ta Xuening idly adjusted his hand warmer, his tone casual.
“I’ve heard of him—a man long vanished. Why the sudden interest, Commander? Does he have ties to Ancheng?”
Few knew of Ying Zhihe, but it wasn’t unheard of for seasoned officials to have caught wind of his name.
Lin Ting studied Ta Xuening’s face for any flicker of emotion, but his expression remained icy, unreadable.
Duan Ling met his gaze.
“Whether he’s tied to Ancheng, I don’t know. My interest in Ying Zhihe stems purely from curiosity.”
Ta Xuening shrugged, as if the name held no weight.
“I know little of him, just rumors. If you’re investigating, I’m afraid I can’t be of help.”
He didn’t linger any long and left the courtyard.
Lin Ting’s voice was cautious as she asked, “Probing him so directly—won’t that tip him off?”
Duan Ling’s reaction was nonchalant.
He reached out, tucking a stray strand of Lin Ting’s wind-tousled hair behind her ear, his warm fingertip brushing her cool earlobe.
The contrast sent a shiver through her.
“Perhaps he’ll falter under pressure, revealing more than he intends.”
Her earlobe tingled, pulling her mind back to the previous night.
They’d made love three times—her beneath him the first, then astride him for the next two.
Halfway through, Duan Ling would sit up, murmuring as he kissed her cheeks, her earlobes, while she sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist.
He seemed particularly fond of her earlobes, kissing them when he withdrew, only to return to them again, a rhythm that built until the final moment when he buried his face in her shoulder, lips pressed tight, trembling with soft, uncontrollable sounds.
That morning, Lin Ting had checked the mirror and found her earlobes still flushed—not from bites, but from the lingering heat of his kisses, much like the redness that bloomed after their long, deep kisses.
She pushed the memory aside, rubbing her earlobe as Duan Ling smoothed her hair.
Focusing on the matter at hand, she said, “If he is Ying Zhihe, becoming the Eastern Factory Supervisor might be part of a vendetta for his family. If he thinks you’ll report this to His Majesty, what if he decides to silence us?”
Duan Ling caught her repeated use of “us,” his eyes crinkling with a faint smile.
“Then we’ll see if he’s capable of it.”
A Imperial Guard approached from the courtyard’s edge and said, “My lord, the Crown Prince has sent someone. He wishes to see you.”
Lin Ting’s ears perked up, listening intently.
The news of Jin Anazi’s failed assassination attempt hung heavy in the air.
Gravely wounded, he remained bedridden, unable to rise.
The Crown Prince, though less severely injured, was far from unscathed and had spent the past few days secluded, nursing his wounds and receiving few visitors.
His sudden summons for Duan Ling could only mean something urgent was afoot.
Duan Ling, ever composed, asked the question burning in Lin Ting’s mind.
“Did the Crown Prince’s messenger say what this is about?”
The Imperial Guard shook his head.
“No details were given.”
Duan Ling gave a soft hum, ready to follow the guard out, but Lin Ting instinctively grabbed his arm.
“You haven’t eaten yet. Why not have a meal first?”
The messenger had only said the Crown Prince wished to see him, not that it was immediate.
A brief delay wouldn’t hurt, surely.
She herself grew ravenous after missing a single meal, and Duan Ling, with his relentless schedule and underlying ailments, risked more than just hunger.
Did he not fear ruining his health?
Duan Ling glanced back at her hand on his sleeve, a flicker of warmth in his eyes.
He stayed, dining with her before setting off to meet the Crown Prince.
***
Left to her own devices, Lin Ting grew restless.
Tired of poring over storybooks, she sent a servant to fetch clay for crafting figurines, eager for a new distraction.
Just as she was about to mold a likeness of Duan Ling, a few servants returned, breathless.
“Someone’s here to see you, miss.”
Lin Ting froze, a clump of clay in her hands.
“Who would come for me?”
She was a stranger in Ancheng.
Jin Anazi was still in Xie Qinghe’s camp, and Ta Xuening had only just left.
It couldn’t be Xie Qinghe either—not after Duan Ling had wounded him the previous night.
She kneaded the clay, cautious she asked, “Man or woman?”
A servant replied, “A woman.”
“Did she say anything else?”
The servants exchanged glances before one replied, “She claims to be a princess.”