TRBDM -Chapter 193 A Chaotic Secret Crush

The night breeze carried the faint bitterness of late summer from the courtyard, brushing gently past a few loose strands of hair at Dou Shuxin’s temples.

Her jet-black hair had lost its usual soft luster, hanging listlessly.

Zhao Jingheng stood where he was, afraid of startling her, even slowing his breathing.

After a while, as if she had seen enough, she finally rose to her feet.

The instant she turned around, his breath caught sharply in his chest.

Dou Shuxin did not seem afraid at all. She curved her lips gently and said in a soft voice, “What we think of by day, we dream of by night.”

If this were a dream, she hoped it would last a little longer.

They gazed at each other across the distance. The evening wind stirred their robes, making a faint rustling sound.

Suddenly, Dou Shuxin felt something was off. Today’s “dream” felt far too real.

She thought back—she had woken in the middle of the night, her chest feeling heavy and suffocated, so she had come to the garden for some air.

So this wasn’t a dream at all!

She covered her mouth in disbelief. “Tenth Prince?”

“It’s me.”

His voice was like a clear mountain spring, flowing straight through her heart.

Her heart had already leapt to her throat. Forcing herself not to cry out, she quickly glanced around in vigilance.

“Did someone hurt you again? Where are you injured? I’ll bandage you.”

Every time Dou Shuxin had run into him before, it had been when he was at his most miserable—wounded and in his worst state. So her first reaction wasn’t fear, but the thought that he must be hurt again.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m not injured. I’m fine,” he explained immediately.

She examined him carefully—his face was clean, his neck as well. There were no bloodstains on him, no dirt or dust beneath his outer robe.

Phew—

She let out a long breath. He hadn’t lied. He really wasn’t hurt.

“I passed by the Prime Minister’s residence and wanted to come in to see you.”

At those words, her wildly beating heart gradually calmed. She looked up at the moon, then back at him.

At this hour, he hadn’t entered through the main gate. There was only one possibility—he had climbed over the wall again.

She let out a soft laugh. “Your Highness, the Prime Minister’s courtyard walls are quite high. How did you climb in?”

“I have my ways. Miss Dou needn’t worry.”

“Mm.” She nodded.

The two stood quietly, still keeping the distance between them.

It was the first time Dou Shuxin had looked at him like this, and before long she was the first to retreat.

Her gaze lowered slightly, coming to rest on his sharp, defined jawline.

“Your Highness, early autumn has arrived. The mornings and evenings are cool—remember to wear more layers.”

“I’ll remember.”

After that, Dou Shuxin didn’t know what else to say.

Before, whenever they met, he had been injured. She had been anxious and flustered, wishing she had ten hands to tend to him—there had been no time to think about anything else.

Now she realized that if he wasn’t hurt, she seemed to have nothing to talk about with him.

That kiss at the old residence of the Prime Minister’s household had turned into a distant, unreachable dream.

Clearly, not much time had passed—yet it felt as though a long river of time separated them.

Tap. Tap.

Footsteps sounded.

Zhao Jingheng stepped closer.

“Miss Dou, have you been well lately?”

His voice fell lightly against her heart, leaving it tingling and itching.

“I’ve been well. What about you? I heard you moved back to Qingfeng Hall. In the palace, is there anyone…”

Anyone bullying you?

The first time Dou Shuxin met Zhao Jingheng had been in the palace.

At that time, she had accompanied her nanny into the palace to learn court etiquette and had accidentally noticed the bruised marks on his face.

Back then, she hadn’t known who he was. She had assumed he was some young nobleman from the capital.

She had taken a small jar of bruise ointment from her pouch and quietly pressed it into his hand.

Their first meeting—no words exchanged, only a small jar of ointment.

Later, at the Longevity Festival, Dou Shuxin finally learned that he was the Tenth Prince, Zhao Jingheng.

When Dou Shuxin first met Zhao Jingheng, Consort Shu had just passed away. It was the darkest period of his life.

In the palace, Dou Shuxin ran into Zhao Jingheng several times. Each time she saw him, she could sense a faint sadness about him, and it always made her heart soften.

Later on, Zhao Jingheng took the initiative to request admission to the Imperial Academy. After that, Dou Shuxin never saw him again in the palace.

Three years later, they met once more—at the Flower Festival.

Every time they met, it was always in haste, accompanied by all sorts of dangers. They never even had the chance to calmly exchange a few proper words.

Tonight, at the Prime Minister’s residence, Dou Shuxin felt for the first time that he was safe.

This was her territory. She could protect him.

“Did something happen?” Zhao Jingheng asked.

“Has anyone hurt you?” Dou Shuxin asked firmly.

In the palace, enemies lurked everywhere—it was a hundred times more dangerous than the Imperial Academy.

“Yes. A few days ago, Zhao Jingrui poisoned the food at Qingfeng Hall. Jianxi tasted it for me and was poisoned. His vocal cords were damaged, but he barely survived.”

Zhao Jingheng did not hide anything.

Dou Shuxin’s delicate brows knitted together. As she had guessed, once the Tenth Prince returned to the palace, someone would certainly make a move against him.

Anxious, she asked, “And you? Were you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry. My eldest imperial sister arranged shadow guards for me. They’ll protect me.”

Dou Shuxin looked puzzled.

“The Eldest Princess? Hasn’t she always stayed out of court affairs?”

Zhao Jingheng made a small joke.

“Perhaps because I’m special.”

Dou Shuxin nodded seriously. “That’s right. You are very special.”

Zhao Jingheng couldn’t help but laugh.

For the first time, Dou Shuxin saw him smile up close. When he smiled, he looked especially handsome—his brows lifting slightly, moonlight seeming to gather in his eyes.

In all their years of acquaintance, this was the first time she had seen him smile.

Smiles were contagious. Dou Shuxin found herself smiling as well.

They did not talk much. In tacit understanding, they simply admired the moon together for a while.

It was time for Zhao Jingheng to leave.

Dou Shuxin felt reluctant, but she did not show it on her face.

She forced a faint smile. “Tenth Prince, please take care of your health.”

“Miss Dou, you too.”

Dou Shuxin stood where she was, watching as Zhao Jingheng walked away.

Complicated emotions spread through her heart.

She was both happy and sad.

Happy that he had not been injured this time; sad that their next meeting lay in the distant, uncertain future.

A love born amid chaos and turmoil—one that did not even have the right to be spoken aloud.

The next day, at Mingde Marquis Manor.

After finishing breakfast, Wei Zhaorong prepared to make a trip to the storeroom.

Since the manor had been handed over to Dou Shuyao to manage, she inspected the storeroom every half month.

As the stabilizing pillar of Mingde Marquis Manor, she had to be fully aware of everything happening within it.

Whether it was profit, deficit, or internal loss, she knew it all clearly.

In the storeroom, Xie Chuan and Yan Shoutai were in the middle of inventorying.

The storeroom was checked at a fixed time each month. It used to be done by a person appointed by Dou Shuyao, but later that person became Xie Chuan.

Xie Chuan could never sit still. Rather than having him sit behind a desk working the abacus, it was better to let him run back and forth among the storerooms, taking stock of the goods.

“Mother, what brings you here?”

Xie Chuan set down the account book, casually snatched a palm-leaf fan from a servant’s hand, squeezed in beside Wei Zhaorong, and began fanning her.

Although the height of summer had passed, the lingering heat of early autumn was still formidable.

On inventory days, Xie Chuan’s inner robe would be soaked through, dry, then soaked again—sticky and unbearably uncomfortable.

The moment Wei Zhaorong arrived, his first instinct was to make sure his mother did not suffer from the heat.