Yan Xiurong asked, "Uncle Qian, if the East Lin people learned there was a First Prince in the camp, would they have a better chance of success by capturing him to threaten the Imperial House, or by capturing me to threaten Father?"
Steward Qian's gaze was deep. "He would certainly be more useful to them than you."
"A man won't risk his life for someone else without a reason. The only way is to make him fall in love with me in the little time I have."
As Yan Xiurong spoke, she looked back at the bowl of porridge. "Make him willingly let the East Lin people capture him for my sake. Then I can find an opportunity to escape and reunite with Father."
The letter Father had sent her had suggested roughly such a strategy.
But she had already decided on this course several days ago.
She remembered searching for her embroidery then, unable to find that silk tree flower handkerchief anywhere, before suddenly recalling that it seemed to have been in Xia Qianhui's mouth.
A plan had already formed in her mind at that moment.
She had timed Xia Qianhui's return of the handkerchief precisely, pretending she could do nothing for herself to stir his pity.
When Father had not come last night, she had indeed been somewhat disappointed, but ordinarily, she would have simply sighed, washed up, and gone to bed.
Yet when she stepped out of her room, she could clearly sense that Xia Qianhui was still nearby.
So she had cried and shown her vulnerability.
Sure enough, she had stirred his sympathy.
Then there had been their conversation on the mountaintop, followed by the two of them pulling each other along as they fled back to the courtyard.
Yan Xiurong could clearly see from his