Wang Chong did not know whether Wen Zhiwei had smiled, but he guessed that she surely had.
Wen Zhiwei said calmly, "The Empress has always fostered Wen Zhengchun with the Wen Family. Our cousin Zhengxi raised him single-handedly, and he regards me as his own elder sister, obeying my every word. So he would never imagine that the people closest to him in the world would plot against him."
Wang Chong asked, "He didn't commit many of those crimes. How could he believe he was White Chrysanthemum?"
Wen Zhiwei chuckled softly and said, "After the Empress came of age, her father and brothers grew deeply wary of her. Zhengchun spent years in constant dread, fearing that his imperial grandfather, or even his imperial uncle, would order his execution. It made him as timid as a mouse. Whether he is innocent doesn't matter. He only needs to know that someone means him harm. Saddle him with a serious charge and give him a little scare, and he will naturally do as he's told."
Wang Chong's expression changed slightly. "So the White Chrysanthemum case was only meant to force him out of Chang'an."
Wen Zhiwei said in an utterly level tone, "Would we really kill him with our own hands? Such things dirty the hands terribly. Let the Eighteen Tribes of the Grasslands do it, and afterward, even the Empress will have nothing to say."
Wang Chong asked, "Why tell me something so secret? Even without me, you should have been able to carry it out."
Wen Zhiwei fixed her lovely eyes on Wang Chong through her veil and said, word by word, "A small hitch has now arisen in this matter!"
Wang Chong asked, "What hitch?"
Wen Zhiwei answered, "The Prince of Yan has disappeared."
Wang Chong nearly failed to hold