It’s so easy to fool a young lady’s heart. A youth in fine clothes rode past the wall on his spirited horse, drew his sword, and slew the snake beside her — and just like that, she gave her whole heart away, without reservation, and had kept giving it for all these years.

How could Madam Yao not know he already had a childhood sweetheart? But in her dreams, turning over and over, it was always his face she saw. Once she liked him, she liked him — what could she do about it?

She had known all along that she would die by his hand sooner or later. Only now that the day had truly come, she found her heart still held resentment.

Why…

“My lady always imagines this old man as some immortal,” Li Shoutian said, watching the tears in her eyes, and gave a faint laugh as he lowered his gaze. “In my lady’s eyes, if this old man was righteous and chivalrous for one day, he ought to remain so his whole life — and if he ever takes one wrong step, he deserves ten thousand deaths.”

“But my lady, this old man is only a mortal. A mortal cherishes his own life, weighs his choices, and sometimes betrays. My lady has always liked to corner this old man until he has no way out, to force him to abandon the woman who shared his hardships, to draw out his most ordinary side — and then my lady would laugh and say, see, you truly are just a mortal.”

“Of all the people living in this world, who isn’t a mortal? Had I lived an ordinary life, I would naturally have cherished Madam You and treasured Madam Zhuang. But my lady destroyed all of that with her own hands — and still turns around to blame this old man for being heartless?”

“In this old man’s whole life, the only person he ever failed was my lady, and truly failed her. But that debt was already settled, back on the very first day my lady forced this old man’s hand.”

The ink-black hair of his youth had long since turned gray, and the once flawless young man now bore wrinkles. He was no longer the man he had been, yet the words he spoke made Madam Yao feel, in a daze, as though this were not the cold palace at all, but the wall outside the courtyard from all those years ago.

“You’ve always had a honeyed tongue, spinning heaven and earth with your words.” She shook her head. “Your own choices — how can you blame them on me?”

The man before her fell silent. The light outside caught his graying temples, and he let out a long sigh.

It had been his own choice. Call him incompetent, call him a coward — between the hundred-odd members of the Li family and Madam You, he could not choose the latter. After Madam You died, he never again slept a full night’s sleep. He had thought that all these years of coldness might at least protect Madam Zhuang, but in the end, he had protected no one at all.

His eyes reddened faintly. Li Shoutian cupped his hands toward the throne above and turned to leave.

“Lord Li.” Madam Yao called out to him in a panic.

His steps halted, but Li Shoutian did not turn around. Madam Yao stared blankly at his back, not even knowing herself why she had called out to stop him.

Fortunately, he had no wish to linger. Without waiting for anything further, he strode straight out.

Outside, the daylight was bright, tracing his figure into a silhouette that scattered and vanished the moment the wind blew. Madam Yao stared blankly after him, and still could not hold back her temper, cursing: “You deserve to be lonely to the end of your days — who wants you coming around here!”

In the silent cold palace, no one answered her words — only the sound of footsteps in palace shoes, drawing nearer, step by step.

***

When winter came to the capital, Huayue’s belly had grown visibly round. Li Jingyun had already moved her into the newly repaired residence. She knelt in the Buddhist hall and bowed respectfully to the nameless memorial tablets above.

These were the tablets offered for Yin Ninghuai and for her father the emperor and her mother the empress — tablets that could bear no names, but which she bowed to morning and night, without ever missing a single time.

Li Jingyun stood behind her and watched. When she finished the ritual, he helped her up and they walked out together.

“Word just came from the palace — Madam Yao has killed herself.” He looked out at the gloomy sky, expressionless, as though merely making idle conversation. “The Yao family has been demoted, some, and executed, others. A wretched end all around.”

Huayue breathed into her palms and rubbed her hands together. “Good riddance.”

Li Jingyun shot her a glare. “And you dare say such a thing.”

“Young master said it himself — this humble one’s belly is precious, so no matter what, you won’t do anything to me. So while it’s still attached, I might as well speak my mind a bit more.” She narrowed her eyes and smiled. “This humble one’s wish has been fulfilled.”

Hearing those last four words, the corner of Li Jingyun’s mouth curved up as well. He turned his head away and gave a short laugh. “Wait until spring when you give birth to my heir — then I’ll settle accounts with you.”

He liked to threaten her like this. Wen Guzhi had come to talk to him about it recently, saying that even though his sister-in-law seemed docile now, she was still someone who had been through a great deal — if he really scared her off, where would he go to cry?

Li Jingyun paid it no mind. He only said such things with his mouth — when had he ever actually done anything to her? She had disrupted his plans, plotted against the crown prince, and though he’d been furious, he had never actually made her clean up the mess alone. When Shen Zhiluo came under suspicion and needed to extricate himself, hadn’t Li Jingyun put in a good word for him too?

In the capital these days, who dared provoke the Third Young Master? And yet here she was, not knowing when she was well off, still refusing to soften toward him.

Still, compared to how cold and stiff things had been at the start, Huayue seemed to have changed somewhat as her belly grew larger. Occasionally she was willing to lean against him and chat about small household matters, and sometimes late at night she would bring him soup and water, or grind ink and trim the lamp wick for him.

Though she still wouldn’t let him off easily with her words, Li Jingyun was, in fact, quite content with the way things were now. As long as she stopped causing trouble, whatever had happened before, he could let it all go.

He would even shield her from trouble, if she had any.

Ever since they’d moved into the new residence, more people came and went through the household, and no small number of snakes and rats had tried to slip in among them, hoping to disturb her peace. Li Jingyun quietly dealt with every one of them. Without his permission, not even a fly could get into the courtyard where she lived.

He was quite satisfied with this residence — but it made things difficult for certain other people.

According to the original plan, Sun Yaozu had intended to use the momentum of the Fifth Prince to rebuild his influence right after the crown prince’s death, which would require Huayue to do a great deal of bridge-building on his behalf. But ever since they moved, Sun Yaozu had been unable to reach Yin Huayue at all. No matter how many people he tried through, none of them could get past the impenetrable walls of the new residence.

He turned to try contacting Shen Zhiluo instead, but that gentleman, upon hearing that someone at home was throwing a tantrum and had gone off to Jiangnan, had chased after her without a word, and no number of carrier pigeons could pull him back.

Even more infuriating was Chang Gui. He had been holding so much material in hand, thinking he was about to make a great move — but the moment Zhou Heshuo died, he went and stole and burned the corpse instead, got caught by the capital’s magistrate office, and was thrown into death row.

Sun Yaozu was utterly lost. He had thought that once the crown prince of Great Liang died, it would mark the beginning of his own return to power — but the three people who mattered most to that plan had all run into trouble at exactly this moment.

Helpless, he could only storm off angrily to find Yin Ru.

Great Wei would surely return. His glory and splendor, his golden halls and jade chambers — sooner or later, they would all return.

***

When she was over eight months along, Huayue received a letter sent from Jiangnan by Su Miao.

The capital had been embroiled in months of bloody turmoil over the deaths of Zhou Heshuo and Madam Yao, but according to the letter, Jiangnan was all sunrise-red river blossoms, orioles singing among green willows, scenery without end.

“What did she say?” Li Jingyun hung his robe on the screen and glanced at her.

Huayue rubbed her belly and answered, “She says life in the small Jiangnan town is peaceful, going quite well. Also, Shen Zhiluo tore up her divorce letter, and the two of them plan to keep muddling along together.”

“No backbone at all,” Li Jingyun scoffed. “It’s only been a few months and she’s already forgiven him.”

Indeed — someone ought to learn a thing or two from this young master, who was still sparring with her even now. Huayue only smiled without answering, tucked the letter away, and looked up to ask him, “Are you free of business today, young master?”

“Stole half a day of leisure, meant to go drinking with Wen Guzhi, but it looks like rain out there, so I figured I’d just sit here and look at you instead.” He looked her over and drawled lazily, “Tsk, not much to look at either.”

A woman heavy with child — hands, feet, face, not a single part of her that wasn’t swollen. How could she possibly look good? Huayue frowned, picked up a mirror for a glance, and her eyes immediately reddened.

His heart gave a lurch. Li Jingyun pressed his lips together and went over to snatch the mirror away, saying with disdain, “What are you looking at yourself for? Li Yun said you’re not supposed to look in mirrors while pregnant. Just sit tight — once the child is born, it’ll be fine.”

Swallowing hard, Huayue said reluctantly, “You should still go out — go drink with Lord Wen. The manager over at Qifeng Tower is also asking you to come look at the accounts.”

…The bit about drinking had just been something he’d said off the cuff — otherwise he couldn’t bring himself to just sit there next to her — but if he really wanted to go drinking now, Wen Guzhi might not even be free.

Guiltily turning his head away, Li Jingyun said, “No point going to Qifeng Tower too often, it’s boring.”

Huayue looked at him, amused. “Spring Blossom and Autumn Moon have fallen out of favor, but there’s still Winter Snow and Summer Sun, aren’t there?”

“When have I ever favored anyone there?” Li Jingyun’s face darkened. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Huayue only smiled without answering. Nearby, Shuang Jiang held her tongue as long as she could before finally speaking up: “Well, what a coincidence — the day before yesterday, some young lady sent hairpins over for the master. The gatekeeper had this servant go fetch them, said it was a token of respect.”

A token of respect with no name and no standing — what was that supposed to mean? Shuang Jiang felt genuinely angry just talking about it. Madam’s mourning period wasn’t even over yet, and here someone was already trying to build connections.

Li Jingyun looked somewhat dazed. He’d been so busy lately, how could he possibly have had time for Qifeng Tower?

Glancing sideways at Huayue on the couch, he found her smiling brightly, seemingly not minding at all — merely using the matter to tease him a little.

Something felt heavy in his chest. Li Jingyun asked her abruptly, “If I brought a concubine home someday, would you smile and accept the gifts just like this too?”

Huayue looked at him, baffled, and nodded. What else could she do besides smile? She herself didn’t even know what kind of relationship she and he had now — she had no extra capacity to care about such things. Besides, the mourning period was still long, and if he wanted to bring someone in, it would only be after she’d given birth anyway.

“Fine,” Li Jingyun nodded. “Then if someone sends you gifts, just accept them — at least it shows people know their place, know how to conduct themselves.”

With that, he flicked his sleeve and turned to walk away.

Shuang Jiang glared furiously, grabbing Huayue’s hand. “You see? This servant told you so — months ago we should have left with Lord Shen. Why did you insist on staying here to suffer?”

Huayue looked at her helplessly. “Lord Shen is not family, and he and the young miss had just reconciled — how could we tag along?”

Wait for what, exactly? Shuang Jiang was anxious. Once the child was born, her mistress would be even more reluctant to leave — and then wouldn’t she just be pushed around every single day?

Compared to her worry, Huayue seemed quite calm. She took out the account book, looked it over, and asked quietly, “The things we bought with that silver earlier — where are they?”

Shuang Jiang answered under her breath, “All arranged, all placed in your dressing box.”