Like a nightmare bleeding into reality, the emaciated mad king and his beloved assassin locked eyes.

As if recreating their first meeting, he frowned, confused and silent.

After a while, he opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and broken: “…Wanyin?”

Yu Wanyin tilted her hand, sprinkling the powder from the porcelain bottle, gently covering his wounds.

Crimson blood began to flow, staining the bedding with large patches of red.

Xiahou Dan’s muscles tensed, but his expression barely changed. This pain was insignificant compared to what his brain was experiencing, so faint it was barely there.

He asked again, as if searching for someone: “Wanyin?”

Yu Wanyin smiled: “How are you?”

“…”

Xiahou Dan slowly returned her smile: “I’m fine, and you?”

The palace servants around them kept their heads lowered, none daring to show confusion.

Yu Wanyin had used nearly half the bottle before her strength gave out, and she collapsed beside Xiahou Dan. Xiao Tiancai quickly took the porcelain bottle from her hand.

Yu Wanyin wanted to gesture for him to observe the effect and add more if needed, but when she tried to speak, only a faint sound came out.

Xiao Tiancai said tearfully: “Don’t worry, Your Majesty.”

Yu Wanyin nodded and struggled to hold Xiahou Dan’s hand.

From a distance, a guard came running in panic: “Your Majesty! The mute maid bit open a wax ball hidden in her mouth and killed herself…”

Yu Wanyin’s reaction was calm. When speaking with the mute maid earlier, she had already guessed the outcome would likely be one life exchanged for another. But once the arrow was released, there was no turning back—saving one was better than nothing.

She ignored the guard and turned to gaze intently at the man beside her, trying to firmly remember every detail of his face.

Xiahou Dan’s vision and mind were both clouded; he didn’t understand what she had done, assuming this was just his final moment of clarity before death. He hurriedly told her: “Be well.”

Yu Wanyin smiled weakly: “Mm.”

“Kiss me?”

“Alright…”

Darkness descended.

The wind blew continuously, bringing the first breath of early spring.

One year later.

Imperial Prison.

The dark cell remained cramped and damp, with only a thin line of weak light filtering through the iron bars, illuminating the misshapen shadow in the corner.

Xiahou Bo sat leaning against the wall with his eyes closed—sitting was all he could do—his cracked and bleeding lips moving, muttering something. If anyone came close enough to listen, they would discover he was merely counting continuously.

Without day or night, without sound, with only silent guards occasionally bringing food like slop, Xiahou Bo could only roughly estimate time by counting, to keep himself from falling into the vortex of emptiness and losing his last shred of sanity.

But today was destined to be special.

Footsteps approached the iron bars; someone set down food but didn’t immediately leave.

After a few seconds, the silence that had persisted for a year was suddenly broken: “Your Highness.”

Xiahou Bo paused for several seconds before slowly turning his head.

The visitor called out again with a choked voice and this time Xiahou Bo recognized him—a former subordinate.

Xiahou Bo: “…How did you get in here?”

“I am incompetent, I deserve death!” The old subordinate immediately kowtowed without further words. “The guards here are incorruptible. I waited an entire year, and finally, taking advantage of the chaos outside and wavering hearts, I managed to bribe someone to sneak in and see Your Highness. But they’ll only let me say a few words before chasing me away…”

Xiahou Bo only caught the keywords: “Chaos outside?”

Old subordinate: “Yes. The instructions Your Highness left before last year’s capital chaos, I kept them firmly in mind. After several twists and turns, I won over the Crown Prince and plotted to lead Empress Yu to commit regicide.”

“Did it succeed?”

“There was some mishap. Xiahou Dan died, but that hateful Empress Yu somehow survived and, following Empress Lü’s example, seized power! But heaven has eyes—how could a mere woman rule a country? Last year’s drought caused nationwide chaos.”

“Drought?” Xiahou Bo’s eyelid twitched, vaguely recalling a dream he once had.

Old subordinate: “The fields yielded nothing, and countless people starved to death. They say it’s because the evil empress usurped power, bringing heaven’s wrath. Now there are uprisings and rebellions everywhere. That Empress Yu’s good days will soon end.”

With tears streaming down his face, he said: “I’m contacting Your Highness’s former subordinates, hoping to add fuel to the fire. When Empress Yu is overthrown, we’ll take advantage of the chaos to rescue Your Highness.”

Several footsteps approached. The guards were coming to chase him away.

The old subordinate lowered his voice, hastily leaving one last sentence: “Please take care, Your Highness. Endure for at most another half-year, and it will be time for your comeback…”

He left.

The dark cell returned to deathly silence, even the barely audible counting not resuming for a long time.

After an unknown period, a muffled laugh sounded.

With no one coming to rebuke the prisoner, he continued laughing uncontrollably, gradually evolving into maniacal laughter.

In places he couldn’t see, the guards listened expressionlessly, their eyes unanimously revealing mockery.

Outside the capital.

The spring light was gentle, and all things were coming to life. The usually empty suburbs were today filled with carriages and horses. Ladies and visitors in their finest attire walked in the warm sunlight, stirring up fragrant dust as they passed.

It was the time of the Qingming Festival when people went on spring outings.

After sweeping the graves, people sat on the ground, enjoying sacrificial offerings and wine, laughing and talking merrily, and sharing joy with the departed.

The world of war and chaos in Prince Duan’s ears was now peaceful and tranquil.

Near several impressive new graves in the suburbs, however, there were few people. A group of guards kept onlookers at a distance, with only a few unmarked carriages parked nearby.

Er Lan had cleaned Cen Jintian’s grave, lit incense, and burned paper money for the afterlife.

Someone behind her handed over a bouquet of fresh, dew-laden flowers.

Yu Wanyin: “Here, place them with the offerings.”

Er Lan took them with surprise, noticing a handful of green grains among the flowers, and couldn’t help smiling: “Your Majesty is thoughtful.”

Cen Jintian had held on until the autumn of last year before succumbing to illness.

The drought had arrived as predicted, but the fields everywhere had already followed his instructions, planting large areas of drought-resistant millet and other crops. Combined with the secret stockpiling of grain in all granaries a year in advance, Da Xia was well-prepared, and the famine from the original story never occurred. During the autumn harvest, Cen Jintian had closed his eyes contentedly, surrounded by people.

Er Lan gently placed the bouquet among the offerings, her expression calm: “Brother Cen, the Yan war situation has been settled. Tuer has become the Yan king and has sent another alliance treaty. The era of peace has arrived, and Brother Cen, from here, you can see abundant harvests year after year.”

Not far away, Wang Zhao’s tombstone finally bore his real name. Li Yunxi and Yang Duojie, after paying their respects, invited several young colleagues to drink together. Emboldened by alcohol, they boasted of their friendship with Wang Zhao, pretending to have been close to Lord Wang.

They now held high positions—one in the Ministry of Revenue, finally using the results of his earlier census work to return fields to the people; the other in the Ministry of Personnel, hosting special examinations to select talented individuals. The young officials listened with faces full of admiration, believing every word, nearly taking notes on the spot.

The east wind carried messages; year after year it swept away rouge-colored snow, regardless of the rise and fall of human affairs.

Half of the six scholars they had met on the pleasure boat were now in eternal sleep.

The remaining half lived within the glorious picture they had once depicted.

A flower petal was caught by the gentle breeze and landed in Er Lan’s hair.

Yu Wanyin lowered her hand to pick it out, whispering in her ear: “Li Yunxi has glanced at you several times today. He even asked about you a few days ago.”

Er Lan laughed: “Does Your Majesty intend to play matchmaker?”

“Not quite.” Yu Wanyin pulled her up, indicating she should accompany her for a walk.

The two walked side by side into the flower shade, away from others’ sight. Yu Wanyin said: “This matter requires mutual affection. If you’re not interested, I’ll shield you.”

Er Lan seemed lost in thought: “He spoke to me privately. He said he knows he can’t compare to Brother Cen, but now that Brother Cen has passed, he’s the only one in the court who knows me a little. If I were to retire, I might as well marry him. As husband and wife united in purpose, my ambitions wouldn’t be wasted.”

There are no walls that don’t leak wind. After working together for a long time, people gradually noticed clues and began to suspect Er Lan’s gender. Recently, these rumors have grown stronger, even reaching Yu Wanyin.

It was precisely because Li Yunxi had heard these rumors that he had sought out Er Lan for this conversation, his face as red as Guan Yu’s throughout, not daring to look at her.

This stubborn man who always spoke of rules and propriety—to reach this point, who knows how much determination he had mustered in private.

Yu Wanyin: “But you… still refused?”

Er Lan remained silent for a while, then sighed.

She slowed her steps: “Now that the special examinations have reopened and talented individuals are emerging at court, Er Lan’s departure could be considered a successful retirement. However…” She looked at Yu Wanyin and said slowly, “I’m somewhat concerned about Your Majesty.”

Yu Wanyin felt a warmth in her heart.

Er Lan raised her hand to adjust Yu Wanyin’s hair: “…After all, joint rule by emperor and empress will always invite gossip. Your Majesty’s prestige is currently at its peak, and no one dares to challenge you. But in the future, with countless affairs to manage, if there’s ever a mistake…”

“Mistakes don’t matter,” someone said from the side.

Xiahou Dan walked slowly toward them, having left his guards and attendants at a distance. He had removed his heavy imperial crown, his hair halfbound, his elegant appearance as he walked through the flowers resembling a noble young master who had wandered in by mistake, with an air of refined harmlessness.

But his words continued: “The achievements in civil and military affairs are Her Majesty’s; any small mistakes are mine. When upright officials offer advice, Her Majesty will humbly accept it; if treacherous officials try to exploit the situation, my madness can recur at unpredictable times, and I might ‘accidentally’ kill someone in court.”

Er Lan: “…”

Er Lan hurriedly paid her respects.

Yu Wanyin went to meet him: “Finished paying respects at Bei Uncle’s grave?”

“Yes, I’ve come to take you back to the palace.” Xiahou Dan took her hand, his fingertips scratching her palm twice, his eyes full of affection.

With spring breezes explaining limitless longing.

“Wait a moment, I haven’t finished talking here,” Yu Wanyin squeezed his fingers. “Go wait in the carriage to escape the wind.”

Xiahou Dan refused: “I’ll listen in.”

“Don’t be troublesome, go quickly…”

Er Lan tried hard to pretend she saw nothing.

Yu Wanyin finally pushed Xiahou Dan away and turned to Er Lan: “To be honest, I’m reluctant to let you go. Li Yunxi and Yang Duojie are thriving now—are you content to lose to them?”

Er Lan raised her head in surprise: “But now everyone knows I’m a woman.”

“As it happens, I’m short of people to establish women’s schools throughout the country.”

Yu Wanyin held her shoulders: “Li Yunxi was wrong about one thing—he’s not the only one who knows you. With such ambition in your heart and a place in history, why borrow someone else’s name?”

A moment later, Er Lan walked back with a dazed expression.

The young officials were still picnicking in the original spot. Seeing her return alone, they asked in surprise: “Where is Her Majesty?”

Li Yunxi still felt uncomfortable seeing her, stealing a glance, then lowering his head sullenly to fiddle with his wine cup.

Er Lan: “His Majesty took her away halfway.”

Yang Duojie couldn’t help laughing: “They truly can’t be apart for even a moment.”

“…” Li Yunxi drained his cup in one gulp and said irritably, “Drink!”

In the carriage.

Xiahou Dan: “Did she agree?”

“She said she’ll think about it. She’ll agree.”

Xiahou Dan chuckled softly, then coughed once: “Her Majesty is wise.”

“Did you catch a cold?”

Xiahou Dan paused: “No.”

Yu Wanyin frowned at him.

Xiahou Dan’s smile slowly disappeared, and he guiltily reached for her hand: “It was a bit cold at the grave this morning… I’ll drink ginger soup when we get back.”

Even in the warmth of spring, his fingers remained cold. Yu Wanyin let out a soft sigh, turning her head to lift a corner of the curtain, looking at the quiet greenery along the road.

“Such beautiful spring scenery, don’t frown,” Xiahou Dan said softly. “Hasn’t this year been much better? I’ll accompany you for many more years.”

Yu Wanyin, her thoughts revealed by him, relaxed her brow and smiled.

One year earlier.

After Yu Wanyin rushed to the side hall, the guards followed orders and seized the mute maid. Surprisingly, she remained calm, simply sitting in place quietly waiting.

A moment later, she suddenly collapsed, bleeding from seven orifices.

The guards were shocked. When they pried open her mouth, a broken wax ball rolled out.

The mute maid had only one breath left. The guards hurriedly demanded to know where the antidote was, but she smiled and said: “No antidote… sleep, then better.”

Under the guards’ confused gaze, she silently breathed her last.

Yu Wanyin woke up a day later, indeed completely recovered.

Later, Xiao Tiancai carefully examined the poison powder in the porcelain bottle. Some ingredients indeed came from the palace gardens, but others couldn’t be found anywhere. Only after thoroughly searching the storerooms and noticing the strange smell of a batch of gift boxes did they realize the wood used to make the boxes came from various poisonous trees.

That batch was precisely the congratulatory gift the young Crown Prince had eagerly presented to Yu Wanyin.

Following this clue, they arrested the Crown Prince and his attendants, interrogating them one by one, eventually piecing together the whole truth:

The Crown Prince, seeing his position becoming insecure and even his life in danger, decided he couldn’t wait passively but had to strike first.

Just as he was fretting about lacking an opportunity, the mute maid who had infiltrated the palace approached him. She explicitly stated that she knew how to use poison but lacked several ingredients, needing his help to procure them.

So the Crown Prince, under the guise of presenting gifts, gathered the ingredients for her and gave her an even more perfect plan: rather than directly poisoning the emperor, they would first incapacitate the empress, then use the antidote to coerce her into acting personally.

He not only wanted Xiahou Dan dead but also wanted to make Yu Wanyin kill the emperor herself. This way, even if Xiahou Dan was lucky enough to be protected, they could at least eliminate Yu Wanyin. With even better luck, he might remove both mountains pressing on his head simultaneously.

The young Crown Prince didn’t have such a clever mind. The mastermind behind this scheme was a remnant of Prince Duan’s faction.

It turned out that before Prince Duan’s defeat, he had left a contingency plan, instructing an old subordinate to approach the Crown Prince with advice. This subordinate, as the last chess piece, had hidden deeply for many years, never openly associating with Prince Duan’s party, and had managed to deceive Xiahou Dan’s eyes.

Unfortunately, after the Crown Prince was imprisoned, he fell into despair and, to save his life, immediately betrayed the old subordinate. The subordinate attempted to escape but was captured by guards on the way. After several days of severe torture, he finally surrendered in tears.

There was only one small variable in the whole affair: the mute maid hadn’t completely followed orders.

Not only had she not truly harmed Yu Wanyin, but she had also gone to the small pharmacy first, intending to poison Xiahou Dan herself. After repeated analysis, there was no other explanation for this behavior—it could only be that she wanted to exonerate the empress.

An assassin who hated Da Xia to the bone had reserved her life’s only shred of kindness for Yu Wanyin.

But by the time Yu Wanyin learned all this, the mute maid was already buried.

The young Crown Prince was demoted to commoner status and confined for life in an assigned residence.

As for Prince Duan, Xiahou Dan passionately designed a highly creative gift in return.

Every few months, they would send the old subordinate to perform in the imperial prison, letting Prince Duan repeatedly wait for his grand dream of a comeback. Given Prince Duan’s extraordinary willpower, he would surely endure humiliation for this sliver of hope, eating slop and persevering.

After three to five years, when they could no longer keep up the charade, they would gently tell him the truth.

After returning to the palace, Xiahou Dan indeed pinched his nose and drank a bowl of ginger soup, then conscientiously added a fox fur coat, wrapping himself as if it were winter again.

The poison that had been buried in his body for over a decade had already damaged his constitution. Although it had been resolved most brutally, it had left new aftereffects. He had lain in bed half-dead for half a year, with countless medicinal decoctions poured down his throat, only recently regaining some color.

It was also during this year that the court gradually became accustomed to joint rule by the emperor and empress.

Now that the emperor had returned to his post, Yu Wanyin showed no intention of relinquishing power, still attending court with him daily. The vermilion writings on memorials were all in the empress’s handwriting.

When officials submitted memorials to criticize this, it was Xiahou Dan who first became angry: “The imperial physicians have said that I cannot overexert myself, yet you want me to work alone—are you afraid I’ll live too long?”

The officials mumbled in agreement, not daring to speak further. Perhaps it would take a few more years for them to realize that Xiahou Dan had spoken from his heart.

However, in just this one year, most people had already discovered that although the empress’s handwriting was somewhat ugly, she was indeed the enlightened ruler they had longed for many years—emotionally stable, quick-thinking, appreciative of practical work, disliking disputes. Occasionally she would propose startling initiatives, from such peculiar perspectives that they seemed to transcend this world; but in actual implementation, she was willing to solicit diverse opinions and ask for advice without shame.

She seemed to have rich frontline work experience.

Today was a rest day, and even the palace servants were given half a day off. They were lazily sunning themselves in the imperial garden, with occasional laughter and merriment drifting across.

After the midday meal, the emperor and empress sat opposite each other by the window, calmly drinking tea.