The crackling of New Year firecrackers gradually faded away. After the first month passed, the days flew by quickly, and before Chu Zhao knew it, tender green filled the view outside her window.

“Miss A’Tang has sent another letter,” A’Le said, entering with a thick envelope.

There was no grand court assembly today, so Chu Zhao had the rare luxury of sleeping late, waking only when the sun was high. After rising, she wore a simple home dress with her hair casually pinned up, sitting by the window practicing calligraphy.

Hearing A’Le’s words, she set down her brush and reached out to take the letter.

“Look quickly—is the marriage being settled?” A’Le sat across from her, asking curiously.

Chu Tang had gone to the academy during the New Year festival. Just after arriving at the academy, she’d sent a letter confirming her safe arrival—this was the second letter.

Chu Zhao opened the letter to see Chu Tang had first written about the family’s recent situation.

Chu Lan was now wholeheartedly aspiring to be a sage, casting aside worldly wealth and holding fame in even less regard. He was writing books and establishing his legacy, widely accepting disciples, striving to leave his name in the annals of history—not as the Empress’s maternal relative.

“However, Father doesn’t avoid mentioning Uncle and you, and no longer complains like before. Of course, he also doesn’t flaunt his status as the Empress’s elder in an overbearing manner.”

Chu Lan proclaimed that the Chu family devoted themselves wholeheartedly to the nation and people, willing to die for the cause. Chu Ling had sacrificed himself for the country, and the Empress had not failed the late Emperor’s trust, continuing the Chu family’s martial prowess—it would be even better if she read more books.

Chu Lan’s exact words were: “Growing up in the military camp, she neglected her studies. If we’d sent her home earlier, we could have taught her to read more books.”

People who heard this said the Empress had precisely learned her skills in the military, which was why she could fulfill the late Emperor’s trust, defeating Xi Liang and quelling the rebellion.

“Being accomplished in both civil and military arts would be even better,” Chu Lan said solemnly. “As Empress of a nation, governing the world is more difficult than securing it.”

This showed an elder’s strictness toward a junior, as well as his expectations.

Naturally, some suggested inviting Chu Lan to the capital to serve at court—first Chu Ling secured the nation through military might, now Chu Lan could stabilize it through scholarship.

Chu Lan firmly refused to let anyone mention such things again, stating he only knew how to read books, not how to govern. Not only would he not serve at court, but his sons wouldn’t either.

Being able to carry on the academy’s legacy, teaching and instructing students, even if it meant depleting the family fortune—this would be fulfillment enough for father and sons in this lifetime.

These words and his sincere actions made Chu Lan’s prestige in the local area even greater, and scholars from other regions flocked to visit and study with him.

“Father is truly committed to this path,” Chu Tang’s letter carried a note of amusement. “This is the safest and most satisfying aspiration Father has found.”

Chu Lan indeed craved fame and profit—there was nothing wrong with that, as everyone inevitably harbored some greed and desire. But in that previous life, Chu Lan had blamed Chu Ling for his unfulfilled ambitions, single-mindedly trying to gain fame and profit from Chu Ling, not knowing the heights of heaven or the treachery of human hearts, stepping into the mire and seeking his own death.

In this life, he’d been frightened into understanding what he could and couldn’t touch, what he was good at, and what he should do.

Chu Zhao smiled faintly, set aside this sheet, and looked at the next one.

Chu Tang hadn’t been idle these days either, accompanying Chu Lan on visits throughout the local area—to aristocratic families and ordinary people alike, to Chu Lan’s students and fellow scholars of varying backgrounds, all of whom Chu Lan treated equally. Now that he’d achieved prestige and felt content, his mindset had become peaceful, no longer judging others by family status or position.

“The women here are all very familiar with you, the Empress. From the original Chu Garden literary gathering until now, everyone still discusses it with great enthusiasm.”

Chu Tang described in her letter how she’d decided to emulate that precedent and hold a women’s literary gathering at Qiao Mountain Academy.

“Originally it was just to get closer to them and have a little fun, but unexpectedly it spread. Not only local women, but women from surrounding areas all came upon hearing the news.”

“I simply made it a grand affair, with competitions lasting half a month. Now I’m working with everyone to compile the literary gathering into a volume to send you.”

At this point, Chu Tang’s pen took a turn.

“Remember to inscribe it with your calligraphy, then have people in the capital circulate it. I hinted at this to everyone beforehand, and they were overjoyed. Even the men flocked here—though losing would be humiliating all the way to the capital, winning could also be seen by people in the capital. What scholar doesn’t hope for far-reaching fame?”

Reading this, Chu Zhao smiled with pursed lips, set down this sheet, and looked at the next one.

Beyond the excitement, Chu Tang had also used this opportunity to become familiar with the local aristocratic families and common people.

“The Empress’s prestige among the common people is at its peak. Though many feel the Empress’s involvement in government is quite controversial, even more people take pride in the Empress.”

“After this literary gathering, the women all feel much closer to you, the Empress.”

The corners of Chu Zhao’s mouth curved upward again.

“How is it, how is it? Is A’Tang satisfied with that young gentleman?” Seeing her smile, A’Le asked urgently.

Chu Zhao sighed.

A’Le asked nervously, “What? She didn’t fancy him?” She pursed her lips. “Miss A’Tang’s standards were already high, and now with her exceptional status, how could she easily take a liking to anyone?”

Chu Zhao laughed. “I’m sighing because the National Aunt has been busy with affairs of state—she’s written two sheets of paper and still hasn’t mentioned her own romantic matters.”

A’Le understood and laughed too. She knew Chu Tang now served as Chu Zhao’s eyes walking among the people, seeing the greater world.

Chu Zhao looked down at the third sheet and smiled. “This sheet mentions it—she’s preparing to marry.”

A’Le cried out and stood up, unable to hide her excitement, nervousness, and slight disbelief. “Really?”

Really. Chu Zhao looked at the letter as Chu Tang described how she’d met this young gentleman right after returning home, at a family banquet, where he attended as Chu Lan’s personal disciple.

The young man was reserved and quiet. Chu Tang felt indifferent about him—until the literary gathering ended.

Though she was a Commandery Princess, organizing a literary gathering wasn’t so easy. Chu Lan was aloof, fearful of being accused of seeking prestige or flattering the Empress, so he neither obstructed nor helped. Chu Ke had lingering fears about literary gatherings and incited his two younger brothers to oppose it, not helping but actually causing trouble. Though she’d brought Little Rabbit and the others, while they were skilled at assassination and espionage, they couldn’t help at all with organizing a literary gathering.

That young gentleman had silently run errands for her, and even invited many friends to help persuade their families to let their sisters participate.

And all of this was done without Chu Tang’s knowledge.

It wasn’t until after the literary gathering ended that Chu Ke, while quarreling with her, revealed it all.

Chu Tang then arranged to meet with that young gentleman to thank him, and frankly asked with a smile whether he’d done it to please her.

The young man shook his head, then nodded.

“He said he did indeed help because of me, but not to please me. Rather, he wanted to see what kind of person I was, whether I was the wife he admired and wished to marry for life.”

When Chu Tang’s pen reached this point, it must have been beating along with her heart. She wrote—

“He said I was.”

“He said the Miss A’Tang who hosted a women’s literary gathering was completely different from the newly titled Commandery Princess he’d imagined. This young lady wasn’t trying to stand before others, surrounded by admirers demanding attention. She was clever and intelligent, advancing and retreating with propriety, magnanimous yet cunning. She stayed in the background, yet like jade, she was lustrous and eye-catching.”

“He even painted a picture for her, showing her sitting in the flower hall watching several women compete. In the painting, she glowed brilliantly under his brush,” Chu Zhao said softly to A’Le.

A’Le listened entranced, at times covering her face with her hands. “Such embarrassing words—how could he say them!” Then she complained, “How could Miss A’Tang write all these things in such detail! Who wants to hear it!”

Though she said she didn’t want to hear, upon hearing there was a painting, her eyes immediately lit up. “Where’s the painting? Where’s the painting?”

Chu Zhao said, “This painting is A’Tang’s treasure—how could she possibly send it to us?”

A’Le huffed. “Miss A’Tang loves to show off most—she might really send it to make us envious.”

Chu Zhao was amused by her too.

Of course Chu Tang wasn’t showing off—she was simply unable to contain her joy. When truly happy, one wishes everyone could feel one’s delight.

“So it’s mutual affection,” A’Le said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Miss A’Tang is really going to marry.”

Chu Zhao looked at the letter where Chu Tang wrote that she wouldn’t return to the capital for now. They’d chosen an auspicious day in the sixth month for the wedding, then during New Year’s, she and her husband would accompany Chu Lan’s family back to the capital to attend upon the Empress.

“Oh my!” A’Le clapped her hands. “That’s only two months away—we need to prepare Miss A’Tang’s wedding gift.”

Chu Zhao nodded with a smile. A’Le couldn’t sit still and paced around the room in circles.

“We must prepare well—this is our first young lady getting married,” she said. After speaking, she looked at Chu Zhao and paused slightly. Actually, A’Zhao should have been the first to marry, but that was different—the Empress’s wedding was prepared by the court, and she didn’t have to do anything.

No, that’s not right—that wasn’t really marrying out. Miss hasn’t married yet.

Even more wrong—could Miss even marry in the future?

As A’Le stood in a daze, a voice came from outside the door.

“Sister Chu—”

A’Le looked over blankly to see a young boy leaning slightly into the doorway, peering inside.

“A’Yu is here,” Chu Zhao said with a smile.

Xiao Yu stepped in, asking, “Sister, what are you doing?” As he passed A’Le, her staring caught his attention, and he couldn’t help looking at her. “A’Le, why are you staring at me?”

A’Le’s lips moved, as if she hadn’t quite come back to herself, murmuring something unintelligible.

“She received good news and is so busy and flustered that her brain has shut down,” Chu Zhao said with a laugh, gesturing for Xiao Yu to sit beside her.

Xiao Yu paid no more attention to A’Le and said happily, “Ah, good news—how wonderful!”

Chu Zhao laughed at him, tapping his forehead. “I haven’t said anything yet, and you’re already saying ‘how wonderful.'”

Xiao Yu sat down beside her and said earnestly, “Of course Sister’s good news is wonderful!”

Chu Zhao smiled and pointed at the letter before her. “My cousin, A’Tang, is getting married.”

Xiao Yu was delighted. “Really? Congratulations to Sister A’Tang!”

How wonderful—once married, she’d become part of another family. Sister would have one less family member, and he and Sister would be even closer.