An Mianmian woke up in Song Yuhe’s bed.

This matter was truly shameful to speak of. The night before, she had been stripped of her clothes, wrapped in a quilt, and placed on Song Yuhe’s bed, with ropes tied around the outside of the quilt so she couldn’t move at all.

She had stared at the ceiling for nearly two hours before hearing sounds at the door.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t struggled. She had tried to break free from the ropes, but accidentally rolled off the bed with a loud “thud,” landing headfirst on the floor.

After lying on the ground for a while, someone came to lift her and place her back on the bed.

This time they put her at the very inside of the bed.

How embarrassing…

An Mianmian wriggled and squirmed until she finally reached the edge of the bed, stretching her neck to look toward the door.

When she got tired of looking, she would rest for a while, then continue watching.

When Song Yuhe entered, he saw a head protruding from the bed with no hands visible. The candlelight was rather dim, and the wind stirred the curtains, making the room flicker between light and dark.

It was somewhat terrifying.

He had just walked to the bedside and hadn’t yet spoken when he heard the person say, “Your Highness, you’ve finally come! Please untie me quickly.”

Her voice carried a few notes of joy, as if she truly looked forward to his arrival.

Seeing that he ignored her, An Mianmian softened her voice and said, “Please.”

Song Yuhe didn’t speak, only gazing coolly at the person on the bed. Ning Ge, who followed behind him, was very perceptive and untied the ropes.

An Mianmian gained her freedom and was about to throw off the quilt when she suddenly realized she wasn’t wearing any clothes. Her movement paused, and she looked up at Song Yuhe, then at Ning Ge, wrapping herself in the quilt and asking, “May I go to the privy first?”

Song Yuhe: …

Ning Ge: …

An Mianmian always had a maid following her, never leaving her side. When she went to the privy, the maid would wait by the door.

Such a large prince’s mansion – were they really afraid she would steal something?

Though she complained bitterly in her heart, she dared not show the slightest bit on her face. An Mianmian returned to the room without delay, and the maid stopped at the doorway. An Mianmian turned to look at her, but she only stood at the entrance with her head bowed.

The night was quiet to a frightening degree.

Song Yuhe was half-reclining on the bed, his robes slightly open, his unbound long hair casually scattered. His eyes were closed, and beside his hand lay an open memorial.

A memorial impeaching him that hadn’t yet been presented to the Emperor had already reached his hands.

An Mianmian quietly approached and waved her hand in front of his face – no response.

He seemed to be asleep.

She leaned closer to look, her breath caught, and she looked away, then swallowed hard.

Just as she was torn between whether to wake him or not, Song Yuhe suddenly opened his eyes and rose to press her beneath him.

Everything happened too quickly. An Mianmian only felt the world spinning, then found it somewhat hard to breathe.

This person looked slender in build – how could he be so heavy?

An Mianmian pushed, but couldn’t move him. She patted, and happened to pat Song Yuhe’s chest…

…The atmosphere fell into an eerie silence.

“Your… Your Highness, I… this servant didn’t mean to.”

An Mianmian wished she could die. The Empress Dowager had sent her here to please Song Yuhe. With this mess she’d made, it was completely ruined.

“The Empress Dowager said you were the most beautiful palace maid in the entire palace. Looking at you now, you’re nothing special.”

Not only nothing special, but a little girl who hadn’t even fully grown. The Empress Dowager truly treated him like a starving beast that would take anything.

An Mianmian dared not respond: if she agreed with Song Yuhe, it would prove the Empress Dowager’s judgment was indeed poor, and if word reached the old lady’s ears, she would suffer for it; if she contradicted him, she would anger Song Yuhe and face a bad end right now.

How bitter was her fate?

Seeing An Mianmian remain silent, Song Yuhe seemed somewhat annoyed. He gripped her chin, narrowed his eyes, and said coldly, “Look at me.”

An Mianmian didn’t dare disobey and immediately opened her eyes wide to look at him.

Perhaps not expecting her to be so obedient, Song Yuhe paused for a moment, then frowned and said, “Don’t look at me.”

An Mianmian: ???

“Do you know what the Empress Dowager’s intention was in sending you here?”

“To have this servant share your bed.” An Mianmian answered with her eyes tightly shut.

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, An Mianmian felt someone grip her throat. His hand was truly cold, so cold that An Mianmian shivered. She instinctively opened her eyes to see Song Yuhe looking at her. Though he was smiling, his eyes seemed poisoned, and his voice was so cold it made one feel as if placed in the depths of winter: “Didn’t the Empress Dowager tell you that lying to me means death?”

“I didn’t lie to you. She even… even showed this servant those little books about matters between men and women.” An Mianmian felt so nervous her tongue was tying itself in knots.

“Playing games with me?” Song Yuhe’s fingers slowly tightened, and An Mianmian felt her neck was like a straw in his hand that could snap with a single squeeze.

This was the closest An Mianmian had come to death in her fourteen years. She looked helplessly at Song Yuhe, her eyes filling with tears.

Song Yuhe’s face was cold and stern, but his hand no longer applied pressure. He gradually loosened his grip. An Mianmian gasped for air and slumped on the bed.

Song Yuhe looked down at the teardrops on his hand and unconsciously frowned, seeming somewhat puzzled as he asked, “Why are you crying?”

“Scared…” Better not to ask – once he did, An Mianmian’s tears fell like broken pearls. She only managed two words before crying so hard she couldn’t speak.

Song Yuhe’s patience gradually wore thin. He said impatiently, “Stop crying.”

An Mianmian used her sleeve to wipe her tears, wiping again and again, but still couldn’t stop them. She could only sob while apologizing: “I’m sorry, Your Highness. This servant can’t control it.”

Saying this, she burst into tears again.

Song Yuhe pulled out the corner of his robe that she was pressing down, feeling both irritated and somewhat helpless. After watching her for a while, as if too lazy to deal with her, he turned and left.

An Mianmian couldn’t remember when she fell asleep. When someone woke her, everything before her eyes was blurry, and she thought she had cried herself blind the day before.

The tears came readily again.

The maid beside her gently comforted, “Miss, please don’t cry anymore, or you truly won’t be able to see.”

“Can I still see?” An Mianmian asked pitifully.

“Of course you can, Miss. Don’t be afraid.”

The maid’s voice was gentle as she helped her sit up, saying, “This servant is called Mu Chi, sent by His Highness to care for Miss. This is His Highness’s room. Miss sleeping here last night was already improper. We must leave quickly. Miss’s quarters have been arranged in the North Pavilion.”

Mu Chi brought clear water to wash her face and simply arranged her hair in a bun.

Only after this could An Mianmian see clearly. Looking in the mirror, her eyes resembled two large walnuts.

She pursed her lips and murmured, “So ugly.”

The two quickly finished tidying up. Mu Chi led her away from Song Yuhe’s courtyard, taking a rather roundabout path before reaching the North Pavilion she had mentioned.

Because it had two stories and was located in the northern part of the prince’s mansion, it was called the North Pavilion.

Only An Mianmian lived here alone. According to Mu Chi, there had been another girl before, also sent by the Empress Dowager, but she had died of illness not long ago.

“Did that girl like growing flowers?” An Mianmian pointed at the flower branches in the courtyard and asked. Mu Chi didn’t answer.

An Mianmian didn’t like these refined things. She pulled out all the already withered flower branches, patted the soil firm, swept the courtyard, and simply cleaned the room. Then she had nothing to do.

In the past, she had served others in the palace, but coming to the prince’s mansion, she had become half a young lady.

Though Mu Chi was sent by Song Yuhe to care for her, An Mianmian didn’t dare order her around. She would never ask Mu Chi to do anything she could do herself.

They were both servants – neither was more noble than the other.

An Mianmian had stayed in the North Pavilion for over half a month without seeing Song Yuhe even once, but she had met all his concubines.

It must be said that Song Yuhe’s skill in choosing women was no less than His Majesty’s. Those concubines’ beauty could compete with the ladies of the various palaces. But compared to Consort Shu, they were still far inferior, and they carried more coquettishness and worldliness, lacking the consort’s myriad graces.

Consort Shu didn’t like competing for favor and had no children, so she was quite lonely. She always selected newly arrived young palace maids to come to her palace, saying that watching these children made her days more interesting.

An Mianmian had also stayed in Consort Shu’s palace for a period. She didn’t know what pleased the consort, but she was even rewarded with jujube paste cake.

That jujube paste cake was truly delicious. An Mianmian still drooled thinking about it.

“Are you listening to me at all?” A sudden loud voice beside her ear startled An Mianmian back to her senses. The beautiful concubine before her was glaring with lovely eyes, saying, “An Mianmian, you dare ignore my words!”

An Mianmian didn’t want to deal with her.

If this had been over ten days ago, she would have patiently persuaded her to leave. But over these ten-plus days, people came daily to see what she looked like, then spent time telling her she lacked captivating beauty insufficient to seduce Song Yuhe, advising her not to harbor improper thoughts, and finally asking what had happened that night in Song Yuhe’s room.

Sometimes individuals came, sometimes groups – this was already the umpteenth wave, and she was truly tired of dealing with it.

An Mianmian rubbed her temples and sighed deeply, patiently saying, “Miss Xiaohua, I’ve told you many times already – it’s truly useless for you to come to me. His Highness has just returned from court at this time. You’d be better off waiting for him at the mansion gate than wasting time here with me.”

The suggestion was reasonable, but those concubines weren’t fools. If this method worked, they would have crowded at the gate long ago. Why would they come to her?

“That… that doesn’t matter. You must help me.” Xiaohua slammed the table and looked fiercely at An Mianmian, but her cute appearance meant that even glaring had no intimidating effect. As if remembering something, she immediately pulled out a pouch from her waist and placed it on the table, saying, “I have money. Help me, and I’ll pay you.”

An Mianmian hefted it – good heavens, it was quite heavy. She said earnestly, “His Highness is so clever, he can see through our little schemes at a glance. Besides, you have so much money – wouldn’t it be nice to live your own comfortable life? Why must you see His Highness?”

“Because I like him.”

An Mianmian had never expected such an answer. She was stunned for a moment and instinctively wanted to cover her mouth, but her hand stopped midway, instead plucking a leaf that had fallen on her head.

“Then I can’t help you either. Go back quickly – you’re annoying.” She stuffed the pouch back into Xiaohua’s hands, stood up, and pulled her toward the door, pushing her out with a shove. Watching her departing figure, An Mianmian couldn’t help but shout, “If you’re bored on ordinary days, you can come find me to play.”

“I won’t come!”

Song Yuhe forbade women from entering and leaving the main courtyard, but no one had told An Mianmian this, so naturally, she didn’t know.

This day, feeling bored and with Mu Chi absent, An Mianmian wandered left and right until she reached the main courtyard.

Coming face to face with a young man in white brocade robes, quite handsome, she looked at him a few more times.

The young man noticed her and stopped, politely bowing and asking, “This humble scholar greets you. May I ask what brings you here, Miss?”

“Nothing, I’m just looking around casually,” An Mianmian shook her head and returned his bow, asking, “What are you here for?”

“This humble scholar has come to pay respects to His Highness, hoping to become a retainer under His Highness.”

An Mianmian nodded and asked, “I’m called An Mianmian. And you?”

“This humble scholar is Zhao Anhao.”

“Is it taken from ‘How can one maintain pure whiteness while being stained by worldly dust’?” An Mianmian asked curiously, looking into his bright black eyes, smiling with her head slightly tilted.

Zhao Anhao was stunned for a moment, not knowing how to respond.

Mu Chi came running from not far away, wanting to pull An Mianmian away.

They hadn’t gone far when they encountered Song Yuhe returning from court.

Not wearing court robes, not carrying memorials, openly defying the sage, insulting court officials, cruel by nature, unpredictable in temperament, killing without batting an eye – this was the Song Yuhe that An Mianmian had heard about.

But no one had told her that Song Yuhe was more handsome than Pan An, elegant as jade, with phoenix eyes that seemed capable of stealing one’s soul. Yet his innate noble bearing made one dare not show the slightest disrespect.

Even these few steps from the corner to before her seemed like a lotus blooming with each step, making all things pale in comparison.

Eh?

Wait???

Before her???

An Mianmian immediately snapped back to reality, looking at Song Yuhe standing one step away, then at Mu Chi standing behind with her head bowed, and hurriedly curtsied: “This… this… this servant greets Your Highness.”

“When the Empress Dowager sent you, she didn’t mention you were a stutterer.” Song Yuhe looked her up and down with a half-smile, then glanced at Zhao Anhao behind her, walking around her toward the courtyard interior. “Follow me.”

An Mianmian thought he was speaking to Zhao Anhao, until Mu Chi pushed her, and she realized he was talking to her. She quickly ran to catch up with Song Yuhe.

Walking to the study, Song Yuhe pointed at the writing desk and said, “Grind ink.”

Seeing An Mianmian didn’t move, Song Yuhe tapped the inkstone with his finger and asked, “Don’t know how?”

“It’s not that I don’t know…” An Mianmian shuffled over reluctantly, trying hard to recall what Sister Cuilan had taught her when she was in Consort Shu’s palace, but was stopped as soon as she began.

An Mianmian looked at Song Yuhe questioningly, but he only glanced at her sideways and said, “Wrong from the start.”

Song Yuhe took the ink stick and dripped a few drops of water on the inkstone. His slender fingers appeared even paler against the black ink stick.

An Mianmian suddenly thought of how books described women – hands like tender shoots, skin like congealed cream, teeth like gourd seeds, a beautiful head with moth eyebrows. These words applied to Song Yuhe would not be excessive at all. So there were men in this world more beautiful than women.

Feeling something hit her head, An Mianmian looked up pitifully.

“Pay attention.”

The summer afternoon was somewhat hot, and ice had already been placed in the room for cooling. Occasionally, when wind blew, it brought wisps of coolness. An Mianmian looked at Song Yuhe and suddenly felt that the Empress Dowager might be wrong.

They were born of the same mother – the Emperor was benevolent, gentle, and treated people with kindness. How could Song Yuhe be cruel by nature and unpredictable in temperament?

“When the Empress Dowager selected palace maids, no one wanted to come to my place. Why did you want to come?”

Song Yuhe’s hand grinding ink stopped, indicating she should continue. An Mianmian perceptively took over and continued grinding.

Was this something she could choose not to come to if she didn’t want to?

“The Empress Dowager said this servant was intelligent and gifted, with a beautiful face, pure nature, kind-hearted, and was a lively and clever little girl. Sending me to Zhen Prince’s mansion could help entertain Your Highness.” As if afraid he wouldn’t believe her, An Mianmian immediately continued, “It’s true, these were the Empress Dowager’s exact words. She also said I love to laugh and can make people happy, truly joyful from the heart.”

Song Yuhe had spies in the palace, and when the Empress Dowager said these words, she hadn’t avoided others, so naturally they could reach his ears.

Song Yuhe had never seen someone praise herself so roundaboutly. He couldn’t help but curve his lips slightly and asked again, “Why did you cry that day?”

“Scared… they said you had a bad temper, afraid you would kill me…” An Mianmian lowered her head and stammered, “This servant fears death.”

“Then why stay?” Song Yuhe stopped his brush and turned his head to look at her.

An Mianmian held back for a long time before asking, “Does Your Highness want to hear the truth?”

“…” Song Yuhe looked at her coolly.

“The books say that in all the world there are three virtues: to be born and grow up, beautiful and unmatched, so that all who see them, whether young or old, noble or humble, are pleased – this is the highest virtue.”

“…”

An Mianmian had expected Song Yuhe to become angry or scold her, but he only remained silent for a moment, then tapped her hand with the brush handle and said, “It’s dry.”

Following his gaze downward, she saw her hand had stopped moving at some point, and the ink stick had adhered to the inkstone. An Mianmian pulled at it, and the ink stick broke apart.

“Your… Your… Your Highness,” An Mianmian stood there dumbly, looking pitifully at Song Yuhe and asking, “What should I do?”

Song Yuhe ignored her, put down his brush, stood up, and dusted off his robes (though there was no dust), and lightly tapped the desk a few times. Ning Ge immediately walked in and said, “Twenty strokes on the palm.”

Before long, servants held An Mianmian down and used a ruler to strike her palms while counting.

After twenty strokes, An Mianmian’s hands were red all over, so painful that tears nearly fell. Song Yuhe looked at her pitiful appearance with some amusement and asked, “Do you know your mistake?”

An Mianmian nodded: “I know my mistake.”

A tear dropped with a “plop.”

“Still not leaving?” The ending tone rose slightly. An Mianmian didn’t dare delay and was about to leave when she was called back, “Take it with you.”

An Mianmian pinched the inkstone with her fingers, curtsied slightly, and ran out.

Mu Chi waited at the courtyard gate. Seeing her emerge, she noticed the inkstone in her hands, and her expression darkened. She took it silently and led her back to the North Pavilion.

The servants who administered the palm strikes hadn’t held back. An Mianmian’s hands were so painful she couldn’t move them, swollen like small mountains.

“Why are you crying?” Mu Chi brought water and entered the room to see An Mianmian sitting in a chair with tears falling.

“It hurts…” An Mianmian sobbed.

“This ink is of the finest quality, worth a thousand gold pieces. You should kowtow and give thanks for only receiving twenty palm strikes.” Mu Chi took a handkerchief to wipe away her tears, then knelt to apply medicine to her hands. “His Highness doesn’t like people crying. Don’t shed tears in the future.”

An Mianmian was in so much pain that she kept gasping, wiping away tears with her sleeve as soon as they appeared.

This pitiful little appearance was reported to Song Yuhe in detail by Ning Ge, who added at the end, “This Miss An doesn’t seem like a palace maid, but rather like a young lady from a wealthy family.”

Song Yuhe turned the jade thumb ring on his hand, his voice indifferent as he asked, “What did you find out?”

“When An Mianmian was five years old, her parents and two-year-old brother all died in the Jiangnan floods. A neighboring family’s older brother took her north to seek relatives. They encountered Consort Shu, who was returning home to visit her parents, and she was brought into the palace this way. This subordinate sent people to ask the Jiangnan families who survived at the time – there indeed was a family surnamed An with a son and daughter. The villagers all called her Little Book, which conflicted with Her Consort’s name, so Consort Shu said this little girl was soft and tender, feeling like cotton when pinched, hence the name Mianmian.” Speaking to this point, Ning Ge paused, “Your Highness, according to past practice, when there’s any doubt, it’s better to kill wrongly than let go.”

Song Yuhe glanced at him with raised eyebrows, his tone quite disdainful: “You mean the Empress Dowager and Song Rongfeng are at their wits’ end, sending a little girl to deal with me?”

Song Yuhe walked to the window. The sky had darkened, thick clouds gathered – it was the calm before a storm: “If it’s really like this, it would be quite interesting.”

He wanted to see what waves a little girl could stir up.

“Xiaohua from the South Pavilion has been getting quite close to her.” Seeing Song Yuhe’s sideways glance, Ning Ge explained, “She was sent by the Grand Master of Imperial Entertainments half a year ago. Nothing unusual, and her temperament seems quite straightforward.”

“Go take a look.”

An Mianmian’s hands healed for seven days. Just as they were beginning to improve, she was notified that she would henceforth take turns serving Song Yuhe.

This scared her silly.

It wasn’t that she had never served anyone. When she entered the palace at age five, she stayed in Consort Shu’s palace for three years. Consort Shu, seeing her young age, didn’t make her do much work. Later, she was transferred out and assigned to an empty courtyard with another young palace maid to clean the courtyard daily. Life was fairly leisurely. But that palace maid developed improper thoughts, tried to seduce the Emperor, and was ordered beaten to death. The courtyard cleaning fell to her alone.

Fortunately, no one lived there, and since she came from Consort Shu’s palace, the head eunuch rarely bothered with her.

So, counting everything up, she had only served people for three years.

An Mianmian followed Ning Ge to Song Yuhe’s courtyard with a worried expression. As soon as they reached the door, a maid placed a teapot in her hands, and she had no choice but to steel herself and go in.

Song Yuhe was playing chess, playing against himself.

An Mianmian approached and crouched down, took out two teacups, rinsed them once, and poured tea into both. She drank from one cup first, then placed the other on the table and covered it, saying, “Your Highness, please have tea,” then stood up and stepped aside.

“What are you doing?”

An Mianmian trembled slightly and answered as steadily as she could, “Replying to Your Highness, testing for poison.”

That’s right – when she was in Consort Shu’s palace, she had seen palace maids serving tea always test for poison.

Could it be that different places had different policies?

“Are you afraid someone will poison me?” Song Yuhe raised an eyebrow, picked up the teacup, smelled it, took a light sip, and asked, “Or do you know someone will poison me?”

“No, no, no…” An Mianmian dropped to her knees with a thud and said urgently, “This servant doesn’t mean that. It’s just… in Consort Shu’s palace, they always tested for poison like this.”

“Why are you so afraid of me?” Song Yuhe set down the teacup. seeing her appearance, he frowned and said, “Are you going to cry again?”

An Mianmian’s hands, hidden in her sleeves, clenched into fists, her eyes instantly reddening. She tried hard not to cry, stammering for a long time before saying, “Your Highness, this servant will learn. Please don’t be angry, and please don’t kill me.”

Song Yuhe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He tapped her head with his fan and said, “Get up.”

Not only An Mianmian, but everyone in Zhen Prince’s mansion feared Song Yuhe, as did the common people.

On An Mianmian’s first day at the mansion, she saw people carrying out a sack, with a bloody hand hanging outside. She asked someone nearby who it was.

That person quietly told An Mianmian it was a servant from the mansion who had done something wrong and been beaten to death.

After speaking, they kindly reminded her to just pretend she hadn’t seen anything and not to ask too many questions in the future.

But he was still alive. The young servant who had brought her in suddenly coughed loudly and said anxiously in a low voice, “Miss, please don’t say such things in the future. When His Highness wants someone dead, who dares to save them?”

Only then did An Mianmian realize that the others were truly going about their own business, not even glancing at the servant who had been “beaten to death.”

As if only an ant had died.

Perhaps it was just an ant.

“Your Highness, it’s time to take your medicine.” A maid stood at the door holding a medicine bowl. An Mianmian looked up and met Song Yuhe’s gaze, immediately reacting and quickly walking to the door to receive it.

Just as before, she took the teacup she had used earlier, poured a little, drank it, then handed it to Song Yuhe.

With this sip, An Mianmian’s little face scrunched up completely.

So bitter, so bitter.

Song Yuhe took it and drank it all in one go, his expression unchanged.

An Mianmian quickly picked up the nearby pastries and said, “Your Highness, have something sweet to counter the bitterness.”

Seeing Song Yuhe didn’t move, only drinking some tea, An Mianmian obediently put them down and returned to her original position.

Pastries were placed out every time, but he never ate even one bite. What a waste!

An Mianmian silently complained in her heart.

They say spring drowsiness, autumn fatigue, summer napping – plus she hadn’t slept well the past few nights due to her hand pain. Now in Song Yuhe’s room, the ice blocks brought wisps of coolness, and listening to the birds chirping outside, An Mianmian’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Slowly, she leaned against the wall and fell asleep, waking up briefly to stand properly again, only to be unable to hold out much longer before falling asleep again, over and over.

Ning Ge entered and was about to speak up to remind her, but seeing His Highness playing chess without paying her any mind, he too remained silent.

He stepped forward and cupped his hands, saying, “Your Highness, the fish has taken the bait. Shall we draw in the net?”

Song Yuhe placed the final black stone. On the board, it seemed the black and white stones were locked in stalemate, but in reality, the black stones had long since surrounded the white: “No rush. The good show has just begun.”

Speaking thus, he glanced at An Mianmian sleeping peacefully against the wall, his gaze profound.

An Mianmian served Song Yuhe with trepidation, making mistakes every few days and getting her palms struck.

She had seen maids beaten to death on the spot for breaking vases, and heard of sons from various families stabbed to death with a single blade for offending Song Yuhe.

But Song Yuhe seemed exceptionally tolerant toward her. An Mianmian wasn’t stupid – she could sense it, but didn’t know the reason.

However, she didn’t dare to slack off, fearing that one moment of inattention would cost her life.

This morning, when she woke up and pushed open the window, she saw pristine white snow covering the entire North Pavilion – it was extremely beautiful.

An Mianmian loved snow. During those years in the palace, whenever it snowed, she would get up early and make footprint after footprint in the courtyard. After playing enough, she would sweep up the snow and build a little snowman.

Palace life was incredibly lonely. She would talk to the snowman, telling it all the things she had saved up from spring, summer, and autumn.

Snowmen couldn’t talk back. When they melted, they took her secrets with them, and no one would ever know.

An Mianmian put on the cotton clothes she had prepared long ago – pink and tender – and stomped around in the snow.

Playing for a long time, she missed breakfast and ran to the main hall without stopping.

Only a string of small footprints remained in the snow.

When An Mianmian arrived, she was still half an incense stick late and consciously went to receive twenty palm strikes.

The servant who administered the palm strikes sighed helplessly and barely used any force for several of the strokes.

After the palm strikes, An Mianmian skipped off to tidy Song Yuhe’s room.

She arranged the chessboard, wiped the table, and plucked a branch of plum blossoms from the courtyard to place in the vase. Looking left and right, she couldn’t help but admire her flower-arranging skills – it was extremely beautiful.

Just as she finished busying herself, Song Yuhe returned from court.

Dressed in white robes with a white fox fur cloak, walking in the snow, he was like an immortal returning from the snowy heavens.

An Mianmian handed Song Yuhe’s discarded cloak to Ning Ge, then took the one she had kept warm and draped it over him, handed him a cup of hot tea, and closed the doors and windows.

Song Yuhe was afraid of the cold.

This was something An Mianmian had known since her palace days. The Empress Dowager had told her that Song Yuhe had poor health, an ailment brought from his mother’s womb, and was especially sensitive to cold. She must be extremely careful when serving him.

An Mianmian kept this in mind and didn’t dare be careless.

A shop assistant from Manjiexiang delivered a box of pastries. Before it was even opened, An Mianmian leaned close to Song Yuhe’s ear and whispered, “It’s most likely mung bean cakes.”

Opening it, it was.

Song Yuhe raised an eyebrow. An Mianmian immediately explained, “This is their signature item. They only sell five portions daily. Coming to curry favor this time, they had to bring their treasure from the shop.”

How good could a mere small piece of mung bean cake be?

Seeming to read his thoughts, An Mianmian continued, “I heard the taste is excellent. Originally, they claimed that if you made a wish before eating and found red beans inside the mung bean cake, your wish would come true. They were mainly selling a gimmick.”

At this point, the attendant had also finished testing for poison and presented it. An Mianmian asked at the right moment, “Would Your Highness like to try some?”

Song Yuhe glanced at her sideways, his voice lazy: “Knowing I don’t like sweets, yet you still ask. They’re all yours.”

“Excellent! Thank you for the reward, Your Highness!” An Mianmian smiled happily as she accepted them, having already anticipated this result, and buried her head to eat.

She ate with great relish, and Song Yuhe couldn’t help but look a few more times. Noticing he was watching her, An Mianmian struggled for a while, then pushed the plate in front of her forward, saying somewhat reluctantly, “Would… would you like to try some?”

Song Yuhe chuckled softly and pushed the plate back, saying quite helplessly, “Eat. I won’t compete with you for them.”

He rarely smiled, only occasionally curving his lips slightly. His smile never reached his eyes, as if nothing could truly make him happy.

They said Song Yuhe was unpredictable in temperament, but An Mianmian thought he was the most unperturbed person of all. All emotions showed on the surface, but his heart was like a stagnant pool, never stirring even the slightest ripple.

The atmosphere had been quite pleasant, but someone came to say something, and Ning Ge’s expression changed as he relayed it to Song Yuhe. In such situations, An Mianmian would perceptively leave. Before long, Song Yuhe left the mansion with Ning Ge.

His expression was somewhat serious when he left.

An Mianmian entered the room and felt the teacup – it was still warm. She silently cleared away the tea service. It seemed there would be nothing for her to do for a while. After tidying up, she left alone.

Just as she returned to the North Pavilion, she immediately heard a woman’s scolding voice: “Why isn’t she back yet? How much longer must I wait!”

An Mianmian quietly approached and, while the person inside wasn’t paying attention, rushed over and patted her. The woman cried out in fright, and when she turned to see it was her, angrily said, “An Mianmian!”

An Mianmian ignored her and picked up the teapot to pour a cup of water, asking, “What do you want with me?”

“His Highness came to see me a few days ago.” Seeing her stop, Xiaohua snatched the teacup and took a sip, saying, “I told you His Highness has feelings for me.”

An Mianmian glared at her, poured another cup, sat in the chair, and asked, “What does that have to do with me?”

“To make you jealous of me.” Xiaohua smiled, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at the snow outside the window, her eyes unconcealed in their happiness. “I wonder if His Highness will come today?”

Speaking of this, she turned her head, showing the back of her head to An Mianmian and asking, “Look, is this hairpin pretty?”

It was lotus-pink jade wrapped in white petals, like a newly bloomed flower bud.

“Pretty.”

“Of course it is.” Xiaohua turned around with a proud expression, saying, “His Highness gave it to me. He said I’m very much like this hairpin, though I don’t know how.”

Today she wore light pink clothes with a white rabbit fur collar.

“You are quite similar.” An Mianmian smiled in response.

Having achieved her goal of showing off, Xiaohua left happily, taking one of An Mianmian’s vases on her way out, saying she wanted to go back and learn flower arrangement.

“Miss seems somewhat different toward Miss Xiaohua.”

An Mianmian glanced at Mu Chi, seeing that she seemed to have said it casually, then looked toward the falling snow outside the door, saying gently, “I feel we’re kindred spirits.”

Xiaohua had been sent by the Grand Master of Imperial Entertainments, supposedly picked up from the street and taken as an adopted daughter. Song Yuhe had only said, “This girl has a nice smile.”

The Grand Master of Imperial Entertainments sent her to Song Yuhe’s mansion the next day.

Xiaohua had a pure nature but a somewhat bad temper. She couldn’t stand the passive-aggressive behavior of those concubines. After An Mianmian arrived, she always liked to come over.

The concubines all lived in the South Pavilion, separated by most of Zhen Prince’s mansion. She didn’t mind the trouble and came every few days.

Sometimes she came to talk about which concubines in the South Pavilion had fought that day, sometimes to see if there were any novel things in her room to take back. Occasionally, she would bring pastries she made herself, clearly lacking this talent but loving to do it anyway, forcing An Mianmian to eat them.

An Mianmian was very afraid she might be poisoned by her someday.

Their relationship wasn’t particularly good – they would bicker and argue whenever they met. Not long ago, Xiaohua had pointed at An Mianmian’s empty little courtyard and said with disgust that it had no vitality at all, like a place for dead people if you didn’t know better.

A few days later, she brought several flower seedlings, saying she wanted to plant flowers. In the dead of winter with freezing weather, how could anything survive?

An Mianmian advised her to give up and plant a small tree in spring instead – it might live longer.

Only then did she give up.

After seeing off Xiaohua, An Mianmian collapsed on the bed, muttering, “A soft couch would be nice.”

She had long since set her sights on the soft couch in Song Yuhe’s room. Lying on it with the fur blanket spread underneath, soft and very comfortable.

Lying like this, she unknowingly fell asleep. When she woke, it was already evening. She was annoyed with herself for sleeping so long – she definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep later.

The snow was still falling. In one day, it had already accumulated quite thickly, enough to bury one’s feet. With nothing to do, she pulled Mu Chi over to build a snowman.

An Mianmian was quite professional. Before long, she had built a snowman half a person’s height. Turning to look at Mu Chi, she was patting the snowman’s body. An Mianmian formed a snowball and threw it at her. Mu Chi seemed to have eyes in the back of her head and instantly stood up to dodge it.

“What impressive skills, Lady Hero!” An Mianmian laughed and said, then bent down to grab another handful of snow and threw it at Mu Chi.

Mu Chi originally didn’t want to engage, but An Mianmian pressed her advantage, throwing one after another. Just as An Mianmian bent down to grab snow, Mu Chi picked up a snowball and threw it at her, hitting her right on the head.

The two went back and forth like this in a snowball fight.

Because they made too much noise, people came to watch. An Mianmian laughingly shouted at them, “Come play together!”

Seeing no one move, An Mianmian began throwing snowballs into the crowd.

Gradually, people joined in. Fortunately, the courtyard was large enough for over ten people to play together.

Someone bumped into An Mianmian, sending her tumbling headfirst into the snowman Mu Chi hadn’t finished building earlier. She struggled to get up, holding a large snowball and asking, “Who bumped into me?”

Turning around, she saw servants kneeling all over the ground with Song Yuhe standing in the middle, wearing his white fox cloak.

With a “plop,” the snowball fell to the ground and shattered.

An Mianmian immediately knelt: “This servant greets Your Highness!”

“First time anyone has had a snowball fight in the prince’s mansion.” Song Yuhe looked around, his gaze stopping on the intact snowman nearby. “Nice workmanship.”

An Mianmian followed his gaze and smiled proudly: “Right? I’ve been building them for several years and have gotten quite good at it.”

She spoke with such delight that she got carried away. Suddenly, someone in the crowd coughed, and An Mianmian stopped. Looking at Xiaohua kneeling in the corner, then at Song Yuhe’s half-smile, she swallowed hard.

“Finished talking?” Song Yuhe asked her.

An Mianmian nodded.

“Since you’re finished, clean all this up.” Song Yuhe’s gaze moved downward to look at the kneeling people. “Still not leaving?”

Instantly, the North Pavilion was empty.

An Mianmian sighed and resignedly began sweeping snow, accompanied by Xiaohua’s complaints: “I shouldn’t have reminded you. Now look – instead of sleeping in the middle of the night, we’re out here cleaning up.”

Song Yuhe had said that since Xiaohua was so kind-hearted, she should stay and help clean up together.

An Mianmian sighed again: “My little ancestor, please stop talking. You’ve been going on for half an hour without getting tired. Weren’t you having fun earlier, too?”

“You’re right about that.” Xiaohua smiled and quietly moved closer to her, suddenly stuffing a snowball down her collar.

An Mianmian wasn’t to be outdone and pushed her into a snow pile. The two started wrestling.

When they got tired, they lay in the snow facing each other and laughed. Xiaohua patted her and said, “Thank you. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

Her eyes were bright and sparkling, her face red, her smile sincere.

An Mianmian only glanced once before looking away.

The three of them cleaned until the latter half of the night before finishing. Xiaohua was too lazy to walk back and spent the night at An Mianmian’s place.

An Mianmian was so tired she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, no matter how many times Xiaohua called her.

Near dawn, An Mianmian opened her eyes and heard a slight sound from the roof, followed by two figures flashing past the window.

She glanced but paid no attention and went back to sleep.

An Mianmian arrived at Song Yuhe’s room sporting two big dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, afraid she would get drowsy, so she drank an entire pot of strong tea to stay alert.

When she arrived, Song Yuhe had just finished breakfast. Seeing her, he seemed quite surprised and asked, “Why did you come?”

An Mianmian was stunned. Ning Ge explained, “His Highness is going out today. Didn’t we tell you not to come?”

An Mianmian: ???

No one had told her. When? Who?

“Since you’re here, come along.” Song Yuhe washed his hands and threw a painting to An Mianmian.

An Mianmian curiously peered outside the carriage, then turned to look at Song Yuhe, who was resting with his eyes closed, and asked, “Your Highness, where are we going?”

“Ice pot competition.”

!!!