Wanwan felt regret—those she had treated so sincerely, whether Liang Shi or Lan Zhou, ultimately none appreciated her affection, seizing the realm without yielding an inch. So what was she to them? While she held the exalted position of Grand Princess, constrained by her status, they had no choice but to maneuver around her. Once she fell from clouds to mud, she would probably have nothing left.
Afterward she also reflected calmly—coming to Nanyuan had indeed been completely wrong. How failed she was! Treating everyone with kindness, she never won their hearts. For a family planning rebellion, what sort of favor could compare to the glory of ruling the realm?
She remembered how both Xiao Duo and Yin Luo had warned her initially. At that time she prided herself on cleverness, not taking their words truly to heart. Now looking back with regret was too late. She turned to look—he was right beside her. If driven to extremity, could she kill him and end this catastrophe?
The thought made her heart tremble. She had loved him so deeply. Even if he seemed weak compared to the kingdom, he had already occupied eight or nine-tenths of her emotions. Sadly she couldn’t retain him—perhaps they were the same type of person: I love you, but I love the kingdom more. Two people who didn’t understand compromise together created nothing but a lengthy tragedy.
His arm rested on the bedding. Even asleep, his hand remained clenched in a fist, ready for battle at any moment. Full of desolation, she stared at him for a long time, then pulled the quilt up for him. In his drowsiness he asked: “Why aren’t you sleeping yet?” Then naturally reached over to circle her in his arms.
Wanwan’s nose involuntarily stung—she must hold back tears. Actually she still craved his warmth—one last time, let her crave it one last time.
She kissed his chin: “Liang Shi, how fortunate I am to have married you…” The rest she couldn’t speak, only swallowing it back.
He didn’t know the great ship in her heart had already sunk. He was frantically busy outside; as long as she remained safe at home, he had no worries, needing no excessive concern.
He still instinctively sought her lips in sleep, saying in a muffled voice: “These words should be mine… What virtue or ability do I have to have married you?”
A tight embrace, as if it could last until heaven and earth grew old. But Wanwan knew her battle had already begun. Everyone must pay for their choices—since he decided on rebellion, she couldn’t be blamed for not honoring marital affection.
When that tiger tally appeared last time, she should have investigated thoroughly, but was intimidated by his preemptive strike. Apparently this inexplicable power hadn’t come through proper channels either. She had to find it—couldn’t let the situation worsen further.
She went to his study, searching through boxes and cabinets without finding it, then went to the prince’s mansion.
Entering the mansion, the atmosphere seemed normal. The dowager consort warmly chatted with her about Lan Ting’s marriage prospects.
How could she have leisure for such concerns now? She answered perfunctorily: “Let grandmother decide. I’ve had no dealings with them and fear misjudging character. Or like with Lan Zhou last time, compile a roster for him to choose from.”
The dowager consort held up her glasses, muttering: “Children’s marriages are truly brain-wracking…” She made a sound of realization, looking up: “I think you should just stay here from now on—have Liang Shi return too. I’ll send someone to instruct the cooks to prepare good dishes—how lively with the family together. With the outside situation chaotic, I worry about you alone at the Grand Princess mansion.”
Normally she would be grateful for the dowager’s thoughtfulness, but now was different—hard to guarantee this wasn’t meant to control her tightly.
She maintained a proper smile, declining tactfully: “I’m not alone there either—quite a few guards around me. Coming here would mean abandoning them, which I couldn’t bear. Whatever the chaos, it won’t reach our Nanyuan—please set your mind at ease! Regarding Ting’s marriage, Zhou Shi is also here—ask her opinion. Perhaps she has suitable candidates in mind.”
The dowager consort was diverted, beginning to fret over the betrothal register again. Wanwan took the opportunity to escape, passing through the hanging flower gate toward Long’en Tower.
Midway she encountered Tala Shi, who curtsied: “This servant just received news and couldn’t come out to greet you in time. Recently I’ve been inconsistent, always feeling unwell, so haven’t visited to pay respects. I was thinking of seeing the young lord—not having seen him for days, he’s probably grown considerably. Last time you mentioned a red bird needing tongue trimming—I’ve been concerned. Too much time and its tongue might stiffen, becoming difficult to treat.”
Mentioning birds annoyed Wanwan, and she didn’t want her visiting the mansion anymore: “Those birds chatter noisily, disturbing the prince’s rest. The mansion can’t keep them—all were given to outsiders. Don’t worry about it. If you’re unwell, just rest. I don’t visit often—please show filial devotion to the dowager consort on my behalf, which serves better than attending me.” Smiling, she stepped past the courtyard.
She walked calmly with unperturbed bearing. Tala Shi watched her retreating figure, secretly clenching her teeth.
All the birds given away—what coincidence! Her attending maid asked in lowered voice: “Do you think she heard that thing?”
Tala Shi narrowed her eyes slightly. March sunlight dazzled the eyes. Had she heard or not—who could tell? That parrot had taken her several days’ effort. If this trick proved ineffective, what a waste!
Her time at the Grand Princess mansion hadn’t been wasted—learning every duty personnel’s face, naturally including that parrot outside the prince’s study.
Human faces differed entirely, and bird plumages varied, but finding roughly similar ones wasn’t difficult. About that parrot—kept outside, it couldn’t actually hear study conversations. But what did that matter? As long as the source was correct, who could explain the details?
Substituting people was somewhat difficult, but with birds it was simple. The little eunuch tending the study parrot discovered one day that the bird had died, panicking as if heaven had collapsed. She “happened” to encounter this, magnanimously telling him not to worry: “It’s just a bird—what’s the big deal!”
The little eunuch wept: “This servant’s life isn’t worth that bird’s—now I’m finished. What can I do…”
She said: “How about this—quietly replace it with another, you bring it inside. Remember, don’t tell anyone about this, or if master demands your life, I can’t save you either.”
She became a merciful savior, and the little eunuch naturally kept silent to preserve his life. Thus her parrot perched on the golden frame outside the study, soon transferred before the Grand Princess. Bird beaks were far more reliable than human mouths—this way she could make them turn against each other while staying uninvolved herself, truly killing two birds with one stone.
But now saying they were given away—she thought and thought, impossible!
She sighed softly: “That little thing talks most—been gone two or three days, how could it hold back? Let’s wait more. Unless I misjudged her. If she really suppresses this matter and continues being her peaceful mistress, then this person isn’t so remarkable… not even as good as us, just a plaything!”
Master and servant smiled at each other, turned around, and slowly returned to their courtyard.
Because losing more made hatred deeper. For Zhou Shi and Chen Shi, one son was worthless, only knowing how to eat and sleep stupidly; one hadn’t even bloomed, still a maiden. Their gains and losses compared to hers were utterly insignificant. What about her? Because she raised a good son, the son was stolen away. Raised a grandson, the grandson was stolen away too. Now she’d returned to the prince’s mansion, but those three years exiled to Songjiang Prefecture estates—had those days been pleasant? She didn’t hate the prince—men naturally cherished young beautiful wives, afraid even of melting them in their mouths, obeying every word. All resentment naturally pointed toward her—someone had to bear the anger. She wasn’t worried for herself—she had Lan Zhou. However else things went, blood ties couldn’t be severed. Even if he greatly favored this princess, ultimately she couldn’t compare to his birth mother. The Grand Princess didn’t even have an heir—what use was male favor? Once dynasties changed, she’d be nothing. Letting her know early was for her own good—best if she tormented herself to death in rage, freeing everyone.
When women hated women, they truly bit down hard, fighting to the death.
Whether the parrot learned or where it learned from didn’t matter. What mattered was that everything it said was true—then people’s energy would turn entirely to great affairs, with no one caring about details.
Wanwan entered Liang Shi’s study, searching the drawer where she’d previously found the tiger tally—finding nothing. Expanding the search to the entire study still yielded nothing. She began worrying—had that tally already been used to deploy southeastern armies?
She looked at Tonghuan desolately: “What should I do? I’ve been too comfortable, not understanding vigilance amid safety, creating today’s predicament. Had I known, not returning to Nanyuan would have been better—I’d rather die in the capital than survive here.”
Tonghuan was greatly alarmed, constantly comforting her: “You mustn’t think this way—things aren’t so terrible. At least the letter was sent. His Majesty knowing the situation here can immediately mobilize imperial guards around the capital region to intercept the Andong Guard army’s route—the capital is still safe.”
Tears glimmered in her eyes as she covered her chest: “Then what about my Liang Shi? He must die—henceforth no more Nanyuan. Is this so?”
Tonghuan was speechless. Regardless of which side won, the defeated paid with their lives—such was war. She understood this principle deeply. Unable to abandon her brother yet unable to abandon her husband—this trapped predicament would be difficult for anyone.
Tonghuan’s meaning was just preserving herself: “You’ve done your utmost—don’t ask about the future anymore.”
She smiled miserably: “Victors become kings, losers become bandits. You’re not me—you don’t understand my position.”
Not finding the tiger tally, she couldn’t stay long at Prince Nanyuan’s mansion. Returning to Great Gauze Hat Lane, the wet nurse was already waiting on the steps.
“Such strong wind—why bring the young master out?” she frowned in reproach. “What if he catches cold—is that amusing?”
The wet nurse looked helpless: “Forgive me, Your Highness—the little master was fussing terribly, nothing would comfort him. Such a small child recognizing people this way is truly remarkable.” She held him forward: “Just look—you’re back, now he can be at peace?”
Dong Li indeed smiled, revealing his smooth gums, laughing while drooling.
Wanwan looked at that moving little face, rolling up a handkerchief to wipe his mouth. She’d wanted to hold him, but remembering various grievances, lost interest. She said softly: “Take him inside—it’s getting dark, don’t stay outside.”
The wet nurse carried the child inside, and she even heard Dong Li crying persistently… She could no longer extend her arms to the Yuwen family. She had once loved Lan Zhou so much—what came of it? Still crossing swords over the realm. All fake—others’ flesh couldn’t stick to her body. She should have understood this principle long ago.
Leaving the sedan hall, she looked up to see Jin Shi not far away, watching her with deep concern. She felt grateful—when she lost things one by one, at least she still had them by her side.
She paused with a smile, not knowing what to say. He approached, hesitating before saying: “Your Highness must preserve your health—regardless, we servants still guard you.”
Her lips trembled speechlessly. After choking for a long time, she managed: “Commander, seeing me now, am I pitiful and laughable?”
She referred to those days at the capital’s Grand Princess mansion—he’d watched her defend Nanyuan, watched her suffer heartbreak over separation from her husband. Who knew such abundant emotion would ultimately prove empty? She felt ashamed, unable to meet his eyes.
But what of it? She’d overthought everything. Jin Shi said: “This servant sees Your Highness’s pure heart—doesn’t find you pitiful or laughable, but rather admirable and respectable. Only this servant has something to report. Your Highness’s current position isn’t safe. Should Prince Nanyuan develop murderous intent, how would Your Highness handle it? This servant’s meaning—we servants should protect Your Highness’s departure. This is a den of thieves—Your Highness remaining here faces more danger than fortune.”
Yes, mortal peril. When she lost utilitarian value, who knew what would follow?
But she couldn’t leave—the tiger tally’s whereabouts unknown, she had to find it. And Liang Shi… even escaping Jinling, she couldn’t escape his shadow.
She shook her head: “Wait a bit longer.” Her heart yearned—currently no confrontation meant room for maneuvering. If only he could rein in at the cliff’s edge, changing plans to genuinely pacify Nuer’gan’s chaos while concealing it from court, she could let bygones be bygones.
Jin Shi knew he couldn’t persuade her—she hadn’t completely given up hope and would never leave. He cupped his hands: “This servant awaits Your Highness’s commands. Just give the word—we’ll die protecting Your Highness’s safe retreat.”
She smiled and nodded: “I must thank elder brother for at least placing you by my side. When I face the greatest hardship, you don’t abandon me—that’s my fortune.”
She wiped away tears entering the rear courtyard, fearing if she lingered, Liang Shi would return. But he hadn’t come home for several consecutive nights. Wanwan grew increasingly uneasy, sensing that when he next appeared, it would probably bring great turmoil.
Indeed it was so. Five days later he entered her bedchamber—no great shouting or arguing, sitting in the armchair, watching her with deeply troubled eyes. After a long while: “Wanwan, you know everything?”
Wanwan’s heart jumped violently, standing straight as a rod, preferring to break rather than bend.
“I don’t understand your words. Know what?”
He fell silent, then like rising tide, gradually smiled: “I never expected the problem would be with you. You sent people to the capital reporting that I harbor treasonous heart, plotting for the realm.” The smile slowly faded, his face turning iron-blue, nodding neurotically: “This is also good… this is also good… it would be known sooner or later. With lies exposed, neither of us need pretend anymore.”
Wanwan also felt relieved—with love gone, only naked hatred remained.
She said: “Prince Nanyuan, you indeed harbor wolfish ambitions—the late emperor saw you clearly. You repeatedly assured me of loyal devotion to court, yet at national crisis you strike treacherously, nominally serving the crown but actually rebelling. You truly disappoint me.”
She no longer called his name but used official address, making him vaguely fearful. But he still had confidence—her anger was merely temporary. Once accepted, she’d return to his side.
The emperor, now alert, rapidly assembled garrison troops, building high walls along the Shijiazhuang line. No matter—just more trouble. Already so close to the capital, court struggles were futile. Naturally without her betrayal things would be simpler, but he didn’t blame her—couldn’t blame her, because he’d wronged her first. Let her vent, perform final service for the Daye kingdom—then she’d harbor no regrets.
He extended his hand toward her: “Wanwan, regardless who rules this realm, my feelings for you will never change. Look at this broken state—people displaced and starving. You’re so kindhearted—why not consider the world’s suffering masses?”
She laughed—he still hoped she’d join his conspiracy, seizing her natal family’s kingdom. This person wasn’t just hateful but truly deserving death!