Throughout this night, from when Shu Shenhui returned to bed and struck up conversation with Jiang Hanyuan until they gradually opened up to each other, right up to this moment, his mood had been quite good, even becoming eloquent and talkative. But after passing the pond garden, when the red lantern shadows of Fanzhi Courtyard ahead came into distant view and the building’s silhouette became faintly visible, he suddenly seemed to remember something. His steps slowed, and for the remaining final stretch of road, though he appeared nonchalant, his mood had lost the relaxation of moments before.

Jiang Hanyuan understood everything but pretended ignorance, returning to the room with him. She removed the outer robe he had draped over her, hung it on the clothes rack, then took off her outer garments and skirt, got into bed first, and lay down, watching coldly.

She saw him slowly removing his clothes, taking off his boots one by one. Finally, he sat on the bed’s edge, turned his face, and smiled as if speaking casually: “This evening’s conversation with you was most delightful. Unknowingly, most of the night has passed this way. There’s not much time left until dawn—you must be tired?”

“I’m tired. Time to sleep.”

She closed her eyes, turned inward, and lay down.

He considerately tucked the quilt corners around her: “Then sleep well. Zhang Bao mentioned you still need to visit several more households tomorrow—you should rest up.”

Jiang Hanyuan didn’t respond.

At this, he finally lay down as well.

There truly wasn’t much time left until dawn, and both seemed to fall asleep.

Jiang Hanyuan didn’t know how well her pillow companion slept, but for herself, she never entered deep sleep again. Though she lay motionless, she dozed fitfully. When the faint sound of the fifth watch drum drifted to her ears from somewhere outside, she was certain he was also awake at this hour. Not long after the fifth watch passed, he gently turned over beside her—apparently wanting to get up but seeming somewhat hesitant, or perhaps watching her. After a moment, he slowly lay back down and continued sleeping.

She remained motionless throughout, sleeping until dawn was about to break before sitting up. He also opened his eyes: “You’re awake so early—not sleeping anymore?” he asked, his tone as if he had just awakened.

“Mm.” Jiang Hanyuan didn’t even glance at him, got out of bed, and went to dress.

“I want to leave early to finish delivering the letters quickly.”

“I’ll get up too!”

Following her, he rolled out of bed and called for someone to prepare for washing. During breakfast, he attended to her with great care, even disregarding the gazes of Zhuang Shi and the maids to personally hand her bowls and serve soup. After eating, returning to their room as Jiang Hanyuan prepared to change clothes and go out, he also tidied up and smiled: “Do you need me to accompany you in delivering letters?”

Jiang Hanyuan took her hat: “No need.”

“That’s fine too. Take people with you, like yesterday—I’ll go to Zhaoze Hall. It’s still cold outside, remember to return early. There’s no rush with these matters—take your time.” He spoke with concern.

Jiang Hanyuan made a sound of acknowledgment, put on her hat, turned, and walked out.

Like yesterday, Zhang Bao again led the way with Wang Ren and his men following behind. Another day of rushing about east and west. The distance was far—after visiting a remote place dozens of li outside the city and delivering letters and money, it was already dusk when she returned to the city.

Though the day was late, this prosperous city became more vibrant and fragrant at this time. Lanterns were just being lit, and the aroma of dinner wafted from every household along the streets. Some hurried home while others began calling friends to venture out for evening entertainment.

Jiang Hanyuan passed through a narrow street crowded with people. Fearing collisions, she led her horse on foot. She noticed a nearby street extending continuously with no end in sight. Buildings lined both sides in orderly rows, fragrant breezes carried the sounds of silk and bamboo instruments along with pleasant female laughter, almost enough to make one’s bones soft and flesh weak, causing passing young men to frequently look back.

This was Chang’an’s most famous den of extravagance. Zhang Bao saw a doorkeeper at the street entrance eyeing the princess, apparently mistaking her for a man. He hurriedly moved to block the princess’s view, whispering urgently: “Don’t look that way! Princess, come quickly this way with me!”

Jiang Hanyuan glanced over. At that moment, several wealthy young gentlemen came riding from the opposite direction—all appearing young, gorgeously dressed, riding fine horses with a dozen servants following closely. The central figure was a youth around twenty, fat-headed and big-eared, sitting crooked on his horse while talking to someone beside him. The surrounding group wore fawning expressions, and at something said, he burst into unrestrained wild laughter with somewhat obscene undertones.

The street was narrow to begin with, and these men riding side by side nearly filled it, leaving no room for others to pass. Yet pedestrians dared not protest—seeing this group approach, they all stepped aside.

Jiang Hanyuan knew these must be the so-called Chang’an dandies. Having no interest in causing trouble, she also stopped to let them pass first.

This group was heading toward that fragrant street. She watched as they rode in with their entourage surrounding the fat youth on horseback. Only then did pedestrians continue on their way.

After they left, Zhang Bao whispered, “Princess, did you see that one just now? He’s the son of the Eldest Princess Nankang and her deceased prince consort. He has a nickname—the Foolish Prince—”

He pointed to his head, opened his mouth as if to say something, but remembering the relationship between the Regent Prince and the Eldest Princess Nankang and fearing disrespect, he swallowed his words and changed his approach: “He’s a regular customer there.”

Jiang Hanyuan had seen at a glance that the man wasn’t very bright.

Though Zhang Bao had only spent a day and a half with the female general princess, he had already discerned that while she appeared cold and aloof, rarely speaking throughout the day, she was actually warm-hearted, very kind to people, and easy to talk to without airs—unlike those Chang’an nobles who were sticklers for protocol. Having fewer reservations, he continued: “Recently, isn’t Minister Wen’s sister discussing marriage? This slave heard a rumor that the Eldest Princess Nankang wants to arrange this match for her son. If this happens, though the family status would be quite prestigious, with this person speaking presumptuously, wouldn’t it be like a cow chewing peonies—completely ruining the scenery? Miss Wen, not even mentioning her father’s former position, is the most beautiful person in Chang’an—talented and beautiful, unmatched in the world—”

Zhang Bao got carried away speaking enthusiastically, but suddenly remembering something, his whole body shuddered and he abruptly stopped, wishing he could kill himself. He immediately changed his tune: “But no matter how good she is, she could never compare to you, Princess. Among all the women in the world, even the best are earthbound—who could be like you, Princess, descended from heaven! Your beauty goes without saying, and you’re also a majestic female general! The Regent Prince and you are perfectly matched—no! You’re perfectly matched with even more talent, a match made in heaven!”

Zhang Bao managed to awkwardly smooth over his words. Stealing another glance at the female general, he saw her eyes still looking ahead with no change in her expression from before. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief, secretly wiping away sweat. He dared not speak carelessly again and obediently followed the female general back to the princely residence.

Shu Shenhui had already returned from his duties today and was waiting for her in Fanzhi Courtyard, holding a book. After they finished dinner, it was just past the xu hour—still relatively early. He followed her into their room and mentioned he still had some matters to attend to. He hadn’t finished organizing yesterday night’s dictated records and modifying draft maps during the day, planning to work on them tonight.

“I had wanted to spend the evening with you earlier, but today is the last day of my leave. Tomorrow there’s court assembly again—if I don’t hurry, I’m afraid it will be delayed.” He explained to her.

Jiang Hanyuan nodded: “Go ahead. I also have matters to attend to. Zhang Bao mentioned there’s a small training ground behind the residence. I haven’t touched a bow and arrows for several days and fear my hand is getting rusty—I’ll go there for a while.”

“Good, feel free to go. If you need sparring partners, have Wang Ren bring all the residence guards for you to choose from. After practicing, return early to rest—don’t wait for me. I’ll come back when I finish.”

After giving these instructions, he left. Wang Ren, following the Regent Prince’s orders to gather troops for a grand nighttime expedition to the small training ground to serve the princess, was refused—she told them all not to follow. She went alone.

This was where the guards usually practiced martial arts—not very large, with a row of simple buildings, but well-equipped with various weapons and a hundred-pace archery range, quite sufficient. She practiced archery without bright torches lit around—only one behind the target, a hundred paces away. By that distant glimmer, relying on feeling and intense concentration, she shot arrow after arrow. This was night shooting practice for nighttime combat. After shooting over a hundred arrows and her body growing warm, she stopped and returned to the bedchamber to bathe and rest.

At Zhaoze Hall, the night was deep, and his work was complete. Shu Shenhui slowly set down his brush but didn’t rise, his solitary shadow facing the candle flame on his desk, hesitant and undecided.

He knew he should return, but thinking of going back to that unavoidable matter of sharing a bed, his heart felt as if a heavy stone had sunk into it, making even breathing somewhat difficult.

Last night had been the same. He had stayed here until he could delay no longer, estimating she had fallen deeply asleep before returning—who knew his luck was poor and he woke her while moving her long hair.

After such an unbearable wedding night, he dared not easily touch his new bride again, fearing another defeat. If he embarrassed himself again before her, he might as well not live afterward. But if he didn’t touch her, during these early days of marriage, unless he admitted his impotence to her, this hurdle could never be overcome. Thinking it over, he could only pin his hopes on conversation to temporarily divert attention. He hadn’t expected to find her quite congenial to talk with—not only that, but in a moment of impulse, he had taken her to his private chamber that he never showed to outsiders. He should know that he had originally chosen Fanzhi Courtyard for the bridal chamber, partly out of reluctance to have his original private domain too disturbed by marriage. He would marry the Jiang family daughter, respect her, and treat her as well as possible, but this didn’t mean he was willing to share everything private with her. Yet just last night, on the second evening after his wedding, he had broken this boundary himself.

From when his imperial father died and his brother ascended the throne until last night, he seemed not to have relaxed like this for years. For several moments last night, he even felt he had returned to his youth as Lord Anle. Looking back now, it was simply incredible.

However, last night was last night—no matter how good, it couldn’t be repeated tonight.

Now he had to return. What to do after going back? If she was still awake, should he discuss geography and maps with her again to get through another night?

Shu Shenhui sat for a long while as the night grew deeper, knowing he could delay no longer.

Very well—when the cart reaches the mountain, there will be a way.

He suppressed his inner agitation and finally rose, returning to Fanzhi Courtyard.

The bridal chamber’s doors and windows were dark without light—she must have extinguished the lamps and gone to sleep.

Shu Shenhui slowly pushed open the slightly ajar door, entered, and stood for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim night light inside so he wouldn’t need illumination. He stepped through the outer room into the inner chamber.

Not a sound came from the bed’s direction.

She must be sleeping very deeply.

Shu Shenhui continued feeling his way in, removed his outer garments, gently got onto the bed, and lay down.

He slowly exhaled the breath in his chest, closed his eyes, and lay on his back for a moment. Suddenly sensing something was wrong, he opened his eyes, turned his head toward the inner side of his pillow, reached out, and felt empty.

She wasn’t there!

So late, and she still hadn’t returned to the room? Where had she gone—was she still at the small training ground?

Shu Shenhui immediately rolled out of bed, lit the candle stand, put on his outer garments, turned and walked out of the inner chamber, through the outer room, quickly reaching the door. Just as he was about to open it and summon someone to inquire, his hand stopped on the door.

He turned back, his gaze falling on a spot by the south window in the outer room.

There sat a beautiful couch for resting, with a curtain hanging before it. If no one were there, the curtain would naturally be drawn up, but now it was open and hanging quietly.

He hesitated, then walked back and slowly parted the curtain with his hand.

He saw Jiang Hanyuan. She sat properly on the beauty couch, long hair falling down, wearing only her undergarments.

“Your Highness has returned?” She nodded to him and spoke.

“You… what is the meaning of this?” He was slightly surprised.

Tonight she was sleeping here.

Meeting his gaze, her expression remained composed.

“Your Highness should still remember your promise to fulfill my wishes. Since that is so, I’ll make another unreasonable request.”

“Please allow me to sleep alone.”

Her words were spoken calmly, but hearing them, Shu Shenhui felt as if his internal organs had been suddenly struck by a round-headed bell mallet—his chest felt stifled and swollen.

He didn’t ask for reasons. She had only said this simple sentence, which sounded somewhat abrupt. However, they were both understanding people—some things needed no explanation; once started, both would know the score.

He was afraid of sharing a room with her. He was avoiding the nights. Shu Shenhui thought he had hidden it deeply, but she saw everything clearly, coldly watching his clumsy performance.

Tonight, she used this method to preserve his dignity—or perhaps she was also preserving her own.

Such behavior from him wasn’t it a form of humiliation for a newly wedded wife?

This embarrassment of having his secrets exposed, compared to the shame of wedding night impotence, Shu Shenhui couldn’t even say which was more unbearable.

He could only remain silent. The Regent Prince, always renowned for his eloquence, could at this moment only use silence to mask his emotions.

“It’s late—I need to sleep. Your Highness should also go rest!”

After a moment, she smiled slightly at him.

This seemed to be the first smile she had shown him since they met. Yet it was dismissing him.

Shu Shenhui finally spoke in a low voice: “This is all my fault. This is not my intention—please don’t blame me…”

“I understand.” She replied.

He stood still for another moment, then suddenly came to his senses.

“In any case, I cannot have you sleep here. If we must sleep separately, I should sleep in this outer room while you go inside.” His tone became resolute.

“No need. I’m also not accustomed to sleeping in the inner chamber. I’ve slept on hard camp beds for so long that overly soft bedding prevents me from sleeping peacefully.”

Jiang Hanyuan turned to glance toward the inner chamber: “Your Highness should use it.” She said indifferently.

“I also—” He wanted to argue further.

“Let it be this way!”

Jiang Hanyuan suddenly lost all patience, unwilling to say more to him, and cut him off abruptly.

He seemed choked by her words and stopped.

“Isn’t Your Highness going to the inner chamber?”

After a moment, Jiang Hanyuan spoke again, her tone having softened, asking.

Despite the Regent Prince’s usual strategic planning and flawless execution, he was completely at a loss now. After being stunned for a moment, he had no choice but to slowly turn and leave. Reaching the curtain, he truly couldn’t accept it and stopped again, turning back.

“Lady Jiang…” He called her name.

Jiang Hanyuan had already lain down. Hearing him, she turned her head to see him wringing his hands, looking at her with earnest eyes: “You are a woman—I cannot have you sleep outside no matter what. It would be more proper for me to sleep here…”

“Your Highness!”

“If you think I’m being falsely modest with you, you’re wrong. I’m not being polite at all. If I wanted to sleep in the inner chamber, I would not yield it to Your Highness!”

Shu Shenhui could say nothing more. Following her arrangement, he returned to his inner chamber.

He stood motionless before that brocaded bed for a moment, raised his hand to rub his somewhat stiff face, and slowly sat down.

All around was perfectly silent. He sat alone in the depths of the inner chamber, surrounded by brocade, not knowing how much time passed until the faint sound of a night watch drum from some deep Chang’an alley reached his ears.

His shoulders moved slightly. He turned to look at the brocade quilt behind him, hesitated, then finally took one, rose, and walked out again, opening the curtain.

By the dim light filtering from the inner chamber, he saw his new bride. She lay quietly on that narrow beauty couch, apparently having fallen asleep.

He stood silently for a moment, tiptoed closer, spread the quilt in his hands and gently covered her with it, then returned to the inner chamber.

The next day was Shu Shenhui’s first morning court after his wedding. He rose at the fourth watch.

When Jiang Hanyuan was in the military camp, she often rose earlier than ordinary soldiers in the morning. Getting up at this hour to prepare for morning exercises was routine. So she rose as well.

How could Jiang Hanyuan not see his avoidance of sharing a bed at night? She simply chose to sleep outside, thus giving him relief while also obtaining peace for herself. It was cold, and the beauty couch was already furnished with warm bedding. She put away the quilt he had added for her last night to avoid falling under others’ eyes and causing suspicion.

She had slept reasonably well last night, but looking at him, his forehead was dark and gloomy, appearing sullen and not very talkative. However, it had nothing to do with her. At least without having to hide things, facing each other again this morning, she felt it was much more comfortable than the previous two days. Excellent.

After Shu Shenhui finished breakfast, he took a carriage to the palace in the still-dark night. Jiang Hanyuan went to the small training ground again, returned at daybreak, took a quick bath, dressed properly, and continued out to finish her remaining tasks. She returned first that evening, tidied up, dismissed the attendants, and, like last night, went directly to sleep on the beauty couch in the outer room. He returned after the hai hour, knowing she was asleep, didn’t disturb her, and went straight to the inner chamber.

This way, they coexisted peacefully for several more days. Apart from sleeping separately at night, during the day, they developed something resembling mutual respect.

On this day, Jiang Hanyuan finally finished visiting the last household. The distance was extremely far, so she returned quite late, and Shu Shenhui hadn’t returned yet. Zhuang Shi accompanied her for dinner, saying the Regent Prince had sent word earlier that tomorrow was a major court assembly, there were many palace affairs today, and he probably couldn’t return tonight, staying at Wenlin Pavilion. She could do as she pleased.

Such situations were formerly commonplace, but now, being newly married for only a few days and already leaving the princess to spend the night alone, Zhuang Shi felt quite apologetic and comforted the princess: “His Highness has no choice—he truly cannot be in two places at once. If he could get away, His Highness would certainly return to the residence for the night.”

Jiang Hanyuan said state affairs were paramount and went to rest.

This evening, Shu Shenhui finished deliberations with several officials from the Secretariat and Imperial Chancellery alongside the young emperor. After the ministers withdrew, Shu Shenhui instructed the young emperor to complete his evening studies and return to his sleeping quarters early. The young emperor agreed to everything. Shu Shenhui then rose to take leave, intending to return to Wenlin Pavilion. The young emperor escorted him out and suddenly asked about the birthday celebration for the old princess consort of Prince Xian in a few days.

“Third Uncle, I also want to go congratulate the old princess consort on her birthday. These past days I’ve completed all my lessons early. Everything Tutor Ding wanted me to memorize, I’ve memorized completely. Even things he didn’t require, I memorized too. He praised me. Third Uncle, I want to go! Will you agree?”

His performance had indeed been very good these days—doing whatever was asked, and his responses during deliberations with ministers were proper and mature, as if he’d become a different person. Now he was only asking for this one thing, and Shu Shenhui couldn’t bear to refuse. After brief consideration, he nodded: “Very well. If His Majesty personally attends the birthday celebration, it would be an honor for the old princess consort of Prince Xian.”

Shu Jian’s face lit up with joy: “Thank you, Third Uncle!”

Shu Shenhui smiled: “Alright, you—”

“I know, I know—finish my studies and sleep early! I’ll go do them now! Safe travels, Third Uncle! Remember not to tire yourself too much! I won’t see you off!”

The young emperor turned and dashed inside.

Shu Shenhui watched the young emperor disappear through the imperial study doors, then left and entered Wenlin Pavilion. After eating some food, it was time to light the lamps. Bright candles were lit as he began working at his desk.

While busy with affairs, Li Xiangchun tiptoed in and bowed: “Your Highness, word has come from outside the palace that Minister Wen has arrived and wishes an audience with Your Highness.”

Shu Shenhui slowly stopped writing, pondered for a moment, then looked up and asked: “Do you know what matter brings him?”

Li Xiangchun shook his head: “He didn’t say.”

“Bring him in.”

Li Xiangchun acknowledged and withdrew.

Minister Wen was in his thirties and had become increasingly cautious and timid in recent years. He waited outside the palace for a long time until finally seeing the palace gates open and a young attendant emerge to summon him inside. His previously anxious heart found some comfort as he closely followed, passing through several palace gates until finally reaching Wenlin Pavilion, the Regent Prince’s workplace within the second palace wall.

Li Xiangchun personally came out to receive him, leading him inside and escorting him to the threshold before stopping: “The Regent Prince is waiting for you inside.”

Minister Wen bowed repeatedly to the old eunuch in gratitude. Having Li Xiangchun personally come out to greet him showed great favor.

As a minister under the rank of Secretary, though he was qualified to participate in court deliberations and report directly, he handled clerical duties that weren’t key positions, so he had never been summoned here before for deliberations. He took small steps inside, seeing ahead a square chamber with bookshelves arranged high and low, filled with scrolls and documents of various sizes. A water clock stood there, and opposite was an incense burner burning dragon’s brain incense to clear the mind. He knew this must be the Regent Prince’s study within Wenlin Pavilion. Looking up, he indeed saw him seated properly, apparently waiting for him. He hurried forward to pay respects.

After Minister Wen finished his salutations, the Regent Prince smiled and asked: “What brings Minister here?”

In earlier years, when this Regent Prince was still Lord Anle, due to his father’s relationship, Minister Wen had served as a companion to the crown prince. The crown prince and Lord Anle were close, so he often encountered Lord Anle. When the crown prince and his third brother went hunting, he would accompany them, so they were quite familiar, and Lord Anle had shown him considerable courtesy.

Time had passed—the former hunting companion was now the Regent Prince with great authority, commanding all officials’ submission. Meanwhile, he, following his father’s death several years ago, found everything had changed. Those once unrealistic fantasies now seemed like self-imposed bindings—how foolish they were! He should have awakened long ago. Now he only hoped the one seated above might remember some old affection from when his father had been his teacher and extend a helping hand.

This time, before speaking, he knelt directly and kowtowed.

Shu Shenhui told him to rise. He didn’t move: “This minister knows this matter should never be brought to the Regent Prince. But looking around, this minister has no one to turn to for help. After much consideration, I can only presumptuously and shamelessly appeal to Your Highness, begging you to save my sister!”

Shu Shenhui remained seated without moving, only asking: “What has happened to your sister?”

Having reached this point, what face did Minister Wen have left to preserve? He revealed his purpose, saying he was arranging his sister’s marriage and had his eye on the Zhou family from the Inner Secretariat. The other party was also very willing, and both families were about to form the alliance when the Eldest Princess Nankang interfered, sending people to propose marriage for her son to his sister. He politely declined, thinking the matter was over, but two days later, people came again, not only raising the old topic but also issuing threats, essentially saying that if he dared defy the Eldest Princess’s wishes, he should be careful in the future. Moreover, the Zhou family, apparently having received word, was extremely frightened and sent people overnight to cancel the engagement.

“My sister is of limited talent—how could she be worthy of the Eldest Princess’s beloved son? Now my whole family lives in constant fear day and night, and I am at a complete loss. Having no choice, I boldly come to Your Highness. I beg Your Highness, for the sake of my late father’s past relationship, save my sister’s life! My whole family has no way to repay this kindness—we will remember it unto death and repay it in the next life!”

After speaking, he kowtowed heavily again, prostrating on the ground.

The Regent Prince above listened without saying a word.

Minister Wen held his breath and waited, hearing no response, and gradually despaired.

He regretted bitterly.

His sister Wen Wan was both talented and beautiful, having known the Regent Prince since childhood. When Imperial Consort Zhuang was in the palace, she also favored his sister and often summoned her to the palace. People said they were childhood sweethearts, and his sister had always been devoted to him—this was no secret in the Wen family.

His father, Tutor Wen, had once harbored hopes for this match in earlier years, but after Emperor Wu’s death and Emperor Ming’s ascension, when the court began relying heavily on Prince Qi, the tutor abandoned this idea. Later, when the tutor fell seriously ill and Prince Qi visited the residence, after his departure, he advised his son not to harbor hopes for this marriage and to quickly arrange a suitable match for Wen Wan while he was still alive, lest she be delayed for life.

But at that time, Minister Wen still wouldn’t give up—first, because he knew his sister’s heart was set on Prince Qi; second, even if she couldn’t become the principal consort, being a secondary consort in the future wouldn’t be disgraceful. This way, she could marry someone she cared for, and selfishly speaking, it would greatly benefit his own family. So he didn’t follow his father’s advice at the time. Later, his father died, his sister observed mourning for three years, and during those three years, the court was turbulent with constant major events—Emperor Ming died, the young emperor ascended, Prince Qi became Regent Prince and contended with the High King. He was occupied with myriad daily affairs and had almost become a stranger to his sister. By then, Minister Wen gradually awakened, understanding that the Regent Prince probably had no interest in his sister. Otherwise, after so much time, if he had intentions, he couldn’t possibly say anything. So at the beginning of last year, when his sister completed her mourning period, he planned to arrange her marriage. But just then, Empress Dowager Lan interfered, frequently summoning his sister to the palace and dropping hints that she would help. Minister Wen was half-convinced, and his previously dead hopes stirred again. Not daring to defy Empress Dowager Lan’s words, he delayed another year until last autumn. After Empress Dowager Lan’s birthday celebration, the High King died suddenly, the court was again in turmoil, and his sister Wen Wan told him after that day that she and the Regent Prince were impossible—he shouldn’t harbor illusions anymore and should find her another match quickly as she wanted to marry soon.

This was the background and consequences of the Wen family’s marriage affairs.

Minister Wen regretted not listening to his father’s words early on due to his selfish hopes and persistence, causing his sister’s current predicament. Now that a marriage could finally be arranged, they encountered such enormous trouble.

The Regent Prince’s prolonged silence clearly showed an unwillingness to intervene in this matter. Was he also secretly resentful that the Wen family had damaged his reputation over the years?

Though Minister Wen had selfish motives, he genuinely cared for his only sister. This was his last ray of hope.

He continued kowtowing.

“Your Highness, this minister deserves death—it’s all this minister’s fault. Due to my momentary mistake, I’ve implicated Your Highness’s reputation. But my sister is truly innocent, misled by me…”

“Enough!”

Just as Minister Wen was tearfully kowtowing, he suddenly heard a voice from above interrupting him.

The Regent Prince had spoken.

“This prince is aware of this matter. You may go!” He said indifferently.

Though he didn’t speak explicitly, since he had spoken thus, it should mean he had agreed.

As long as he was willing to intervene, there would certainly be no problem with the Eldest Princess Nankang.

Minister Wen had felt like he was in hell moments before, but now suddenly returned to the human world. Besides relief, he was immensely grateful. Fearing to be too bothersome, after kowtowing in thanks again, he quickly withdrew.

After Minister Wen left, Shu Shenhui sat alone in Wenlin Pavilion for a long time.

The bright candle at his desk burned steadily, wax tears occasionally dripping. In the corner, the water clock descended mark by mark, the candle body shortened inch by inch, and the light gradually dimmed.

Li Xiangchun, attending outside, tiptoed in with a new candle to replace it, when he suddenly heard the Regent Prince say: “Have someone prepare carriages and horses. I’m returning tonight.”

Li Xiangchun was startled, glanced at him, saw him give instructions then lower his head to dip his brush in ink, continuing to write on the documents before him. He acknowledged and withdrew.