The gatekeeper of the princely residence knew the Regent Prince would spend the night in the palace. When evening came and the princess returned, all the residence managers and guards had also taken their positions, so the main gate was closed. Unexpectedly, later, someone knocked at the door. Thinking it was some inconsiderate visitor—in recent days, he had rejected countless calling cards from people wanting to visit the female general princess—he went out to look and was surprised to see the Regent Prince’s carriage stopped outside the gate. He had returned from the palace.

The gatekeeper hurriedly opened the door to welcome him.

“Has the princess returned?” Shu Shenhui asked immediately upon entering.

“Reporting to Your Highness, yes, she’s been back for a while.”

Shu Shenhui went straight to Fanzhi Courtyard.

It wasn’t very late yet—about two quarters past the Xu Hour(19.00 – 20.00)—and Jiang Hanyuan hadn’t gone to sleep. After returning to her room that evening, she first organized the luggage she had collected these days to take back to the soldiers, mostly winter clothes and shoes. After finishing this, still not wanting to sleep, she went to the study in the courtyard, took a brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, then selected copybooks, wanting to practice calligraphy for a few pages before bed.

Though she had lived in military camps since childhood, in her early years, Jiang Zuowang had always harbored hopes that his daughter could return to civilian life when she grew up, so he hadn’t neglected her education despite her being in the camp. Besides arranging the best archery and horsemanship masters to teach her the martial arts she longed to learn, he didn’t neglect the classics either, having a chief clerk with a background as a Doctor of the Five Classics teach her. She was naturally intelligent, inheriting Jiang Zuowang’s military talent, learning martial arts and military strategy with great insight and ability to draw inferences. But her calligraphy, truthfully speaking, had never been very good from childhood to now.

This required a time investment to improve. She lacked sufficient time and interest to devote to practicing calligraphy, so over the years, she had only sporadically practiced during leisure moments in the army when she remembered to. It hadn’t mattered in earlier years, but in recent years, as her position in the army continued rising and she handled more and more documents, her never-say-die competitive spirit began making her take her handwriting seriously. Unfortunately, a higher position meant busier military affairs with even less time for practice. Now, having eaten with nothing else to do, this was perfect.

Though her handwriting wasn’t good, she had some appreciation—the chief clerk who taught her reading was skilled in calligraphy, making her what’s commonly called having high standards but low ability.

This Fanzhi Courtyard, used as the bridal chamber, had a newly developed feel everywhere, including the study. It was newly furnished with new books, but the selection was quite complete and included the copybooks she wanted.

She took a liking to a stone tablet rubbing whose content appeared to be an epitaph for a deceased official of high virtue and reputation. It bore no signature and its origin was unknown, but the characters had iron strokes and silver hooks with elegant brushwork that grew more appealing the more she looked. So she took it back to the bedchamber, lit the candle stand brightly, and concentrated on copying. Not having held a brush for a long time, her hand felt stiff, gripping this three-inch brush shaft was somehow much harder than gripping a blade. After slowly writing two pages and finally getting into the rhythm, feeling the characters she produced were good imitations and quite satisfied, she was admiring her work when suddenly someone knocked at the door.

Thinking it was a maid asking about late-night refreshments, she called out: “I’m not hungry-no need to prepare anything for me—”

The knocking stopped but soon resumed.

“It’s me.” A man’s voice reached her ears.

Jiang Hanyuan stopped, turned toward the door, feeling quite deflated—her earlier mood completely gone.

Was it him? How had he suddenly returned? Hadn’t he said there was a major court assembly tomorrow morning and he would spend tonight in the palace?

She had to get up, glance at the desk, then return to quickly hide the copybook and other items, placing another book to cover them before going to open the door.

Shu Shenhui entered the room, closed the door, and slowly turned around.

Jiang Hanyuan didn’t ask why he had suddenly returned, just nodded and said she was going to sleep, then headed toward the beauty couch. But she heard him call out: “Lady Jiang!”

Jiang Hanyuan stopped and looked over.

He walked a few steps toward her but seemed to hesitate and stop.

“Just now when I came in, I heard from Zhang Bao that you finished delivering all the letters today?” he said in a conversational tone.

Jiang Hanyuan made a sound of acknowledgment.

“You’ve truly worked hard. The soldiers of Azure Wood Camp must be very devoted to you.”

“If Your Highness has something to say, please speak directly.”

No need to beat around the bush and flatter her.

He coughed slightly: “It’s like this… In a few days, it will be the old princess consort of Prince Xian’s birthday. Prince Xian’s residence will host a birthday banquet to celebrate. I know you dislike social functions—other relationships you needn’t bother with, but Prince Xian is imperial uncle and the old princess consort has always been kindly, so it would be best if you could attend.”

“I understand.” Jiang Hanyuan replied. “I’ll go when the time comes.”

He smiled at her: “Thank you for understanding.”

Jiang Hanyuan nodded and turned to leave.

“Lady Jiang!” He called her again.

He finally seemed to make up his mind: “Do you know the Wen family—Wen Jie?” he asked.

Jiang Hanyuan looked at him without answering, neither nodding nor shaking her head.

He continued himself: “Wen Jie was my former tutor. He has a daughter named Wen Wan. Today her brother came to me—the Wen family has encountered some trouble and hopes I can help.”

“The Wen family daughter is recently arranging a marriage but facing obstacles, isn’t she?” Jiang Hanyuan said directly.

He was startled: “You already know?”

“Zhang Bao mentioned it.”

He nodded: “Yes. Due to my tutor’s sake, the Wen family and I indeed have some connection, and there were many interactions in my youth. Though the tutor has passed away, since this matter has come to me, both emotionally and rationally I cannot stand by and watch.”

He paused, his tone softening as if choosing his words carefully.

“…I know there are still rumors outside about me and the Wen family daughter, which you may have heard. I don’t intend to shirk responsibility—it’s all my fault. However, now that I’ve married you, you are my wife. What I said before about respecting you was not empty words. Though my desire to help stems from personal feelings, it’s not from inappropriate feelings, much less disrespect toward you. I hope you won’t misunderstand…”

Jiang Hanyuan interrupted him.

“What misunderstanding could I have? Since the Wen family came to you, they must be at their wits’ end. Your protection is only natural! If you don’t even care about this, what kind of person are you? Why explain to me? Go quickly! The Wen family girl has suffered enough—are you waiting for something terrible to happen, for such a woman to be completely ruined for life?”

Shu Shenhui hadn’t expected this reaction. Initially slightly surprised, he soon saw that her words were absolutely sincere.

Not only did she harbor no resentment toward the Wen family daughter, but she seemed to have considerable sympathy and goodwill for her.

Though Shu Shenhui didn’t understand why, at this moment he felt greatly relieved and nodded: “Thank you for understanding. I’ll go now.”

He turned to leave hurriedly. Jiang Hanyuan watched his retreating figure and suddenly called out: “Wait.”

Shu Shenhui turned back.

“How does Your Highness plan to help?”

“The Wen family is not a relative, and involving marriage matters—honestly, it’s not convenient for me to intervene directly. However, I know the Eldest Princess Nankang’s son has committed many offenses in the past. Last year, during the late emperor’s mourning period, he privately entered the imperial forest to hunt. At the time, a censor wanted to impeach him—it could be major or minor, but I didn’t want trouble and suppressed it. I’ll have someone dig up the old matter and pursue punishment. The Eldest Princess Nankang will naturally understand.”

Jiang Hanyuan said, “That method is good, but I also have an idea for Your Highness’s consideration.”

“Please speak.”

“Has Your Highness considered taking her as a secondary consort? This way, there would be no future troubles. Rest assured, I say this not as a test but sincerely. If the Wen family daughter comes, I absolutely won’t mind.”

Shu Shenhui was startled, looked at her, and shook his head decisively: “I have no such intention. This path isn’t her best destination either!”

Let go when it’s time to let go—moreover, circumstances had long changed. How could he now create unnecessary trouble with such foolishness to make amends? Even if she truly meant what she said about not minding, how would it look to outsiders—what difference from humiliating his new bride?

Finishing his words and seeing her looking at him with what seemed like sympathy in her expression, he couldn’t help frowning: “Lady Jiang, why do you look at me like that? Don’t you believe me?”

Jiang Hanyuan withdrew her gaze and continued: “Then I have another strategy. The princess consort of Prince Xian shouldn’t fear the Eldest Princess Nankang. Why not ask the princess consort to adopt the Wen family’s daughter as goddaughter? This way, with the princess consort arranging the marriage, it’s perfectly proper, and the Eldest Princess Nankang would naturally retreat. Moreover, with this status, the Wen family daughter would have protection thereafter, no longer treated like an abandoned child in the capital, despised and forced to endure humiliation.”

After hearing these words, Shu Shenhui stood motionless for a moment.

Truthfully, in his youth, he had indeed harbored affection for the Wen family daughter. Such a gentle woman, like a delicate flower—who wouldn’t like her? However, once a person takes the nation as family and shoulders the realm, there’s no choice but to abandon all personal desires that conflict with duty. Knowing the Wen family had always pinned their daughter’s hopes on him and fearing to mislead them, he took the opportunity of visiting the sick tutor to privately and tactfully tell him that when Wan’niang had her great joy in the future, he would send her off with brotherly ceremony. Since then, the Wen family had completely faded from his world, but he hadn’t expected Wan’niang to continue being misled.

That day at Huguo Temple, after years of separation, his frank conversation with his childhood playmate was indeed born of guilt and taking responsibility to comfort her, to preserve her dignity after wasting her youth. Yet wasn’t it also his complete burial of all the freedom and spontaneity of his youth?

Using marriage as a transaction to gain absolute military support was certainly despicable, but he wouldn’t regret it. Someone of his birth who chose the nation, when necessary, even his life could be used as a weight on the scales, let alone mere marriage or emotional matters.

But at this moment, hearing his wife obtained through this marriage—the Jiang family’s female general—say such words, his heart slowly filled with surprise and gratitude, even a touch of appreciation.

Coincidentally, the first method he had originally thought of was exactly as she suggested—having the old princess consort adopt Wen Wan as daughter. Regardless of whether he had given any hints, Wen Wan was indeed misled because of him—this he couldn’t deny. Such an arrangement would be some compensation to the Wen family. However, he had quickly dismissed this idea.

He was somewhat concerned, worried that being too considerate of Wen Wan might displease Jiang Hanyuan, so he had settled for the alternative method.

He truly hadn’t expected her to think of the same solution and be so willing to consider the Wen family’s daughter’s welfare.

He studied her for a moment without speaking.

Seeing him looking without speaking, his expression somewhat strange, Jiang Hanyuan said: “Why do you stare at me? If you think this method is suitable, go handle it.”

Shu Shenhui suddenly came to his senses, turned, opened the door, and hurried away.

Jiang Hanyuan watched his departing figure, standing in place and gradually becoming dazed. Suddenly, she exhaled deeply, shook her head as if shaking away all troubling thoughts, retrieved the mood that had been interrupted earlier, returned to sit at the desk, took out the paper and brush she had hidden, and continued diligently copying her text.

She had just written two characters when suddenly, accompanied by hurried footsteps, before she could react, the door was pushed open and Shu Shenhui stepped in. Looking left and right, he spotted her and quickly walked over.

Jiang Hanyuan was startled and, unwilling to let him see her calligraphy, pressed down on the paper and stood up.

“Why did you come back again? What for?”

She looked displeased.

His gaze swept over the items on the desk, then looked at her: “Nothing much, just remembered I hadn’t thanked you yet.”

“Lady Jiang, thank you!”

He said this solemnly, his peripheral vision glancing again at the paper and brush on the table before leaving her.

Jiang Hanyuan’s heart was still pounding as she watched him leave, but saw him reach the door, apparently remember something, look back at her, and return.

“Does Your Highness have more business?” Jiang Hanyuan was truly getting impatient, worried about her calligraphy.

“Lady Jiang,” he glanced at the beauty couch and spoke in a consultative tone, “how about you sleep inside instead? I’m a grown man—how can I let you sleep outside? If word gets out, what will people think of me? Or when I’m not here, wouldn’t it be the same if you slept inside alone…”

As he spoke, seeing that she gave no response and only stared at him with what seemed disdainful eyes, he stopped.

“Never mind, never mind, I’m just saying—do as you wish! I’m leaving!”

He waved his hand with some chagrin and turned to go.

Jiang Hanyuan followed to the doorway, watching his figure disappear beyond the courtyard gate. This time, he was gone. She closed the door and bolted it for good measure.