This is a strategic retreat to advance, Yu Wanyin thought, meant to make me feel the condemnation of my conscience.

But for some reason, she felt no resistance in her heart, and even her breathing became easier.

“Even if you didn’t pretend to be pitiful, I wouldn’t leave.” She patted Xiahou Dan’s hand. “Get better quickly, our next plan still requires your acting skills.”

Xiahou Dan silently watched her. She sat there, her eyes beginning to rotate slowly, like a small animal preparing for a hunt.

Yu Wanyin was lost in thought when suddenly her nose itched, and she sneezed.

Xiahou Dan touched her sleeve: “You’re completely soaked?”

“It’s nothing…”

Xiahou Dan grabbed the bell beside him and summoned a palace servant: “Take the Noble Consort to bathe.”

Yu Wanyin took a hot bath, and the gloom in her heart completely dispersed. She felt she hadn’t been this comfortable and peaceful for a long time.

After drying her hair, she wanted to say goodbye to Xiahou Dan before leaving, but he naturally said: “It’s raining outside, don’t trouble yourself, just sleep here.”

Yu Wanyin hesitated for a moment, then gladly lay down beside him. The blanket was warm, and the sound of thunder and rain outside made her drowsy.

“Are you still in severe pain? Shall I massage you?”

“Mm.”

Xiahou Dan lay with his eyes closed, feeling her drawing closer. The little animal was completely defenseless, only wanting to share warmth.

Xiahou Dan claimed illness and skipped court for two days. On the third day, he sat on the dragon throne with a normal complexion, saying languidly: “The Empress Dowager has wanted to build a mausoleum for many years. Now that her birthday is approaching, I wish to show my filial piety. Ministry of Revenue, is the tax revenue sufficient?”

The Minister of Revenue was stunned: “This official will immediately verify.”

Previously, Xiahou Dan had executed a Minister of Revenue in court. The current minister is that man’s brother. The replacement of such a high-ranking official caused no ripples; even administrative affairs continued as usual as if nothing had happened.

This was the court of Da Xia.

For more than a decade, two political factions had been fighting in the court, power constantly shifting, creating countless officials who did no real work. Officials came quickly and left even faster. They could be appointed in the morning, take office in the afternoon, and perhaps be in a coffin by evening.

In such an environment, everyone’s mind was focused on mere survival, or taking advantage of their position to line their pockets. Numerous policies were issued but never implemented, and those who tried to do real work had long been eliminated.

The Minister of Revenue became anxious.

For other imperial edicts, he might be able to pretend compliance while doing otherwise, but the Empress Dowager’s mausoleum was something he absolutely could not skimp on. He had been promoted by the Empress Dowager, and as a newly appointed official, this was a great opportunity to establish merit.

But there was one practical problem: the national treasury truly had no money left.

For such a major project as a mausoleum, where could he find the money?

The Minister of Revenue thought of the only solution: continue to squeeze the people for more taxes.

At the next morning’s court session, Xiahou Dan languidly said: “The Ministry of Revenue has proposed to increase taxes again this year. What do my ministers think?”

None of the officials dared to say anything. When the Emperor suddenly decided to demonstrate filial piety, even though everyone knew the common people had already been squeezed dry and further tax increases might cause rebellion, no one dared to stand up in opposition.

Xiahou Dan waved his hand: “Then let it be done.”

Somehow, the news of tax increases spread quickly, covering the entire capital within days. The people complained bitterly, but their voices couldn’t reach the Emperor’s ears.

That day, Xiahou Dan left the palace to visit an ailing elderly minister. Before departing, he pulled aside the guard driving his carriage and whispered instructions.

On the way back to the palace, the carriage suddenly came to an abrupt stop.

Xiahou Dan sat steadily in the carriage, hearing the guard outside shout angrily: “Who dares to block the imperial carriage!”

This shout was like a great bell, drawing the attention of commoners from half a street away.

Xiahou Dan knew the actor was in position and leisurely lifted the carriage curtain to step down, asking: “What’s the matter?”

In the distance knelt an extra in tattered clothes who, upon seeing him descend from the carriage, immediately began wailing like a slaughtered pig: “Your Majesty! Heavens above! Please open your eyes! My fellow villagers, every household, without exception, toil from dawn to dusk throughout the year, yet the grain they save is barely enough to feed themselves. My younger brother and sister, born during a year of poor harvest, were tearfully starved to death by our parents…”

Li Yunxi, who was mixed in the crowd: “?”

Why did this impassioned speech sound familiar?

The extra directly repeated the entire speech Li Yunxi had given on the boat that day, concluding with a wail: “My family can no longer survive, and if taxes increase further, we can only cut off our heads and offer this bowl of hot blood to serve Your Majesty!”

He kowtowed repeatedly with loud thuds.

Li Yunxi: “…”

The surrounding commoners all listened with tears in their eyes and joined the chorus of cries. More people continuously arrived from a distance, blocking Xiahou Dan’s return path completely.

Xiahou Dan’s face showed utter distress, his fists clenched so tightly they made cracking sounds. Suddenly, he slapped the guard, hissing: “Useless! Quickly bring the Minister of Revenue here!”

The Minister of Revenue knelt before Xiahou Dan under the watchful eyes of the entire city’s population.

Xiahou Dan: “Why increase taxes?”

Minister of Revenue: “…”

Wasn’t that the memorial you approved?

The Minister of Revenue tremblingly repeated the contents of the memorial, fortunately having enough wit not to mention the Emperor’s filial piety, saying it was his idea.

Xiahou Dan righteously said: “So the tax increase is for building a mausoleum? Then what about the tax revenue in the national treasury originally meant for the imperial mausoleum?”

The Minister of Revenue was silent as the grave.

Xiahou Dan: “Take me to see it. Today, we must give… give the people an explanation!”

Moments later, the Minister of Revenue, drenched in cold sweat, tremblingly opened the door to a treasury.

Xiahou Dan stood rigidly at the entrance, frozen for a long time, then suddenly threw his head back and laughed wildly: “Where is the money? Where is my money?!”

The palace servants all fell to their knees with a clatter.

Xiahou Dan’s eyes flashed with murderous intent. Looking around, he snatched a sword from a guard and strode towards the Minister of Revenue.

The Minister of Revenue immediately wet himself: “Your Majesty!!!”

“Your Majesty—” An Xian came running with small steps, “General Zhang of the Right Army urgently reports that…”

He leaned towards Xiahou Dan’s ear, but Xiahou Dan impatiently said: “Speak loudly.”

An Xian: “He says the military provisions have molded.”

Xiahou Dan threw down the sword, took the memorial from his hand, opened it and glanced at it twice, then slammed it into the Minister of Revenue’s face: “They are threatening me, saying that if this year’s military provisions are not increased, the army will not have sufficient strength to defend the borders.”

Everyone knew that those generals were basically all from Prince Duan’s faction. Finding the Emperor to apply pressure at this critical moment was natural because they had heard about the Ministry of Revenue’s tax increase and wanted a share.

Xiahou Dan staggered a step: “Fine, fine. Everyone comes to me for money, yet the treasury is empty. This empire might as well change its surname!”

The Minister of Revenue had finally finished urinating and was very calm: “This official deserves death.”

However, Xiahou Dan didn’t pick up the sword again. After catching his breath, he said wearily: “I must consult with the Empress Dowager on this matter.”

Meanwhile, the Empress Dowager had also heard about today’s farce.

She was somewhat alarmed: “Having the treasury so empty is indeed problematic.”

People who have never led troops always fear those military brutes. They are wary of them yet dependent on their protection.

“Those military men have simple thoughts. For now, we must first feed them well.” The Empress Dowager adjusted her gold and jade hairpin, smiling, “Have the Ministry of Revenue think of a way to allocate some supplies to them.”

Her confidant asked: “Then the matter of the mausoleum…”

The Empress Dowager looked at her bright red nails: “It’s rare for the Emperor to show filial piety. The mausoleum naturally should be built.”

In the Imperial Garden, Zhang San’s so-called “two dragons playing with a pearl” flowerbed had been planted and would bloom in a few days.

After dismissing the palace servants, he took a shovel and buried a box in the soil beneath the “pearl.”

He hid a note in the box: “If you are a fellow transmigrator, leave me a message. I want to meet you.” — written in simplified characters, from left to right. Any transmigrator would understand at a glance.

Before the flowers bloomed, Zhang San had already started finding excuses to linger nearby every day.

Of course, the soil showed no signs of being disturbed.

Xiahou Dan recounted the grand performance to Yu Wanyin, who laughed heartily: “You’re such a good actor!”

Xiahou Dan: “After all, it’s my only remaining strength.”

Yu Wanyin: “It’s great, especially useful. This way, Erlan, and the others should make their appearance soon. The Ministry of Revenue implementing the merchant-grain exchange system is only a matter of time.”

“But the seed problem still isn’t solved…”

“It’s time to research the matters of Yan State.” Yu Wanyin said thoughtfully, “I’ll go to the archives first to do some homework.”

The archive had been completely rebuilt and a batch of new books was to replace the burned collections.

Yu Wanyin spent a day there, finding several gazetteers related to Yan State. She sweet-talked the palace servants, wanting to take the books back to read at leisure.

When passing by her original workspace on the second floor, she casually glanced out the window and suddenly froze in place.

A batch of new flowers had bloomed in the Imperial Garden.

Looking down from the second floor, amid the flower beds, a huge “SOS” shape was visible.

Yu Wanyin’s skin broke out in goosebumps as she turned to ask the palace servant: “When were these flowers planted?”

Palace servant: “This servant does not know.”

Yu Wanyin could no longer think about borrowing books and hurried downstairs to the flower bed.

The SOS shape was formed by clematis plants, with pink-purple flowers that were distinctly different from the surrounding flowers and plants.

Could it be what she was thinking? Were these planted by a transmigrator?

This plot didn’t exist in “Rebirth as the Demon’s Favored Consort.”

Could it be another companion who accidentally transmigrated here? If this SOS was a message, there should be other clues nearby.

Yu Wanyin looked around, first searching each hollow tree in the vicinity, but found nothing. Still not giving up, she bent down to examine the soil beneath the flowers.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind her.

As if sensing something, Yu Wanyin turned around to see the solemn little Crown Prince quietly watching her.

After a few seconds of eye contact, the little Crown Prince greeted her: “Noble Consort.”

“…Your Highness, what are you doing here?”

The little Crown Prince looked at her, his eyes showing both caution and confusion: “Just passing by coincidentally.”

Yu Wanyin took two steps closer to him, an incredible guess forming in her mind.

She pursed her lips and tested him: “In front of my house there are two trees, do you know what trees they are?”

The little Crown Prince stared at her without any reaction.

Yu Wanyin took another step closer: “One of them is a jujube tree, what’s the other one?”

The little Crown Prince slowly frowned: “Noble Consort?”

From a distance, a small eunuch hurried over, bowed to Yu Wanyin, then said to the little Crown Prince: “Your Highness, the Empress Dowager is waiting for you.”

Yu Wanyin watched them leave in disappointment.

“Your Highness, please come with this servant quickly.” The eunuch said in a panicked, hushed voice, “The Empress Dowager is not well.”

Zhang San was pushed into the Empress Dowager’s chambers as if in a dream.

For a moment, he didn’t recognize the woman on the bed with half her face drooping and eyes bulging.

She had suffered a stroke, aging twenty years overnight. From her sagging mouth corner, drool flowed as she extended a trembling hand toward him.

Zhang San took the Empress Dowager’s hand.

Her fingers gripped him tightly like eagle talons, as if clutching at an obsession, her eyes filled with such unwillingness it seemed it would transform into a malevolent force and devour him.

Outside the hall came the announcement: “His Majesty has arrived—”

Zhang San paused and turned around.

A tall figure walked to the bedside, knelt, and called out “Mother.” Without waiting for the Empress Dowager’s response, he raised his head and smiled coldly at Zhang San: “Dan’er.”

Zhang San did not respond.

The Empress Dowager on the bed glared fiercely at the Emperor. But the Emperor appeared completely at ease, thoughtfully wiping away her saliva, smiling: “Mother, take good care and recover. You will be well soon.”

Zhang San stood silently, inhaling the cold, iron-rust scent of power transition in the air, when suddenly a sharp pain shot through his head. He endured it quietly, without making a sound.

That was the first headache attack in his life.

The Empress Dowager’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and she passed away a month later.

And as the Emperor wished, a new Empress was appointed.

The new Empress was young and beautiful, covered in pearls and jewels. Her henna-dyed fingernails lightly pinched Zhang San’s face: “Dan’er, from now on, I am your mother.”

Zhang San discreetly turned his head to avoid her hand, and docilely said: “Mother.”

He had been in the palace for a long time now, long enough to understand many things.

For instance, this Empress had been poisoned by the Empress Dowager before taking the position, making her permanently infertile.

For instance, the Empress Dowager’s stroke and death were almost certainly connected to this Empress.

And for instance, the Empress naturally hated him. On the other hand, she needed to tame him. Once the Emperor died, she would become Empress Lü Wu.

He wasn’t truly a child. But as an ordinary middle school student, his cunning perhaps couldn’t match that of children raised in the palace.

Previously he was controlled by the Empress Dowager, now by the new Empress. He couldn’t outwit either of them.

But where was that consort, the supposed protagonist of the story, the Demon’s Favored Consort, his only fellow transmigrator?

Zhang San had tried bringing the new Empress near the SOS flower bed to observe her reaction. But her gaze passed over the flowers without the slightest ripple of interest.

She was busy establishing her relatives’ power, determined to control both the government and the imperial harem.

Zhang San knew that his power as the future Emperor was being eaten away step by step. But he was helpless—his birth mother in the book had already passed away, and the Emperor showed him no special favor.

His headaches became more and more frequent.

Where was that person? When would they appear?

Would he be able to wait for her?

That evening, Yu Wanyin excitedly found Xiahou Dan and told him about the flower bed.

Xiahou Dan paused: “Could it have been planted by Xie Yong’er?”

“I guessed that initially,” Yu Wanyin said. “But Xie Yong’er’s every word and action were written in the book, so she didn’t do this. Besides, she always believed she was the only transmigrator, so she wouldn’t look for others like her. I think this must be someone else, like us, who accidentally transmigrated here.”

Xiahou Dan: “But we’ve been here for so long, if there was someone strange, we would have discovered them by now.”

“Maybe that person is trying their best to hide? He, or she, doesn’t know who to trust, so they can only seek help this way… I must find out who planted that flower bed.”

Xiahou Dan smiled indifferently: “It’s probably just a coincidence. You see it as SOS, but maybe they were planting a ‘two dragons playing with a pearl’ design.”

“I know. But what if? What if someone is waiting for us to save them? Being alone in this world must be terrifying.”

Xiahou Dan quietly gazed at her.

Yu Wanyin smiled: “Don’t be like that, use your imagination. With three people we could play cards! Do you think that person is male or female? Would they like hot pot?”

A year after the new Empress was enthroned, Zhang San reached the age to study at the Ministry of Education.

In this world, the Ministry of Education was usually where all princes studied together. However after Zhang San began his studies, he found the space around him empty. In the vast study hall, he sat alone in the center, with all the tutors awkwardly revolving around him.

He knew this was the new Empress’s intention. That ambitious woman was isolating the Crown Prince from the very beginning.

Zhang San didn’t believe in fate.

Despite having no real skills, he still harbored a sense of modern superiority and wasn’t willing to submit easily. He wanted to improve his situation as much as possible until he found that companion.

Zhang San obediently attended classes for several days, and when the Emperor and Empress came to inspect his studies, he shyly said: “Your son sits alone day after day, and it’s truly lonely and dull. I beg Father Emperor and Mother Empress to show mercy, even one companion would be good.”

He wanted to try making friends and building his power base.

The Emperor glanced at the Empress. The Empress stroked Zhang San’s head, smiling: “Then let Bo’er accompany you.”

Xiahou Bo was a few years older than him. Though born of humble status as an illegitimate son, he was handsome and elegant, like a fine jade tree. Only when he paid respects to Zhang San at court did his cold eyes barely conceal his disgust.

The tutor had Xiahou Bo sit opposite the Crown Prince.

During the lengthy lecture, Zhang San’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier. As he was about to doze off, a sharp “smack” suddenly sounded near his ear.

He felt as if he was back in middle school math class and lifted his head in alarm.

“Smack,” another sound. The tutor’s ruler was raised high and struck heavily on Xiahou Bo’s palm: “No daydreaming!”

Xiahou Bo hadn’t been daydreaming.

The tutor was simply making him take punishment for the Crown Prince.

As the lecture resumed, Xiahou Bo curled his red, swollen hand, staring intently at Zhang San, his thin lips pressed into a line.

After class, Zhang San immediately questioned the small eunuch who followed him: “An Xian, what’s the story with Xiahou Bo? Don’t try to hide it from me, I’ll find out eventually.”

An Xian trembled and spoke vaguely, but Zhang San generally understood: in the long history of palace intrigue, his deceased mother had killed Xiahou Bo’s mother.

However, all the parties involved had already died. In this deep palace, where pretense became reality and truth was indistinguishable from falsehood, who could truly tell what had happened?

The only thing Zhang San knew for certain: Xiahou Bo hated him.

And the new Empress was very pleased to deepen this hatred.

From that day on, the tutors’ punishments toward Xiahou Bo became increasingly severe. Soon they were no longer satisfied with just the ruler; willow whips appeared in the study hall.

Even the eunuchs and palace maids competed to show their creativity in food and drinks, inventing many ways to humiliate him. Whenever Xiahou Bo swallowed the dirty water with an expressionless face, they would gleefully look toward Zhang San, as if expecting a reward.

It was said that the new Empress had instructed them: “If the Crown Prince has a headache attack, someone beside him must be in greater pain.”

Zhang San had pleaded softly several times, but by now the Emperor had gradually stopped interfering, leaving everything to the new Empress.

The new Empress didn’t remove Xiahou Bo but instead brought in more illegitimate and unfavored princes.

As one might expect, each classmate became a “tool for the new Empress to please the Crown Prince.” In everyone’s eyes, Zhang San was firmly bound to the new Empress, as close as mother and son.

Sometimes Zhang San would think that there were many ways to isolate the Crown Prince, and the new Empress had chosen the most radical one. Perhaps because after her miscarriage years ago, she had already come to hate all princes.

That woman hadn’t anticipated then that in this study hall filled with all five poisons, she would ultimately nurture a venomous creature surpassing herself.

The blood marks and bruises on Xiahou Bo’s body increased day by day, yet his gaze toward Zhang San became more restrained each day. Now there was no trace of hatred on his face; his demeanor was refined and elegant, his smile humble and polite. He was so likable that all the abused princes rallied around him.

Zhang San didn’t believe in fate.

He had tried standing up when the tutor was disciplining his classmates, arguing reasonably. The aged tutor would bow to him in fear, asking him to calm down, yet the next day would whip the others even more severely. His protest became a poor act, playing the good cop under the mocking gaze of the princes.

He had tried bringing food for all his classmates to improve relations. He selected sumptuous meals and pastries, watched the palace servants pack them into food boxes, and brought them to the study hall. However, when his classmates opened the boxes, they found only chaff and bran.

One hot-tempered prince could no longer endure it and smashed his food box on the spot: “Crown Prince, your deep affection is truly moving!”

“Third Brother.” Xiahou Bo patted the prince’s shoulder, signaling him to calm down, then said politely, “Thank you for the Crown Prince’s reward.”

Zhang San: “I didn’t—this is not—someone come here!”

The small eunuch who had carried the food boxes knelt on the ground, crying heartbrokenly. When Zhang San scolded him angrily, the princes again gave him looks of mockery as if watching a self-directed play.

Zhang San couldn’t defend himself. His head felt like it was about to split open, and he kicked the eunuch: “Who instructed you to do this? Speak!”

“Your Highness, spare me, spare me…”

At this moment, Xiahou Bo gently said: “This eunuch’s crime doesn’t deserve death. I ask the Crown Prince to be merciful.” As he spoke, he actively ate the chaff.

Zhang San stood there, feeling cold all over.

In that brief moment, he had caught the exchange of glances between the eunuch and Xiahou Bo.

While he had been childishly thinking about “improving relations,” Xiahou Bo had already learned how to frame others and win people’s hearts.

He had also tried feigning illness for half a month, simply not going to the study hall.

At this point, the new Empress, who had been ignoring him, appeared again, sitting at his bedside with concern: “Dan’er, His Majesty heard that you not only neglect your studies but also try every means to humiliate your classmates. He is very angry. You should go kowtow to him and admit your mistake.”

Zhang San was so angry his liver hurt. He could no longer maintain his mask of obedient confusion, and stared at her coldly: “Who is truly humiliating them? I believe Mother knows better than your son.”

The new Empress exclaimed in surprise: “Who is it? Tell me, and Mother will help you.”

Zhang San: “…”

Zhang San wrote a long letter and personally delivered it to the Emperor.

Using all his intelligence, he first praised his father’s kindness, then recounted his experiences with his brothers, never mentioning his grievances, only expressing worry that his father was being deceived by treacherous people.

He never received a response from the Emperor.

What appeared before him again was the half-smiling new Empress: “Crown Prince, oh Crown Prince, I have treated you as my son, but I never imagined you would misunderstand me so deeply. It truly breaks my heart.”

Zhang San: “Father, he—”

The new Empress sneered: “Do you think the court and harem are still ruled by your father? I’ll tell you this: in my life, I have hated many people, but none more than him.”

Zhang San’s heart skipped a beat.

This woman had even said such things openly—was he about to be silenced forever?

The new Empress’s long fingernails traced across his face, pressing down to draw a drop of blood: “If you are unwilling to be of one heart with me as mother and son, there are other princes who would be willing.”

At that moment, Zhang San understood something for the first time.

In this story, who he was, and what kind of person he was, wasn’t so important.

Zhang San fell to his knees before the new Empress with a thud, kowtowing: “Your son has been unfilial. I am willing to face the wall and reflect on my mistakes.”

During the days he faced the wall in reflection, the SOS-shaped clematis in the Imperial Garden bloomed again.

Zhang San ran to check the soil time after time, returning disappointed each time. Until one day, he suddenly stopped at a distance—the soil under the flowers showed signs of having been disturbed.

Zhang San didn’t even bother to get a shovel; he knelt on the ground and dug with his bare hands, unearthing the box buried deep below.

He pried open the box with his dirty fingernails. The note he had left inside was gone, replaced by a strangely-shaped leaf.

In the following days, Zhang San searched tree by tree, finally discovering a similar leaf in some corner of the deep palace.

He then felt over the tree trunk inch by inch, finally finding a small carving: “Chou” (the zodiac hour between 1-3 AM).

At the chou hour of the deep night, Zhang San slipped past the sleeping palace servants and walked alone toward that tree.

A frail young palace maid was standing under the tree with a lantern, her face pale as she watched him.

Zhang San held his breath.

He ran up to her: “…Did you get my note?”

The young palace maid’s hand trembled, dropping the lantern, and she suddenly knelt: “Your Highness, spare my life! This servant didn’t know it was Your Highness’s possession!”

Zhang San looked at her reaction, his heart gradually growing cold.

Still unwilling to give up, he tentatively said to her: “Hello?”

The young palace maid was confused and frightened.

Zhang San’s blood was cooling throughout his body: “If you didn’t recognize that flower bed, how did you think to dig up the soil?”

“This servant… this servant serves in a side hall near there, often seeing a figure lingering from afar, and noticing the strange shape of the flower bed, became curious and dug a little…”

The young palace maid’s voice broke with tears: “The characters on the note were strange, the meaning unclear. This servant thought… thought it was some guard who barely knew how to write… This servant deserves to die!”

Zhang San laughed hoarsely.

“Stop acting. Are you afraid I’ll harm you? Trust me, we are the same kind.”

The young palace maid was confused and frightened.

“I—I only have you in this world.” Zhang San walked toward her step by step, but she retreated step by step.

Zhang San stood still.

“You aren’t one?”

“Aren’t… what?”

Zhang San suddenly smiled gently, reaching out to touch her face lightly: “Nothing. Now you know my secret.”

The young palace maid was confused yet bashful.

Zhang San’s hand slowly moved down to her delicate neck.

Before sunrise, he had submerged her in the pond.

That was the first person he killed.

Yu Wanyin asked trustworthy palace servants for information, but no one knew who had planted the clematis.

“They say no one has touched that part of the Imperial Garden in recent years,” Yu Wanyin said disappointedly.

Xiahou Dan shrugged: “See, I told you, you’re overthinking it.”

“But looking down from above, it is an expertly crafted SOS…”

Xiahou Dan: “This raises a new question. The flowers have just bloomed and will stay open for a long time. What if Xie Yong’er passes by one day and, like you, sees the ‘two dragons playing with a pearl’ as an SOS? What do you think she’ll think?”

Yu Wanyin covered her mouth with a sudden realization: “She would also suspect there are others like her around.”

“And then, perhaps one day she’ll have a flash of insight and suspect us,” Xiahou Dan guided her reasoning.

Yu Wanyin indeed became anxious: “That flower bed can’t remain. Can we find an excuse to remove it?”

“Ridiculous, if I want to renovate the Imperial Garden, why would I need an excuse?”

That afternoon, after confirming that Xie Yong’er hadn’t gone out, Xiahou Dan ordered the flower bed to be renovated.

The clematis plants were uprooted one by one. Xiahou Dan sat in a pavilion watching from afar, his gaze showing neither joy nor sorrow.

When he turned his head, he found Yu Wanyin beside him looking quite dejected.

Xiahou Dan laughed: “What’s wrong?”

Yu Wanyin was a bit embarrassed: “You can call me fanciful, but I was thinking, what if there is someone like us who went through great trouble to plant those flowers for help, and not only didn’t get a response but even had the flowers uprooted… Why don’t we bury a note in the original spot or something?”

Xiahou Dan: “…”

Xiahou Dan looked at her tenderly: “There’s a risk of Xie Yong’er discovering it.”

“Alright,” Yu Wanyin gave up.