The rain had continued for several days, the entire palace city shrouded in white mist.

Government affairs were busy. When the Crown Prince emerged from Zichen Hall, the sky was already dark.

Shou Xi held an umbrella for Li Xuan. As the two descended the jade steps, they saw Prince Yan Li Huan kneeling at the base of the stairs.

Zheng Fu chased out from the hall, draping a robe embroidered with crane patterns over Li Xuan’s shoulders: “The Sage said the inner chamber had braziers burning and was very hot. When you left, he forgot to remind you to add a layer of clothing, so he told this servant to hurry and bring it. Your Highness’s health is weak—be careful of catching cold.”

Li Xuan fastened the cloak and turned to look at Li Huan kneeling in the rain.

Li Huan wore light armor, the single-layer garment underneath soaked through, revealing the outline of his sinewy muscles. On the ground where he knelt, faint traces of red water seeped out—his wounds must not have healed yet. He looked utterly wretched.

Zheng Fu was a senior eunuch close to Emperor Chenming. Seeing the Crown Prince looking at Prince Yan, he forced a helpless smile: “The common people outside are full of talk. The Sage doesn’t want to see Third Prince right now, but Third Prince simply refuses to leave…”

Li Xuan nodded.

Having committed an error, one must bear the thunderous imperial fury. This anger couldn’t be dispelled by merely kneeling.

Moreover, Li Huan had never been favored by Emperor Chenming. In their childhood, Emperor Chenming had never looked properly at Li Huan. In his memory, when their father spoke, Li Huan always stood dully outside the door. He, as the eldest brother, cared for all his younger brothers equally, always taking Li Huan’s hand and pulling him into the main hall.

But that was all long ago.

Li Xuan pointed at Li Huan: “Give him an outer garment too.”

He didn’t know if Li Huan envied the cloak on his shoulders, but he certainly envied this third imperial brother’s robust body that could kneel for so long in the rain. As he thought this, he coughed, his body beneath the robe trembling. Zheng Fu quickly urged him to return to the palace early.

The relationship between the two brothers wasn’t close enough for mutual pleasantries. Li Huan remained motionless throughout, allowing Zheng Fu to drape the garment over him, like a hard stone statue.

Not until he heard a young lady’s voice did the statue stir.

Bao Shu came over with an umbrella and bowed to Li Xuan, biting her lip: “The Princess has been ill for a long time and constantly speaks of Your Highness. When might Your Highness visit Luanyi Pavilion?”

Before Li Xuan could respond, Li Huan suddenly twisted his head to look at Bao Shu.

Li Xuan said: “How has it become so serious? Has A’Fu taken the medicine I sent?”

Bao Shu said: “The Princess takes the medicine Your Highness sent without fail, but her heart is unsettled, so her illness naturally won’t improve. All day she speaks to this servant about wanting to see Brother Xuan.”

Li Xuan glanced at her and smiled: “Bao Shu, serving in the palace is tiring, not as comfortable as being at home. Are you adjusting well?”

Bao Shu was momentarily stunned, then quickly expressed her gratitude: “This subject… this servant finds the palace very good. The Princess is gentle and kind. This servant will certainly serve diligently and care well for the noble mistress.”

“Do your duty well. If you need anything, come find me anytime.” Li Xuan smiled warmly. Without waiting for Bao Shu to speak further, he left with Shou Xi.

Bao Shu detected a warning in that smile and couldn’t help feeling flustered.

A few days ago, she had heard that Good Lady Zheng had angered the Crown Prince, causing him to lose his composure. She had thought the Princess’s opportunity had come, but who knew she might have said the wrong thing.

Behind her, Li Huan repeatedly called “Bao Shu,” but she paid no attention. Li Huan anxiously raised his voice: “Where are the things I sent? There were medicinal herbs inside.”

After walking quite far, Bao Shu turned back. Li Huan, kneeling on the ground and looking up anxiously—this fallen Third Prince truly resembled a drowned dog. Except that dogs didn’t have such fierce and terrifying masks.

In this era, people judged somewhat by appearance. Throughout history, crown princes were mostly handsome in bearing. A person whose face was so ugly it couldn’t be shown could never ascend to the throne.

Thus, when she bowed, she couldn’t hide her disdain: “The Princess knew the items were from Third Prince and directly instructed this servant to discard them. Third Prince knows full well that the Princess detests you—why must you persist in pestering? This servant advises you: you can barely protect yourself now. Would you have the Princess live a precarious life with you?”

Having said this, she turned and left.

Water droplets continuously flowed down from Li Huan’s bronze mask, the mask concealing all his expression.

—

Meng Guanlou habitually drank heavily at dusk. Half-drunk, he stumbled back to his private room, and upon seeing the person sitting inside, sobered up considerably.

Li Xuan sat in his chair, the gold-traced round-collared robe falling softly around him. Shou Xi stood beside him—both were expressionless.

Noticing that all the servants in the room had been cleared out and withdrawn outside, Meng Guanlou quietly closed the door.

“In broad daylight, an attack in the marketplace. Who told you to act rashly?” Li Xuan asked.

Meng Guanlou’s expression changed slightly. Just as he was about to speak, Li Xuan said sternly: “Was it your idea, or your father’s idea?”

Meng Guanlou was so frightened his eyelashes trembled violently. He raised both hands: “It was me… Your Highness, it was me. My father severely punished me that day. If not for my mother’s protection, I wouldn’t be standing before Your Highness whole today.”

Li Xuan’s expression softened slightly, but his demeanor remained grave: “Jiu Lang, even if you and Lu Huating were hurling mud at each other, it would merely be a conflict between ministers, just minor squabbling. But this fire of yours spread to Prince Yan’s robes—do you know what this is?”

“This is factional strife.” Li Xuan raised his phoenix eyes to look at him. “Throughout history, how many nations have perished due to factional strife. The realm has just been stabilized, Father Emperor ascended the throne less than a year ago—at this time, for the heir apparent to struggle, the people of Nan Chu should be very pleased: a group whose seats aren’t even warm yet have already thrown themselves into chaos.”

“I understand Your Highness’s meaning,” Meng Guanlou said reluctantly. “But my thinking differs slightly: Your Highness thinks this way, but others may not. Now is indeed not a good time for conflict, but if we wait until the realm is fully pacified, it will be too late!”

“These past years of campaigns—the great Li family army are all Prince Yan’s blood brothers, so much so that they only recognize Prince Yan, not the Eastern Palace. Now the Xiao army has pledged allegiance, Prince Yan commands the defense outside the city. With Lu Huating, that wolf with wild ambitions, at his side—if he wanted, the entire palace city would be full of his people. If Prince Yan one day surrounds the city with troops and forces the Sage to change the heir apparent, how would Your Highness respond?” Meng Guanlou said.

Li Xuan shook his head: “He wouldn’t dare.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t dare?” Meng Guanlou said urgently. “Your Highness doesn’t understand Prince Yan, nor do you understand human nature. Don’t forget—at the Battle of Feihu Pass when your fate was unknown, the Sage offered him the position of Crown Prince, and didn’t he accept it? Once Your Highness’s health…”

Li Xuan crushed the teacup in his hand.

Li Xuan’s mother died in the Battle of Feihu Pass. Li Xuan himself suffered countless torments. Meng Guanlou realized his slip of the tongue and immediately knelt.

“Your Highness, look at the soft couches, cushions, ice boxes, and incense burners in this room. When you entered, didn’t everything feel just right? This servant had people prepare it six hours in advance. I simply prefer to prepare everything and then enjoy it with peace of mind. Why leave sand in one’s shoe and invite long nights of troubled dreams?”

Meng Guanlou raised his chin. “In this matter, you must listen to me. We’re not seeking Prince Yan’s life—we merely need to eliminate his possibility of inheriting the throne before his power grows. In the future, Your Highness will have a smooth and level road ahead, with no more threats. Wouldn’t that be good?”

“How have you dealt with those people you hired?” After a while, Li Xuan asked.

“They’re all marketplace ruffians without families. I sent them to an estate at the foot of Mount Wan in Wancheng, watched over by my close guard Qu Feng. Once the storm passes, I’ll give them some silver and send them away to other places.”

“I came today because there’s something I wanted to confirm with you.” Li Xuan poured fresh tea. “I heard a young lady was involved, but escaped afterward. You say she’s a shadow guard from Prince Yan’s mansion?”

“Absolutely true,” Meng Guanlou said. “That day I saw with my own eyes—she hid in the crowd and coordinated with Juan Su from inside and out. Lu Huating risked his life, pulling away his own shadow guard to protect her. If she weren’t a shadow guard, how could he go to such lengths?”

“This young lady was so desperate to save Lu Huating’s life that she pushed matters to an irretrievable point, even harming Prince Yan’s reputation.” Meng Guanlou smiled. “Even if we don’t look for her, Prince Yan will severely punish her.”

Li Xuan said: “You’re mistaken. That female shadow guard from Prince Yan’s mansion couldn’t possibly be her.”

“But Your Highness, my scouts say Prince Yan’s mansion has more than one female shadow guard,” Meng Guanlou said. “Over these years, assassination attempts by Nan Chu never harmed Prince Yan in the slightest, all thanks to Lu Huating recruiting eight capable shadow guards. There’s a female shadow guard called Wen Su who has been on assignments outside the mansion for years and has never shown her face.”

Li Xuan’s hand stopped. He looked sharply at Meng Guanlou: “Did you see that young lady’s appearance clearly?”

“No, she kept her face veiled the whole time—who knows what she was up to. Lu Huating seemed deliberately preventing her from being seen.” Meng Guanlou was annoyed. “Moreover, this woman is extremely vigilant. She wore no hairpins or rings—not even an earring was dropped at the scene. The only thing she left behind was blade marks—throwing blades to wound people, one blade piercing through. This rules out ordinary noble ladies. Doesn’t this prove she’s Wen Su? If not for Lingxin Bakery being packed with people at the time—too chaotic—our men wouldn’t have lost her.”

Li Xuan’s expression changed several times: “The incident occurred very close to Lingxin Bakery?”

Meng Guanlou said: “It’s that pastry shop that makes lotus flower cakes, the one with very long queues—right beside it. Has Your Highness thought of something?”

“Nothing much. Yesterday in Good Lady Zheng’s palace, a palace maid left the palace.” Li Xuan spoke casually. “Around the hour of Hai, she happened to be near Lingxin Bakery. I originally thought that as a palace person, the probability of her knowing Lu Huating was high. If she witnessed the brawl, she might have discerned something, so I detained her. I just didn’t expect she might be an even more formidable figure.”

Before leaving, Li Xuan’s lowered hand touched Meng Guanlou’s forehead and temples. Meng Guanlou was quite obedient, remaining motionless like a hound.

Li Xuan said: “Your body temperature is indeed somewhat elevated. If you’re agitated and uncomfortable, I’ll have Shou Xi find a physician to prescribe some calming medicine to suppress it first. Whether you’re planning for me or settling personal grudges, you know in your heart. Stop provoking Lu Huating. I understand him better than you do.”

—

Early in the morning, Qun Qing’s door opened—it was Shou Xi coming to the courtyard to deliver an edict.

She had been confined for two days, enough time to speculate through all possibilities. Nothing more than Zheng Zhiyi pleading for her, or the entire palace pleading for her…

But Qun Qing hadn’t expected to face a golden tray.

On the tray was silver-red silk, brilliant as rosy clouds.

Shou Xi said: “The Crown Prince’s edict: That day, being in poor spirits and momentarily displeased, I severely punished a maid of Qingxuan Pavilion, causing the Good Lady fright. I reproach myself deeply. I bestow one bolt of silk to comfort the young lady. I hope the young lady will serve carefully hereafter.”

A’Meng and the others were stunned upon hearing this. They had long known the Crown Prince was gentle, but didn’t realize it extended to this degree—actually apologizing to a palace maid.

Lan Yue’s glare at Qun Qing was nearly hateful: the Good Lady’s heart was broken, yet she hadn’t received the Crown Prince’s visit, but this girl had! Who knew what charm this woman possessed—was she a fox spirit reincarnated? Ordinary matters, once involving her, became extraordinarily abnormal.

Qun Qing stood in place. Not until Shou Xi urged her to express thanks did she take the golden tray.

In the Chen Dynasty, the more vivid the fabric color, the rarer and more precious. This silver-red silk would be considered rare even in a noble mistress’s palace.

Qun Qing looked at the bolt of silk. The Crown Prince’s excessive favor toward a palace maid was like a meaningful warning.

Not punishing but rewarding—was it to provoke Zheng Zhiyi? Or deliberately putting her on the hot seat? Would a Crown Prince of a nation really be so calculating with a few young ladies?

As soon as Lan Yue left, A’Meng and the others immediately crowded around Qun Qing: “We said long ago that Sister Qing is blessed by heaven! Not only did you avoid punishment, you received a reward!”

A’Jiang’s eyes kept drifting to the silk: “Sister Qing, you must remember our kindness! That day we pleaded for you and even offended Sister Lan Yue.”

A’Meng scoffed: “Clearly it was Ruo Chan who first rushed up with the sleeve garment Sister Qing had mended to plead—you were too timid to go.”

A’Meng and A’Jiang speaking up for her was within Qun Qing’s expectations, because their defection had already offended Lan Yue. If they didn’t save her, life would truly be impossible. She hadn’t expected Ruo Chan to be so brave.

Ruo Chan’s face turned red as a cooked shrimp. Clutching her skirt hem, she said: “If sister left the palace, no one would teach me embroidery in the future…”

“So you wanted me to teach you embroidery.” Without waiting for Ruo Chan to explain, Qun Qing’s lips curved slightly: “Very well.”

Ruo Chan was overjoyed at these words.

“Can Sister Qing return to sleep in the quarters today?” A’Jiang said. “Good—tonight we won’t have to sleep in fear anymore.”

Only then did Qun Qing notice that these people’s faces were shadowed with dark worry.

Wind swept fallen leaves and dust. Qun Qing saw the scattered scene: “Why has the courtyard stopped being swept again?”

After only a few days of tidiness, it had returned to its original chaotic state.

“What’s the use of sweeping? Seems we won’t need to sweep so clean anymore from now on.” A’Meng smiled bitterly. “Sister Qing, we’re completely finished.”

“Why are we finished?” Qun Qing didn’t understand.

“Don’t you understand yet?” A’Jiang glanced at the inner chambers and said resentfully: “His Highness sent rewards today—did he mention the Good Lady once? He compensated you, probably for his own reputation. If the Good Lady had any hope before, when His Highness left with a black expression a few days ago, the entire palace knew the Good Lady had completely broken with His Highness. His Highness will never again set foot in our Qingxuan Pavilion!”

Qun Qing listened patiently to their explanation. A’Jiang didn’t understand why Qun Qing’s eyes remained as calm and clear as still water, her expression even somewhat bewildered.

“Sister Qing, is there nothing you care about?” A’Jiang asked painfully.

There was indeed one thing she cared about. Qun Qing asked: “Have there been any changes to our stipends? Is Cook Liu still here?”

“This… no… Cook Liu is in the kitchen—what does she have to do with anything?” A’Jiang choked. “Good fortune will never come to us again!”

“You two, take people to clean the side hall and south courtyard.” Having heard their response, Qun Qing resumed her usual demeanor. “Ruo Chan, you wipe the inner hall. These rainy days, the wood rots and breeds illness. If the Good Lady falls seriously ill, then we’ll truly be finished.”

Hearing this logic, everyone went to fetch tools for cleaning.

With money, food, and life intact, Qun Qing’s emotions were very stable—stably happy.

She picked up the silk from the tray and shook it open. The vivid silver-red color flowed down like a waterfall: “You all seem rather unhappy lately. This bolt of silk—cut it into shawls, one for each person. Today, let’s make everyone happy.”

—

Outside came the young ladies’ cheerful commotion. In the inner hall, Lan Yue changed hand towels for Zheng Zhiyi, feeling even more uncomfortable.

The noble mistress was so seriously ill, yet these ungrateful wretches had no conscience?

The quarrel had been devastating. After the Crown Prince left, the nearby palaces gossiped endlessly. The next day, Zheng Zhiyi didn’t get out of bed.

She didn’t wash or dress, just lay in bed with her eyes open. No matter how Lan Yue coaxed and cajoled, Zheng Zhiyi wouldn’t speak.

Qun Qing entered carrying a full tray of lunch. Lan Yue threw the hand towel at her: “You blind thing—the noble mistress can’t even swallow plain congee!”

This scolding startled Zheng Zhiyi. She called Lan Yue’s name, and Lan Yue quickly helped her sit up.

Qun Qing saw the Lesser Good Lady in the bed curtains—disheveled, and in just a few days, the vitality in her dark eyes had mostly vanished, becoming dull and lifeless.

Zheng Zhiyi sobbed: “I dreamed of before, in Huaiyuan… When Li Xuan was deathly ill, I used a small coal stove to brew medicine for him. The smoke blackened my face… He opened his eyes and actually smiled at me. He clearly didn’t dislike me, right? The cold nights were hard to bear… He even made sure I was covered with the blanket at night.”

Lan Yue heartbrokenly wiped the tears from her face, but the more she wiped, the more flowed. Lan Yue choked: “Good Lady… Miss, Miss, don’t cry…”

Then mistress and servant could no longer hold back and wept embracing each other.

Listening to the crying filling the room, Qun Qing lowered her eyes, feeling some compassion.

Back when Emperor Chenming was still a subject, having just arrived in Huaiyuan as military governor, that barren windswept land was rife with bandits. The military governor’s mansion was so impoverished it could barely get by. One day, Li Xuan went out to deliver a message and was robbed on the mountain.

At that time, Zheng Zhiyi was the bandit chieftain’s young daughter. Seeing Li Xuan’s elegant bearing and handsome appearance, she insisted on making him her stronghold husband. Zheng Zhiyi’s Father doted on his daughter to the extreme—rather than treating it as child’s talk, he actually wanted to make this marriage happen.

At that time, Li Xuan was not yet married. The Li family’s power was weak. Facing the numerous bandits, they allowed the eldest son to accept this humiliating marriage. Li Feng was always modest. After Zheng Zhiyi’s Father conversed with Li Feng, he greatly admired this in-law. The two families drank together in friendship, and years of banditry were resolved.

Later, the Zheng family brought all their men to pledge allegiance to the Li family, even serving and dying for them—but that was all later.

Zheng Zhiyi’s teeth chattered, whether from grief or fear: “When we went out to inspect horses, scattered soldiers ambushed us, we rolled down into a ravine with nothing to eat or drink… He saved the last bit of food for me and waited to die himself… He treated me well before because he hadn’t met his true love. Now that Yang Fu has bewitched him, he’s like a different person. He never used to speak harshly. Finally there was a maid I liked, yet he shouted about killing in front of me, making an example to warn others…”

Heaven must have secretly switched Li Xuan, replacing him with a stranger at her bedside.

“Good Lady, this servant wants to tell you something.” A cool voice amid the crying sounds, like dew sliding into a pool. Zheng Zhiyi stopped and looked at Qun Qing.

Qun Qing said slowly: “The Crown Prince was only eight years old when he accompanied the Sage to Huaiyuan, afterward only returning to Chang’an for New Year’s audiences each year. Moreover, unmarried former Chu princesses were restricted by palace regulations from speaking with outside men; female attendants had to hold round fans to cover the princess’s face.”

“So…” She took a deep breath. “So the Crown Prince and Princess Bao’an only saw each other from afar a few times at night banquets and on the Paulownia Flower Terrace—nothing compared to sharing daily hardships with the Good Lady.”

Zheng Zhiyi’s expression shattered: “Why are you saying this?”

“How is this possible?” Zheng Zhiyi said. “You’re saying there was no private affection between them at all?”

“Precisely.”

“How do you know? You’re lying! Only meeting a few times—how could they have only met a few times…” Zheng Zhiyi refused to believe it.

Qun Qing naturally knew. Because back then, the one accompanying the Princess was her, the one holding the fan was her.

Yang Fu’s infatuation with Li Xuan was a fantasy. Li Xuan didn’t truly have feelings for Yang Fu either—otherwise, after Yang Fu became Crown Princess, why would the two treat each other with mere courtesy, Yang Fu unhappy, finally throwing herself into Prince Yan’s arms?

“This servant grew up in the Rear Court. What’s strange about knowing much about affairs in the Chu palace?” Qun Qing picked up a plate of tempting sauced duck and placed it on the floor. “Good Lady, please look—this is Princess Bao’an.”

She took a bowl of plain noodles: “This is you.”

Zheng Zhiyi stared blankly at the floor, her brows furrowed, not knowing what trick she was playing.

The next several small dishes were placed one by one beside the sauced duck by Qun Qing: “Of all the civil and military officials, four in ten are former Chu subjects. The four great families of Xie, Cui, Meng, and Wang have long been intermarried with Chu’s imperial family. Princess Bao’an is, after all, a Chu princess. If she becomes Crown Princess and future Empress, all these people have opportunities to curry favor and benefit—naturally they’d want her as Crown Princess. As for you—you have no connections with anyone, so they maintain a wait-and-see attitude.”

“If the Crown Prince could marry Princess Bao’an, he would win hearts, aristocratic families would submit, court officials would pledge allegiance—everything would become much simpler. If the Good Lady were the Crown Prince, would you marry her or not?”

Zheng Zhiyi blinked, cold sweat gradually seeping from her forehead.

Compared to fearing that Li Xuan could pretend to care for a woman he didn’t love, she was more terrified that the bowl of plain noodles representing her sat bare and alone with nothing beside it.

“Has the Good Lady ever considered what you are to the Crown Prince?” Qun Qing asked.

“Didn’t you already say?” Zheng Zhiyi’s confidence was shattered. Choking, she said: “We shared hardships and were companions day and night.”

“Also correct, also not.” Qun Qing said. “I heard the Good Lady’s marriage to His Highness came about because of a childhood jest by the Good Lady. At that time, the Good Lady was still young and didn’t know whether His Highness had someone he liked, what he wanted to do, or how much gossip and mockery he bore because of it.”

“You mean he was already enduring me?” Zheng Zhiyi turned her head to think—Li Xuan did seem to be suppressing his emotions whenever he saw her, only he never told her he had suffered gossip and mockery because of her.

“What His Highness detests isn’t you, but those days when he had to bow his head. Princess Changping of Chu also forcibly chose her own prince consort. The consort seemed docile, but who could have imagined he would later rebel and usurp the state?” Qun Qing’s eyes were black as glazed glass. “How many men, after seizing power, cast aside their first wives? Those wives hadn’t even done anything wrong—merely because they reminded them of past days. Moreover, the Good Lady represents His Highness’s former humiliation…”

“Nonsense!” Lan Yue’s entire body trembled with fury, but Zheng Zhiyi swayed unsteadily yet pulled her trembling hand. “Lan Yue, go outside first.”

“But—but my Father died for the Li family. Doesn’t that count for anything?” Zheng Zhiyi still looked at the plain noodles. “And the Sage and the Empress—they’re on my side… Yes, they said they would treat me as their own child.”

“That’s right—there are still the Sage and the Empress. The Sage is a man who values gratitude. All those who raised the rebellion with him were ennobled and promoted. Your Father was posthumously granted a title. At the beginning of the year, a scholar who wrote ‘Ode to a Drop of Water’ praising this was selected as third-place graduate by the Sage. The Good Lady’s family has shown favor to the imperial house—the Sage won’t forget.”

Qun Qing picked up a bright orange and weighed it in her hand, but placed it between the two bowls.

“But the imperial family isn’t an ordinary common household. Your parents-in-law aren’t ordinary people either. In the palace, gratitude isn’t absent, but… compared to interests, it’s like a paper sword facing a steel blade.” Qun Qing shattered Zheng Zhiyi’s fantasy.

In the previous life, Zheng Zhiyi was confined to Qingxuan Pavilion for improper conduct that disgusted Li Xuan. In the second year of Shengling, at the Mid-Autumn Palace Banquet—the day Yang Fu was invested as Crown Princess—some malicious palace servant informed Zheng Zhiyi of this news. She ran out barefoot and disheveled, crying and questioning Li Xuan whether he had forgotten past favors, finally being sent to the cold palace for losing propriety. The Sage said nothing.

To bring up old matters in front of numerous nobles—how was that different from cursing the Li family as ungrateful? This was what an emperor could not tolerate. Unfortunately, the young Good Lady Zheng could never understand why the once-loving father-in-law watched coldly from the sidelines…

Before her, Zheng Zhiyi looked at the golden orange with tears: “According to your words, I’m already at the cliff’s edge. Then… what should I do to preserve myself?”

“The Good Lady needn’t be afraid.” Qun Qing comforted her. “There’s only one master in the palace—the Sage’s will is most important. As long as the Good Lady serves the Sage as she would her Father, using actions to constantly remind him of the Zheng family’s favor, the Sage and Empress will naturally restrain the Eastern Palace.”

Qun Qing gently placed the orange behind the plain noodles, then lifted the bowl of plain noodles high: “But if you constantly speak of favors, it becomes holding favor for reward. Rulers always think too much. The Good Lady doesn’t have this intent, but others will impose it upon you. Words are also blades—even the Sage fears them. Being held at sword-point to the throat is very uncomfortable. Rather than that…”

Saying this, she made as if to throw the bowl—if thrown, it would certainly shatter into pieces!

Zheng Zhiyi suddenly jumped down from the bed and snatched the bowl of plain noodles from Qun Qing’s hands.

Holding the bowl, her whole body trembling, she picked up the jade chopsticks, lifted a mouthful, and put it in her mouth.

Before finishing the noodles, tears fell first: “Lady Qing, you tell me to serve the Sage as I would my Father. I can’t do it. I only have one Father, and he’s already gone.”

Qun Qing thought for a moment and asked: “Does the Good Lady want to return to Huaiyuan?”

“Return for what? There’s no one left at home. I’m not going back—I can only stay in the palace.” Tears streamed down Zheng Zhiyi’s face. “But I… I can’t do what you describe. My heart feels terrible. I feel like I’ll become a different person, and the original me, like my Father, will be gone forever…”

For an instant, Qun Qing understood her distress. Hadn’t she felt the same? She simply couldn’t accept becoming what she most detested.

“Then consider it an expedient measure.”

“What’s an expedient measure?” Zheng Zhiyi stared at her blankly.

In Qun Qing’s mind surfaced the previous life, Zheng Zhiyi’s fate: in the cold palace, lacking medicine and food, Zheng Zhiyi mysteriously contracted a serious illness. Clothing attendant Lan Yue, risking being beaten to death, ran out to kneel before Princess Bao’an’s hall doors, kowtowing for help—clearly she was desperate.

Yang Fu, afraid of angering Li Xuan, was too frightened to open the door. Only after a full night did she send word to Qun Qing. Qun Qing hesitated for a quarter hour. When she brought a physician to the cold palace, Zheng Zhiyi’s body was already cold and stiff, thin as bones, curled up like a withered summer flower. Lan Yue looked at her with hatred, then threw herself against a wall in martyrdom.

Qun Qing’s skirt was stained with their blood. Passing Luanyi Pavilion, she saw the Princess cutting paper flowers, her expression as innocent and serene as in childhood, carefree. Seeing how happy she was, for some reason Qun Qing didn’t enter. She just wandered aimlessly through the palace like a fallen leaf in the wind, not knowing where she’d be swept.

She recalled every obstacle she’d put in Zheng Zhiyi’s path, thought of that quarter hour of hesitation before saving her. All of it melted into crimson blood staining her hands.

She had merely been swept along forward, unable to help herself, not even having time to question her own heart about right and wrong.

But now, she had the chance to change everything.

“An expedient measure is like pampas grass—when the gale blows, first bend down.” Qun Qing looked up. “But never forget for a moment who we are, what we want to do, and what we believe in. Send roots down deep. When the day comes that we hold power in our hands, then stand up again, do what we wish to do, and help others block the gale.”

—

After Zheng Zhiyi thoroughly recovered from her serious illness, not only did she eat, she got up to dress and groom herself.

Lan Yue held the mirror, watching the gradually revitalized Zheng Zhiyi, her face showing a smile: “Last time the Good Lady said the hairpins were old. This servant went to the Bureau of Dress to have the ladies there make us a batch of large silk flowers.”

“You cannot.” Qun Qing helped arrange her hair. “The western campaigns are at their height. Empress Ma herself isn’t accepting new jewelry. Consort Chen De even scraped the gilt from her screens to donate as military funds. This is not the time to trouble the Bureau of Dress.”

“Then without troubling them, we could requisition some silk thread and have Ruo Chan twist some velvet flowers to wear?” Lan Yue said again.

Qun Qing thought for a moment: “That also seems inadvisable. This year the silkworm farmers suffered disasters—silk is more expensive than silver thread.”

Lan Yue nearly fainted from anger.

Before she could speak, Zheng Zhiyi said quietly: “It’s just a flower—it can’t be eaten anyway. Never mind.”

After noon, not a single palace maid could be seen in front or back halls of Qingxuan Pavilion.

Lan Yue ran to the south courtyard and was greatly shocked: “What are you all doing?”

Under Qun Qing’s direction, A’Meng and A’Jiang were cutting down the Xiang bamboo in the south courtyard, bundling them into bamboo fences to enclose several square garden plots. The rough-work eunuchs had even pulled all the weeds inside clean.

Qun Qing’s sleeves were rolled up. She was bending down, inserting her fingers into the soil, rubbing the earth: “Loosen it twice more.”

Ruo Chan didn’t dare raise her head, answering while forcefully shoveling with her spade: “In response to Sister Lan Yue, Sister Qun Qing said these dead trees kept dropping leaves—sweeping every day was annoying, so she simply pulled them all out and converted it to a flower garden.”

Back when Zheng Zhiyi favored Qingxuan Pavilion’s south courtyard and claimed this palace hall, she didn’t know how to maintain it. More than half the rare flowers and plants died, leaving it a barren garden.

Qun Qing said: “The Good Lady wants hairpin flowers, but we can’t requisition them, so we can grow our own. Flowers like jasmine can be planted and will grow. We can go to other palaces to take cuttings. There are also flower seeds I can get from the Rear Court. In as little as a month, as long as three months, we can have flowers for hairpins.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?” Lan Yue grew anxious. “Our Good Lady is the Crown Prince’s wife. How can she turn soil and plant flowers here? Her every word and deed already attracts attention—if this gets out, won’t the entire palace look down on her! Tear it down!”

“Is that so?” Qun Qing looked at her with a smile. “Emperor Chu Jing of the previous dynasty grew rice in his own palace. How is it that only a reputation for frugality and loving the people was passed down, with no one looking down on him?”

Lan Yue couldn’t argue with her. Her nails nearly punctured her palms.

Her gaze shifted to A’Meng and A’Jiang silently working. She felt a wave of panic—not knowing when, everyone in the palace had begun following Qun Qing’s orders. She, the clothing attendant, could no longer get a word in.

Zheng Zhiyi also ran out.

The weather was clear and bright. Zheng Zhiyi watched them dig soil, snatched the shovel from Qun Qing’s hand and began digging herself, asking questions with great interest: “When can we plant? How deep to bury them?”

“When will they bloom? How big will they be?”

Before Lan Yue could complain, Zheng Zhiyi stuffed a shovel into her hands: “Lan Yue, hurry up, you dig too and help me with this big rock…”

After several days, Lan Yue developed two fire blisters at the corners of her mouth. They hurt at the slightest touch—she could only talk with her mouth askew.

Qun Qing deliberately lingered beside her, staring at her turned face: “Sister Lan Yue, I’d like to talk with you.”

“What do I have to say to you?” Lan Yue suppressed her anger. “You’re triumphant now—your true face has finally been revealed.”

After several exchanges, Lan Yue only feared losing her position. When Qun Qing brought her to a deserted spot behind the hall to sit, she shifted her bottom and pulled back her shawl, not wanting it to touch Qun Qing’s hem.

Qun Qing pretended not to notice: “I want to ask you—why did you become Good Lady Zheng’s clothing attendant? Did you want to go to the Six Bureaus?”

“What Six Bureaus?” Lan Yue looked at her strangely twice. “I don’t want that.”

“So you have deep feelings for the Good Lady. Being her clothing attendant is just because you want to stay by her side, accompany her, and have her be close to and trust only you.” Qun Qing glanced sideways. “Is that it?”

“Can you status-climbers compare to my loyalty to Miss? I’m the only household-born maid. If I don’t protect her, should I watch you all gang up to bully her?”

“In this kind of place, protecting her this way—you might be harming her.” Qun Qing said.

Lan Yue was momentarily speechless.

She did have the duty to correct the noble mistress’s words and conduct, but there were indeed many times she couldn’t bear to punish severely, leaving Zheng Zhiyi always like a child, offending the Crown Prince…

“Then are you so diligent because you want to go to the Six Bureaus?” Lan Yue asked.

Qun Qing shook her head but handed her a letter.

Lan Yue pulled the letter close to her face. After reading a while, her tone changed: “You want to leave the palace?”

What Qun Qing gave her was the family letter that had almost been stolen and read by A’Meng—Fang Xie’s instructions written before entering the palace.

“Sister, haven’t you always been curious about the letter’s contents? I’m showing you to resolve your doubts.” Qun Qing said. “I want to leave the palace because outside the palace I have…”

Lan Yue said gravely: “I understand—a lover. But strange—didn’t you enter the Rear Court when very young? Was it a childhood betrothal?”

Qun Qing froze. Not knowing Fang Xie’s age, Lan Yue had mistaken him for a lover. Her long lashes lowered, concealing the expression in her eyes: “Mm. Since I was fortunate enough to leave the Rear Court and could be exiled from the palace, I began planning.”

“Not seeing each other for years yet sending letters annually… Such a gentleman is better than the Crown Prince.” Lan Yue murmured.

The transition was probably too abrupt. Lan Yue’s expression changed several times: “So that day, you deliberately angered the Crown Prince… No wonder you were so panicked—you scared me too. But what exactly are you after?”

Lan Yue turned to look at Qun Qing: “I’m no fool. In the palace, people don’t do things against their own interests for no reason. Since you want to leave the palace, there’s no point accumulating merit. You’ve managed Qingxuan Pavilion, taught the Good Lady in every way, and now you’re telling me this…”

“Who says I’m not after anything?” Qun Qing’s eyes were pitch black, like a glimmering pool flowing in dimness. When she turned, there was a hint of cunning. “Give me your position as clothing attendant.”

“What did you say?” Lan Yue’s face flushed red.

“Stop being the clothing attendant. Let me do it instead.” Qun Qing shamelessly repeated.

A second-rank clothing attendant far exceeded ordinary palace maids in both status and stipend. Lan Yue had this honor as a household-born maid. Now shocked, annoyed, with some hurt feelings: “…Why?”

“The Great Release of palace people also has rank requirements—must be ten years in the palace and second-rank palace person or above to leave. I’ve been in the palace for ten years. If I can become clothing attendant, I’ll be able to leave Qingxuan Pavilion smoothly when the time comes.” Qun Qing said.

Lan Yue struggled: “You—how do I know if you’re telling the truth or deceiving me? What if you’re playing me?”

“Then I’ll work hard and fight once more for the Good Lady’s position as Crown Princess. Either way you won’t lose.” Qun Qing knew Lan Yue’s weak point was Zheng Zhiyi. “You also know the Good Lady is different from the Princess. She comes from a humble background with no natal family. In this palace she’s like a blade of pampas grass. Aside from rank and position, nothing can protect her.”

Low-ranking consorts didn’t live well. In the previous life, who caused the cold palace’s Zheng Zhiyi to fall ill remained a mystery.

“What madness—even in my dreams I wouldn’t dare dream this shape!” Lan Yue looked around. “After you left, the Good Lady lost emotional control and said all sorts of harsh things to the Crown Prince. His Highness will absolutely never come again.”

Qun Qing lowered her gaze to look at her shawl folded on the stone, that silver-red color like an ominous dream: “That’s really not certain. I have a premonition—he’ll come.”

—

Soon, Zheng Zhiyi received a summons. Because the western frontier campaigns were intense, Empress Ma led by example in frugality. But few of Emperor Chenming’s consorts, who had just transitioned from poverty to luxury, were willing—either making token gestures or simply ignoring it as background noise.

This made Good Lady Zheng’s honesty stand out. She hadn’t even claimed her autumn palace attire, wearing old clothes newly embroidered over.

Empress Ma was very pleased and summoned Zheng Zhiyi into the palace. Being older, she inevitably felt lonely. Originally Zheng Zhiyi spoke harshly, but this time the Empress unexpectedly spent an entire afternoon chatting with Zheng Zhiyi, confirming the child’s pure filial heart.

Zheng Zhiyi suddenly realized that pleasing the Sage and the Empress wasn’t difficult—just don’t depend on them as parents-in-law. Treat them as strangers who could smash the bowl of plain noodles at any moment.

Emerging from the hall doors, brilliant golden sunset slanted across the stone slabs.

Grief rose in Zheng Zhiyi’s heart. She had no family anymore.

Under the shade of green trees, two young ladies waited for her—Qun Qing and Lan Yue. Seeing them, Zheng Zhiyi felt she had a new family, there under the trees, not in the hall she’d just left.

She quickly lifted her skirt to walk toward them, but her gait was somewhat strange.

Chu palace attire extended past the feet, with shawls and skirt hems layered like clouds. Previously when Zheng Zhiyi walked, she’d grab her skirt at thigh level, bold and mannish, inviting mockery from palace servants. The instructing ladies couldn’t correct her no matter how they tried. Today, unexpectedly, she imitated the dignified, steady small steps of palace noble mistresses.

Descending the steps, Zheng Zhiyi was finally tripped by her skirt. Lan Yue rushed to support her: “Good Lady!”

“Don’t help—I want to walk myself.” Zheng Zhiyi pushed her away. “The road ahead is still long.”

Zheng Zhiyi walked in front. The two slowly followed behind.

Lan Yue suddenly pulled Qun Qing back, her eyes glistening: “I’ll give you the clothing attendant position. I only want… only want the Good Lady to live peaceful, good days.”

Cicadas sang. Qun Qing looked at the road ahead, beneath the trees where willow catkins danced in fine petals. The two lives weighing like a stone on her heart had somehow dissipated in the wind. The breeze brushing her face carried floating flower fragrance. Smelling the warm-scented flowers, Qun Qing suddenly felt her body extraordinarily light.