“What’s her condition?” Lian Yu’s expression changed as he immediately asked.

Ming Yanchu quickly replied: “Fortunately her maid discovered quickly and rescued her in time, but the wound was cut quite deep—the injury isn’t light.”

Hearing this, Lian Yu’s brow relaxed somewhat. Glancing at the brightening sky, he said: “Prepare a carriage immediately. I’m leaving the palace.”

“Yes!” Ming Yanchu responded, remembering something and quickly asking: “How should we explain to Magistrate Li when she wakes?”

“Just say I’m handling official business—she’s not a troublemaker.” After thinking, he continued: “Have Zhuque watch over her carefully. Are the surroundings of my sleeping quarters properly arranged?”

This arrangement was because the two had decided to hold a private wedding ceremony. For Suzhen’s safety, during this period she would dress as a young eunuch and try not to appear before others.

Within a certain range of the emperor’s sleeping quarters, secret blockades were implemented with hidden posts every few yards. If the Empress Dowager or Noble Consort Que came, they would be notified in advance so Suzhen could hide in side chambers. All officials would wait in the imperial study for audiences.

The Four Attendants were quickly summoned from their rooms. Zhuque stayed behind while the rest accompanied him from the palace.

Just as they left the courtyard gate, Lian Yu suddenly turned back. Everyone was puzzled: “Master…”

Lian Yu quickly entered the sleeping chamber.

Suzhen was sleeping soundly. She was healing from injuries and the recent travel had exhausted her thoroughly. Sensing someone approach in her daze, she instinctively nestled closer, mumbling unclearly: “Lian Yu.”

“Wife, wake up.” His voice was very gentle, but his actions were completely opposite—scooping her up entirely, helping her dress and put on socks, quickly getting her up.

“What’s this about?” Suzhen’s morning irritation was strong, her eyes still unable to open as she called out angrily in a small voice.

“A Luo attempted suicide. I need to see her. You—come with me.” He paused, speaking slowly.

Suzhen’s heart jumped and she completely woke up.

Along the way, Lian Yu didn’t speak much, and neither did Suzhen. She felt somewhat stifled but understood clearly Lian Yu’s thoughts and intentions.

Getting out of the carriage, she didn’t follow Lian Yu inside but stayed in the courtyard with the Four Attendants. Lian Yu had been striding like the wind but stopped upon seeing this, looking at her.

“Go ahead.” Suzhen said quietly: “So many years of affection—this is proper. With me there, it would be inconvenient for you to talk. I trust you—it’s that simple.”

Lian Yu looked at her deeply, said nothing more, and entered with Ming Yanchu.

The door of the side room was opened halfway, with Ming Yanchu standing in the corridor. From where Suzhen stood, she could roughly see the scene inside.

The room was filled with thick medicinal scents, sweet yet bitter.

The imperial physician had arrived early and was in the room. Seeing Lian Yu come, he quickly stepped forward to pay respects. Lian Yu asked quietly about the situation while Mei’er beside them wiped her tears. Seeing Lian Yu suddenly, her eyes reddened and hatred blazed as she sneered: “Your Majesty has finally come. If my mistress were well, she probably couldn’t hope for this meeting in her lifetime.”

“Last time, for your mistress’s sake, I spared your worthless life. Since you’re so unafraid of death, I won’t take your life either, but you must have family, right?”

Lian Yu didn’t even look at her, snorting lightly through his nose as he walked directly over.

Mei’er trembled all over, both shocked and angry, but though her lips moved, her belly full of words tumbled back down her throat.

“Why must Your Majesty frighten A Luo’s maid like this? A Luo’s relatives now are just her and her mother.” The woman’s voice came weakly from the bed ahead, her tone carrying endless sarcasm.

Lian Yu paused momentarily, then quickly stepped forward, looking intently at the person in bed.

Her head was deeply sunk in the pillow, her beautiful face pale yellow and ashen, several strands of hair clinging damply to her forehead, fine beads of sweat on her neck and head, clearly in pain. Of the hands folded on the covers, one wrist was wrapped in thick gauze with some bloodstains still seeping through.

“A Luo.” He sighed and called her name once.

A Luo looked over coldly, her eyes containing grief and anger, perhaps many other things too—her heart aching as if torn apart.

What she had hoped to see in his eyes wasn’t there. Even what she had imagined—that he would panic and immediately embrace her upon meeting, showing guilt, pain, regret—none of it was there.

He stood quietly beside the bed, frowning as he looked at her, the only thing showing in his eyes being sighs and some heartache, but that heartache didn’t seem like looking at a beloved girl… If Lian Xin or Wu Yan were lying here, it would probably be the same?!

“Lian Yu, you’re unfair.” She wanted to shout at him angrily, but tears just flowed down.

“When she died, you were heartbroken. If I died, you’d probably applaud.”

“If you died, I would be very sad.” Lian Yu still didn’t move. “But is dying like this really worth it? The matter between us is already past. I once feared your death—that was also one of my reasons for choosing to be with you. But I cannot be held hostage by this for a lifetime.”

“And you—can you face your mother and yourself?”

“These seven or eight years have changed us both. Neither you nor I can go back. I said if you hadn’t ‘died’ originally, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone else. But… A Luo, before my love for you in our youth was tempered into life-and-death devotion, you left. I spent seven years mourning you. Perhaps you were right—I was too lonely, living the most boring life, so I acted to create a marriage for myself. But no one expected this would become a love that could be engraved on bones and hearts, worthy of life and death.”

“I loved you, but that was the past—only in the past. I love her, today, in this lifetime.”

“A Luo, have you ever thought that if you hadn’t had Gu Shuangcheng stand out as a scapegoat back then, but instead notified me to handle the matter, would everything have had a different outcome? I know you hate her because your childhood was much harder than hers. I’ve experienced these things—I understand it all. But why insist on competing for momentary advantage? She didn’t deserve death either. I believe she had selfish motives, but having called you sister since childhood, those feelings weren’t false either. You’ve thought this in your heart too, haven’t you?”

A Luo suddenly sat up straight. Finally, at this moment, he spoke words that cut her heart like knives, yet somehow she also felt he was showing heartache for her—genuine heartache.

In his clear, cold eyes, currents slowly flowed with tenderness and reproach—reproach sharp as swords. The struggling, resilient youth of seven years ago and the mature, steady man of now seemed to overlap.

Her gaze fell on his hands hanging at his sides—the edges of those palms were covered with calluses.

She suddenly realized that all these years, he too had suffered.

Deep love brings stern responsibility—even when that love was no longer romantic love.

For a moment her heart was strangely peaceful, as if seeing her past self who had been driven by angry desperation. Perhaps there really had been better choices back then? Why had she… Because of always being careful about everything since childhood, because of being suppressed too long, because of fear of losing…

The hatred of these past days now felt so much lighter.

She suddenly struggled to stand despite the pain, trembling as she walked toward him: “Lian Yu, perhaps I really was wrong back then. I don’t want to bring up those things again. I know you haven’t had it easy either, but… but… take me back, will you?”

Lian Yu’s brow furrowed. Her swaying body—finally, he still reached out to support her, grasping her shoulders.

…

Suzhen kicked at pebbles in the courtyard, occasionally looking up to see the two figures pressed close together for a moment. She really wanted to rush in, but ultimately didn’t. She just smiled and said to Zhuque: “I’ll go for a walk. When he’s finished, have him come find me at the magistrate’s office.”

Zhuque and the others had also seen the scene inside and their expressions had changed. Zhuque said quietly: “I’ll go in and remind Master—”

“No!” Suzhen shook her head almost immediately. “He brought me here precisely because he feared variables. I trust him too, but I am, after all, a petty person. That’s just how it is—I’ll go walk around first.”

She slipped out. She wasn’t too worried about others recognizing her—before leaving, Lian Yu had deliberately blackened her face as a precaution.

The people in the courtyard exchanged glances, and Xuanwu quietly followed her.

The magistrate’s office wasn’t far from here—just a few streets away. Suzhen walked for a while, then turned back. Her brother had been missing without trace—she hoped to see him soon, explain everything clearly, and hoped he could attend her wedding.

That person had thought of everything for her, secretly placing people near the magistrate’s office. As long as suspicious persons passed by, they would look for secret signals and immediately intercept them. However, strangely, inner guards had reported that the signals had disappeared.

Did this mean brother had already seen them? Or had something she couldn’t imagine happened in the meantime?

And Leng Xue…

They wouldn’t be able to attend her wedding. How could she find brother?!

She frowned, standing in the middle of the road, and thought of A Luo again.

“Miss Suzhen?”

Then from the side came a surprised call that startled her. Someone could recognize her looking like this? No wait—Miss Suzhen? Puzzled, she turned to look and was shocked again.

Those were faces not too familiar yet definitely not strange.

Meeting old acquaintances in a foreign land… servants.

A Nu and A Bu, plus Sang Zhan’s friend A Qi. Seeing her, all three were both surprised and delighted, as if equally unexpected.

Naturally she hadn’t used the name Li Huaisu back then. The court was clear about the Feng family daughter’s name, but the imperial proclamation hadn’t listed it clearly. Besides, there were so many people with the same name in the world, so she had hidden her surname and used her old name. When she had returned that day, she had visited them looking like a ghost—no wonder they could recognize her. She was immediately somewhat amused and exasperated.

But how had they come here? God forbid that Sang Zhan wasn’t somewhere nearby!