Hua Chun hadn’t expected the performance to be such an unprecedented success. Just after finishing, she was still feeling a bit awkward — then she looked up and saw the Emperor and the Empress Dowager had already reconciled.

“Our hard work finally paid off!” she said with feeling.

He Chang’an smiled slightly, bowed politely toward the audience below, then immediately dragged Hua Chun off the stage.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Every hair on her body stood on end, sensing an unusual killing intent. Hua Chun grabbed his hand and begged quietly: “Second Brother, let’s talk this out, Second Brother!”

Talk it out? He Chang’an’s mouth twitched. He wrenched her head around to face the cardboard sign hanging beside the stage: “What is this?”

Hua Chun frowned at the names written on it, slapped her thigh, and said indignantly: “That’s outrageous! I told them all specifically to keep your identity secret — these people just don’t know how to behave!”

“Oh, is that so?” He Chang’an raised an eyebrow, rolling up his sleeves. “Tell me who wrote this. I promise not to beat him to death.”

Hua Chun shrank her neck back and glanced around guiltily.

It had been Qing Niao who’d written that. She couldn’t very well sell out her own wife, could she?

“Tonight’s Autumn Welcome Gathering is now drawing to a close. Let us sing together this familiar song — ‘Unforgettable Tonight.'”

The moment she heard this, Hua Chun’s expression instantly changed, and she reached out to pull He Chang’an up: “Second Brother!”

He Chang’an, still fuming, was caught off guard as she dragged him into some inexplicable dance steps. He frowned, glaring at her furiously: “You think I’ll forgive you just because of this?”

“Fifty-six ethnic groups, fifty-six flowers, no matter what our surnames are, we’re all one family,” Hua Chun said, gazing at him with deep affection. “What makes people great is that they have feelings, that they know tolerance and kindness. On this unforgettable night, we could be happily singing and dancing together — why bother dwelling on such small things?”

He Chang’an paused, frowned, and thought it over. It did seem to make some sense.

“Happy or not, it’s still a day either way,” the person before him continued, expression intoxicated, belting out the lyrics along with the crowd on stage: “Unforgettable tonight, unforgettable — tonight—”

The melody really was quite lovely. He Chang’an pressed his lips together and hummed along a couple of times, genuinely no longer holding it against Hua Jinghua for betraying him.

His heart really was generous.

Everyone in the palace was still savoring tonight’s performance. But having watched the program the Marquis and the Prime Minister had put on, everyone understood clearly what tonight had really been about.

Seeing the Empress Dowager and Emperor reconciled, the harem consorts were happy too, laughing and chattering, just about to rise and disperse — when fireworks suddenly burst open in the sky.

“Wow—” the palace attendants exclaimed softly.

Fireworks were a precious thing; no one had expected the Prime Minister and the Marquis to be so lavish. Bursts of red, yellow, and green bloomed one after another, dazzling to the eye, lifting everyone’s spirits.

The Empress Dowager laughed and tugged at the Emperor’s sleeve. Yuwen Jie looked up for a while too, then let his gaze settle on the area beside the stage.

The performance was over, yet Hua Jinghua and He Chang’an still hadn’t come to receive their reward — were they foolish? It was obvious the Empress Dowager was in a wonderful mood tonight; the rewards would surely be generous.

Those two fools — one dressed as a man, one dressed as a woman — aside from their height, looked strangely harmonious together, both gazing up at the sky like a married couple.

The one in women’s clothes asked the one in men’s clothes: “Worthy brother, did you buy these fireworks?”

The man nodded: “Don’t worry, Second Brother, I had them put it on your tab.”

He Chang’an: “……”

Withdrawing his gaze, Yuwen Jie’s lips curved up.

It had all been him overthinking things. Those two, so plainly close as brothers — how could there be anything else between them?

As the fireworks faded, the Emperor’s mood was excellent. He looked at the Empress Dowager: “Won’t Mother reward them?”

The Empress Dowager remembered then and quickly said: “Of course they must be rewarded. The palace hasn’t been this lively in a long time. Once we return, I’ll have a list drawn up — a generous reward!”

“Many thanks, Empress Dowager!” Hua Chun and He Chang’an quickly cupped their hands in thanks.

What a considerate elder brother he made, even helping them ask for rewards. Hua Chun was deeply moved — all her racking of brains for ideas hadn’t been in vain.

“It’s getting late — everyone should go rest,” the Empress Dowager said. “If the Prime Minister and the Marquis are too tired, they’re welcome to stay in the palace tonight.”

“Many thanks for the Empress Dowager’s grace,” He Chang’an said, cupping his hands. “But this subject will still leave the palace together with the Prime Minister — too many exceptions aren’t proper in the end.”

“You’ve thought this through carefully,” the Empress Dowager nodded repeatedly. “Go on, then.”

“Yes.” Hua Chun bowed along with him in salute.

Prince Xi stood off to the side without a word. Once the Empress Dowager’s procession departed, he followed along.

Yuwen Jie glanced at the two of them and said, straight-faced: “Chang’an, aren’t you afraid of being snatched up as someone’s bride on the way home dressed like that?”

He Chang’an pursed his lips. “Is the Emperor mocking me now too? This outfit was originally meant for Jinghua — he flatly refused to wear it, so as his elder brother, shouldn’t I have given way to him?”

With that, he glanced at Hua Chun again: “Actually, I think Jinghua might look quite good in women’s clothes.”

Hearing this, Hua Chun’s smile froze stiff on her face.

“That does sound like it might have some truth to it,” Yuwen Jie said, turning to look Hua Chun up and down several times. “Prime Minister Hua, would you like to swap clothes with Chang’an?”

“No need,” Hua Chun waved her hands quickly. “I’m exhausted today, I can barely walk as it is. I really can’t take any more, please have mercy, Your Majesty.”

“I see,” the Emperor nodded. “Some other day, then.”

Hua Chun: “……”

Some other day?! Was he serious?

This face of Hua Jinghua’s, when dressed as a man, was heroic and imposing enough to fool anyone. But if she switched back to women’s clothes, her secret would be exposed for certain!

She gave a couple of dry laughs and pretended not to have heard, saying: “This subject and the Marquis will take our leave now.”

“Go on then,” Yuwen Jie waved a hand. “You’ve both worked hard tonight.”

He Chang’an bowed along with her, tugging at his skirts, walking beside Hua Chun in a rather awkward manner.

“Worthy brother, are you sure you don’t want me to change first?”

Hua Chun shook her head: “It’s so dark out. We’ll take the back paths — no one will see you.”

Easier said than done — but going home like this, wouldn’t the people at the Marquis’s residence be scared half to death? He Chang’an pressed his lips together, reached up, removed some of the heavy hair ornaments from his own head, and casually set them into Hua Jinghua’s hair.

Her heart felt a little heavy, but Hua Chun didn’t resist, letting him transfer the ornaments over.

The longer she stayed here, the deeper her unease grew. Hua Jinghua’s identity as a woman surely couldn’t be kept hidden forever — how would it eventually be revealed?

Rather than staying passive about it, shouldn’t she start thinking of a way to take the initiative herself?

She was so lost in thought the whole way that she failed to notice the change in her surroundings.

“Jinghua!”

Just as they passed through a palace gate, He Chang’an suddenly called out to her, his voice turning unusually stern.

Hua Chun startled, and the moment she turned around, she saw something glinting coldly fly past her eyes, embedding itself in the palace wall beside her.

What the hell?

Her eyes went wide, and she turned to look at the palace attendant who had been leading the way ahead — a strange object was embedded in his forehead, and he had already collapsed to the ground, blood covering his face.

“Run!” He Chang’an reacted with astonishing speed, grabbing her and sprinting back the way they’d come.

Had they run into assassins? Hua Chun followed him blankly, running for her life, thinking this wasn’t right — an imperial palace should have guards everywhere, there shouldn’t be any slip-up at all. So why was it that ever since she’d arrived, one assassination attempt after another kept happening to her?

The wind around them seemed to tighten. Hua Chun tried her best to steady her breathing, stepping as lightly as she could, following He Chang’an as he vaulted over flowerbeds, past two deserted palace halls, and ducked into a disused, abandoned palace near Furong Palace.

A chill ran down her back — she felt as though her whole heart had been gripped tight. Even after running this far, that killing intent still hadn’t lessened at all.

Someone with as vivid an imagination as hers feared the unknown most of all — staring into any dark place, she could already imagine an assassin leaping out. Her poor heart couldn’t take it.

“Second Brother,” she whispered. “Let’s run toward somewhere with more people — if we find palace staff, we can call for help.”

“Too late,” He Chang’an’s voice was extremely heavy, almost despairing. “We’re surrounded.”

Hua Chun froze, then her face went pale.

God, oh God — why was she so plagued with misfortune? A moment ago she’d been having a wonderfully happy evening, and now the next moment she had to face a life-or-death crisis?

And this time was even worse than the incident at the Purple Chen Hall — there hadn’t even been time to hide before they were already surrounded.

Her heartbeat pounded loudly and clearly. She pressed a hand to her chest and asked, trembling: “What do we do?”

The tables and chairs in this abandoned palace were all crooked and scattered. Spiderwebs covered everything. The roof beams looked long neglected — they probably wouldn’t hold up much longer even without anyone climbing on them.

He Chang’an reached out and held her tightly, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum: “There’s no other way. There are quite a few of them. I’ll cover you — you run out the front door, head right toward Furong Palace, there should still be people there.”

“And what about you?” Hua Chun frowned. “I can’t fight — wouldn’t it be better if I stayed behind to cover the rear?”

She couldn’t outrun someone skilled in martial arts anyway, could she?

“No,” He Chang’an said firmly. “If I stay, there’s still a chance of survival. If you stay, you’ll die for certain.”

Hua Chun pressed her lips together and didn’t argue with him further — good people, after all, usually died from arguing too much. Better to spend that time studying the terrain and preparing to run.

The killing intent drew closer and closer; she could already faintly make out dark shadows moving in the courtyard outside.

He Chang’an grabbed her by the waist, guided her to the door, took a deep breath, and immediately shielded her as they ran out.

In an instant, countless icy sensations surged toward them, pressing down so hard it was difficult to breathe.

She’d always thought it exaggerated when wuxia novels described killing intent as something that could injure a person — but now she saw it was quite realistic. Their blades hadn’t even come down yet, and her whole body already ached.

“Run!” He Chang’an shouted loudly.

Hua Chun squeezed her eyes shut, hands clutching her own neck, hunched over, and ran for her life.