Song Yao departed silently, not stirring the slightest ripple in the Song household.

She had always been a young lady secluded in the inner chambers—no one in the family inquired about her, and no one outside knew of her.

Song Nian sat in her room gazing at the scenery outside the window, her temperament becoming increasingly silent. Only occasionally when she saw Ming Xiang would she put on a sweet smile to display her lively and clever side.

During the New Year celebrations, she would dine together with her elder brother and sister-in-law as well as people from the second and third branches. Song Fu increasingly resembled their father. Several times when Song Nian looked at his back and profile, she felt somewhat dazed, as if she were seeing their father again in the mansion.

As for her sister-in-law, she had become what Song Nian believed a household mistress should be, what she had once most hoped her mother could have been.

“Miss, the letters you sent to the family temple have all been returned by the old madam.”

Song Nian took the letter, asking in a low voice, “Did she return them herself, or did the household return them?”

Yinsu said, “Madam returned them herself. She said she has now left the mortal world behind and told Miss not to concern yourself with someone beyond worldly affairs.”

“Mother, she…”

Song Nian lowered her head, unable to tell if her mother had no heart to care for her or had finally awakened and could not bear to burden her.

Unable to figure it out, she simply stopped trying.

Throwing the letters into a copper basin, Song Nian lit a fire and personally watched the flames consume the paper, turning it to black ash.

“Yinsu, there is no need to go to the family temple anymore. The household will take good care of Mother.”

“Miss…”

Song Nian smiled and shook her head. “If she has no place for me in her heart as before, my visiting her would only remind her of Second Sister, making her sad and upset instead.”

“If she does have a place for me in her heart… she would probably hope I hate her, never bother with her again, and peacefully marry into the Ming family.”

Yinsu watched her own young miss, clearly in the bloom of youth yet with eyes that somehow carried a deep weariness. Her nose stung with emotion.

Song Nian’s temperament had always been obedient. Now she was so quiet it was as if she did not exist in the mansion at all. Whenever Ming Xiang recalled the scene on her wedding day when Song Nian brought pastries to the bridal chamber and sweetly called her sister-in-law, she felt a bitter pang.

“What are you thinking about?”

Song Fu stood behind Ming Xiang, extending two fingers to lightly trace across her cheek.

Ming Xiang’s face reddened. “Hus… husband.”

Song Fu chuckled. “You are so eloquent outside nowadays, yet when we are alone in our room, why does your speech become less smooth?”

Ming Xiang glared at him, her ear tips burning red.

“You… you already know why.”

Drawing a book from beside him, Song Fu placed it before Ming Xiang, then changed into casual clothes and reclined on the daybed. Ming Xiang picked up the book, turned to where she had left off reading yesterday, and began to read.

This was one of their private pleasures as husband and wife. Since the day she married Song Fu, he would find books each day for her to slowly read aloud to him.

At first, she could not finish even one page in an entire evening, but Song Fu never lost patience and would practice each character with her repeatedly.

Thinking of those past moments, Ming Xiang felt shy in her heart and suddenly lost focus, reading a sentence incorrectly.

Song Fu raised his head, looking at her with a half-smile that made Ming Xiang’s entire face flush red.

He spoke even less these days, but even without Song Fu saying anything, she could see the teasing and playfulness in his eyes.

Ming Xiang wrinkled her nose and glared at him indignantly, but not only did this fail to intimidate Song Fu, it instead made him laugh softly.

Not daring to look at him anymore, Ming Xiang composed herself and slowly continued reading.

It was not until the couple was about to rest that Song Fu finally said slowly, “Wan’er is far along now. Going forward, do not send letters to the palace anymore. Let things gradually fade.”

In the darkness, Ming Xiang softly hummed in agreement, obediently accepting.

Wan’er was about to give birth. If she delivered a prince, he would be His Majesty’s legitimate eldest son. Once the mourning period ended and he returned to court, the front court and inner palace should no longer maintain such close contact.

Song Fu lay on his back gazing at the canopy above, recalling when he was young and his father had held him while making wine in the courtyard together with his aunt.

Back then, Father had also greatly cherished his aunt, but after she entered the palace, the siblings gradually grew distant.

As a youth, Song Fu had not understood, but now as he followed in his father’s footsteps, he could gradually understand his feelings from back then.

Some affection, though unexpressed, still remained in the heart.

Raising his hand to draw Ming Xiang into his embrace, Song Fu sighed. “I heard Wan’er is having a difficult time with this pregnancy, with severe reactions. I wonder how she is doing.”

Ming Xiang extended her hand to grasp Song Fu’s hand. “His Majesty loves Wan’er and will give her the best care. Husband, do not worry.”

Song Fu hummed lowly, then after a moment said, “You do not know—when Wan’er was small, she talked constantly. When she was just learning to speak, she would call ‘Elder Brother, Elder Brother’ all day long. Later when she grew to be just a tiny thing, at that adorable age when children are like carved jade, whenever she saw me she would call out ‘Elder Brother’ so sweetly.”

“What is ‘so sweetly’?”

“At that time, Nanny Song somehow bought some Liu’s toffee to sweeten her mouth, and she remembered it.”

“Wan’er has been clever since childhood.”

Song Fu smiled. “After that, I would always buy her toffee to eat. When she was seven or eight, she lost a tooth from eating too much, which frightened me into never buying it for her again.”

Ming Xiang squeezed Song Fu’s palm, not knowing how to comfort him.

No matter how well His Majesty treated Wan’er, he was first the sovereign of the nation, and only then Wan’er’s husband.

Though the Song household would rise to great heights by relying on Wan’er’s influence, it was also destined that both sides could no longer be as close and intimate as before.

“I wonder what kind of temperament Wan’er and His Majesty’s child will have?”

Song Fu thought for a moment. “Should be extraordinarily clever.”

The couple’s intimate nighttime conversation was tender and affectionate, yet they did not know that Shen Qianyu looked utterly haggard, as if having suffered a serious illness.

Song Wan’s reaction to this pregnancy was severe. From the time her belly began to show, she could not keep food down. Moreover, if there were any strange or unusual fragrances in the room, her face would turn pale and her stomach would churn, and she would vomit up whatever she ate throughout the day.

If not for her overall condition being acceptable with no signs of lethargy, Shen Qianyu would have torn off the roof of the Imperial Medical Bureau and made those old imperial physicians suffer wind, rain, scorching sun, and bitter cold every single day.

Carrying a bowl of pure white rice porridge cooked until it had a faint oily sheen to Song Wan, Shen Qianyu took a spoon and had her open her mouth.

“I personally made this plain porridge. No one else has touched it, so there is absolutely no scent of rouge or incense.”

“This spoon is also newly made and has never scooped anything with meat or fish. Wan’er, try a mouthful.”

Song Wan supported her belly and reached out to take the porcelain bowl.

“I can do it myself. You look even more haggard than me right now.”

“And where is the need for such pampering? Just have the small kitchen staff make it. I cannot bear to see you so exhausted.”

Song Wan’s tone was gentle, her words also carrying distress. Hearing her soft “you” and “me,” Shen Qianyu’s heart bloomed with sweetness.

In the past when Wan’er addressed him as “Your Majesty” or “the Emperor,” he did not think much of it, but only now did he feel that he was finally entering Wan’er’s heart bit by bit.

Shen Qianyu smiled foolishly. The man’s large palm gripped the specially made small spoon, with dark circles under his eyes yet looking delighted beyond measure.

“Wan’er feels sorry for me, so she will only eat more of what I cook.”

“Wan’er, open your mouth.”

Song Wan smiled helplessly and could only let Shen Qianyu have his way.

She did not know why, but this pregnancy was particularly difficult.

Not only was it tormenting her, it was also tormenting Shen Qianyu. Looking at Shen Qianyu appearing even more haggard and exhausted than herself, Song Wan subconsciously lowered her head to stroke her belly.