“Is it about Jiang Xing’s marriage?”

She had once promised Second Master Jiang to arrange a good match for Jiang Xing, and Lin Jiayue had always kept this in mind.

Now Jiang Xing had already had her coming-of-age ceremony and reached the age for marriage discussions.

“Have you taken a liking to any particular family?”

Lin Jiayue shook her head: “No, that’s precisely why I came to ask your opinion on this matter.”

“In the past, I had no authority in the Marquis of Chengyang’s estate, so I thought that in the future I would find a good match for Jiang Xing. But now that I’m in charge of the estate, I want to let Jiang Xing decide her own future.”

She looked at Song Wan and smiled helplessly: “Though families meet to arrange marriages, I always feel it’s like a transaction. Weighing advantages and disadvantages comes first, with the young couple’s feelings as an afterthought—is this truly workable? The couple must live their lives together. If the wrong choice is made, there’s no turning back for a lifetime.”

“So I asked Jiang Xing, and she doesn’t wish to marry.”

“You know what kind of temperament Concubine Liu has. Jiang Xing has finally had a few years of peaceful life and doesn’t want to leave the estate at all.”

Especially now that the estate was under her control, life there was carefree and comfortable—far better than marrying into who knows what family.

When Jiang Xing told her this, Lin Jiayue felt it made perfect sense.

Perhaps others couldn’t understand, but Lin Jiayue could empathize with Jiang Xing’s feelings.

“Naturally, I have no objections, but I fear delaying Jiang Xing, so I wanted to ask your view on this matter.”

“Not marrying…”

Song Wan pondered briefly, then smiled gently.

“They say women at home obey their fathers and when married obey their husbands. Since Jiang Xing has neither elders nor brothers, you can make the decision about her marriage.”

“In the past, I thought bearing children was women’s nature, but broadening my perspective, I’ve learned that everyone has different desires, and those desires are all different.”

Her life had not yet passed halfway, yet she had already met many extraordinary women.

If Jiang Xing could truly take responsibility for the path she chose and harbor no resentment toward others in the future, then Song Wan felt that whether Jiang Xing married or not would both be good choices.

“People’s faces differ in a thousand ways, and life shouldn’t be lived according to one mold. If she’s unwilling, then so be it.”

Lin Jiayue said: “But I also fear that by indulging her, if she chooses a path contrary to conventional society, the future will be difficult—she’ll need to endure strange looks and face criticism.”

As she spoke these words, Lin Jiayue’s heart carried a sadness no one else knew.

She should have been the least afraid of such things, yet having seen bamboo frames covered with white cloth and courtyards sprayed with crimson everywhere, she had ultimately become afraid.

She wasn’t afraid of being rejected by the world herself, but she couldn’t bear for Jiang Xing to suffer even the slightest hardship.

So she wanted to ask Song Wan.

She felt that in this world, only Song Wan could understand what she was saying and help her find the answer.

“No path in this world is easy to walk.”

Song Wan’s lips curved slightly, her tone unhurried.

“I think human suffering doesn’t come from others’ gazes, criticism, or being different.”

“If the road is difficult, it should come from one’s own wavering and uncertainty.”

“Some roads are simply hard to walk, but as long as one stays committed without listening, watching, or paying attention, one can probably have no regrets despite the sorrow, and find fulfillment in one’s heart even if the destination isn’t reached.”

Lin Jiayue stared with widened eyes at these words.

If she had heard this in the past, she would have asked Song Wan to explain in plain language, but today she suddenly understood.

That’s right—if the heart isn’t bewitched, doesn’t waver, doesn’t constantly change course, but focuses single-mindedly on what one seeks, there probably won’t be suffering.

The fear lies in wanting to descend the mountain halfway up, regretting it after descending, then climbing and regretting again.

“I’ll go back and ask her. If she truly isn’t afraid of criticism, I’ll let her do as she wishes. At worst, if she finds someone she fancies in the future, I’ll add to her dowry and arrange a good match then.”

“Precisely so.”

Song Wan nodded gently, agreeing warmly.

They were no longer the pitiful puppets of the past, manipulated by others and unable to break free. Now that they had the confidence, why not seek out the most comfortable path for themselves?

Lin Jiayue smiled: “I thought you would tell me to marry Jiang Xing into a prestigious family. You’ve also changed greatly.”

The Song Wan in her eyes had always been a standardized woman thoroughly tamed by feudal institutions, yet such a woman could now say that life shouldn’t follow one pattern, and that if a woman doesn’t wish to marry, then so be it.

It was truly… within reason yet beyond expectation.

Hearing Lin Jiayue say she had changed, Song Wan smiled faintly without speaking.

“Your Majesty, the Spring Banquet has begun. Would you like to go take a look?”

“Naturally.”

Song Wan stood up and turned to Lin Jiayue: “Let’s go together.”

The two walked out of Changle Palace, and Lin Jiayue went to find Jiang Xing and Jiang Su.

Shen Qianyu stood at the palace gate and scooped up Shen Shiyan, who had been rolling and running about in the courtyard, tucking him under one arm.

“Father Emperor, mercy…”

“Father Emperor…”

“Father Emperor seeks mercy? From whom should I beg for mercy?”

Holding Shen Shiyan up with one hand before his eyes, Shen Qianyu smiled and tossed him up, catching him on his shoulder.

“Aren’t you bothered by how dirty he’s gotten from rolling around?”

Song Wan smiled as she plucked a piece of dry straw from Shen Qianyu’s shoulder and helped straighten his wrinkled collar.

“Why would I mind? When is he ever clean?”

“And you still say that?”

Song Wan raised her eyes to glare at him, her gaze both reproachful and amused.

On one side, she had found people to teach Shen Shiyan proper manners, while on the other, Shen Qianyu accompanied him daily rolling in mud and burying fruits in snow.

No matter how busy he was, he made time each day to play with Yan’er.

Now father and son behaved neither as sovereign nor subject, having been impeached by the censors countless times.

“There are many people outside today. Don’t let him cling to you later.”

Shen Qianyu responded softly, then held Song Wan’s hand in his palm. With one arm around Shen Shiyan and the other holding Song Wan’s hand, he walked toward the Imperial Garden.

The man’s palm was scorching hot. Song Wan looked down with a slight smile and squeezed back.

Noticing her movement, Shen Qianyu turned his head and grinned broadly.

“Your Majesty, don’t smile. Watch where you’re walking.”

“Since Wan’er is shy, I won’t smile.”

Turning his head away, Shen Qianyu gripped Song Wan’s hand even more firmly.

Wan’er never believed his feelings were unwavering unto death, but Shen Qianyu himself knew that his devoted affection grew deeper with each passing day, never fading in the slightest.

“Wan’er.”

“What is it?”

“Tonight when we return to Changle Palace, shall we study those famous works together?”

Song Wan’s face flushed red at these words. Before she could respond, Shen Qianyu continued: “The ones in the indigo wrapping—I showed them to you last time…”

“Wan’er.”

Song Wan pressed her lips tightly together, refusing to speak.

Yet Shen Qianyu kept murmuring in a low voice, repeatedly asking if it was acceptable, if it would work.

“Your Majesty… be quiet.”

“Then I’ll take that as agreement.”

The Imperial Garden lay ahead. Not until he saw the figures of the court officials did Shen Qianyu put away his playful expression and set Shen Shiyan on the ground.

Father and son stood in the shadows, both wearing solemn expressions, brushing off the wrinkles on their clothing together before walking out with serious faces.

“The First Imperial Prince and His Majesty truly are… exactly alike.”

Watching the two figures’ movements, Heng Zhi couldn’t help but smile faintly. Song Wan, however, looked at little Shen Shiyan with a helpless smile.

She didn’t know when Yan’er had been molded by his father into a second Shen Qianyu—at such a young age, already adept at observing everything and adapting to circumstances.

“Your Majesty, this servant will support you.”

Heng Zhi extended her hand to escort Song Wan into the Imperial Garden.

The moment her foot landed, she heard the three calls of “Long live” and “Thousand years” beside her ear.

Song Wan raised her head to see Shen Qianyu holding Shen Shiyan’s hand, standing on the high platform looking back at her, his eyes full of tender affection.

She couldn’t help but curve her lips, her heart overflowing with gentle feelings.

Lin Jiayue said she had changed, and she knew it herself.

Outside the estate in the outskirts of the capital, on the day Shen Qianyu had disguised himself as Ji Rong to bid her farewell, that person had stood beneath the moon looking back at her, his eyes as brilliant as stars and full of lingering affection, just like today.

She had known then that this person’s heart belonged to her, though he himself didn’t realize it.

It was just that the Song Wan of that time didn’t know the person before her would cleave through waves and walk all the way to her side, sheltering her beneath his wings.

Ascending the high platform, Shen Qianyu naturally extended his hand.

Looking at the man’s hand covered in scars before her, Song Wan gently placed her own upon it.

As in the past, as in days to come.