In the ninth month of autumn in the tenth year of Jingxuan, several western regions of the country experienced severe flooding. The Emperor decreed that each affected family be granted two stones of rice, and those who drowned were to receive official burials.

On the day of Dinghai, heavy rain fell with thunder and lightning, and the capital was flooded several feet deep on level ground.

On the day of Gengyin, the Emperor and Empress avoided the main hall, reduced their regular meals, and prayed for the blessing of all people across the realm. On the day of Xinmao, all prisoners’ sentences were reduced by one degree, and those sentenced to penal labor or less were released. The rent for farmland affected by floods in the capital region, eastern and western regions of the capital, Heyang, Hebei, and the three circuits of Chengfu Prefecture was exempted. All displaced people were to be cared for locally. On the day of Dingyou, an edict was issued reducing the annual tribute of brocade and fine silk from the northern regions, replacing gauze silk with plain silk to cover border expenses.

After days of heavy rain, the thick clouds on the horizon gradually thinned, and the sun finally showed its small face.

Sunlight, as precious as gold, poured into the palace city, immediately lifting the spirits of all the civil and military officials at court.

As evening approached, the vermilion doors of the main hall of Xihua Palace were gently knocked three times from outside.

Shortly after, a palace maid quickly walked into the inner hall with small steps and addressed Meng Tinghui, who was loosening her court attire: “Empress, Grand Scholar Fang, the lecturer from Zishan Hall, has personally brought the Imperial Princess and the two princes.”

Meng Tinghui looked somewhat tired as she removed the crown from her high bun before the mirror, saying softly: “Please tell Scholar Fang to return and rest. Have the Imperial Princess and princes wait in the outer hall.”

The palace maid quietly acknowledged the instruction, but hesitated as she was about to withdraw. Seeing the Empress’s slightly displeased expression in the mirror, she bowed her head, folded her sleeves, and retreated.

Since the Emperor had formally installed her as Empress in the first month of the third year of Jingxuan, nearly eight years had passed. The Empress had given birth to one daughter and two sons: the eldest daughter Ruotao, now seven years old, who was designated as heir just three days after her birth; the eldest son Ruoyun and the second son Ruoren, born in the fourth and seventh years of Jingxuan respectively, were now merely children who had only recently become aware of the world.

In the autumn of the seventh year of Jingxuan, the Emperor appointed Hanlin Scholar Fang Huai as lecturer at Zishan Hall to begin the education of Imperial Princess Ruotao. In the spring of the eighth year, the eldest prince Ruoyun also began studying at Zishan Hall. At the beginning of the ninth month this year, the second prince Ruoren, who had just turned three, was also ordered to attend Zishan Hall.

However, disaster struck this year. In mid-September, heavy rain fell continuously across the country. From the western regions to the capital area, countless farmlands were flooded. The Emperor and Empress moved court meetings to a side hall of Baohe Palace and ordered the entire palace to forgo regular meals, eating only vegetarian food to pray for heaven’s blessing.

The female officials of the Imperial Kitchen Bureau could not bear to let the Imperial Princess and Princes go hungry, and particularly pitied the second prince Ruoren, who had just turned three. They secretly provided them with regular meals. However, this matter was leaked and reported to the Empress, which immediately angered her. She expelled several people from the Imperial Kitchen Bureau and ordered the three royal children to suspend their daily lessons at Zishan Hall and come to Xihua Palace for an audience.

As the hall doors opened, the palace maid whispered with the young eunuch outside, then turned to ask Fang Huai to return. She hurriedly bowed respectfully to let the wet nurses lead the three beautiful, well-dressed children into the hall.

Shortly after, Meng Tinghui slowly walked out from inside. Seeing the three children, her brow furrowed slightly. She turned and casually sat on the high chair placed in the hall for ministers of the two departments, tucked in her sleeves, and silently looked at them.

“Mother Empress.”

The little girl closest to her was the first to kneel down, performing a formal bow properly, then lowering her head, obediently waiting for her to speak.

A boy beside her also quickly knelt, saying softly: “Mother Empress.”

The smallest boy on the edge, appearing to be only about three years old, saw his brother and sister’s actions and clumsily knelt as well, saying in a childish voice: “Mother Empress.”

The wet nurse waiting in the corner of the hall couldn’t bear it and was about to speak out of turn when she was pulled back by two palace maids and led away.

Meng Tinghui did not tell the three to rise, but simply sat looking at them calmly.

After a while, Ruotao couldn’t help but raise her head. Her beautiful little face showed a hint of guilt as her small red lips parted: “Mother Empress, we know our mistakes. Please punish us.”

“What mistake have you made?” Meng Tinghui looked at her.

Ruotao pressed her little lips together and said earnestly: “Several regions of the country have suffered continuous heavy rain, and many citizens are homeless with nowhere to go. Father Emperor and Mother Empress have avoided the main hall and forgone regular meals, reduced taxes, and cared for refugees, thinking of all the common people—truly great kindness and wisdom. But the other day, we greedily ate meat, disregarding Father Emperor and Mother Empress’s order for vegetarian meals in the palace, bringing shame to the imperial family. Please punish us, Mother Empress.”

“Please punish us, Mother Empress,” Ruoyun echoed beside her.

Only Ruoren looked at his brother and sister with wide eyes, wearing an expression that was half-understanding at best, his small body swaying, barely able to maintain his kneeling posture.

Meng Tinghui’s brow relaxed slightly as she asked: “Did you think of these words yourself, or did someone teach you?”

Ruotao’s little face reddened as she mumbled: “I dare not deceive Mother Empress. Grand Scholar Fang taught us to say this on the way here just now.”

Meng Tinghui’s expression grew cold as she scolded: “Your Father Emperor has been worried about the disaster victims for over a month and has been too exhausted to eat. The inner court has issued an edict ordering everyone in the palace to forgo regular meals. As the heir apparent, you disregarded the imperial edict and your father’s command, leading your two princely brothers to openly eat meat. If this spreads to the outer court, how do you think the ministers and common people will view you? In a few years, you will enter the Secretariat to learn governance with the ministers as your heir. How can you still be so thoughtless? Today Scholar Fang taught you to speak this way, but if he hadn’t, wouldn’t you still know you had done wrong?”

Ruotao looked somewhat wronged. She remained kneeling in silence, her bright black eyes filled with tears, but she stubbornly bit her lip, refusing to cry.

Beside her, Ruoyun became anxious and hurriedly interjected: “Mother Empress, please calm your anger. This truly cannot be blamed on Imperial Sister. It was all my—”

Suddenly, the hall doors creaked open from outside.

Sharp-eyed Ruoren immediately spotted the newcomer and scrambled up from the ground, darting toward that person like an arrow released from a bowstring. His small body crashed into the person’s leg as he looked up with wide eyes, urgently calling: “Father Emperor!”

Ying Gua scooped him up with one arm, holding him in the crook of his elbow as he strode in with long steps, addressing the two children still kneeling on the ground: “You may all rise.”

Ruoyun hesitated for a moment before standing up and turning to say: “Father Emperor, this was all my fault. Please ask Mother Empress not to scold Imperial Sister anymore!”

Hearing this, Ying Gua raised his eyebrows, glancing sideways at Meng Tinghui with understanding in his eyes, though he said: “What matter deserves such great anger from you?”

Meng Tinghui leaned against the chair back, showing slight helplessness. She knew that some palace maid who couldn’t bear to watch had sent someone to notify him at Ruisi Hall, causing him to come “rescue” them so quickly. She rose and said lightly: “You indulge them so.” With that, she turned and returned to the inner hall.

Ruotao was still kneeling, saying softly: “Father Emperor, it was I who made Mother Empress angry.”

He said quietly: “Rise.” Then he set Ruoren down from his arms and said: “Take your two princely brothers to read and practice calligraphy.”

Among these three children, it was his daughter whose temperament most resembled his own—naturally quiet and content with solitude. Although she had been designated heir from birth, she was extremely self-disciplined and sensible. Despite her young age, she was quite favored by the senior ministers of the two departments.

“Thank you, Father Emperor.” Ruotao stood up, quietly taking Ruoren’s small hand and calling Ruoyun over. They bowed to him once more before withdrawing together from the hall.

He watched the children’s figures fade through the vermilion doors before slowly turning and entering the inner hall.

Before the tall bronze mirror, her dressing table was covered with hairpins and flowers. She sat properly, folding some fine silk garments in her hands. Hearing his footsteps, she remained silent, keeping her eyes lowered.

Due to the flooding in several regions of the country, he had previously reduced the northern regions’ annual tribute of brocade and fine silk. The palace now mostly uses cotton and plain silk materials. Since Shen Zhishu had been ordered to return to the capital in the third year of Jingxuan, Yan Fuzhi had handed over the Yan family shop in Chao’an to her father’s household to manage. Shortly after she followed Shen Zhishu to the capital, her exquisite clothing style was pursued by noble ladies and young women, so she opened a tailoring shop specializing in making clothes and skirts for women of prestigious families. Even many of Meng Tinghui’s palace garments came from Yan Fuzhi.

Now that the palace custom had changed to cotton and plain silk, she naturally took the lead in wearing these materials, causing the officials’ households throughout the capital area to not dare use fine silk and brocade either. Yan Fuzhi also changed the materials used in her shop, with the remaining money and fabrics all donated to cover northern border expenses. As a result, merchants throughout the capital region and the southern and northern routes of Heyang contributed substantial funds to help the court’s disaster relief efforts.

He saw her contributions in this matter and felt warmth in his heart.

For so many years, her heart had held him, his realm, and his people. She was his capable minister who understood his mind, the woman who shared life and death with him, the wife who shared joys and sorrows, and the mother of his three children.

To have her in this lifetime was a blessing from heaven, and he had no other desires.

He walked behind her, bending down to place a kiss on the top of her head, his thin lips moving to her ear, “How now, surely you’re not angry with me too?”

She snorted: “I wouldn’t dare.”

He smiled, biting her delicate, sensitive earlobe as if with fierceness, “I heard that the Imperial Kitchen Bureau staff were improper, coaxing Ruoren to eat some meat. Ruoyun couldn’t resist and also ate, while Ruotao merely failed to stop them. Is that worth such a scolding from you?”

She sighed lightly, turning to look at him, “If she were just an ordinary princess, it would be fine. But she happens to be your eldest legitimate daughter, and you happened to designate her as heir without careful consideration. Don’t you know how many eyes are watching her? If I don’t punish her in the inner court, should this fall into the hands of some calculating person in the outer court to use against her? What then? In a few years, she will enter the Secretariat as the heir to learn governance with the ministers. How can she still be so thoughtless?”

As she spoke, she pushed his arms away with some annoyance, “It’s one thing for me to discipline them, but why do you always come to play the good person? Making the children not feel close to me…”

He laughed and pulled her up into his embrace, “Haven’t you heard others say that Ruoyun and Ruoren resemble you? Look at Ruoren’s lively, uninhibited manner just now—does he seem like a three-year-old child?”

She struggled slightly in his embrace, her body unconsciously softening, casually tossing the thin garment in her hand onto the table and burying her head against his chest, “Why linger here? Don’t you need to return to Ruisi Hall?”

“Once I see you, I don’t want to leave.” His voice was deep and slightly hoarse, unchanged over the years, easily igniting the spark in her heart.

She let him carry her toward the bed, the roots of her ears growing warm as she said: “Seeing the sky clear today, my heart had just begun to feel somewhat relieved. Who would have thought that news would come of the children disobeying the edict? How could I not address it?”

Though Ruotao, Ruoyun, and Ruoren had different personalities, they were all exquisitely cute. Who in the inner palace did not adore and cherish them? Even Fang Huai, the lecturer at Zishan Hall, often praised these three children for their natural intelligence. Today, he was willing to risk her displeasure as Empress to teach the normally reticent Ruotao to speak those words.

He pulled the bed curtain and lay down with her in his arms, “I know you care most for Ruotao, fearing her future path might not be smooth. Her docile nature today is entirely due to your years of teaching.”

She wrinkled her nose slightly, “Her temperament is exactly the same as yours was back then, keeping all her thoughts buried in her heart, unwilling to speak an extra word. The burden of this empire is so heavy. Though I scold and punish her, my heart truly aches for her.”

He turned his head to look at her, “Those born into the imperial family all share this fate.”

She suddenly raised her face, holding him tighter, her voice growing softer: “That’s why my heart aches for you too.”

The sky gradually darkened, the night deepened, and the air seemed to float with fine gold particles, illuminating his handsome face. Every raise of his eyebrow, every curl of his lip was captivating, causing her to lose herself while gazing at him.

How many years had it been?

From their meeting in Chongzhou Prefecture in the spring of the twenty-fourth year of Qiande to their companionship in the imperial city this autumn of the tenth year of Jingxuan—a full twelve years had passed.

Perhaps from that rainy night in the fourteenth year of Qiande, or the night of her birth in the sixth year of Qiande, she had been destined to be his in this life.

In the darkness, he suddenly asked: “Did you attend to Xiang Deqian’s funeral arrangements today?”

She remained silent, finally nodding slightly after a long while.

Her soft hair brushed against his arm under her neck, like fine algae, suddenly evoking many old memories between them.

In the early third year of Jingxuan, Northern Jin was severely defeated. Di Nian captured the Northern Jin Emperor Xiang Deqian and his royal relatives, escorting them to the capital. The Xiang family members were given titles of dukes and marquises and granted residences in the capital, maintaining relative peace for several years.

She had wanted to ask but never did: when he didn’t deal harshly with the Northern Jin royal family back then, was it because he was considering her feelings, fearing she would feel compassion and recall her own childhood experiences?

But after she gave birth to their daughter, who was then designated as heir, she never thought about this question again. Instead, she developed a fierce protective instinct.

Whenever she saw her daughter’s lovely smile and small figure, she couldn’t help but wonder: after he and she had passed away, what great hardships might her daughter face in this world? At that time, would these small shoulders have to bear the heavy burden of country and family? Would there still be someone who could protect her, help her, and love her?

To make her daughter’s future path as empress smoother, even if it meant eliminating the Northern Jin royal family, she would have been capable of such ruthlessness.

However, since he had never expressed such thoughts, she had never brought it up either.

But now she could finally understand that everything from those years had nothing to do with people or principles. It was merely the calculations of a ruler to ensure their descendants would not have to endure the same hardships and sufferings they had experienced.

She couldn’t spend her entire life hating his Prince Father, just as she couldn’t truly feel at ease about the Northern Jin Xiang royal family.

Over the past seven years, members of the Xiang royal family had successively died from old age or illness. Now, Xiang Deqian had also died suddenly from illness half a month ago, which finally allowed her to feel somewhat relieved.

But how could she express these thoughts to him?

“Now that the flood has subsided,” his deep voice sounded again, “why don’t you find some time to take Ruotao, Ruoyun, and Ruoren together to the western capital to pay respects to Mother Empress and Father Prince?”

Her face rested against his left chest, listening to his heartbeat one after another, as she softly uttered an “Mm.”

He truly understood her.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have chosen this moment to discuss this matter with her.

He had waited seven years for her, and perhaps he had originally planned to wait even longer, until she could truly let go—though this wasn’t about not hating, but rather choosing not to hate.

She couldn’t change what had happened in the past. The only thing she could do was to forget the pain and hatred in her heart, and firmly grasp the love in her hands, living well for those she loved, for a lifetime, forever.