Her scheming wasn’t deep—she could fool outsiders but not Tonghuan. However, she had never revealed it directly, so her comfort could only be offered through hints and indirect approaches.

“Marriage matters are sometimes truly inexplicable. The person you first meet isn’t necessarily the right one—you have to take it slowly, and things will sort themselves out naturally.” After the evening meal, she attended to Wanwan as she lay down, covering her with blankets while speaking. “Sister Wen from our palace was with that eunuch from Fengxian Hall, but then Cai Chunyang from the Palace Secretariat interfered, and Sister Wen’s companion changed to Cai.”

Wanwan leaned against the large pillow and asked why. “Was that eunuch not good to her, so she switched?”

Tonghuan said it wasn’t that. “It’s not just about good or bad—you have to talk about fate. Living together day and night, you can’t resist a casual glance, and if that glance can settle your heart and you see clearly, then you won’t change. As for the person you miss, there’s really no need to be sad. If you can’t keep someone, it’s not that you’re not good enough—you’re just not suitable. You still need to take a long view. If this place won’t have you, there are other places that will—that’s the principle.”

Wanwan lowered her eyes. After all this roundabout talk, she finally understood that these words were meant for her. She felt a bit embarrassed—her little thoughts had ultimately not escaped Tonghuan’s eyes. She pressed the back of her hand against her face, feeling lost, but unlike before, she didn’t refuse to discuss it and simply retreat into her bedding.

Looking at a beauty by lamplight naturally reveals a beauty’s graceful charm. Tonghuan’s feelings toward her were mostly of tender affection. Though she was the mistress, she was several years younger, and sometimes in her confusion, she was like a younger sister at home, needing guidance in many matters.

She reclined by the bed, her face leaning against the curtains. The candlelight on the table glowed warmly, coating her cheeks as if with golden powder. Her eyes, veiled in mist and rain, clearly showed her heart turning over a hundred times.

“You know about my affairs.” She hesitated, then said, “I’ve already figured it out—you don’t need to say more.”

Tonghuan put on a surprised expression. “What matter is Your Highness referring to? This servant is confused by what you’re saying.”

She fingered the small persimmon calyx pattern on the quilt surface and said very seriously: “I used to like the Factory Minister, but now I don’t like him anymore. Don’t worry—I’ll properly control myself and won’t let others see it. From now on, I’ll look for someone with his appearance and character, find someone I can respect, and steadily live my life with them.”

Her temperament had never been petty. When she could hide something, she hid it; when she couldn’t, she honestly admitted it—this was quite endearing. Since she had made up her mind and was wholeheartedly committed to it, there was no need to worry about her wavering. Tonghuan came forward and lowered half the bed curtain for her. “It’s getting late—sleep! Tomorrow we still need to prepare offerings for Tanzhe Temple. Your Highness shouldn’t go anywhere these next couple days. You need to fast before entering the temple, lest you offend the Buddha. There’s one more thing—after that incident at the golden pavilion, this servant has been thinking that I’m the only one close to Your Highness. If I can’t manage everything, there will inevitably be oversights. Since Your Highness doesn’t like strangers attending to you, let’s find a way to transfer Xiao You back. She’s been training in the north for over a year and should be more sensible now. I’ve asked Xiao Zhangyin, and he’s agreed—we just need to send word.”

Only then did Wanwan feel that Tonghuan was someone worth relying on. She herself didn’t know how to fight for things and had dragged down the servants attending her. Now Tonghuan was thinking comprehensively for her—she could be trusted from now on.

She lay down and smiled at her. “Handle it as you see fit… What about Wuqi?”

Tonghuan said: “Wuqi probably won’t work—he’s been demoted to the cleaning department, and it would be very difficult to bring him back. Your Highness needn’t be sad either. They’ve promoted him to a minor squad leader now, so he won’t suffer hardship.” Seeing her nod, she tucked in the curtains properly and withdrew to the outer room to keep night watch.

Tossing and turning, she couldn’t sleep tonight. Her eyelids were heavy, but her mind was very active. Half-dreaming and half-awake, she saw Xiao Duo, and her heart pounded. Later, Xiao Duo transformed into Prince Nanyuan, and she became nervous instead. He had his back to her, and she didn’t dare make a sound. When he turned to look at her, that glance startled her so much that she jerked awake immediately.

Why was she thinking of him? How strange. Probably because she’d been very sympathetic to his situation these past couple days, this person had left an impression in her heart.

Lying in bed, listening to the wind outside the window flowing like water, her thoughts were complicated. Her heart was restless, not knowing whether he was aware of what was happening in the palace. Perhaps he had already realized it but was helpless about it. That day in the golden pavilion, he had stood up for the weak against the strong with such good martial skills, but unfortunately, in the face of power, he had no place to use his abilities. So the more she thought about it, the more wronged he seemed—betrayed by his own concubine, and her second brother had wronged him too. Besides sympathy, she couldn’t say anything else.

Tossing and turning restlessly, feeling uncomfortable. Girls are like this—with too much leisure time, they spend it all on lamenting spring and mourning autumn.

The next day she woke up with a foggy head. Outside, birds were chirping, and through the thin gauze curtains, she could see the branches of the apricot tree extending over, their shadows trembling lightly on the Korean paper.

“Master, please rise.”

Following the usual announcement, the curtains on both sides were lifted. Xiao You stood on the footstool, and seeing her, she held back tears to force out a smile, kneeling down to kowtow and pay respects: “Master’s well-being. This servant has returned. In the past, I was ignorant and caused Master much trouble. From now on, I will definitely follow Aunt’s lead in serving properly and attend Master wholeheartedly.”

Wanwan came down barefoot to help her up, saying nothing, just looking her over. Xiao You seemed to have forgotten all the hardships she had endured and was happy just to be back by her side. However, she was indeed much more cautious than before. Under Tonghuan’s watchful eyes, she was practically a second Tonghuan.

It was time to go to Tanzhe Temple to offer incense. For the palace women, this was the only opportunity all year to go outside and see the world. Wanwan was very much looking forward to it. She had Tonghuan prepare the incense, candles, and offerings, and took out part of her private money to donate at the temple. However, her donation was limited, unlike the Empress Dowager and others who would donate hundreds of thousands of taels to regild golden statues, all money allocated from the national treasury. She complained about this to Yin Luo: “Now the nation’s fortunes are difficult. I heard that the soldiers in the north don’t even have winter supplies, yet money is still being spent on such places—it’s really not worth it. As long as your sincerity reaches the Buddha, that should be enough. Spending silver without any restraint—I’m afraid even the Buddha won’t bless them.”

After hearing this, Yin Luo teased her: “Female scholar, you were born into the wrong body. If you were a man serving as an official in court, you’d definitely be a clean and people-loving good official.”

The two sat in one carriage, looking at the scenery and chattering all the way to Tanzhe Temple.

This temple’s history was even longer than Beijing city itself. First came Tanzhe Temple, and later the Forbidden City was built in reference to it, so the upturned eaves and flying corners had a distinctly palatial flavor. There were rules about which Buddha hall to start from when entering the temple. The Empress Dowager led them beginning from the Guanyin Hall, worshipping level by level, and finally entering the Pilu Pavilion to reward the gods, asking accomplished old monks to open altars to interpret their fortune-telling sticks and perform good deeds. Old Lady Zhao had placed the late Emperor’s memorial tablet in Wenshu Hall for salvation. Since she couldn’t attend personally, the day before she had gone to Luanluan Palace and given all kinds of imperious commands, ordering Yin Luo to devotedly commemorate their former master. Yin Luo was good at bullying those close to her but had never been very formidable with outsiders, so she could only agree reluctantly in the end. Wanwan had a good relationship with her and couldn’t bear to see her kneeling there alone, so she accompanied her in striking wooden fish for the duration of one incense stick.

Outside, the autumn colors were at their peak. Wanwan was somewhat distracted. “The weather’s nice today.”

Yin Luo hummed in response. “I’ve calculated—this entire outing has been completely spent on this.”

Wanwan hesitated for a moment. “Let me go outside and pick some Buddha fruit for you. Eating it can eliminate disasters and resolve misfortune.” Without waiting for Yin Luo’s agreement, she patted her shoulder, stuck out her tongue, and snuck out.

Skipping out was because her knees couldn’t take it—she found herself a reason and felt justified as she went up to the corridor.

She came to the temple every year and knew many places like the back of her hand. She remembered there was a jujube tree at the eastern end. The monks here didn’t eat fruit, and the fruit skin had turned purplish-red but still hung on the branches. The nanny had never let her be greedy, saying eating too much would cause indigestion. When she was eight, she had even vomited because of it. She wasn’t really craving the taste—just like how big brother enjoyed the process of fishing, she enjoyed picking jujubes the same way.

With Tonghuan following beside her, she probably wouldn’t be allowed to do it herself. She thought of a plan and poured all the gold and silver coins from her pouch into Tonghuan’s hands. “I want to stay here and accompany Empress Bu. Please help me make donations everywhere—don’t miss any Buddha.” Afraid that Xiao You would end up taking the blame for her again, she sent her away too.

With no one around, she felt very free. She walked east leisurely, standing at the railing to observe. The jujube tree beside the Sarira Pagoda was tall and large. The nearest Imperial Guards were ten zhang away. Two young novice monks passed by, bowed to her with palms together, and walked away.

She licked her lips and wandered around with her hands behind her back for two circles. A princess stealing fruit didn’t seem quite appropriate. After confirming that no one would come by again, she went down from the steps, crouched down, and darted under the jujube tree.

The fruit in the temple grew very plump, and the skin gleamed with oil under the sun. She reached out to pick some, not noticing the sharp thorns on the tree. She couldn’t withdraw her hand in time and got scratched, leaving a mark. At first it seemed like nothing, but in the blink of an eye, blood beads seeped from that thin white line. She cried out in alarm, lifting her arm and puffing out her cheeks in annoyance.

Behind the Sarira Pagoda came the sound of someone stepping on fallen leaves. A person in plain clothes and golden crown appeared as if descended from heaven. Years later, when recalling that day’s scene, the sky was particularly blue, and the silk tassels hanging from his crown were brilliant as fire, coloring red the world before her eyes.

He lowered his head without speaking, and a Buddha-blue handkerchief carefully wound around her wrist. Wanwan felt inexplicably flustered and wanted to pull her hand back, but heard him say “Don’t move”—somewhat stubborn, somewhat domineering, yet inexplicably warm.

He bound it carefully, his long eyebrows slightly furrowed, the scene in his eyes invisible. Wanwan felt terribly embarrassed, only aware that his fingertips touched the skin of her wrist, as if it might start burning. Even her breathing became sluggish. Palace family members coming to Tanzhe Temple to offer incense required martial law and closing the mountain—she didn’t know how he had appeared here. If anyone found out, it would be no joke. Yet he wasn’t particularly anxious. He carefully tied the two corners of the handkerchief in a knot before lifting his eyes.

How to describe those eyes—no description seemed adequate. Wanwan wasn’t experiencing this for the first time, but it was the first time she had been so close. Like a deep pool of jade waves, windless and rainless, yet with brilliant radiance running wild—just one glance embedded itself in one’s heart.

“You…”

“I came to see Your Highness.” He smiled at her. “Feudal princes staying in the capital cannot exceed twenty days. Today is already the nineteenth day. Tomorrow I must return to Nanyuan. I came to bid farewell to Your Highness before leaving.”

Wanwan stared blankly. In terms of friendship, they hadn’t reached this point, but since he had come, it didn’t feel forced or inappropriate at all.

She lowered her eyes and slowly blushed. “Your Highness is thoughtful, but today the temple is forbidden to men. For you to take such risks…”

“Because I cannot enter the palace, compared to forcing my way into Yude Palace, Tanzhe Temple is much easier for me.”

He spoke the truth, yet this truth was like pouring water into a hot oil pan—it boiled up thunderously in an instant. Wanwan suddenly realized her wrist was still at his fingertips. Her heart pounded like thunder, and she couldn’t help but shrink back. He probably noticed too and quickly let go, his gaze dimming.

Why was it like this? Wanwan felt bewildered. She wasn’t displeased; instead, because he was leaving, a little parting sorrow arose. She was silent for a while before saying: “Jinling is so far from Beijing—Your Highness, please take care on the journey.”

He showed a faint smile: “Jinling is a good place, ancient capital of six dynasties, a place of elegant beauty. When there’s opportunity, I will certainly invite Your Highness to visit and enjoy it there.”

Princesses couldn’t leave the palace—to go out, it could only be after marriage. His words carried implications that caught her off guard. Wanwan didn’t dare delve deeper and thought of Yin Ge, hastily changing the subject: “Will the Secondary Consort also return with you?”

His face clearly showed embarrassment. “No… Empress Bu is keeping her in the capital as companion. I’m going back alone and will come again during the winter solstice heaven-worshipping ceremony.”

Wanwan felt even more sympathy for him now. His person was being forcibly kept, and he couldn’t oppose the Emperor, only bow his head and accept the command.

She was heavy with thoughts, but he changed the topic: “From today until the winter solstice, counting fully, it’s three months. Though I’ll be in Jinling during these three months, my heart will always be here. Today I took risks to see Your Highness and beg Your Highness to promise me one thing.”

Wanwan thought it was probably related to Yin Ge and nodded agreement: “Your Highness may speak freely. As long as I can help, I absolutely won’t refuse.”

But unexpectedly, what he asked her to do was completely unrelated to Yin Ge. He looked at her intensely with earnest, pleading words: “Once I leave, I’m afraid the days will feel like years… I’ve been training in officialdom for so long and have always had confidence in everything, but this time is different from the past. I’m always trembling with fear, as if walking on thin ice, afraid that within three months I’ll hear news of Your Highness’s marriage. Liang Shi is far away in Jinling, beyond reach…” He lowered his sleeves and tentatively grasped her hand through a layer of cloud satin. “I’ve been presumptuous. I humbly beg Your Highness—wait for me until winter solstice. Then I’ll petition the court, requesting His Majesty to grant marriage and take Your Highness away from here.”

Wanwan stared in alarm with wide eyes. To suddenly discuss marriage—she truly had never even thought of it. In her panic, she stepped back and forcefully pulled her hand from his.