The imperial edict for the betrothal was issued on the winter solstice itself. The Emperor was impatient, clearly meaning to curry favor with Prince Nanyuan. After all, having impregnated someone else’s concubine made it very difficult to explain to the rightful husband. With Yin Ge crying and making scenes, the Emperor, blinded by emotion, could no longer attend to anything else.

Wanwan received the imperial edict while worshipping ancestors at Fengxian Hall. Yan Sunlang stood within the threshold and read emotionlessly: “Our younger sister, born of noble birth, uniquely talented in learning…” She knelt before the ancestral spirits and wouldn’t rise. All the consorts in the hall understood the reason, and not one came forward to congratulate her. So Wanwan’s marriage was decided amid a scene of bitter wind and cold rain.

The Empress Dowager sighed endlessly: “Emperor Xiaozong had only this one princess under his knees. Though not my biological child, she grew up by my side from childhood. When those princess consorts and titled ladies came to arrange marriages, I rejected any that would take her to distant places—I wholeheartedly wanted to keep her in the capital. Our Great Daye has had incidents before of princesses suffering in their husband’s families—harsh mothers-in-law, husbands who ignored affairs, and girls too tender-faced to assert authority, ultimately wasted away. Wanwan’s nature is too gentle. Only if she lived close to home could I frequently look after her. Now the prince consort holds his fief in the south, and Wanwan will inevitably have to leave the capital. Once she goes to such distant mountains and vast waters, returning would be easier said than done!”

Since the late Emperor’s death, the Empress Dowager had many complaints about the Emperor’s usurpation but couldn’t express them. Wanwan was her adopted daughter, and when she had no other choice, she treated her as half her own flesh and blood. Now the Emperor had sent away even this blood sister with a single edict. After returning to Cining Palace, the Empress Dowager couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed with grief.

Noble Consort and others could only constantly comfort her: “Though distant, Jiangnan is prosperous and may not be inferior to the capital. Moreover, Prince Nanyuan—we’ve seen him at banquets. Such a refined and cultured person is quite different from those rough men. His old dowager consort also had a reputation for virtue in the past. When Her Highness arrives there, they probably won’t love her enough. The Empress Dowager needn’t worry.”

Speaking of that old dowager consort, she had also entered the palace when young and they had met several times. She was upright and would never be duplicitous—this was beyond reproach. The Empress Dowager’s reluctance to part came more from the sorrow of watching foxes grieve for dead rabbits. Seeing the children around her leave one by one, what did she have left in this deep palace? Other people’s sons, other people’s grandsons—all had nothing to do with her.

Wanwan knelt on the footstool, leaning against her knee. She didn’t cry or make a fuss demanding the Emperor rescind his order, only saying softly: “After I leave, please take care of your health, Mother. Don’t worry about me.”

Hearing this, the Empress Dowager felt even more heartbroken.

Coming out of Cining Palace, Wanwan’s mind was empty. Walking in the silent passage, with snow piled on both sides and remnants of snow powder in the brick cracks underfoot, after being shoveled and swept, it had mixed with mud and become filthy. The pearls and jade on her court shoes knocked together, sounding overly desolate in this icy landscape. She slowly stopped, gathering her fox fur warm sleeves to look back at Qianqing Palace. Those red walls and golden tiles had become so strange, already far from her.

She hadn’t accepted the edict or given thanks. The Emperor seemed completely unaware, turning the page and no longer inquiring about it. Perhaps issuing that edict had been somewhat conflicted, but once truly spoken, he felt justified instead. What about her? What was she to do?

With a long sigh, misty white breath intertwined before her eyes. She asked Tonghuan: “Xiao Zhangyin should have received the news by now, shouldn’t he?”

Tonghuan couldn’t answer, looking at her deeply: “What are Your Highness’s thoughts?”

“What thoughts could I have? So be it.” She lowered her head, feeling she should bid farewell to the past, but suddenly had an understanding of the world’s cold indifference—that taste was truly unbearable.

“Today His Majesty leads civil and military officials to worship heaven at the Circular Mound. Such a grand ceremony would most likely require Xiao Zhangyin to personally supervise. When the edict came down, he might not know yet.” Tonghuan came up to support her arm, saying gently: “I expect if he learned of it, he would certainly find a way to remonstrate with His Majesty.”

Wanwan shook her head: “The die is cast—don’t make things difficult for him.” She walked slowly forward, then suddenly paused again: “Where is the Palace Secretariat office?”

Tonghuan said: “Behind Wansui Mountain, diagonally across from Shouhuang Hall. Why does Your Highness ask this?”

She smiled: “I want to go there and see him.”

This was a sudden whim. Previously she had followed rules strictly and didn’t dare leave the palace casually. Only once, after elder brother’s death, when she was extremely melancholy, she had run out. Halfway she encountered Xiao Duo and Yin Luo, couldn’t enjoy herself fully, and returned dejectedly. Now, she estimated His Majesty wouldn’t inquire about her anymore. She wanted to go to the Palace Secretariat to find him and talk… Perhaps there wasn’t really anything to say—she just wanted to see him.

Tonghuan was obviously very surprised but didn’t speak to stop her. She had been suppressed too much and might not be able to bear it. Now whatever she wanted to do, it was best to accommodate her.

She agreed: “This servant will arrange for Your Highness to leave the palace.”

She raised her hand and said it wasn’t necessary: “I’ll go just like this—let’s see who dares stop me.”

She wore an apricot-yellow cloak with peony patterns, her raven-black braids hanging down her back, with glass bead satin ribbons tied at the ends. As she walked, there were echoes all the way. This time she had a somewhat reckless manner. Tonghuan was stunned for a moment before hurriedly following.

She walked as if no one else existed. Arriving at Shunzhen Gate, Imperial Guards stood with swords on both sides. Even the living people looked cold and without warmth. When she wanted to pass through the gate, sure enough, Imperial Guards came up to block her, bowing: “Palace family members cannot leave the palace without imperial edict. Please return, noble lady.”

She looked up at him disdainfully: “I’m not your Ten Thousand Years Lord’s palace family member. I am Grand Princess Hede. I want to leave the palace—no one may chatter.”

A fifteen-year-old child didn’t have much prestige, but that imposing aura couldn’t be underestimated. Everyone was startled and bowed in salute. They no longer dared block her path, but to let the Grand Princess leave the palace without reason—if something happened, who could bear responsibility?

So the moment her front foot stepped out of the palace gate, a captain pointed to men to personally guard her. Wanwan was very displeased, suddenly turning around and glaring at them hatefully: “Are you treating me like a prisoner? If you follow again, I’ll punish you for your crimes.”

The captain was in a difficult position: “Even with the greatest courage, your subjects dare not let Your Highness leave the palace alone. Wherever Your Highness goes, your subjects will escort Your Highness. This is for Your Highness’s safety—please understand.”

“Making such a procession—afraid people won’t know who I am.” She frowned and pointed at Tonghuan: “Such a big person is before your eyes, yet you say I’m ‘alone.’ Big eyes but no vision—how do you serve the Emperor!”

The captain endured a thorough scolding. Being thick-skinned, he didn’t mind and still wanted to follow. Tonghuan blocked their path: “Your Highness won’t leave the inner city and is going to the Palace Secretariat. You gentlemen needn’t follow—this servant will naturally protect Your Highness’s safety.”

She was someone Xiao Duo had carefully selected, naturally capable of more than just serving tea and water. When those Imperial Guards saw the nameplate slightly revealed in her sleeve, they retreated back inside Shunzhen Gate as instructed.

Wanwan strode forward, looked back, and indeed no one was following anymore. She felt somewhat happy and muttered to Tonghuan: “What I hate most are Imperial Guards—bullying others by relying on their power, making the court a mess of smoke and miasma.”

Perhaps due to loving the house and its crow, though the Eastern Depot was clearly more domineering, she didn’t reject it at all because of her relationship with Xiao Duo. Tonghuan smiled at her: “They all follow orders. Sometimes they must play roles that people and ghosts both hate.”

She raised her eyebrows without comment, went around Wanshou Mountain, exited through the North Central Gate, and entered the Palace Secretariat passage.

That place was full of eunuchs on duty. Because the supervisors had gone out to attend to business today, the remainder, led by Cao Chun’ang, sat around the brazier in the room, roasting sweet potatoes and eating peanuts. When Wanwan appeared at the door, everyone was stunned. After seeing clearly, they suddenly jumped up to bow and kowtow: “My lady, how did you come here?”

Wanwan had walked a distance in the cold wind and her face was red from the cold. She glanced into the main hall: “I came out for a walk… Has the Factory Minister not returned?”

Cao Chun’ang confirmed: “There’s much to do today—he won’t return for a while!” While speaking, he welcomed her into the warm pavilion, dusted off the south kang to seat her, and said: “This is where our supervisor works and usually rests. In the entire Palace Secretariat, this place is the most fragrant and clean. Please warm yourself first, Your Highness. This servant will immediately send someone to notify the supervisor, who will prepare at once to escort Your Highness back to the palace.”

She said there was no hurry: “I’ll wait for the Factory Minister to return.”

Cao Chun’ang glanced at Tonghuan, acknowledged with “yes,” and withdrew from the warm pavilion.

She looked around. The warm pavilion was arranged exquisitely and elegantly, with calligraphy and paintings hung, blue cushions with longevity patterns, and fine agarwood burning in the Boshan incense burner on the kang table—hence “the most fragrant” place. He usually walked through the Forbidden City coming and going alone. She had never been to his duty room or understood his living environment. Coming this time, she seemed to suddenly step into his world, so close it almost didn’t feel real.

She casually flipped through books on the kang table. He read “Master Who Embraces Simplicity”: “Gold and stone cannot compare to its hardness, concentrated dew cannot equal its softness…” This suited his character well. This book had a marvelous effect—after reading for a while, her heart wasn’t as panicked as before and could gradually settle down. She pressed her hands on her knees. This room was filled everywhere with his presence—how wonderful. She wanted nothing else, only to know he was still here. Since he married Tongyun, he had become even more distant from her. His heart ultimately belonged only to Yin Luo, while she had to reach through Yin Luo and Tongyun—thinking about it was truly tragic.

When first coming, she hadn’t feared the severe cold, wholeheartedly wanting to see him. But arriving here and staying in his warm pavilion for the time of two cups of tea, she changed her mind again. His duties differed from those of other ministers—he probably wouldn’t be free even after the Emperor returned to the palace. Sitting here so eagerly, what could she ultimately wait for? Even if she did wait, what could she say?

She stood up, and Tonghuan quickly stepped forward: “Your Highness?”

She hung her hands down, her face indifferent: “The ceremony ended long ago at this hour. I expect he has no time—I don’t want to wait anymore.”

She stepped out of the warm pavilion, and Cao Chun’ang hurriedly received her: “This servant will arrange an escort to send Your Highness back to the palace.”

She said it wasn’t necessary: “I just came out for a walk. I’ll return the same way I came.”

She donned her cloak and left through the Palace Secretariat main gate. This place wasn’t as tightly controlled as the palace interior. Where the twelve directorates clustered together, the Imperial Wardrobe was to the west, the Wine, Vinegar, and Noodle Bureau to the east. Outside the alley, passersby came and went, hardly different from the outside wards and courtyards.

Returning along the same path, she felt somewhat dispirited. Walking to the corner and suddenly looking up, she saw not far away a person in dark blue archery clothes standing with hands behind his back, his profile hidden under a black fox collar, looking so familiar.

It was him! Her heart, which had been like stagnant water, suddenly rippled again. Three months unseen, she thought her remorse toward him had long disappeared, but meeting him halfway like this, that awkwardness was simply unbearable.

She hurriedly tugged Tonghuan’s sleeve, planning to retreat to the Palace Secretariat before he turned around. Unfortunately, she was a step too late. They were separated by only ten paces—no matter how fast she was, she couldn’t outrun a glance. He still discovered her, his deep eyes showing neither storm nor sunshine, yet able to penetrate the human heart.

Wanwan was caught off guard, standing there dazed, not knowing how to respond. He took the initiative, making a long bow to her: “Since parting at Tanzhe Temple exactly three months ago—thank you, Grand Princess Your Highness.”