Her heart was pounding, and she wanted to ask what he meant by the instructions he had just given. She had only kindly invited him to stay for a meal—surely he wasn’t planning to overstay his welcome? However, it wasn’t convenient to ask directly, fearing she might have misunderstood and make herself a laughingstock. She reluctantly sat down and began probing indirectly.

“Does Your Highness perform morning and evening attendance every day?”

He hummed in agreement. “The children are watching from below. As their father, I must set a good example, or it will be difficult to guide them in the future.” He poured a little wine into the cup before her. “This is peach blossom wine from Jiangnan, mixed with honey syrup. The alcohol content is already very mild, so you needn’t worry about drinking more.”

Wanwan took a light sip after hearing this. It was indeed sweet and refreshing, not harsh like wine, so she greedily took another gulp.

He served her dishes, but she hesitated to pick up her chopsticks, only asking him: “Since the rules are so strict, it wouldn’t be good not to go today either. I’m bound by ancestral regulations—a princess must live alone in her princess mansion. Without this rule, I should also pay my respects to the Dowager Consort daily. Today the rain is heavy, and I can’t return. It’s rare to stay overnight, but it also prevents you from serving the Dowager Consort, which would invite criticism of me.”

Because she wanted to consider all aspects, she sometimes acted timidly when handling matters. However, he could see clearly that she simply didn’t want him to stay, so she was using righteousness as an excuse.

This time he didn’t intend to be considerate. He gazed at her deeply and said: “The old lady is the most understanding person. She even said earlier to prioritize Your Highness. Since I rarely take leave, she naturally understands. Moreover, the children are also present and know to fulfill filial duties in their father’s place without needing instructions.”

Wanwan drew out a long “oh,” thinking to herself that it seemed he couldn’t be driven away. What should she do? After all, he had a legitimate title and position, and everyone in the prince’s mansion must be watching secretly. Acting too harshly would invite unpleasant gossip.

She remained sullenly silent, so he paused his actions, wondering if there was something inappropriate that displeased her. She had married down to him, and while he was grateful, he also felt unworthy of her. A pure, clean girl, only sixteen years old, had become stepmother to others, especially with two sons who were already grown—how could she bear it?

His hands loosened and clenched, clenched and loosened, his heart full of sorrow. Her eyes and brows were shrouded in gloom, like the weather outside. Not wanting to speak directly, fearing she would harbor resentment and harm her health, he finally gathered courage and said while watching her expression: “Your Highness is still bothered by it after all, isn’t she?”

She looked bewildered, puzzled by his seemingly random words. “What is Your Highness saying? Bothered by what?”

He took a breath. “I mean Lan Zhou and Lan Ting. To be fair, if I were in Your Highness’s position, I would naturally feel uncomfortable too. Who doesn’t hope for no third parties between husband and wife? But between us two, there’s a whole household in between. Even if Your Highness has feelings of closeness, thinking of the concubine-born sons and those concubines would make your affection for me grow cold! We Yuwen people originally grazed at the foot of the Qilian Mountains. On the grasslands, survival depends on cattle, sheep, and sons. Our ancestors’ rules have been passed down to this day. If I violated them, I wouldn’t be sitting on the throne of Prince Nanyuan now. Your Highness feels uncomfortable and wronged, wants to get angry or vent—I’ll accept it all. But the facts cannot be changed now. I only ask Your Highness to be understanding and take care of your health.”

After hearing all this, Wanwan’s confusion suddenly cleared. “You’re afraid I can’t tolerate the two children?”

He lowered his eyes and nodded. “Perhaps my marrying a princess was wrong to begin with.”

Whether it was wrong or not was too late to say now, but she didn’t want to bear false accusations regarding this misunderstanding.

“Your Highness’s view of me really underestimates me. I grew up in the palace. Throughout the dynasties, there have been so many princes and princesses, and few were born of the same mother. I myself came from that same situation—why would I look down on two children? The Murong clan has no precedent of a princess marrying down to Nanyuan. I don’t care about what happened before you married me, nor can I control it now—who told the Emperor to grant such favor.” She looked at the sparse peach blossoms and willow leaves at the bottom of her bowl. “After marrying a princess, we must make things clear—you cannot take concubines anymore, lest we violate the imperial family’s rules and make me lose face. As for the two young masters, I find them quite good. If they’re filial to me, I naturally won’t mistreat them. But if you want to extract some guarantee from me, that’s impossible. If others respect me a foot, I’ll respect them a yard. I’ve always been fair in my dealings, never wronging others without cause, but I also don’t like to fawn or flatter.”

These words were spoken resolutely, quite befitting the manner of a household matriarch. Of course, he wouldn’t demand that she treat Lan Zhou and Lan Ting as her own children. He only wanted an attitude—he was a flawed person before her, and only if she could be tolerant would he dare truly approach her.

But her tone seemed angry, so he said urgently: “Please don’t misunderstand. I see my own lowliness, which makes me feel even more unworthy of you. Since we’re speaking frankly, I understand your meaning too. Your Highness is magnanimous, and I’m grateful. The Qi people value brotherhood most highly—Lan Zhou and Lan Ting will be the heir’s support in the future.”

Wanwan’s face flushed, the heat spreading from her cheeks all the way to her neck. How did this man always like to take advantage at unexpected moments? What heir? Where did an heir come from? Simply shameless!

She was speechless from his presumption and raised her cup to hide her face, awkwardly smoothing things over: “Good, good… the food is getting cold. We’ll talk more later.”

Once they began eating, the conversation was over. Both were refined people who ate without making a sound. He urged her to drink the wine, and she just smiled. They sat quietly like this, their hearts gradually settling. Occasionally glancing at him, she saw he was serious about everything, even eating seriously, drinking that mild, light wine with her with perfect contentment.

After finishing the meal and rinsing their mouths, they moved to the covered corridor. The sky had grown deeply dark. Lanterns hung high overhead, and water from the tiles gathered into small streams, flowing continuously as if they would never stop.

Wanwan wrapped her sleeves around herself and looked up. The sky pressed low—this rain would probably last two days.

“On the way here, I also encountered two rainstorms. Jiangnan has much more rainfall than the north.”

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his crow-blue robe accentuating his tall, slender figure. Seen in profile, he seemed somewhat distant, ultimately inscrutable. He hummed in agreement, his nasal tone soft: “The land of fish and rice naturally depends on water for nourishment. This season is precisely the yellow plum rain period—it will rain continuously, one storm after another, extending for twenty-odd days.”

“Last year too. Before Emperor Yuanzhen passed away, it rained for over forty days straight and nearly flooded Beijing. But strangely, after my elder brother ascended the throne, the sky suddenly cleared…” She squinted, talking to herself. “People say those born to be emperors have omens at birth and at death. For instance, the rain stopped so my elder brother’s coffin could be moved out of the Forbidden City to the Shouhuang Hall. He died in spring when the pear blossoms were in full bloom in Chenggan Palace. His death anniversary is coming soon, but I can’t worship him this year, which saddens me.”

He had long known of her deep affection for her two brothers. While a girl’s devotion to family relationships was precious, excessive attachment also worried him.

“The imperial mausoleum isn’t finished yet—the late emperor’s coffin probably won’t be interred until next year. When the time comes, we’ll set up an altar and bow toward the north, which will fulfill your heartfelt intentions. When Tai Mausoleum is properly arranged next year, I’ll personally take you to pay respects. Feudal princes cannot enter the capital, but going to Yi County should be fine.”

She suddenly felt desolate. After marrying down, she could never be like before. Previously, the Forbidden City was her home, and she was still a member of the Murong clan. Now that she had followed him, and he couldn’t enter the capital, she was like him too. If there were no imperial summons in this lifetime, she might be stranded in Jiangnan forever.

A married daughter’s relationship with her natal family was like an infant’s with its mother—once the umbilical cord was cut and emotional ties severed, it would turn cold and become dead ash. Perhaps her elder brother’s repeated refusal to let her marry down to Nanyuan was because he didn’t want her to leave the capital. How wonderful it was in the capital—when homesick, she could return; when missing relatives, she could still see them. But now? Like a kite with a severed string, watching it fly away with melancholy, then turning away and abandoning it.

She was young after all, and when heartbroken, couldn’t hide it. She choked up, her eyes and nose tip reddening together. Seeing this, he quietly touched her: “Seeing your sadness makes me uncomfortable too. It’s all because of me that you’re displaced from home.”

She shook her head. “It’s not because of you—it’s fate.” When his fingertip touched the back of her hand, she shrank back slightly and quickly withdrew.

Looking up at the lantern under the eaves, a small cluster of light reflected in her jet-black pupils, she said: “I’ve always been very lonely. Father and Mother left when I was six—they went to live the good life, leaving my brother and me dependent on others in the palace. The Empress Dowager didn’t like me. Fortunately, my elder brother doted on me and would side with me when the Empress Dowager scolded me. But my elder brother was the emperor and couldn’t watch over me constantly. My second brother went away, and for a time I lived very hard. When missing my parents, I would hide under my quilt and cry—even my nanny didn’t care for me. When I cried myself tired, I would sleep, and when I woke, my face would be wet underneath. I’d get up and apply some rice powder, then pretend to be cheerful as always… The Empress Dowager didn’t like seeing me mournful. Gradually I learned to read people’s expressions—the Empress Dowager’s, the Empress’s, even the concubines’. I was terrified they would speak ill of me behind my back, afraid even my elder brother would stop liking me. If worst came to worst, I could only die…”

He knew everything she told him, and he also knew what she didn’t say. Later, when Xiao Duo came to her palace, she gradually became livelier after having someone to rely on. In some respects, he should still be grateful to Xiao Duo. Although most of the time he hated him with grinding teeth, it was Xiao Duo who protected her during her most desolate times, keeping her whole until he came to marry her.

Born of golden privilege yet walking a path paved with bitter herbs, he gently comforted her: “In a lifetime, stumbling and falling is inevitable, but things will get better eventually.”

She bit her lip, her face drained of color, and only after a long while said: “I’m afraid it will continue like this—lonely and isolated, with nothing in this life but wealth and glory. Sometimes I think, what’s the use of so much power and status? A lifetime of military campaigns and when old, looking back, it’s just that. Deep down, I’m ultimately someone who craves comfort—truly without great ambition.”

He detected a hint of relief in her tone and suddenly felt she was too perceptive. Many of her words contained hidden meanings that left him unable to respond. He could only continue playing dumb: “Your Highness speaks truly. After that one meeting ten years ago, I often inquired about Your Highness’s news, but unfortunately was beyond reach and couldn’t help you. I was absent during your boudoir days. For the days to come, please give me a chance to take good care of you.”

She didn’t shy away or flee, but smiled tranquilly, nodding slightly, then turned to gaze at the night rain outside in a daze.

There was swirling wind in the corridor, lifting her hair tips. The golden leaf tassels on the small hairpins in her coiffure swayed back and forth like guitar strings, rustling softly. He said: “Let’s go back. Standing in this draft, don’t catch cold.”

Wanwan seemed rooted to the spot, only saying to wait a bit longer. The divine capital was far away—she missed life in the palace and the people there.

Across the corridor, a nanny approached with hurried steps, bowing across the flower garden: “It’s late—Your Highness should retire.” She glanced at Prince Nanyuan. “Is Your Highness staying or leaving tonight? If staying, this servant will have it recorded.”

Such questions were truly embarrassing. In the palace, only the emperor’s visits to consorts were recorded, yet here they did the same thing. Now it was just the beginning—in the future, when living ordinary married life, would they still record daily and send red books to the palace for review? She was considering whether to abolish this practice when he answered for her first.

“Tonight this prince will attend bedchamber duty. Have all the people outside withdraw, and those eavesdropping too—if I catch them, they’ll get a good beating.”

The nanny opposite showed various colors on her face, probably frightened by his words. Wanwan was also dumbfounded. Was there really a man in the world who spoke of “attending bedchamber duty” so matter-of-factly? Using this term here was truly horrifying. He would attend bedchamber duty? Should they make a green-headed plaque and have the eunuchs present it on a great silver tray daily?

Wanwan’s eyebrows shot up high, her lips slightly parted—even her surprised expression was endearing. He dismissed the servants and smiled at her kindly: “There are quite a few court-appointed officials in Nanyuan, and our post-marriage situation will be reported to the capital in detail. I thought, since we’re newlyweds, it would require more explanation if we slept separately the very next day, so I took the liberty—please forgive me, Your Highness.”

Wanwan felt dizzy. Everything he said made sense, and for her second brother’s instructions, she should indeed be more intimate with him. She had agreed readily in the capital, but now she was hesitant—she mustn’t let him think she had changed her mind and make some strange decision that would be hard to handle.

She had to agree, resigned to her fate: “Then let’s arrange it. Standing here like wooden posts isn’t interesting anyway.”

She looked dejected, clearly having talked so much just hoping he would voluntarily take his leave. Fortunately, he persevered. A man’s happiness truly depended on having thick skin to fight for it.

Wanwan followed Tonghuan to the bathing room. In the large wooden tub, steam rose, and entering the room filled her nose with the smell of Chinese medicine. She leaned over to look—small pouches floated up and down in the water. She undressed and sat in, asking: “A medicinal bath today?”

The palace had special prescriptions for the four seasons for the consorts’ health maintenance, which she must have brought to Nanyuan.

But Tonghuan said it was a Xiuzhen formula: “Fearing you might hurt, it was specially prepared. Last time the medicine juice was mixed in the water, but Nanny Qin worried the medicine’s effectiveness wasn’t enough, so she put it in gauze bags instead. Soak a bit longer—you’ll suffer less later.”

The Xiuzhen formula was an old recipe specifically for reducing a maiden’s first-night pain, prepared for almost every princess upon marriage. She felt no embarrassment, just emptiness in her heart and chaos in her mind.

The water was very hot, making her sweat all over. She rested her arms on the tub’s edge, frowning: “I’m not ready yet—I don’t want to consummate with him. I always feel that if I hold out, I’m still myself. If I can’t hold out, I’ll become a confused wife who will have to revolve around her husband no matter what happens in the future.”

Others really couldn’t speak about such matters. How could they advise her? Say that day would come eventually, so short pain was better than long pain? For her, this was a watershed moment. Previously, she had the nation and world in her heart like the sun and moon. Once she truly settled into domestic life with this man, becoming one flesh as husband and wife, if something went wrong, it would be like crushing bones and cutting flesh—a fight to the death.

She soaked for a quarter hour, then gracefully rose and changed into light purple sleeping attire. The garment was thin and beautiful, faintly revealing her slender jade arms. Xiao You dusted her with fragrant rice powder as she stood before the mirror and said softly: “I’ll just look at tonight. If he becomes presumptuous, I won’t stop him, but after tonight, he’ll never be allowed to set foot in Grand Princess Manor again.”

She walked sinuously around the screen into the bedroom. Tonghuan and Xiao You exchanged glances, the wrung-out towels from the water still dripping—they had even forgotten to wring out the water.

The wind was fierce, and the Korean paper on the windows bulged out like a child had blown on it. The candle flames on the crescent table flickered as a copper needle reached over to fiddle with them aimlessly. Though Longen Tower’s direction couldn’t be seen, she still gazed past a white wall: “Do you think… Master is resting there tonight? Can they succeed?”

A maid lifted the lamp shade from the table, fanned it with her hand, and extinguished a candle.

“Miss loves beauty, and Grand Princess is also a woman. No matter how noble her status, her eyes are the same as ours.” While speaking, she helped her onto the canopy bed. “Master, don’t worry. Even entering a temple requires worshipping Buddha—everything in the future depends on what the son can accomplish. Please rest easy. With the eldest young master present, both His Highness and the old lady favor him. As for the second young master, he looks gloomy and dark all day. Though he appears clever, he’s completely unreliable. Until Grand Princess bears a male child, the prince’s mansion still belongs to our eldest young master.”

This reasoning was comforting. Tala Shi lay down, using a back scratcher to hook the copper ring on the bed curtains. The curtains fell, she turned over, and with half sigh, half moan, hummed once: “Let’s sleep…”