It was time to take medicine. Tonghuan came forward carrying the medicine bowl, glanced at the Emperor, her face expressionless.

This female official had always worn a sour face. The Emperor was accustomed to it and paid no mind. He stood up, took the bowl, and waved his hand for her to withdraw. The steaming medicine broth smelled nauseating. He turned his face away slightly and called softly, “Wanwan… sister, wake up, it’s time for your medicine.”

Wanwan’s eyebrows twitched slightly. When she opened her eyes and saw it was him, she seemed somewhat surprised but said nothing.

The Emperor’s hand stirring the spoon unconsciously touched his nose. “Well… I’ll feed you the medicine.”

Her eyes were dim and lifeless. Her already thin face had visibly shrunk another circle. The Emperor’s nose stung with emotion as he murmured, “About this incident, your brother feels very sad too. Seeing you like this, and thinking back to that day’s scene—Xie Daozhi truly deserves death! Rest assured, your brother will definitely help you vent this anger. I’ll dismiss him from office and have the Eastern Depot deal with him… Don’t be sad anymore. Get well and we’ll plan for the future.”

She gave a wan smile. “Was today’s incident truly caused only by Grand Secretary Xie? Your Majesty, I cannot cultivate an indestructible golden body. With too many tribulations, I too will die.”

The Emperor was stunned, staring at her as if he had never considered that she might die. He only had this one sister left—if something really happened to her, what would he do? They said emperors must be ruthless and loveless to accomplish great things, but after weighing it for a long time, he was still rather soft-hearted. He began to worry, fearing she might turn into a wisp of smoke and disappear forever. But on second thought, she was still so young—death was still far away. So he comforted her again: “How could you die so easily? Eat well, drink well, sleep once and you’ll be full of energy again. Though this miscarriage was serious, with proper care, you’ll be fine in two months. Don’t worry!”

As he spoke, he helped her sit up and brought the medicine bowl to her lips. “Drink it. You’ll get better after drinking it.”

So he thought her life force was very tenacious—that no matter how she was tormented, she wouldn’t die. Wanwan smiled bitterly in her heart. How had this brother become so lacking in human feeling? He hadn’t been like this before. They had grown up together. He had been compassionate from childhood—even later, Xiao Duo had received his charity before entering the palace. But ever since eldest brother died, he had changed, no longer like his former self. To enjoy being emperor, he had harmed his own nephew. After achieving his wish, instead of striving for progress, he gathered a bunch of Taoist charlatans and started dreaming of immortality again, governing a perfectly good country into chaos.

What more could she say? There was nothing to say.

The medicine in the bowl was bitter and thick. Several times she nearly vomited it up, but she forced it back down each time. If not for herself, then for Liang Shi—she still wanted to see him again. Now he was her only comfort.

The Emperor watched her finish the medicine, then quickly picked a preserved cherry from the fruit plate and fed it into her mouth, before hesitating and sitting down by her bed.

Wanwan closed her eyes wearily. “Your Majesty, please return. There are people here to attend me.”

The Emperor looked at her with a face full of sorrow. “Wanwan, why do you call me Your Majesty? Will you never acknowledge me as your brother again? Don’t be angry. If you really like children, I’ll give you my youngest, Yongshou, to adopt. Let him be your son—would that work? Look, you lost one, and I’m compensating you with one. Please don’t hate your brother anymore.”

Was such compensation meaningful? Who would compensate her dead son?

Wanwan said it wasn’t necessary. “Don’t delay Yongshou’s future. Rest assured, no matter when, I will never forget that I am a descendant of the Murong clan.”

Hearing this sentence from her, the Emperor inexplicably felt reassured. This was good—he too was a descendant of the Murong clan, so they were still blood siblings.

He left contentedly. Everyone watched his retreating figure, unable to even curse.

“This emperor…” Tonghuan shook her head and sighed deeply. “He doesn’t understand what Your Highness is thinking. Even now he hasn’t relented to let you return.”

Wanwan also felt disappointed. Logically, with the child gone, keeping her had no value anymore. Why not be a good person and send her back to Nanyuan? But no—following his own thoughts, he had consoled her thoroughly, felt at peace with himself, and walked away gracefully without any sense of guilt.

This incident discouraged her, but fortunately the increased taxation on Nanyuan was indeed abandoned—unfortunately in exchange for her child. The price was truly painful.

She was heartbroken and grieved, taking a long time to recover after nursing her health. October passed, and in the blink of an eye it was year’s end. She rarely got off the heated bed platform, preferring to lean against the south window watching snow fall. Beijing’s snow was different from elsewhere—when it fell heavily, the flakes were very large, falling in clumps and quickly accumulating. Several young eunuchs carried iron shovels to clear snow. Young people loved to frolic, laughing and chasing each other in the snow—their laughter carried all the way to her chamber.

Xiao You feared she’d be unhappy and muttered, “Where did these little monkeys come from, making noise right up to the second gate!” She was about to lift the curtain and shout to stop them, but Wanwan called her back.

“Our residence lacks human spirit. Let them make noise—only with noise does it seem alive.”

A teenager living with the heart of someone old and decrepit was truly worrying.

Tonghuan obtained New Year pictures from Yangliuqing and brought them for her to see. Looking at the fat little boy in the picture, she stroked it again and again. “If my child were still here, we’d be preparing by now—he’d be due to be born the month after next…”

Tonghuan reached out to pat her back. “Your Highness, you can’t go on like this. Think about before you married—didn’t you live well then too? People must think toward open horizons. Always dwelling on unhappy things—how can your health improve?”

Having experienced all this, how could she return to those carefree days of the past? But her laziness was indeed not good—lying down too long would cause illness, and if it went on much longer, she’d even forget how to walk.

Choosing a day when the sun first shone after snow—which happened to be New Year’s Day—she had people prepare gift money and planned to go out, distributing red envelopes outside the second gate to comfort those who had served in her residence this past half year.

Tonghuan dressed her in a golden snow-colored long jacket and draped a bright red brocade cloak over her shoulders. The vivid colors brought some color to her face. Tucking her hands into warm sleeves, she went outside. Her shoes crunched on the thin snow, reminding her of childhood scenes of frolicking in snow and catching sparrows, bringing a slight smile to her lips. Exiting the hanging flower gate, the main hall’s moon terrace had been swept clean. She went up the steps and stood before Yin’an Hall to distribute money, having the stewards from each department come receive it. When she saw Jin Shi, she nodded slightly to him, still remembering how he had helped her return to the Princess’s residence on the day of her miscarriage. At such times, high status was useless—having someone offer help in the snow made her very grateful.

People from various departments gradually dispersed. She asked him to stay and gave him an extra reward. “I haven’t been out these past months and had no opportunity to see the Captain. Thank you for last time—this is a small token of my appreciation. Please accept it, Captain.”

Originally, high-ranking people giving rewards was quite normal. Though he was considered a court official, at Grand Princess’s residence, as long as she was there, the Brocade Guards had the responsibility of protection, making him also one of her household. Distributing New Year money for good luck—since there was a share, accepting it was appropriate. But the extra portion, he pushed back. “This subject merely did what little I could. To have Your Highness spend money on such things would waste this subject’s loyal heart.”

Wanwan hadn’t thought so much before—having no way to repay him, she could only reward him with more silver. But with his words, indeed—loyalty couldn’t be bought with money. Making everything about money seemed too worldly.

She smiled. “If that’s so, in the future if there’s anywhere you could use me, Captain, just speak up.”

She had always appeared indifferent. In their many encounters, worry clouds always gathered between her brows. Last time was at Jingyi Garden when she was pregnant and low in spirits. Now with the child gone, she was still thin, with a delicate, wind-blown quality.

He hesitantly asked her, “How is Your Highness now?”

She made an affirmative sound. “Still well.” Then smiled, “My condition has made everyone worry—that’s my fault. Actually, thinking too much is useless. I understand everything in my heart and will be more self-reflective in the future.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. She actually had a smiling expression. “That’s best. Everyone alive has troubles. Your Highness is already luckier than most people. What’s gained must be lost—see through it, and life must go on.”

He bowed and withdrew from Yin’an Hall. Behind him, the black cloak danced in the cold wind, billowing and swelling as if about to take flight. Wanwan said to Xiao You, “This Brocade Guard is really interesting. He speaks like an old teacher. I wonder if he has a wife at home—otherwise we could betroth you to him. It should be a good match.”

Xiao You blushed but wouldn’t yield verbally. “Brocade Guards are all bad people. Those court officials are scared to death of them—they arrest people at will… Xiao Zhangyin’s position is now taken over by Yan Sunlang. They say that to establish his authority, he’s made the entire court tremble with fear. Even the Brocade Guard Commander must follow his instructions. Anyone who had private grievances with him can’t escape this time. As soon as he took office, he purged political enemies. From now on, he alone will have the final say in the Ceremonial Directorate.”

Tonghuan frowned after hearing this. “How many times have I told you not to spread outside news to Her Highness!”

Xiao You stuck out her tongue. “I misspoke for a moment…”

Wanwan didn’t take it to heart, knowing Tonghuan feared she’d worry about court politics again. She just said, “I don’t care anymore, and it’s not my place to care. Right now I’m just recuperating, staying happy, and not asking about anything else.”

Later she truly did as she said. No matter how complex and chaotic things were outside, she turned a deaf ear, only caring about Nanyuan. Knowing Liang Shi was safe there brought her complete satisfaction.

The months passed without incident. From deep winter to warm spring seemed like just the blink of an eye. During this period came new news—Tongyun was promoted from Noble Consort to Imperial Noble Consort, and finally became Empress. On the day the imperial edict establishing the new empress was issued, the Emperor came to see her again, chattering endlessly about many things. Between the lines, he seemed to regard Tongyun as Yin Luo, saying Tongyun’s body contained two souls—one was Tongyun, one was Yin Luo. Actually, he wasn’t enfeoffing Tongyun but Yin Luo. In his heart, he still loved Yin Luo. Even though she had loved Xiao Duo, he remained devoted to her.

Wanwan hadn’t expected he actually knew everything. She had thought Yin Luo’s feelings were deeply hidden from him, but apparently she couldn’t hide anything from him at all.

He laughed heartily. “I may be cynical, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. With women, you can tell who they love by their eyes. When she saw Xiao Duo, her eyes lit up. When she saw me, she yawned constantly. Did she really think I had no perception? Now that Xiao Duo is dead, her heart has returned. Letting her continue as my empress—I’m not a man without magnanimity.”

She thought he understood worldly affairs, but then he became confused again. Yin Luo’s soul being in Tongyun’s body—only he would believe such talk.

In any case, no one could make decisions for him. Let him do as he pleased! Not long after came word of the Empress crying in complaint—after Yin Ge married the clerk surnamed Dong, she still maintained an illicit relationship with the Emperor. The previous child could still be attributed to the Dong surname, but later, for their long-term liaison, they sent that shield far away to Gansu. Now Yin Ge was pregnant again and couldn’t hide it, planning to switch and substitute, falsely claiming the Empress had given birth.

Tongyun wept angrily: “My own son’s whereabouts are still unknown, and now I’m supposed to raise someone else’s illegitimate child. The Emperor specializes in such sneaky, underhanded affairs, making me lose face too.” She slapped her fake belly, making it thump. “Look, what face do I have left? Even after becoming Empress, I still suffer this humiliation. Now I truly understand how unwilling my mistress was back then.”

Even now she still called Yin Luo her mistress—this was what Wanwan respected about her. Tongyun was a pitiful person who hadn’t lived easily. A young woman’s youth had been kicked around like a ball by them, and even when finally settled, she still had no happiness to speak of.

Though Tongyun was indignant, when the child was born and the Emperor personally delivered her, she had no choice but to accept.

There were ten princes of the Yong generation in total—having many sons wasn’t unusual. This birth was a princess, and the Emperor was overjoyed, ranking her among the boys by age. Counting down the line, she ranked fifteenth and was given the personal name Jinshu. On the third-day washing ceremony, he bestowed a title as well—Tai meaning great and vast; Chang meaning eternally firm. The fifteenth was recorded in the imperial genealogy as Princess Taichang.

Because he disliked the child’s mother, he also disliked the child by extension. The “postpartum” Empress showed no interest in this Princess—when the child was brought before her, she wouldn’t even glance at her. When Yin Ge’s health recovered slightly and she entered the palace to request an audience, she pointed at her nose and humiliated her face to face, finally ordering her to kneel on bricks for two full hours.

Everyone had their hardships—it was hard to say who was good or bad. Wanwan actually felt great affection for this niece. In three reigns of Daye emperors, until last month, she had been the only princess. Now finally came a new member. She hoped her life would be smoother than her own, that she could grow up safely and peacefully and find a prince consort to her liking.

The Empress said, “Does Your Highness like her? If you like her, you can take her back to Grand Princess’s residence. When you’re bored, having a child for company would be like raising a cat or dog—good for entertainment.”

Wanwan was tempted and truly wanted to take Jinshu back with her. Especially since everyone said the child resembled her—examining her nose and eyes closely, the niece really did look exactly like her aunt.

But ultimately this was someone else’s child. She feared developing feelings for her only to have to separate later, which would be another heart-piercing pain. So she shook her head and declined. “I’m afraid I couldn’t care for her well. I’ll visit her often instead.” She devoted much effort to the child, making flower caps for her and little jackets. When Jinshu was learning to speak, she was the one by her side, and even when she first called “mama,” she called to her.

Moving between the rear courtyards and deep palace, her days passed quite peacefully. But one day returning to the Princess’s residence, she noticed many more Brocade Guards patrolling the city. She lifted the curtain and called to Jin Shi, “What’s happened?”

Jin Shi said fighting had broken out in the south. Prince Zhen’an Wang Ding led two hundred thousand troops against the court, aided by many princes along the way. They had already captured Yuezhou Prefecture and were pressing directly toward Wuchang.

After hearing this, she murmured, “This day has truly come after all…” Suddenly alarmed, “Among those many princes, is our Prince included?”

Jin Shi shook his head. “No news yet. The court has already mobilized the Guanning Iron Cavalry—it all depends on whether they can extinguish Prince Zhen’an’s momentum. But Jiangnan is in grave danger. If Wang Ding turns his spear around to take Nanjing first, and Prince Nanyuan lacks the strength to respond, he might fall into Wang Ding’s hands.”

Wanwan’s expression immediately changed. She hurried back to the residence to examine maps—indeed, that battle line was very close to Nanyuan, much closer than to Beijing.

The sun set. She sat under the lamp, her heart in turmoil, staring fixedly at those small characters reading “Nanjing” until her eyes blurred and broke out in cold sweat.

She was wrapped in boundless terror, never having felt such panic before. Wang Ding had rebelled and was fighting—swords and blades had no eyes. She worried about Liang Shi, fearing he would become a target of all arrows, fearing he might suffer harm. She hadn’t seen him for nearly two years. Day by day corroded her, her heart’s surface sealed with a layer of wax. Only she knew that if cut open, inside it was still blood red.

Xiao You came to ask her to retire. She wrapped herself in a crane-feather cloak and walked outside, all the way to the main gate, wanting to go out but blocked by Jin Shi. She could only stand silently, silently gazing at those five great doors, gazing until filled with desolation.