After resting in the capital for two days, they would finally return to Nanyuan. Wanwan was also anxious in her heart, wishing to leave Grand Princess’s residence immediately. This was the cage that had imprisoned her—she didn’t want to linger here for even a moment.

This time the Emperor kept his word, ordering people to prepare a treasure ship and allowing them to choose a day to depart. Regarding the safety of their party, he was quite concerned. He still had Grand Princess’s residence’s original Brocade Guard contingent accompany her. She wasn’t clear about his considerations—perhaps he still harbored wariness. But according to the Emperor, the Princess having her own people was her own confidence. If the Prince Consort treated her poorly or did something to wrong her, as long as she was willing, she could order them to turn his world upside down. Daughters of the Murong family couldn’t suffer others’ slights.

Wanwan only smiled. She felt Liang Shi wasn’t that kind of person—she had no worries about him whatsoever. Having worried for so long, once she relaxed she was too lazy to consider other matters. As long as he was by her side, everything else was secondary. Liang Shi treated her with complete sincerity—she could doubt anything but never doubted his heart toward her.

The Brocade Guards had to accompany them, and Wanwan didn’t object. Actually, Jin Shi was a decent person. During his two-plus years guarding Grand Princess’s residence, he basically never made things difficult for her. As time passed, they became like friends—she still trusted him greatly.

Those traveling were all preparing luggage. Wanwan strolled to the front courtyard where Jin Shi was directing people to load carriages. Seeing her, he straightened up and smiled slightly at her.

She was well now. With love’s nourishment, her whole being was vibrant. Previously when seeing her, her complexion was always poor, her eyes dim and lackluster. People couldn’t be melancholy too long—too long would cause withering that even immortals couldn’t save. He still remembered when she miscarried, that pitiable helplessness. Recalling it now still made his heart ache… Now that Prince Nanyuan had come, she finally came back to life. He couldn’t describe his feelings. Even if some things were destined not to belong to him, after time passed and feelings developed, it was inevitably hard to let go.

Grand Princess was someone who cherished old affections—this way when she was lacking, and this way when she was abundant. Because the Emperor had issued orders, she even felt somewhat guilty toward him.

“I originally said it wasn’t necessary. You all have families—having you go to Nanyuan, I fear your families can’t bear it.”

Jin Shi disagreed. “Brocade Guards are transferred from various places in Daye—there’s no such thing as having families in Beijing. For us people, wherever we’re placed becomes home. The court assigns us to Nanyuan, so we subjects will follow Your Highness and protect Your Highness.”

She tilted her neck slightly, troubled: “You handle important matters. Wasting time on me might delay you. Please go ask below—if anyone finds it inconvenient, let me know and I’ll speak to His Majesty.”

Jin Shi smiled: “Your Highness’s good intentions might harm them instead. His Majesty’s eyes tolerate no sand—who would dare desert and still expect good treatment!” After a pause he continued, “Your Highness doesn’t like troubling others—this subject knows. But Brocade Guards aren’t as delicate as Your Highness imagines. Coming from water and fire, pressed down we’re nails—having the four seas as home is our fate.”

Wanwan made an understanding sound and lowered her head, knowing they were deeply embedded. Perhaps guarding her at the Princess’s residence was already the lightest duty.

Jin Shi looked at her carefully. Originally his gaze shouldn’t linger on her face—this was insubordination, not allowed. But people inevitably had uncontrollable moments. Truly forgetting propriety, he asked her, “Is Your Highness well?”

Hearing this, her face flushed red. “Yes, all is well. I must thank you for talking with me so much and encouraging me. I listened to you and finally waited for this day.”

He slowly nodded. “This subject knew there would be such a day. Your Highness deserves to be treated well.”

As they spoke intimately here, someone entered from the gate. Seeing her chatting with another man, his face immediately darkened. But his displeasure only showed when she hadn’t noticed him. He scrutinized that Brocade Guard—sharp eyes like torches, imposing aura. Those in this profession carried countless blood debts. They were the Emperor’s handy blades, killing machines that didn’t blink. Wanwan was kind-hearted, never seeing high or low in her eyes, but he greatly despised these people. They were the court’s planted spies—today they could protect you completely, tomorrow they could draw blades against you.

However, observing their expressions and movements, the two should be familiar. He knew Wanwan had friendship with a Captain named Jin Shi who had helped her in times of crisis. Wanwan had always been grateful to him.

Since this was so, his own petty jealousy seemed laughable. He was someone who moved in public circles—even if sour to the bone, his face remained very gentle.

He approached, imperceptibly encircling Wanwan within his sphere of influence. “Everything that should be prepared is ready. We can depart anytime.” After speaking, he cupped his hands toward Jin Shi: “This journey will trouble Captain Jin to take great care.”

Jin Shi’s eyes swept lightly, then he bowed with lowered head: “This humble position’s duty—please be assured, Your Lordship.”

Competition between men sometimes required only a collision of gazes. Jin Shi deeply understood this prince’s depths. To him, Prince Consort was merely an additional title—he always represented the dominant power of a region. He had deep possessiveness over things belonging to him. This was good—the gentle princess needed strong backing to protect her from wind and rain, to keep her years peaceful.

Wanwan now went with the flow. When he said they should depart, she leaned against him, even if he took her to the ends of the earth.

They entered Xihaizi to bid farewell to the Emperor, but he was in meditation and had no leisure to summon them. They kowtowed across the palace doors, then withdrew from the palace gates. Walking south along the Moat River, suddenly looking back, they saw someone standing on the wall wearing pure white Taoist robes, waving farewell to them. That figure was crane-like—somewhat lonely, somewhat aloof.

Wanwan feared he might fall. He liked climbing high, standing atop the battlements in a posture ready to soar through air. They bowed farewell from afar. The Emperor cupped his hands like a trumpet, sending his voice far: “Prince Consort, you must treat Wanwan well, or I won’t forgive you.”

Wanwan’s eyes suddenly reddened. However confused he was, he was still her brother. This blood connection could never be dissolved.

Liang Shi bowed deeply, indicating he received the command. Turning to pat her back: “It’s getting late. We should set out—Mother is still waiting for us.”

The treasure ship was at Tongzhou wharf. Reaching there to transfer to waterway, people settled down. From north to south would take over ten days—plenty of time on the road to stay close together.

What to do after reuniting? Best to do nothing at all—just lie there, open the skylight on the cabin roof, watch clear skies by day and stars by night. Time passed slowly—every bit was substantial and meaningful.

Liang Shi wasn’t a military man, not the type who knew nothing but fighting and killing. He could create Nanyuan’s prosperity—scheming when scheming was needed, elegant when elegance was required. Though he was less skilled at things Wanwan mastered, he understood them. For instance, music—the two lay on the bed playing xun and flutes. He knew Tang dynasty music bureau pieces, understood whirling dances and “Treading Mother Songs.” When Wanwan discussed these with him, he could respond—women in marriage probably deeply understood this. Talking at cross purposes was tragic; finding someone whose soul resonated with yours was precious.

When her painting interest peaked, she loved detailed brushwork, dressing him up and asking him to sit for her to copy. He was like gold and jade—brocade clothes and fine garments, face bearing slightly shy smiles. Outside the cabin, scattered golden rays struck behind him. His features were like poetry, difficult to describe with brush and ink.

Wanwan held up her sleeve to sketch—crescent eyebrows, knife-cut temples. Each eyebrow peak, each strand of hair gradually took shape under her gui brush.

He couldn’t sit still, coming over to look, earning her scolding: “Who told you to move! Look, the garment patterns don’t match up anymore!”

She pouted. His heart itched unbearably as he lowered his head to kiss her with a “pop.” Remembering how she looked talking with that Brocade Guard Captain, his heart still felt twisted.

“Wanwan…” He held her, shaking slightly. “When I wasn’t here, you were very lonely, right?”

She looked at him sideways: “No, I lived very well—had flowers, moon, and wine.”

He knew she was deliberately needling him. Holding back mischief, he tickled her sensitive spots until she laughed herself into a ball. When she caught her breath, she turned to embrace him, her voice forever aggrieved: “I wasn’t telling the truth… naturally I was lonely. That suffering hurt more than having someone cut my heart with a knife.”

He hesitated long, wanting to speak but stopping. She noticed, peering at his face asking what was wrong. He evasively said nothing. After a while he couldn’t help it, sitting there, using his toes to rub the floor one stroke at a time, muttering to himself: “People who take advantage of others’ weakness—I despise most in my life. ‘Fair lady sought by gentleman’—this is naturally acceptable. But knowing a flower has an owner yet still wanting to interfere—this shows low character!”

His words lacked beginning or end. She was confused: “What’s wrong? Who made you unhappy?”

He glanced at her, face full of resentment: “I’ve thought long about this—I must tell you. That Jin Shi—you can’t see him anymore in the future.”

Wanwan was puzzled: “Why? The Captain is a good person…”

“Precisely because you think he’s a good person that I won’t let you see him.” He said angrily, “Brocade Guards have terrible reputations—they’re the court’s greatest evil policy. People from such backgrounds are most ruthless and ungrateful. You can’t see through him, mistaking him for kind, but who knows when he’ll bite you back. Last time I saw him talking with you, looking at you with those shifty eyes, staring at you like that, even forgetting his own place. That’s presumption—enough to kill him ten times over! Anyway, from now on you can’t give him good looks. You may only smile at me alone—remember?”

After going in circles, turned out he was jealous. That sourness was three parts stronger than aged vinegar.

Wanwan laughed, hugging his arm and gently swaying: “This behavior—is this also an old family tradition of you Yuwen clan? If not for His Majesty’s orders, others might not have come to Nanyuan. Usually when you weren’t here, many places needed his help—some favor should be preserved. Burning bridges after crossing—wouldn’t that chill people’s hearts?”

He said: “I know what I’m doing. I’ll treat him well in other ways—he won’t suffer losses in Nanyuan. I just don’t want you seeing him. If I find out, my heart will feel terrible.”

She understood his meaning—first finding him amusing, second feeling greatly comforted. Precisely because he cared about her, he was so calculating. Though she had always thought men should be magnanimous, his words greatly surprised her, but she could understand—having gone through such difficulties to be together, they couldn’t tolerate the slightest flaw.

She smiled while straightening his clothes, saying softly: “I understand. From now on there’s no need for me to show my face publicly—why would I need to go outside the second gate? You too—someone who handles important matters, yet dwelling on this…”

His face slightly reddened as he said quietly: “Who told me I got such a good wife! Look at those bachelors—all sharp-mouthed and monkey-cheeked, not looking like good people.”

So even the most remarkable men had childish sides. In her eyes, Liang Shi was responsible, minded the big picture, had a loyal heart yet didn’t lack sentiment. So occasionally throwing a tantrum showed unguarded true nature, making her find him extremely adorable. When he brought it up awkwardly, she naturally had no room to refuse. Having experienced so many partings and reunions, what was most important? Only him.

They spent some time on the road, returning to Nanyuan Prince’s residence around September.

The long-absent entrance—seeing it again was like crossing past and present lives. She stood below the steps, staring blankly at that huge plaque: “I’m back, back…”

Liang Shi gripped her hand tightly, giving her an affirming smile. Just then two young men in brocade rushed out from the gate—tall, already surpassing her height. Just their frames hadn’t fully filled out yet, still somewhat green. Bounding to her side, their horseshoe sleeves swept with a “pa” as they bowed: “Mother had a hard journey. Your sons respectfully welcome Mother’s return to the residence.”

Wanwan was stunned, examining those two children. She knew they were Lan Zhou and Lan Ting but hadn’t expected them to grow so large.

Nearly three years—her memory still stopped at initially leaving Nanyuan when Lan Zhou tearfully clutched her sleeve saying “Mother don’t go.” In just a blink they had become adults. Their builds changed, even their features were quite different from before. Suddenly seeing them felt very strange.

She hesitantly called Lan Zhou: “Eldest brother?”

Lan Zhou greatly resembled his father—tall slender build, handsome elegant face. Qi people differed from Xianbei people. Though only twelve years old, while princes in the Forbidden City were still half-grown confused children, he could already stand alone.

When she pointed him out, he immediately reddened, smiling bashfully and responding yes: “Mother, your son is here.”

She looked at Lan Ting again, calling “Second brother.” This fellow was a mischievous cat—his height had grown but his mind was probably still about the same. Carelessly responding “Ai”: “Mother, we brothers thought of you every day!”

She smiled. Liang Shi chided him: “Same two sentences to everyone—don’t you have anything fresher to say?”

Lan Ting stammered explanations while the Princess Dowager emerged from Yin’an Hall, standing on the steps gazing this way.

Lan Zhou busily arranged to lead them inside, smiling: “Grandmother waited so long, finally waiting for Mother’s return. Last time receiving the letter saying the court granted grace, she was overjoyed beyond measure. This morning from early dawn she urged Second Brother and me to wait outside. Even going in for a drink of water greatly displeased her.”

The Princess Dowager couldn’t wait longer. Seeing them approach, she came forward herself, extending her hands from afar, tearfully saying: “Your Highness suffered grievances. Now it’s good—finally returned.”

Mother and daughter-in-law embraced and wept. Wanwan had always gotten along well with the Princess Dowager, even closer than with the Empress Dowager. A large part was love extending to what one loves—because they both wholeheartedly cared for Liang Shi, having the same direction, they had no disagreements.

The Princess Dowager carefully examined her, tearfully saying: “News of you in the capital also reached Nanyuan. Liang Shi suffered like burning oil—I was the same as him. Pitiful that we were under others’ eaves. Several times we wanted to bring you back, but fearing His Majesty’s suspicion, couldn’t make the trip. Don’t blame us—we truly had no solutions, otherwise we wouldn’t have let you stay in Beijing so long.”

Wanwan said sadly: “Don’t say that—I also wronged His Lordship and you. I was incapable, couldn’t keep the child…”

The Princess Dowager said no: “Such words slap our faces—you did this for Nanyuan! We Yuwen clan know right from wrong. Thanking you isn’t enough—how could we find fault? She busily comforted her: “Good child, you suffered greatly in this matter. I only hate I couldn’t be a proper mother-in-law, couldn’t attend you personally. Tadu and I spoke of this several times, fearing the young maids around you couldn’t care for you properly—worrying kept me sleepless all night. Now you’ve returned. From now on stay by Mother—Mother will nurture you.”

Intimate words spoken by thousands, each full of deep affection. Liang Shi came forward supporting Wanwan and his mother: “Don’t stand in the wind—let’s go inside to talk.” Turning to instruct Lan Zhou quietly: “There are court-assigned Brocade Guards outside. Go arrange things. The residence has enough people—we don’t need them. Send them to Big Gauze Hat Lane if necessary.”

Lan Zhou was personally trained by his father—with just slight hints on such matters, he immediately understood. He cupped hands upward saying “Yes,” then turned to look deeply at Wanwan, respectfully saying: “Mother please be seated—your son will return shortly.”

His father was impatient, waving to dismiss him while bringing Wanwan to the eastern warm chamber.

The Princess Dowager asked about her daily life in the capital, expressing pity for her detention in Beijing. Her dissatisfaction with the Emperor was ready to burst forth: “Your Highness has a good nature—with your own brother, naturally there’s nothing to say. But I, an old woman, am unhappy. When daughters marry, they become others’ people. However reluctant, there’s no reason to keep people from leaving. Look—causing husband and wife separation, what’s the point? Just half a year after the great wedding, forcing her to return, then keeping her so long—wasting three good years, how pitiful!”

But Liang Shi didn’t want his mother saying this: “Past matters need not be mentioned. Now she’s returned—we must look to the long term. Consider that we’re just now newly wed, that we’re just today welcoming Grand Princess’s marriage—isn’t it the same?”

The Princess Dowager sighed: “Nothing else matters—I just feel sorry for you both.”

What the Emperor imposed, who dared say half a word against it! Unpleasant matters were past—hopefully never to be mentioned again. Wanwan instead comforted her: “His Lordship rendered meritorious service in suppression, so His Majesty regards him with favor. Previously he probably wasn’t assured of me going to Nanyuan alone. Now it’s good—presumably he completely trusts His Lordship and won’t again insist I return to the capital.”

The Princess Dowager nodded: “Hopefully so. If there’s another time, I’ll go to the capital to argue. If I can’t speak to His Majesty, I’ll find the Empress Dowager and ask her to judge fairly for us.”

Speaking of the Empress Dowager, Wanwan also felt very regretful. The Emperor had absolutely no mother-son affection for her—only because his birth mother died early, letting her pick up the pieces and gain an Empress Dowager title for nothing. He even openly ordered the cabinet to draft posthumous titles, posthumously honoring Consort Xu as Empress Xiaoxiande. For the Empress Dowager, this was quite an awkward position. In anger, the Empress Dowager blocked Cining Palace gates, from then on eating vegetarian and chanting Buddha, no longer asking about worldly affairs.

The Princess Dowager chatted domestically with her for a while, then fearing she was tired, had her return to Longen Tower to rest. Wanwan thanked her and rose to leave. After taking two steps, she turned back and called “Mother”: “I remember that time on His Lordship’s birthday, Mother mentioned wanting Lan Zhou recorded under my name.”

Everyone was stunned. Liang Shi frowned: “That was joking then—how do you take it seriously!”

Wanwan tilted her neck, her expression grave: “Whether joking or not, there’s no harm. I couldn’t raise that son to term—feel very regretful. Lan Zhou is a good child. Now seeing him even more promising, if Mother and His Lordship don’t object, let’s do this. I also think it very good.”

Her making this decision, regardless of her considerations, gave people a sense of self-abandonment. Liang Shi felt very uneasy, fearing she was thinking wildly, only asking her to reconsider. The Princess Dowager felt the same: “You’re young—not long before you’ll naturally have more. Why rush adopting a son? Wait until next year—next year won’t be too late.”

Wanwan couldn’t explain clearly—her heart always felt unsettled. Her child was lost at five months. They said when born, hands and feet were complete, features distinguishable. That miscarriage, she felt, damaged her foundation. No matter how she recuperated afterward, her body remained weak. Whether she could have more children, she didn’t know. But she still held hope—hoping to adopt Lan Zhou, even as a charm, hoping for possibility of conceiving again.

Those thoughts she never mentioned to anyone, only saying: “I’ve decided—let’s do this. Regardless of this relationship, he calls me Mother anyway… actually it’s just a title, nothing important.”

But Liang Shi understood her. As soon as she mentioned it, he knew she harbored concerns. She was too delicate—no one could enter her inner depths. Even facing him, she wasn’t completely unreserved.

He gripped her hand, taking a breath: “If this makes you happy, then let’s follow your wishes. Having many sons isn’t worrying anyway. All children in this residence are yours—recorded or not isn’t important.”

Only then did she smile slightly, supported by Tonghuan back to Longen Tower.

Her former residence—after two or three years’ absence, returning found it still spotless. She touched the purple sandalwood writing desk, touched the jade paperweight, then pushed open windows to see outside scenery. Autumn had come—tree leaves all yellowed, hanging withered on branches, precarious in the wind.

Tonghuan would no longer urge her to consolidate the legitimate heir’s position. Because of past events, they all saw clearly. Now whatever she wanted to do, everyone followed her nature. She had long washed away the childishness of initial marriage, knowing how to arrange her life. All her decisions had their own reasons.

This news quickly reached Lan Zhou’s ears. He hurried over after finishing outside business. When he came, Wanwan was napping. He waited long in the covered corridor until she rose before entering to pay respects.

“Why did Mother make this decision? Is it because of little brother?”

Wanwan didn’t answer him directly, only saying: “Don’t you call me Mother? Now truly being your mother, you’re reluctant? We have affinity—I like you very much. I’m twenty years old with empty knees…” She was amused by herself, then composed her expression: “See your own feelings. If unwilling, I won’t force you.”

Lan Zhou said nothing, his eyes growing warmer. After a while he took out a paper packet from his chest, carefully opening it and respectfully presenting it with both hands: “These are harmony cakes—reportedly crafts passed down from Tang dynasty court. Your son specially brought them back for Mother.”

Small cakes, originally worthless, but the child kept them close to his heart—his sincere intention. The cake’s name was also fitting. Though he said nothing, his meaning seemed willing. Wanwan picked up a piece and bit it, very appreciative. This child Lan Zhou would certainly be very filial in the future…