For a moment, Wanwan’s heart panicked with the embarrassment of being exposed. She hadn’t expected him to return so quickly, much less to discover it so timely—as if he’d deliberately set a trap, and she’d been foolish enough to fall right into it.

He looked down at her from above, his gaze unfamiliar. Since there was no retreat, it would be better to speak clearly. She steadied her breath: “You came at just the right time. I have something to ask you.”

He nodded: “You went to my study.”

Wanwan bit her teeth and said yes: “I merely went to find a book, but didn’t expect… What’s the matter with the tiger tally in the drawer? With Nanyuan’s military strength, it’s insufficient for His Majesty to deploy a tiger tally. Where did you get it?”

He spoke frankly: “From Andong Guard. You should know that after Prince Ding’s army was defeated, His Majesty ordered the Guizhou troops to be stationed along the Andong Guard line. At that time, I was the one who escorted this army. Now that another tiger tally has been bestowed, what’s strange about it?”

Wanwan found these words difficult to believe. In quelling this rebellion, he indeed had distinguished service, but Nanyuan had always been in a compromising position—how could the Emperor possibly let him command a large army! The remnants of the three princes combined still numbered over a hundred thousand. With such a massive force, wouldn’t the Emperor know its significance? When the founding emperor conquered Daye, he had only a mere hundred thousand troops. Wanwan calculated carefully—she’d had Yu Qixia investigate before. Officially, Nanyuan had fifty thousand garrison troops. If adding the forces the tiger tally could mobilize, his current power had reached an astounding level.

She looked at him with alarm: “Liang Shi, you said you would never lie to me.”

His gaze immediately softened: “When have I ever lied to you? It’s you who’s always suspicious of me. Court officials have been changing frequently lately—even the Right Military Commissioner position is vacant. The southeast is still reeling from the Guizhou Bureau rebellion. His Majesty lacks reliable people around him and has temporarily entrusted everything to me. Why won’t you believe it!” His face then showed sorrow as he smiled bitterly: “I’ve truly failed as a husband. I thought only His Majesty guarded against me, but it turns out His Majesty is easier to convince while my own pillow companion remains vigilant against me unto death. During your three years in the capital, so much happened—if I wanted to rebel, I would have raised my banner long ago. Why wait until now? Everything I do can satisfy His Majesty, yet cannot satisfy you. Do you think I haven’t lost enough, that I’m not suffering enough living death?”

His great grief and distress suddenly made Wanwan feel confused, wondering if she’d truly become paranoid. Recalling past years, through so many ups and downs, he hadn’t betrayed—she should believe he was loyal to the court. She must be confused. It was just half a left tally—as long as the right tally remained in the Emperor’s hands, he couldn’t do anything with the army.

Understanding this, she immediately felt deep guilt—she had chilled his heart. Unfortunately, she was never one easily swayed by emotion. In her heart, the state took precedence over love—not because she didn’t love him enough, but because she always remembered she was a descendant of Murong. Sometimes the more one possessed, the less one could abandon. Speaking practically, her backing was the entire Daye empire. Once she lost that glory and parasitically depended on love for survival, who could say how things would end?

She retreated to her seat, slowly nodding: “I was overthinking. Seeing the tiger tally suddenly, my heart skipped—I was truly afraid…”

He secretly breathed a sigh of relief, actually feeling guilty and ashamed. He was ultimately scheming, truly wronging her. But no matter how the situation turned, her position in his heart was unshakeable—on this point, he could speak confidently.

Seeing her attitude change, he also wanted to test her feelings, sitting in the round chair and saying gently: “The Yuwen ancestors received imperial grace, being enfeoffed as princes, with family teachings passed down—the first being loyal service to the country. But those three years were extreme torment for me. You couldn’t be by my side, the court repeatedly oppressed Nanyuan, then came news of your miscarriage. You don’t know how I spent that time. I was once confused too—if I had truly joined forces with Prince Ding, I wonder what today would be like. Would you hate me? Would you be irreconcilably opposed to me?”

Her expression was cold as she pondered before saying: “When you pretended to join the Guizhou army, common people came to block the gates of the Grand Princess’s mansion, cursing me through the courtyard walls for being shameless and allowing my husband to commit violence. I endured it all because I knew the court gave you no way to live—you were forced into desperation. If the nation’s fate were truly exhausted, we could only accept heaven’s will. If you wanted to rebel, to become emperor, I couldn’t stop you. But I am Daye’s princess. What I can do is maintain honor for the country, absolutely refusing to sit alongside you and enjoy the empire.”

His heart suddenly jumped: “This is what you think?”

She turned her head, looking through the thin gauze on the window at the scene outside. The snow had become very light, the sky beginning to clear, illuminating the opposite rooftop in golden light. She frowned, her voice sounding desolate: “Otherwise what? Having the empire seized by others, continuing to submit to enemies? I cannot do it, fearing to face our ancestors shamefully after death.”

After hearing her out, the word “enemies” horrified him. If the empire crumbled because of him, she would see him as an enemy. To be together again in this lifetime would be hopeless. Why was a woman so stubborn? Wasn’t he good enough to her? Even using every method couldn’t capture her heart. She protected the Emperor so—even if he bullied her more, would she willingly endure it?

“His Majesty hasn’t been good to you…”

Her expression was wooden: “If I were born into a small family and quarreled so unpleasantly with my brother, I might have him hung up and whipped severely. But he’s ultimately no ordinary person. Losing the empire means death—what great resentment would require his life as compensation? Besides, Daye doesn’t belong to him alone. I protect our ancestral foundation, which has nothing to do with him. I’ve told you before—others may disrupt the government, but you cannot, because you’re my consort, the Murong family’s son-in-law. Unless you no longer want me, you should stand with me and jointly protect Daye’s peace.”

These words led to a long silence, both struggling internally, weighing gains and losses repeatedly. When reaching an impasse, there was no room for maneuvering.

Wanwan had made her decision, but Liang Shi didn’t think so. He always felt her heart was soft—though she couldn’t turn around now, when pushed to desperation, she would still accept. They just lacked a child now. Once she became a mother, the child would occupy all her thoughts, and then she’d cast aside all concerns about father, brothers, and country.

A princess was still a princess—when discussing politics, she unconsciously carried an air of superiority. Her formality made him feel estranged, and he had to break this predicament. So he went over to pull her up, holding her tightly in his arms, saying softly: “What’s wrong with you? We’ve experienced so much together—we shouldn’t be like this today. The tiger tally was sent from Andong Guard for my safekeeping. If you don’t believe it, you can have Yu Qixia investigate. Only accurate information must be obtained from His Majesty to avoid error.”

Wanwan had her own plans, agreeing verbally: “Since you’ve explained everything, there’s nothing to doubt. I was narrow-minded—don’t be angry with me. Today is New Year’s Day—getting angry at year’s beginning makes the whole year unpleasant.”

He indeed changed to a smiling face, vividly telling her about the amusing incidents of playing cuju with Second Brother and the others. Wanwan also acted interested, but secretly remained melancholy. None of it was genuine—once the heart grew distant, this was how it was between spouses.

New Year’s Day passed in splendor, with leisure only coming on the second day. He said the tiger tally’s origins must be asked of the Emperor, so she indeed ground ink, planning to write to the Emperor.

Tonghuan watched from the side, hesitating before asking: “Has Your Highness thought this through? If there’s something amiss, this letter won’t reach His Majesty at all. If it does reach him, what if His Majesty, with his changeable thoughts, uses this to make a big fuss?”

Actually, Wanwan was also hesitating. Having written only two characters, she felt she’d been thoughtless. Tonghuan was quite right, but her fears lay elsewhere—if this tiger tally truly had dubious origins, could she report Liang Shi and cause her own husband’s death?

She suddenly hated this predicament that made her anxious and torn. If only she hadn’t discovered it before—she’d rather remain ignorant for a more peaceful life.

She ultimately couldn’t be ruthless enough, crumpling the paper and throwing it into the brazier. Let things slide—having just found some peace, don’t create trouble for herself. Being persecuted by others was unavoidable, but putting a knife to her own neck would be asking for it.

Time passed quickly. After the first month, it was suddenly the second day of the second month when the dragon raises its head, and before long it was March.

In March, all things flourished—a good season for marriages. Lan Zhou’s betrothal should also be settled. Wanwan and the Dowager Consort gathered to discuss. Liang Shi’s list collected several girls from suitable families—there was a young lady from the Imperial Clan Court Administrator’s family, and a daughter from a Secretariat Counselor’s house… The Dowager Consort picked and chose. Her opinion was that status needn’t be too high—prefectural families would do, lest people gossip about intimate relations with high court officials. Wanwan wasn’t so particular, having Lan Zhou come and asking him gently: “Son, you’ve been handling affairs outside for so long—see which family is good and let Great-grandmother decide for you.”

Lan Zhou’s face fell to his navel: “This son is still young and doesn’t want to marry yet. Please ask Mother to speak well for me—allow this son to marry next year instead.”

But the Dowager Consort spoke first: “Not young at all! Thirteen this year, fourteen next year. Your Fifth Uncle married his consort at twelve and was holding a son at thirteen…”

“But didn’t that child die after three days?” He stubbornly twisted his neck. Though so tall now, when throwing tantrums he still had a child’s behavior.

The Dowager Consort exclaimed: “No good words from your mouth—where did you learn such bad temper! Don’t you know ‘men should marry when grown’? This year is yours, next year is Brother Ting’s—none can escape.”

Lan Ting blinked twice: “How about I marry first? Let my mother come back for the wedding feast.”

The Dowager Consort glared at him: “Don’t join the commotion—your elder brother is still a bachelor. When is it your turn!” She gestured for Nanny Ta to bring the register to Lan Zhou: “Pick one, and after picking we’ll make the betrothal… Don’t look at your adoptive mother—she can’t save you either. I don’t believe this evil—father looks like this, son looks like this, none wanting to marry. Want to ascend to heaven?”

Lan Zhou looked mournfully at those seated: “This son follows Father…”

Wanwan looked helpless: “Last time I asked if you had someone you liked, you wouldn’t tell me. If I wanted to plead for you, I have no grounds. Now Great-grandmother has spoken—don’t anger Great-grandmother. Be obedient and choose.”

He held the register with trembling hands, finally pointing randomly before turning and leaving.

“Jin Rui, Assistant Commander of the Regional Military Commission—his daughter.” Nanny Ta returned the register, smiling: “I know this family. The madam is Second Consort’s maternal cousin. The girl’s given name is Yunwan, the same age as our young master. She’s been literate since childhood—a dignified and virtuous good child.”

The Dowager Consort was delighted, nodding with a smile: “What a coincidence—they’re related after all. Then let Second Consort be matchmaker and go propose to the Jin family.”

Arranging a marriage required going through complicated procedures, but since Lan Zhou had been accompanying his father on business since age seven or eight, people in official circles knew what kind of talent and looks he had. The formal inquiry could be waived. Next they asked for birth dates and times, requesting the Imperial Observatory to match them for marriage. The result showed a match rare in a century. Lord Jin was happy to form an alliance with the Prince’s mansion, the prospective son-in-law had been watched grow up, both families were agreeable and strongly promoted it—nothing was a problem. So after the betrothal gifts and setting the date, it was fixed for August eleventh. The three-day return visit would have the fourteenth spent at the bride’s family home, returning to the mansion on the fifteenth for Mid-Autumn Festival together—truly couldn’t be more perfect.

The mansion was preparing for happy events, filled everywhere with joyous laughter. Wanwan liked this lively atmosphere, often visiting other courtyards to see how arrangements were progressing. Everyone was quite happy, only Lan Zhou showed no reaction, handling affairs and speaking as usual. Sometimes when his bride was mentioned, he was also indifferent, showing no smile.

Wanwan had recently become fascinated with raising birds—those that loved to sing: parrots, red-billed birds, orioles… raising whatever looked good. Liang Shi also indulged her, finding many precious varieties. A section of corridor was cleared beside the front pavilion specifically for hanging bird cages. When weather cleared each day and covers were removed, all birds competed to show their voices—so prosperous it felt like standing in a bird market.

She carefully selected, planning to give one to Lan Zhou to cheer him up. After long deliberation, she chose a blue-throated robin—a bird with white brows and brown feathers, its chin a bright blue, small and clever, looking very endearing. The child was troubled, and since she couldn’t console him, she could only pin hopes on this bird.

She carried the hibiscus cage to his courtyard, but unfortunately he wasn’t there, so she hung the cage under the moon gate window. Turning to instruct his servant Haha Zhuzi to care for it well, she returned to Longen Tower. When Lan Zhou returned at evening and saw it, he asked where the bird came from. His subordinates said Your Highness sent it, so he stood before the window with hands behind his back for half an hour.

When lamps were lit, the bird was very interesting, loving to call at lamplight, becoming more spirited the deeper into night. He’d never liked these small creatures before, fearing they’d make him lose his purpose. While others played with walnuts and fought crickets, he did nothing but read and practice archery and horsemanship. Now having received such a plaything, because of the giver, he felt special affection for this bird too.

The blue-throated robin’s voice was crisp and mellow, able to produce various patterns. He quietly appreciated it for a while, fearing it would tire, then had someone cover the cage with cloth. Going to his study to read reports from twenty-four counties, after reading half the day, he hadn’t absorbed a single word.

His mind wasn’t on this—his head was chaotic, sitting felt unbearable. Having received someone’s bird, he should go thank them—this was basic courtesy. He checked the time—already past seven o’clock. Father had social obligations today, so presumably she hadn’t slept yet!

He tidied his clothing before the bronze mirror and went out. His residence was close to Longen Tower, very convenient to reach.

Carrying a lantern and walking slowly, thinking about it seemed amusing—she truly treated him as a son. Arranging his residence nearby for her convenience, noticing his unhappiness and sending him a bird to play with—there was both maternal and friendly generosity. If he were truly born to her, how wonderful that would be, but he lacked this fortune.

He climbed Longen Tower’s steps, entering and immediately meeting Xiao You. Xiao You exclaimed: “How did Young Master come?”

He responded vaguely: “I’m looking for Mother to talk—has she retired?”

Since returning from Beijing, they no longer served night duties. Xiao You looked back—the inner room’s lamp was lit—then said: “Usually she waits for His Lordship’s return before sleeping, probably hasn’t retired yet. Young Master please wait, this servant will go announce you.”

But possessed by some impulse, he raised his hand saying it wasn’t necessary: “We’re mother and son talking—no need to be so formal. Go about your business, I’ll go in myself.”

Xiao You was very troubled—wanting to stop him but fearing his anger, she could only watch helplessly as he entered the bedroom.