On the day of Prince Linzi Shen Jie’s wedding, the entire capital was adorned with lanterns and decorations. From the imperial palace to the prince’s residence to the residences of the principal consort and two secondary consorts, all obstacles along the streets were cleared away, and red curtains were hung along the roadside for two li near the prince’s residence.

All civil and military officials attended the banquet.

Even the Emperor went, and Xie Wei, who rarely attended social gatherings, also came to the residence for the banquet. Those who had external assignments and couldn’t attend in person naturally had their generous gifts specially delivered in advance.

Fang Miao had never been particularly notable among the many companions at Yangzhi Study in the past. The deeper impression people had of her was as a spineless fence-sitter who swayed whichever way the wind blew. However, the reason for her constant wavering wasn’t any power struggle—it was entirely because of her divination readings. So although others criticized her, they couldn’t really say much about it.

Now she had suddenly flown up to become the consort of Prince Linzi?

Never mind others—Chen Shuyi, who had gone to the selection together with Fang Miao that day, was the first to be displeased. Forget attending in person to offer congratulations, she didn’t even send half a gift, acting as if there were no such person or matter in the capital at all.

However, because Fang Miao had accompanied her to visit Grand Princess Leyang when she was confined that day, Jiang Xuening had some favorable impression of her. So two days in advance, she brought a gift and went to see her first.

When Fang Miao saw her, her originally worried face immediately broke into smiles.

First, she kept saying things like “an honored guest has arrived, this marriage of mine must work out even if it wouldn’t otherwise,” and then without any concealment at all, she inquired about Jiang Xuehui’s character and conduct from Jiang Xuening.

Jiang Xuening thought Fang Miao wanted to compete with Jiang Xuehui or be on guard against her. She never expected that after listening, Fang Miao would be greatly disappointed, speaking in an extremely regretful tone: “Never mind whether it’s true or false, Second Miss, but this elder sister of yours is someone cautious in her actions. Even if she has some degree of desire for fame and profit, she won’t exhaust all manner of schemes and methods to make trouble like others would. I was happy for nothing. If she were a formidable person, she could push me down and I could pack my bags and leave; if she didn’t push me down, the possibility of her bringing disaster upon herself would be quite high, so I could eat my free meals at the prince’s residence with peace of mind. But she’s so careful with her words and actions, neither up nor down—it’s rather like a bone stuck in my throat, leaving me at a loss for what to do. I can only hope for peaceful coexistence without interfering with each other!”

Jiang Xuening fell silent, at a loss for words.

In her previous life, she had married Shen Jie for the highly likely position of Empress, so she kept Shen Jie happy and pleased, and the residence didn’t even have a secondary consort. In this life, Fang Miao was extremely open-minded. About to become Princess Linzi, her greatest goal seemed to be… to coast through life waiting for death?

Looking at it this way, she and Jiang Xuehui probably wouldn’t clash.

After all, though Jiang Xuening didn’t like Jiang Xuehui, she had to admit that this elder sister acted with great propriety, rarely initiating conflicts with others. Though she did some things for her own benefit, she didn’t harm others.

She sat with Fang Miao for a while longer until Fang Miao’s hands got itchy and she pulled out all her divination tools, wanting to tell Jiang Xuening’s fortune. Only then did she finally find an excuse and quickly took her leave.

If it were her previous life, she definitely wouldn’t have believed in such things.

Now that she had been reborn, she felt worldly affairs indeed had some mysterious aspects. But the more this was true, the less she dared to have her fortune told. If something were truly predicted, and it wasn’t a good outcome, would life still be worth living?

It was better not to know anything—pursue what you want, fight for what you wish to keep.

Only then could it be called satisfying.

After leaving the Fang residence, Jiang Xuening continued preparing for her journey to Shu. On the day of Shen Jie’s wedding, she no longer visited Fang Miao separately. Instead, after following the entire wedding procession to the prince’s residence, she stayed in Jiang Xuehui’s room.

Dragon and phoenix candles burned high, the entire room was red.

Only the room was much smaller than when Jiang Xuening had married years ago, the location wasn’t the main chamber, there were fewer maids and matrons guarding outside the door, and the flattering and ingratiating words weren’t as enthusiastic or sincere…

In her previous life, Jiang Xuening had been Shen Jie’s principal consort, and at that time there was no secondary consort entering the door on the same day, so she had no comparison in her heart. Now looking at it, she felt that even though Jiang Xuehui had become Shen Jie’s secondary consort, whether in terms of ceremony or status, she was a head lower than Fang Miao. If it were her sitting in this room today, no matter what, she wouldn’t be able to bear it and would lift her veil and leave.

Jiang Xuehui was quite calm.

From the moment the imperial edict of the arranged marriage arrived at the Jiang residence, she had already known everything she would face next. Since this was the path she had chosen, even if it wasn’t so satisfactory, she had to grit her teeth and walk it. She held little resentment toward others.

Outside, congratulatory voices clamored noisily.

Jiang Xuehui lifted off the red veil and gently placed it on the corner of the table. As if knowing that Jiang Xuening had something to say to her today, she didn’t ask why she was still staying here at this time. She simply sat by the table and poured a cup of tea, placing it across from herself.

Jiang Xuening stood across from her, examining her.

The difference between principal consort and secondary consort was no different from the distinction between wife and concubine among commoners. In the future, if there were offspring, legitimate and illegitimate would also be distinguished. This difference was now reflected in the wedding ceremonies, in the room’s decorations, and even in Jiang Xuehui’s bright red wedding dress. It used less gold thread than Fang Miao’s, the cuffs were embroidered not with peonies but with herbaceous peonies, and a peacock spreading its wings yearning to fly could never compare to a phoenix dancing with extended neck.

Jiang Xuehui smiled lightly: “Are you pitying me?”

Jiang Xuening didn’t deny that she felt some pity.

But in this life, she hadn’t fought for Jiang Xuehui’s marriage match—it could be said to have occurred naturally. So whatever Jiang Xuehui gained or lost, she actually didn’t feel particularly strongly about it.

She just felt somewhat emotional.

“I actually didn’t plan to come to your wedding.”

Jiang Xuening picked up the teacup and looked at it. On the rim was a deep blue glazed orchid leaf—Shen Jie’s characteristically simple taste. This person was good in every way, just not very suitable to be Emperor. If in this life he stayed far from the power struggles of the throne, he should be able to have a good end, right?

She laughed inexplicably and put down the teacup again.

“But no matter what, Wanniang did raise me to adulthood. She was your birth mother and always hoped for your wellbeing. Now that you’re married, and married to such noble imperial blood as Prince Linzi, she should be most happy. Both emotionally and logically, I should come on her behalf to see and congratulate you.”

Hearing her mention Wanniang again, Jiang Xuehui closed her eyes slightly and fell silent.

But Jiang Xuening was rarely this peaceful.

In the past, whenever she mentioned Wanniang, she always carried unwillingness, carried a bit of self-pitying hatred. She was jealous of Jiang Xuehui yet deliberately showed disdain toward her, to preserve that bit of pitiful self-respect.

Now that she had decided to leave the capital, she actually saw it more lightly.

Perhaps the upheavals of two lifetimes had finally allowed her to find something more important than these old grievances?

She wanted to save the Princess.

She should look forward.

“In the past, I truly was jealous of you, hated you. Wanniang switched you and me. You used my identity, occupied my familial affection, enjoyed my wealth and honor, yet I was inferior to you in every way—clumsy in handling matters, easily irritated and angered. The more I wanted to do well, the less I could, causing others to look down on me instead.”

Jiang Xuening took out the jade bracelet from her sleeve.

The living had departed, but the inanimate object remained.

It didn’t seem much different from when Wanniang had placed it in her hand before death.

“But recently, I’ve changed my thinking. In the past, I couldn’t see clearly from within the situation. Now, stepping outside it, I’ve discovered that living as you do is extremely tedious. My mother treats you well, but also constrains you. The entire capital is full of daughters of noble families—comparing person to person makes one not dare to make mistakes. I thought, if I were to enjoy that wealth and honor, occupy that familial affection and identity, yet live such a boring life and be such an unfeeling person, I’m afraid my heart wouldn’t be willing, my feelings wouldn’t consent.”

Today was Jiang Xuehui’s joyous day, so she wore unusually elaborate makeup.

Only it was somewhat thick.

Her features were all covered by rouge and powder, outlining beautiful contours, but instead pressing all her genuine expressions beneath the makeup, showing a kind of suppressed and stifling numbness.

Jiang Xuening gently placed the Hetian celadon jade bracelet on the table between them.

A single bracelet, like a distinct boundary line, divided the two of them.

She said indifferently: “Before Wanniang passed, she held my hand and insisted I give you this bracelet. The day she died, I clutched this bracelet tightly and cried for two or three nights. When I arrived in the capital and saw you, I thought, even if I died, I would never give you this bracelet. But now I know that besides Wanniang, there are others in the world. Even if Wanniang hates me, there are still others who care about me, who need me. I couldn’t control my fate before, and I’ve accepted that. She didn’t exactly do right by me, but I’ve done right by her.”

Wanniang’s dying wish from her previous life—in this life, she had finally fulfilled it.

Having said this, Jiang Xuening seemed to have nothing more to say.

She and Jiang Xuehui didn’t have much more connection between them to begin with. After speaking, she turned to leave.

The room was utterly quiet.

Jiang Xuehui’s gaze rested on the bracelet for a long time. She slowly picked it up between her fingers, finding it ice-cold to the touch.

She wanted to laugh but discovered tears in her eyes.

She pulled at the corners of her lips, feeling that worldly affairs were truly absurd: Jiang Xuening hated her, was jealous of her, made things difficult for her—but in her position, how could she act without being wrong?

Everything she did was wrong.

There was no need to argue which was better or worse.

With a muffled “bang.”

Jiang Xuening’s footsteps had just reached the door when she heard it. Startled, she turned back to look, only to see that Jiang Xuehui had grabbed a fine Duan inkstone from beside her and forcefully smashed down!

The Hetian celadon jade bracelet instantly shattered into pieces.

The broken jade fragments lay at the edge of the table, silent and still.

Jiang Xuehui’s face showed no excess emotion. Somewhat numbly, she wiped away the tear that had slid down her cheek, threw down the inkstone, and only said: “Everyone has their own fate. I’m already this kind of person, so you needn’t harbor any more expectations of me. I protect myself wisely. Even if she loved me, to me she’s merely a stranger I never met.”

“…”

Jiang Xuening looked at her with pity for a long time, but ultimately said nothing and went outside.

In the prince’s residence, wine cups clinked, guests reveled merrily.

In this world, right and wrong are often difficult to distinguish.

But love and hate are very direct.

Whether Jiang Xuehui was right or wrong, she didn’t know. In any case, she couldn’t say she disliked this person, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to like her either.