Time passes slowly in the mountains. He had spent seven or eight years on Longhu Mountain, and while he might not be proficient in many other things, he had certainly mastered patience. A patient person, once matters are settled into certainty, will never let down their guard—and he was just such a person. Therefore, even when speaking of such crucial matters, his tone remained calm and even.

Song Chuyi’s hands were somewhat cold. Zhou Weizhao held them in his, working to warm them. Before they knew it, they had arrived at Yongan Palace. A pair of fully-carved rosewood pagoda palace lanterns in front of the steps cast warm light into the night. Snowflakes drifted onto Zhou Weizhao’s long lashes. Song Chuyi turned to look and gently brushed them away for him.

Zhou Weizhao then grasped her hand and gently drew her into his embrace, letting out a long sigh. “Xiao Yi, I’ve finally waited for this day.”

From now on, he would no longer have to live cautiously with his mother under his father’s shadow, no longer need to exhaust himself mentally for what rightfully belonged to him. Beyond all this, he also had his beloved companion by his side. He had finally discovered that in this world, besides the suffocating responsibilities and schemes, there also existed emotions that made one cherish life.

Song Chuyi smiled slightly, her eyes curving into crescents like the moon above. She removed Zhou Weizhao’s outer cloak, watched as Qing Ying and Qing Tao lowered the bed curtains, shutting out all the wind and snow outside, and said softly, “Yes, congratulations, Shiwu.”

Thinking of this childhood name “Shiwu” (Fifteen), the smile in Song Chuyi’s beautiful eyes deepened, and she couldn’t help curving her lips. “It seems Master was right—he truly is your lucky star.”

That Emperor Jianzhang could make this decision so smoothly was partly due to the provocation from Prince Gong, but Master Zhang Tianshi, Zhou Weizhao’s teacher, had also exerted considerable effort. He had always enjoyed Emperor Jianzhang’s trust—not the same level of trust as with Master Yuanhui, but trust nonetheless. Emperor Jianzhang had always been willing to listen to his words.

Zhou Weizhao’s childhood name had been given by Master Zhang’s wife. According to her, when Zhou Weizhao first arrived at Longhu Mountain, he was only five years old. After Princess Rongcheng left, he would run alone to the foot of the mountain every day to wait—a very stubborn child. Later, once on the mountain path, he encountered a wolf pack and nearly lost his life. Had his martial brothers not discovered him quickly, His Highness the Imperial Prince would have perished.

The Master’s wife then consoled and coaxed him, saying that when the fifteenth of the eighth month came, when Mid-Autumn arrived, Her Highness the Princess would surely come. At the very least, Her Highness the Princess Consort would send someone with a message.

Zhou Weizhao was still young then, far from cultivating the cunning demeanor he had now, and innocently believed her. Day after day, he chanted “shiwu, shiwu” (fifteen, fifteen), until eventually the Master’s wife simply began calling him Shiwu.

Now, as Song Chuyi recalled this, her heart filled with sorrow and ache.

She looked into Zhou Weizhao’s eyes, as if through them she could see her own childhood self—watching from afar as Song Chuning was intimately gathered into Song Yi’s embrace and lifted onto his shoulders. She had been so envious, so jealous, yet knew she could never have that.

She buried her head in Zhou Weizhao’s embrace. For a moment, tears threatened to surface, but she quickly suppressed them.

“His Majesty was perfectly fine—why did he suddenly bring up investing the Imperial Grand Prince?” She quickly detected something amiss. Emperor Jianzhang had been greatly weakened by the matters with Prince Gong and the Crown Prince. Earlier, when the Ministry of Rites and others had submitted memorials using the Crown Prince’s poor health and unsuitability to serve as heir apparent as grounds to request establishing a Grand Prince, Emperor Jianzhang’s attitude had remained ambiguous. Why had he suddenly changed his mind and thought of investing the Imperial Grand Prince?

Qing Ying, who had already left, returned and gently knocked on the door. After receiving permission, she entered carrying a stack of letters, smiling at Song Chuyi. “Just in the time you spent keeping the Princess Consort company today, this many letters arrived…”

Since marrying into the Eastern Palace, her correspondence channels had been managed by Luo Gui. He would bring the letters back and pass them to Nanny Xu and Nanny Xu in Yongan Palace.

She needed to read the letters, so Zhou Weizhao went to the washing chamber to bathe first, leaving her to speak with Qing Ying.

Qing Ying selected two and handed them to her. “This one was sent by Uncle from Hubei, and this other one… was sent by Miss Lu.”

It had been quite a while since there was news from Lu Chonghua. After Song Chuyi married, Lu Chonghua had sent someone rushing back from Zhangzhou to deliver gifts once, then there had been no news. First Madam Lu had been worried sick, and even Song Chuyi had specially asked Zhou Weizhao to write to Fujian inquiring about Lu Chonghua’s whereabouts. The reply from Fujian said Lu Chonghua had gone to sea, and there had been no news for over four months. Cui Huaying was planning to personally travel to Fujian to search for her. Now seeing a letter had arrived, Song Chuyi breathed a slight sigh of relief.

But Lu Chonghua’s letter had been sent back before June—it had simply been delayed en route and only now was delivered. After Song Chuyi glanced at it, she set it down, her worry intensifying even more.

Seeing her concern, though Qing Ying also felt that having no news after being at sea so long was likely inauspicious, she still consoled her. “Miss Lu has heaven’s protection and won’t come to harm. Besides, she is after all a daughter of the Lu family—even the Zhangzhou magistrate wouldn’t dare neglect her. Moreover, His Highness has sent people to search. I’m sure news will come soon.”

But no matter how many people Lu Chonghua had with her or how reliable they were, it couldn’t change the fact that she had gone to sea. The Fujian coast was already unstable nowadays… If she encountered pirates, that would truly be life-threatening.

After some thought, she instructed Qing Ying, “I feel something isn’t right. Tomorrow, have First Madam Lu come to the palace.”

Her anxiety and worry stemmed from First Madam Lu’s fear being far too unsettling—though the seas were indeed unsafe now and something might have happened, Lu Chonghua truly had many capable people around her. Setting aside everything else, she had the ability to preserve her own life. Yet for some reason, First Madam Lu seemed convinced that Lu Chonghua had certainly met with disaster. She had been restless day and night. A few days ago, when she came to the Princess Consort’s palace to pay her respects and mentioned this matter, the despair and terror in her eyes could not be attributed to simple worry alone.

A mother worrying about her daughter was naturally human nature, but in the past, when Lu Chonghua had also planned to go to sea, First Madam Lu had remained composed and open-minded throughout. Only recently had she become unusually worried.

To say nothing had occurred would be truly strange, yet First Madam Lu refused to speak of it, only saying she was worried.

Qing Ying bowed and acknowledged, then took out Cui Yingshu’s letter to give her.

Cui Yingshu’s letter was much easier to bear than Lu Chonghua’s, as there was no suspense. In it, he clearly explained Han Cheng’s purpose in going to Hubei, and also mentioned that Han Cheng’s trip to Hubei was not only to incite Prince Dongping to flee to Jin Province, but he had also planned to follow Han Zhengqing’s orders to contact Jiang Tianping, taking the opportunity to kill Cui Yingshu and throw the Hubei situation into chaos.