Although the fire that Yuanhui set ultimately did ignite, in the end it was only a small flame. The Song family members seemed to have been prepared in advance and had already readied sand and stones. Even with lamp oil and the north wind assisting, the fire was immediately buried by sand and stones.

Nanny Xu held An’an while standing in the covered corridor, watching the methodical tenant farmers and household guards. A triumphant smile appeared at the corners of her mouth—Miss had said that in these few days there would probably be people coming to make trouble. If they wanted to make things big, burn everyone to death, and yet also let everyone know about it, in winter it inevitably couldn’t escape the two words “arson.” Fortunately they had already made preparations early on.

An’an opened her large eyes wide, standing on tiptoe and pointing at the flames lighting up outside, somewhat excited yet also curious: “Has Little Aunt also come?”

Nanny Xu crouched down to stroke her head, her face carrying a smile: “Not yet, but it will be soon. In a few more days it will be An’an’s birthday, and Sixth Miss will definitely come to celebrate for An’an.”

An’an couldn’t help feeling somewhat disappointed, but then thinking of how Song Chuyi always brought her many novel and interesting gifts, in a flash she cast aside all these unhappy feelings and yawned a small yawn.

For a small child to persist in standing until now before wanting to sleep was already rare. Nanny Xu affectionately had the wet nurse lead An’an back to rest, then turned around and went out to find her husband, asking him: “Did everything get done as Sixth Miss instructed?”

“Don’t worry!” Uncle Zhang was so busy his feet barely touched the ground. He directed the tenant farmers to drag the several captured people inside, while also finding time to turn his head and reply: “Left a few to go back and report. The rest have all been captured.”

Nanny Xu nodded, gazing distantly toward the direction of the capital, respectfully and devoutly pressing her palms together in worship, her mouth muttering: “All heavenly bodhisattvas, please by all means bless Sixth Miss in everything going smoothly, safe and sound.”

Song Chuyi’s situation, however, didn’t seem too smooth. After Yuanhui made one trip into the palace, Song Chengru’s face turned iron-blue as he turned around and destroyed the Ningde Courtyard of the Earl Changning Manor.

Old Madam Song had already received the message passed out by Consort Niangniang in the palace and was worried beyond measure: “Did he speak of Xiaoyi’s matter?”

In Tongzhou, only a few sparks had flared up—not even burning away a few stalks of grass—yet it was forcibly said to be the reason why Song Chuyi’s fate as a star of heavenly calamity and solitary misfortune was beginning to manifest. Yuanhui’s heart was utterly punishable.

“Today the Director of the Imperial Observatory also stood up to impeach her, saying that an ill-omened star has appeared, something about presaging chaos in the realm.” The more Song Chengru spoke, the more alarmed and enraged he felt: “This is clearly not giving our entire Song family a way to survive.”

If the Song family produced a disaster star that presaged great chaos in the realm, then what was the Song family? Wouldn’t he, Song Chengru, be the source of this calamity? Yuanhui clearly wanted to eradicate them all in one stroke.

Old Madam Song was also so shocked she nearly couldn’t catch her breath. She reached out to pat her chest and exclaimed in alarm: “What?! They actually said such things…”

Song Chengru only felt his head aching unbearably: “The key point is that Jiujiang and Pingxiang suddenly had heavy snow sealing the mountains again, freezing quite a few people to death…”

What celestial phenomena warnings—all were excuses Yuanhui used to frame Song Chuyi.

Prince Zhennan also hadn’t expected matters to be stirred up so seriously and spectacularly. He removed his cloak and entered the study. Seeing that both his eldest son and youngest son were already standing inside, he signaled the servants to close the door, then opened his mouth to ask them: “What are your views?”

Ye Jingkuan’s expression was grave. Facing his own family members he had no reservations, so his words came out sharp and cutting: “What manifestation of fate stars, what heaven sending down strange phenomena as warning—it’s all mystical pretense.”

These words aligned with Ye Jingchuan’s sentiments. In his heart he felt anxious on Song Chuyi’s behalf—that day when Song Chuyi was assassinated by people Yuanhui sent, he had seen that Song Chuyi would absolutely not let the matter rest.

Later, they had borrowed Princess Rongcheng’s power to ruthlessly clean up Consort Xian and Prince Duan’s remaining faction almost entirely. This had offended Yuanhui even more. He vaguely also knew that Song Chuyi had asked Zhou Weizhao for help, preparing to deal with Yuanhui.

Perhaps it was precisely these things that enraged Yuanhui even more severely, which was why Yuanhui would insist to the death that Song Chuyi was a star of heavenly calamity and solitary misfortune who would bring disaster to all under heaven.

He was an enlightened high monk with many believers. Even Emperor Jianzhang often listened to him expound on Buddhist teachings. Now that he said such things, it was equivalent to sentencing Song to death. He felt somewhat anxious, pressing his lips together as he looked at his father and elder brother, unable to wait before interjecting: “Clearly that old bald donkey wants to make a move against the Song family. Because last time he spoke of Sixth Miss Song’s fate, this time he’s making an issue of it again.”

Prince Zhennan glanced at him, then shifted his gaze to his eldest son: “In your view, does His Majesty believe it or not?”

Did Emperor Jianzhang ultimately believe the Song family or not believe the Song family?

This time, had Yuanhui truly gauged the imperial intention accurately? Since ancient times, an emperor’s mind has been inscrutable to gods and ghosts alike. Emperor Jianzhang’s favor toward the Song family had been growing daily—could he truly cast aside the Song family because of Yuanhui’s words?

Ye Jingkuan honestly shook his head: “Azhe heard Mother Empress in the palace mention His Majesty’s meaning. It seems he has a deep impression of this Sixth Miss of the Song family. He finds someone with such a fate very interesting.”

Interesting? What exactly did Emperor Jianzhang’s casually spoken two words contain?

No matter what, the matter decided earlier—winning over the Song family for the Grand Prince and Empress Niangniang, and bringing Song Chuyi back in marriage—was probably not going to happen, at least not now.

Prince Zhennan glanced at Ye Jingchuan and instructed him: “You should have less contact with Sixth Miss Song recently.”

Ye Jingchuan felt somewhat unconvinced. He vaguely sensed that since Song Chuyi had said she would retaliate, she couldn’t possibly be this powerless to fight back: “Right now matters have only just begun. Why does Father want me to keep my distance from the Song family? Haven’t Father and Elder Brother always said ‘The earth’s condition is receptive devotion; thus the superior man with generous virtue carries all things.’ If I see someone in difficulty and hide away, what kind of superior man would I be?”

Usually he never took anyone’s words to heart, but now he knew to use their words to pressure others.

Prince Zhennan laughed heartily and reached out to give his son a knock on the head: “You behave yourself! Do you think we don’t know your intentions? Unfortunately, I’ve heard that person doesn’t like you.”

Last time when Nanny Sang went to the Earl Changning Manor to test the waters, even at that point when Sixth Miss Song was almost someone everyone feared, the Song family still showed no sign of immediately relenting.

Even Princess Consort Zhennan had said that this Song family was truly interesting—who knew where this kind of backbone came from.

For once, Ye Jingchuan didn’t feel unconvinced. Somewhat dejected, he lowered his head for a long while without speaking. After a moment, he resolutely raised his head and declared his intentions word by word: “I admire Sixth Miss Song and am willing to treat her with sincerity. Whether she is a star of heavenly calamity and solitary misfortune or an ill-omened star, it does not hinder my heart’s fondness for her. As for whether she actually likes me or not—that is not for me to decide, nor will I bear grudges against her because of it or hope for her to fall into misfortune.”