In the ball court of the Western Garden, the north wind stirred the desolate shadows while the sunlight was warm but not scorching.

Zhao Yān had changed into a sleeved warrior’s outfit suitable for riding and archery. Her hair was tied in a bun, and her still-adolescent figure was slender and graceful. With her lovely face, it was difficult to distinguish her gender.

She gripped the polo mallet with both hands, aimed at the wooden ball on the ground, and swung with force.

As the ball was struck away, Zhao Yān shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed into the distance. She watched as the wooden ball rolled over the undulating lawn, circled the target hole several times, and then slowly came to a stop at the edge of the opening.

Just a little short.

Zhao Yān sighed in disappointment, rested the mallet on her shoulder, and jogged forward. She stood guard by the hole where her ball had landed and waved to Princess Zhao Shuang in the distance: “Fourth Sister, it’s your turn!”

Zhao Shuang wore a light, elegant winter dress in the color of orchids. Seeing the red-clothed young girl waving repeatedly, she smiled, adjusted her hair, and cautiously gripped the mallet, focusing on the wooden ball before her.

Zhao Shuang had suffered from an ailment in her right ear since childhood, which had made her nature very quiet and reserved, even somewhat overly cautious. She pondered each swing for a long time, fearing that improper force would make her a laughingstock.

Seeing that she was taking a long time to swing, Zhao Yān sat down on a stone bench by the wall for a brief rest.

“…the banquet is about to begin, why come here?”

…

…

The rustling sound of footsteps came from not far beyond the wall, seemingly from several men walking casually, their voices intermittently distinguishable.

“A-Lin probably came here to find some peace.”

Another clear male voice, refined and carrying a smile, said, “Just now the Emperor asked us brothers whether we were married or not. Big Brother, do you truly not understand the deeper meaning?”

The previous mature and rich voice said, “The Emperor wishes to arrange marriages. It’s both a blessing and a constraint.”

“Indeed.”

The smiling voice continued to tease, “Unfortunately, both Big Brother and I are already engaged, leaving only A-Lin as an excellent Prince Consort candidate. Wouldn’t you agree, A-Lin?”

Prince Consort?

Who are they? What’s this about?!

Zhao Yān’s internal alarms went off. She signaled Shi Lan and Shi Zhu nearby to remain silent while she turned to press her ear against the cold wall, trying to hear more clearly.

The man called “A-Lin” or whatever did not answer, but the rich voice spoke up: “Which princess would it be?”

“Since it’s a blessing, the princess would certainly be marrying down, and her maternal family wouldn’t be of low status. Excluding the widowed First Princess and the Third and Fourth Princesses born to palace maids, only the Second Princess born to Noble Consort Xian and the Crown Prince’s twin sister, the Little Princess, remains. One has a peacock-like, domineering, and shrewish temperament, while the other is still an unripe child. Either way, A-Lin loses out.”

Who’s a child?!

And I’m involved in this?

While Zhao Yān was greatly shocked, she suddenly heard an extremely pleasing, low, and mellow voice, very young, presumably from the ‘A-Lin’ they had been discussing.

“I’ve heard that the marriage with the Rong family has been called off, so Big Brother still has a chance, and Second Brother is not far behind. This untalented younger brother will not compete with you both.”

“I’ll pass. If your future second sister-in-law found out, she’d surely twist my arm off. Big Brother indeed has a chance, but after being strung along by the Rong family’s vacillating attitude for so many years, he’s a bit too old now. He certainly couldn’t match the Little Princess. How could he compare to you, A-Lin, young and accomplished, with unparalleled achievements?”

Engaged to the Rong family…

Zhao Yān’s eyes turned, and she understood: the three men outside the wall were most likely the three sons of the Wenren family.

No wonder.

Zhao Yān clenched her fists, a feeling of indescribable frustration welling up in her heart: she was a princess, a person with thoughts and feelings who knew warmth and cold, not some exquisite ornament. How could her father casually bestow his daughters like objects to men they had never even met?

Just as she was fuming, Zhao Shuang, who had been considering her move for a long time, finally swung the mallet.

She used too much force, and the wooden ball flew directly over the wall.

The voices outside abruptly ceased.

Zhao Shuang let out an “Ah” and asked somewhat helplessly: “I’m sorry, did I frighten you, little sister?”

Zhao Yān shook her head, patted her clothes as she stood up, and said: “It’s fine. It’s easy to lose control on your first try at polo. It’s not a big deal. Stay where you are, Fourth Sister, I’ll go get it.”

After saying this, she stopped Shi Lan and Shi Zhu, who were about to retrieve the ball, then shouldered the mallet herself and strode purposefully toward the gate.

She wanted to see just what these three Wenren young masters, whom her father favored, looked like.

Exiting the gate, rounding the long wall, she indeed found three young military officers with entirely different temperaments standing at the corner.

The one standing at the front appeared to be around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, dressed in dark, fitted clothes. He had thick eyebrows and star-like eyes, with a face of cold, chiseled angles that seemed carved with knife and axe—undoubtedly the eldest son of the Wenren family, Wenren Cang. Beside him was a slightly younger man in a white robe who carried a scholarly air, with curved eyebrows and eyes, resembling a scholarly general—surely Wenren Mu.

Standing behind them with his hands clasped behind his back was a young man dressed in a dark red civil-military robe. He appeared not yet twenty, with a straight nose and thin lips, eyes like cold stars, and a face so handsome it seemed to have stepped out of a painting. Yet his stature was slightly taller than even Wenren Cang’s. With broad shoulders and long legs, his leather belt cinched his strong, slender waist, giving him an intimidating presence even while standing still.

Zhao Yān had never seen someone with such an appearance and bearing. It was difficult to describe.

She stopped in her tracks, her anger inexplicably dissipating by half, leaving only the wary assessment of a small deer in the forest.

The young man seemed to know why she had come. With a flick of his toe, he made the ball on the ground fly up, landing lightly in his long-fingered palm.

In the sunlight, his dense eyelashes were half-lowered, masking some of his sharpness, giving him a somewhat gentle illusion.

Wenren Cang and Wenren Mu looked at the red-clad young boy with a mallet on his shoulder standing by the wall, exchanged glances, and bowed together: “Your subject Wenren Cang (Wenren Mu) greets the Crown Prince.”

Zhao Yān was startled, looked at her warrior’s outfit, and realized that the ministers had once again mistaken her for her brother Zhao Yǎn.

Her eyes flickered as she formed a plan, deciding to go along with the misunderstanding. She pretended to slightly raise her chin and looked challengingly at Wenren Lin, who remained standing straight.

Her ink-dot-like eyes were large and clear, and her slender frame had not yet fully matured. She had to tilt her head up to meet the gaze of the tall Wenren Lin.

Wenren Lin’s eyelashes moved slightly. After a moment, he too bowed and paid his respects: “Your subject Wenren Lin greets Your Highness.”

His etiquette was flawless, yet he somehow gave an impression of indifference.

Zhao Yān cleared her throat, mimicking her brother’s manner by lowering her voice, and said slowly: “My sister is still of hairpin age, still young, with no plans for marriage. You gentlemen are all pillars of the Great Xuan. Do not rashly discuss marriage matters and damage my sister’s reputation.”

Wenren Cang and Wenren Mu were both somewhat embarrassed.

Wenren Lin, however, remained composed, his raised eyes revealing a hint of inscrutability before breaking into a smile: “Your Highness’s words coincide with my thoughts exactly. I will certainly go back and instruct my two elder brothers to eliminate distracting thoughts and focus solely on serving the country, never seeking to climb through marriage connections.”

Wenren Cang and Wenren Mu’s temples twitched simultaneously upon hearing this: This kid! Not only had he expressed to the Crown Prince his lack of interest in marrying the princess, but he had also managed to slight his two brothers, his words impeccably diplomatic.

“That would be best,” Zhao Yān said, half-believing, and extended her slender white hand. “Return the ball to me.”

Wenren Lin straightened, and that oppressive presence loomed again like a shadow.

Fortunately, he only smiled faintly, stepped forward to casually toss the ball, caught it again steadily, and then placed it in Zhao Yān’s palm.

The ball was solid, and Zhao Yān’s palm sank with its weight, forcing her to hold it with both hands.

She was somewhat surprised. As expected of a military officer, Wenren Lin was strong. Compared to his hand, hers was as small as a child’s. The wooden ball that had seemed light and small in his palm suddenly seemed to have grown larger in hers and become several pounds heavier.

She didn’t linger any longer, leading the palace maids back through the gate of the ball court as if escaping.

Only after the crimson hem disappeared behind the door did the Wenren brothers straighten up.

“After four years, the Crown Prince still looks like a girl,” Wenren Mu sighed softly.

“Silence. Wasn’t the earlier lesson enough?” Wenren Cang admonished his second brother in a low voice, saying coldly, “The banquet is beginning. Don’t keep Father waiting.”

With that, he led his two brothers toward the great hall where the banquet was set.

Just as they turned past the corridor bridge, they saw a familiar figure wrapped in white fox fur approaching, smiling gently: “You gentlemen have worked hard in battle. Why haven’t you taken your seats yet?”

“Crown Prince?” Wenren Mu and Wenren Cang were both shocked, looking at the frail, humble young man before them, then back toward the ball court, with expressions as if they had seen a ghost. “Weren’t you playing polo? How did you appear from here?”

Zhao Yǎn asked in confusion: “When did I…”

Realizing something, Zhao Yǎn paused, then smiled: “I did indeed play some polo to relax a bit, but I’m glad I made it in time for your victory banquet.”

Wenren Lin tilted his head, glancing toward the ball court with his peripheral vision, saying with deep meaning: “Your Highness changes clothes with remarkable speed. We are impressed.”

Zhao Yǎn didn’t know what his sister had done earlier, so he changed the subject: “Light wine has been prepared in the hall. Please join me for a cup to warm yourselves.”

Wenren Lin said no more, returned the greeting with a bow, and entered the hall.

Zhao Yǎn’s impression of Wenren Lin was still from his previous life, leaving him momentarily worried.

…

The victory banquet lasted from noon until dusk. Cups were raised and exchanged, with guests and hosts all thoroughly enjoying themselves.

General Wenren had been made a marquis and was still in the palace, accompanying the Emperor. Wenren Cang and his two brothers left the banquet first. As soon as they dismounted, the household manager came to report: “Young Master, a distinguished guest is visiting the mansion.”

The Wenren family had established illustrious military merits, with father and four sons all promoted and ennobled. In recent days, people attempting to curry favor had nearly worn out the threshold with their visiting cards.

Thinking the visitor was one of those flatterers, Wenren Cang said without hesitation: “Ask them to leave. We won’t see them.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he noticed the woman standing inside the side gate.

The woman appeared to be in her early twenties, not particularly young, but her appearance was that of cloud-like hair and flower-like countenance, with ice-like skin and jade-like bones—a single glance would be enough to make her unforgettable for a lifetime.

It was Rong Fuyue, Wenren Cang’s original… fiancée.

Rong Fuyue seemed hurt by the cold. “Ask them to leave. We won’t see them.” Her eyes filled with tears as she awkwardly averted her gaze, curtseyed, and turned to leave.

Even at such a moment, she maintained the elegant etiquette of a noble family’s daughter.

Wenren Cang immediately chased after her.

He quickened his pace, and the woman ahead also quickened hers, refusing to stop despite his low calls.

But how could Rong Fuyue, a delicate woman, match the stride of a bold military officer?

In a short moment, she was grasped by the wrist like in an iron vise and pressed against a blue brick wall.

The maids from the Rong household, seeing their young mistress “restrained” by Wenren Cang, were greatly alarmed and moved forward, only to be stopped by Wenren Cang’s shout, immediately frightened into weak knees.

The general’s mansion carried its own imposing aura. The alley entrance had few passersby and was quite quiet—so quiet that Rong Fuyue could hear her own chaotic heartbeat.

“Since you’ve come, why not speak properly with me?” Wenren Cang’s stern, sword-like eyebrows were knitted as he looked at the woman he had thought of day and night for four years, now within arm’s reach. His throat tightened repeatedly. “You know that what I said earlier wasn’t directed at you.”

“It hurts…”

Rong Fuyue’s gentle voice trembled, the water in her eyes becoming more pronounced, making her appear delicate and pitiful. “Young Master, please let go.”

Only then did Wenren Cang realize his impropriety. Though his expression remained unchanged, he slowly released his grip but was reluctant to step back.

His deep gaze locked onto the woman before him, almost greedily.

Back then, Old Master Rong, seeing that Wenren Jinping had fallen out of favor with the Emperor, believed the Wenren family wouldn’t last long and had second thoughts about the marriage. Several proposals were postponed by the Rong family using the excuse of mourning.

How could a man as proud and lofty as Wenren Cang endure such cold treatment? Before setting off for war, he had met with Rong Fuyue under a pear tree, but they had parted unhappily. He had said words contrary to his heart before heading north in anger.

At first, Wenren Cang thought that if Rong Fuyue called out to him once, he would turn back; later, he thought that if Rong Fuyue sent a letter, he would return to marry her… but this wait lasted four years.

During those four years, there were times when his heart grew cold, times when he resented her, but Wenren Cang hadn’t expected that just having her stand before him would be enough to offset all the coldness and disappointment of the past four years.

“After all these years, you still haven’t gotten married,” Wenren Cang said, looking at Rong Fuyue’s maiden’s hairstyle. His heart burned hot, like embers reigniting and instantly becoming a prairie fire.

Rong Fuyue turned her head away, gently biting her lower lip, saying softly: “Whether I marry or not, does it hinder Young Master from becoming a Prince Consort?”

Wenren Cang asked in return: “Where did you hear that?”

Of course, her father was the former Vice Minister of Rites, and her brother was the Minister of Imperial Sacrifices. Whenever imperial ancestral temple rituals were involved, the Rong family would naturally be the first to know.

Seeing Wenren Cang’s counterquestion, Rong Fuyue felt a pain in her heart: “If Young Master wishes to break off the engagement, you could be more straightforward. I won’t cling to you.”

“What are you saying?”

Wenren Cang’s voice turned cold. “Wasn’t it your Rong family who wanted to break the engagement in the first place?”

“I also told you that it was my father’s unilateral decision. I had no intention of breaking the promise.”

Rong Fuyue leaned against the cold blue wall, on the verge of tears. “All the letters I sent over these years were like stones sinking into the sea, enough to show Young Master’s determination. It is I who couldn’t let go… so I rashly came to your door to be humiliated.”

“What letters? You wrote letters?” Wenren Cang’s heart began to race wildly. “Impossible, I never received a single one.”

Rong Fuyue was also stunned, but Wenren Cang’s expression didn’t look like he was lying.

Wenren Cang thought of something: “I also wrote to you, one letter every ten days for the first three years. Did you receive any?”

Rong Fuyue shook her head in bewilderment.

The two stood in shock. In just a moment, they understood that Old Master Rong, gauging the imperial mood, believed that the Wenren family’s great achievements would arouse the Emperor’s suspicion, and they wouldn’t last long. He had privately intercepted these letters, ensuring that those meant to be sent couldn’t be sent, and those meant to be received couldn’t be received.

Rong Fuyue’s tears finally fell, like pear blossoms in the rain, like a lotus with dew.

They had missed each other for four long years.

Wenren Cang’s arm moved slightly, and finally, he raised his hand to gently wipe away the tears at the corner of Rong Fuyue’s eyes with his rough, callused fingertips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he said, “Back then, you were in mourning, which delayed our wedding. Now I want to ask for your opinion.”

He paused, his proud eyes dimming their fierceness as he lowered himself to be at eye level with Rong Fuyue, saying earnestly: “A-Yue, are you willing to become my wife? As long as you nod, I will marry you no matter what obstacles lie ahead, be they mountains of knives or forests of swords.”

Rong Fuyue nodded, and fearing he hadn’t seen, nodded again more forcefully.

Wenren Cang could no longer restrain himself and tightly embraced her soft body, wishing they could meld into one flesh and blood.

…

Zhao Yǎn returned to the Eastern Palace to find his sister wearing a bright scarlet warrior’s outfit, lying restlessly on a beauty couch in the corridor.

She seemed to have some small worry, her eyelashes fluttering as she pretended to doze, her delicate eyebrows tightly knitted.

Even with this sulky expression, she remained adorable and spirited.

Zhao Yǎn dismissed everyone around, removed the white fox fur draped over his body, and gently placed it over his sister.

Seeing Zhao Yān suddenly open her eyes, he smiled and said: “The sun has set. The weather is cold and windy. Be careful not to catch a chill.”

Zhao Yān felt a warmth in her heart but still sat up, draping the soft fox fur back over Zhao Yǎn, saying quietly: “I’m not like you. My constitution is quite robust.”

“Being strong doesn’t mean you don’t feel pain. Having a robust constitution doesn’t mean you’re immune to all poisons.”

Zhao Yǎn knew his sister appeared indifferent on the surface, but feared loneliness most. After pondering for a moment, he gently suggested: “How about this: we share it half and half?”

So the siblings sat side by side on the beauty couch, covered by the same large fox fur.

This winter day was truly warm.

“Can you tell your brother why you’re unhappy?” Zhao Yǎn asked with a smile, his expression gentle.

Zhao Yān opened and closed her mouth, twisting the fur clasp as she mumbled: “You all want to treat me like a gift, rewarding me as a meritorious official. Even my status as a ‘Princess of Direct Blood’ is just a bargaining chip waiting to be traded.”

So it was about this.

Zhao Yǎn recalled his father’s hints at the banquet and sighed lightly: Wenren’s eldest and second sons were already engaged, not to mention they were a generation older than Yan’er. The third son, Wenren Lin, was indeed extraordinarily handsome and accomplished in both civil and military affairs, but his scheming was too deep. Moreover, the shadow of “Prince Su Wenren Lin” from the previous life loomed too heavily over the imperial city—a name that made people tremble just by hearing it…

How could Zhao Yǎn feel at ease giving his sister to such a person?

“It won’t happen,” Zhao Yǎn’s voice was gentle yet firm as he looked at his sister. “This time is different. As long as your brother is alive, I won’t let Yan’er suffer any grievance.”

“Really?” Zhao Yān’s eyes brightened.

“Really,” Zhao Yǎn nodded.

“Then… not my other sisters either. I don’t like how Father treats us sisters as tools to balance the court, casually gifting us away.”

“Alright, brother will remember.”

“Why can’t I be like a man, leave the inner chambers, and choose the life I want? It’s so unfair.”

“Indeed, especially unfair.”

“Zhao Yǎn, are you just humoring me?”

Zhao Yān would say something, and Zhao Yǎn would respond immediately. After a while, she suspected her brother was just pacifying her.

To her surprise, the young boy simply curved his eyes in a smile and said matter-of-factly: “Whatever Yan’er says is right.”

In his previous life, after his death, who knew how much suffering Yan’er had endured, whether she had been bullied or mistreated by their father or Wenren Lin…

Fortunately, in this second chance at life, he still had the opportunity to make amends and would not let his sister fall into the tiger’s mouth.